This is the first chapter of a book I am working up the gumption to sit down and flesh out. I won't go into what it is about but you're welcome to read over it and let me know what everyone thinks. Resteem, upvote, share, etc. Thanks!
Where Soft Rains Fell
The two moons Zoa and Vala are in the sky at this moment reflecting off the North Ocean’s face. Shar has set and noontide has long since passed. The salty wind reaches high above the surface to where the God of War rests, deep within his own reflection. The waters have always been a source of calming for him and not that he really needs it at this moment it is still very much welcome. Humans call it meditation and use these moments to pray to his father, god of all gods. For this deity, Ivr, he can sense a stillness in his mind but a part of him doesn’t wish it. He has always sought out battle. He was born for it. To him without war his very existence would seem meaningless.
He was not far from the city he was born and raised in. On the contrary, he was merely taking a moment to be by himself before attending his sister’s wedding to the God of Fire. Home was