Untitled: Prologue

This is just a first draft of the completed chapter. I put this on literotica for both your entertainment and my own education. Please comment as you feel necessary and enjoy the chapter. If you think it needs any corrections please say so in your comments. DO NOT HOLD BACK ANY CRITICISM!!! And again, enjoy. :)

PROLOGUE

Soft, rain battered mud sucked at the old man's feet, slowing his already weak steps. Turning to face the water, the man studied the dark boat that had carried him to the small island of Nin. Small and cramped, the boat sported one large sail, rippling wildly with every passing wind. The entire boat was black, resembling a large shadow stretching out into the water. Switching his gaze to the movement on the deck of the boat, he watched as his new servant mechanically tossed the dead bodies one by one over the side of the boat, each body barely making a splash as it hit its watery grave. As the last body fell into the water, the old man turned and the body of his servant fell to the deck of the boat in death.

Changing direction, the wind continued to blow, this time pushing almost painfully against the old man's face. The hood of his black cloak was blown away from his earless head, revealing his face to the empty marshland. His face was pale as snow, contrasting with all of the darkness around him. There was no amount of fat on his body; he was nothing but skin and bones. He had thin, pale lips and a short but wide nose. His white hair blew with the wind and he raised his gaze to the sky. His eyes were completely white with no pupil to be seen.

It is going to rain soon

, he thought to himself as he continued deeper into the swampy forest.

The wind was blowing viciously now, relentlessly pushing against the trees and threatening to force the old man off of his feet. Pulling his cloak tightly together, he leaned into the wind, continuing on his journey through the swampy forest. One thought continued to cycle through his mind as the mud slowly hardened with every step, until eventually there was nothing but dry dirt under his feet. He could sense the Messenger's Temple getting closer.

Trees began to thin out around the old man as the forest around him slowly transformed into an open field, the ground growing softer as the dry dirt gave way to healthy grass. There were few trees around now, as the man continued ever forward to reach his destination. Various memories, thoughts, and dreams began to flood his mind, placing him in a state of confusion as he tried to sort them all out.

Whose thoughts are these? They are not mine.

An old man reminisced about his carefree childhood. A woman sought soothing words for her crippled husband. A young boy dreamed of becoming a fierce warrior. Many of the thoughts swirling through his mind were illicit, whereas few were aimed toward god. Many thought of peace and many more thought of war. With each passing second, the old man grew weaker and he slowly felt his own memories gliding away from him and joining the chaos already present within his mind.

The old man braced himself against a small tree placed in the center of the field and sat down almost painfully by its side. Closing his eyes, he attempted to concentrate on his own thought, as they slowly slipped away from him, threatening to lose themselves in the jumble that was the man's mind. Finally, after almost an hour, he found them and a calmness settled over him, momentarily allowing him to think. He had known that he was taking a risk traveling this close to civilization without the protection of the temple, but he had no choice, he had to carry out this goal or die trying. Rising once again, he continued his journey.

I don't have much time left; I must get this over with.

It felt as if he had been walking for hours, each step becoming more difficult than the last. His head felt as light as a feather as he continued to try and reject the thoughts threatening to invade his mind. He slowly felt himself losing consciousness as he continued on his way through the open field.

I can not faint

, he told himself.

If I faint... I fail

. He looked forward, searching for anything that he could concentrate on in order to keep his mind occupied.

I will not fail.

A droplet of rain tapped his forehead and rolled down his nose, pausing before dripping off and hitting the ground. The old man suddenly realized that his hood had fallen off during the uninvited war inside of his head. Reaching up to his neck and adjusting the fallen fabric to cover his head, the man walked forward with new vigor as he fought to keep both his strength and his sanity.

The trees began to grow all around him as the field once again transformed into a dense and diverse forest. Suddenly, it became easier to concentrate and the thoughts no longer tried to pierce into his mind. Sighing in relief, he looked forward and smiled at the ruins in front of him.

I am here.

Rain was pouring down much harder now, barely contained by the natural protection of the trees. Water was weighing down on his hood, the solid earth was changing into a muddy trail, and each step sent a new burst of pain through his legs; but none of this mattered to him. He was here, five years of planning and three days of suffering had finally paid off. He would have run if his old age allowed it, but for now he was content with walking. He could neither see, smell, hear, nor talk, but he had such a strong sense of the energy around him that he could determine the placement of everything, from the large trees to the small leaves blowing around with the wind.

The old man reached out his hand and ran it along the smooth, wet grooves of the stone wall surrounding the abandoned temple. He had to walk to the other end of the wall before he could find the gap where the gate had once stood. Walking through the gap, he followed the short trail leading to the Messenger's Temple. Opening a large metal door, the old man walked through and found himself inside of an empty room.

With assistance from the spell-protected temple, the old man was finally able to gain complete control of his thoughts. He felt so calm inside of the temple that he just stood, unmoving, enjoying the relief in his mind. His legs felt like liquid, wobbling and begging to be relieved of their load. The man took a seat in the center of the room, his entire body screaming at him from the effort.

Closing his eyes, the man released his mind for the first time in days. The feeling was wonderful. All of the pain and stress of his body seemed to slide off and wash away as his mind was released and sent into the world around him. He felt completely free, all of his physical weaknesses temporarily forgotten. In his mind he could see, he could hear, and he could smell. Allowing his mind to drift, he just reveled in the pure bliss that he felt within the temple. The troublesome walk, the dreadful boat ride, and the temporary insanity of the forest were all forgotten next to the freedom of the telepathy.

This is enough,

he thought to himself.

I have a job to do.

In his mind the old man felt something calling out to him. An inaudible voice that urged him forward and empowered him with every new advancement. His free, bodiless mind floated, rising higher and higher in search of the mysterious but familiar voice luring him closer. The goal that he had traveled so far to accomplish was only seconds away.

He was outside now, above the abandoned temple and the deep forest, looking down at the roof. On each corner of the five-sided roof sat a stone messenger, sitting cross-legged with its stony white eyes raised toward the sky and a stony white cloak hiding his body and seeming to ripple with the wind. Old memories of his mindless companions crossed his mind. The five years he spent doing nothing but silently sitting on the floor surrounded by his silent brethren seemed to be a memory of another life, a life that had passed by ages ago. Shaking the thought, he continued upward until the temple became a dot surrounded by a sea of green trees. He looked ahead and noticed a thin sheet of energy, glowing a bluish-white and surrounding the entire area.

This must be the barrier.

The old man's mental form floated slowly to the barrier's surface. He looked into the glowing surface of the energy and found himself looking into the eyes of a small searmyst trapped inside of the spell-made barrier. Those eyes seemed to plead with him, begging him to free it from its eternal prison.

Looking down at the temple below, the old man searched the ruins of the temple to make sure that his physical body was safe. He then reached out to the trapped searmyst spirit, grasping it in his mental palms.

"

I have come for you,

" the man said through telepathy, his mental words piercing the mind of the searmyst. Not one physical sound was uttered, and then, in words that only the two of them could hear. "

I have come to free you.

"

There was silence, the searmyst did not respond. It just stared out at the old man's mental form, studying the man's eyes, and then closing its own as if summoning a forgotten memory. After an almost painfully long silence, the spirit spoke.

"

Are you 'the one'?

" The searmyst's mental words were soft, sounding sad and weakened by its long entrapment. Its words came slowly, as if it were trying to remember how to speak. "

Are you the messenger from another land?

"

"

I am

" The man felt himself weakening. Without the combined energy of his eternal brothers, he could not continue on in his mental form for long. He could already feel himself trying to subconsciously retreat back to his physical body. "

We do not have much time."

"This barrier is impenetrable. How do you plan on breaking it?" The searmyst seemed to be desperate. The old man could sense its energy slowly fading away.

"

I am unable to break it myself.

" The man saw a flicker of hopelessness in the spirit. A look of doubt, and a feeling of betrayal were plainly visible in its eyes. "

But I am able to give you the power to do it yourself.

"

The searmyst smiled, his dull eyes looking both curious and anxious. For a moment, it seemed as if he were trembling "

You mean you can...?"

"You have been trapped here as a spirit for so long, but you will not leave here as one." The man grinned to himself as he saw the joy pass through the searmyst's features.

Before the searmyst was able to respond, the man rushed forward, forcing mind into the spirit's. Merging his mind with the searmyst's body, the man began to release all of his energy into its body, empowering the energy-made body around him, but weakening his own body in the process. The world around him began to darken as the last of his energy was drained from his weakening mind, and then he found himself falling. His surroundings becoming a blur as the ground rushed up to meet him. Too weak to rise, the old man just allowed his mental form to fall, accepting his fate... accepting his failure. There was a rush of air following close behind him, but he was too weak to look. Instead, he closed his eyes and waited for the impact of the ground and his death. He finally stopped.

He opened his eyes slowly afterward. When he did, the man realized that he was on the ground, the stone feeling like ice through his thin black cloak.

Am I alive

? A pang of fear shot through him as the deadly fall replayed itself in his head.

He sat up and surveyed the room around him. Immediately recognizing his surroundings, the man realized that he was back inside of the temple, lying on his back in the middle of the floor.

Raising his hands in front of his face he opened and closed his left hand four times, then repeated the exercise with his right. The sensation that his sore muscles sent through his arm convinced him that he was still alive.

How did I get back into my body

? He thought to himself.

I put you there.

A voice, synchronized with his own thoughts, became audible within the depths of his own mind. It was not a physical voice, nor a voice spoken through telepathy. It came from his own mind, answering to his own thoughts. The man had never felt anything like it before.

Who...?

Suddenly, the memories came flooding in, slightly throwing his concentration. For once, the memories were his. He remembered his years in the prison that he that he referred to as home, the boat which had carried him to the small island, the walk, the temple, the searmyst... the fall. It still did not make any sense.

How are you in my thoughts?

He questioned, now knowing that it was the spirit residing in his mind.

The spirit's voice returned. It was now much stronger and more forceful than the man remembered it.

When you fed me your energy, our minds intertwined with one another. A part of each of us permanently embedding itself into the mind of the other. We are no longer two entities, but two existences living together as one mind, one soul. Your thoughts are my thoughts and my thoughts are yours, allowing us to communicate without spoken word, or telepathy.

Grinning to himself, the man stood, and for the first time in over five years, no pain entered his body. He turned and looked into the eyes of the searmyst. There was no longer any look of pain or helplessness present in them. Those same sad, weakened eyes were now full of life and power.

Before the man could speak, the searmyst's thoughts entered his mind.

I have been searching your mind for a name, and have found none. What do you require me to call you by?

The man had not thought on it before. He truly had forgotten his own name. Thinking back to his home, he remembered his five years spent on Hondor, and his brothers who never talked. No name was found in these memories and whenever he tried to think further back, his entire mind became fuzzy. Nothing remained of his past life and there were only a few other memories that existed from this life. He recalled the boat from Hondor, the painful death that each of the unfortunate crewman faced, the three days that he spent at sea, and his journey through the deep forest on the small island of Nin.

Nin, the place where he gained power, the place where he met a loyal companion, the only place he ever remembered being outside of Hondor, and the place where his new life was going to begin. Nin, the most important memory he had, and the home to the most important event of his life. Suddenly, he found a name.

You can call me Nin.

Nin began to walk toward the entrance of the temple, reveling in his newfound power and health.

And what of you, spirit, what is your name?

I am Xiontoro. I am your protector, your loyal servant, and thanks to you, I am no longer a spirit...

Xiontoro paused as if considering his next words for the first time; and, with as much emotion and confidence as his thoughts would allow, he continued.

...I am a god.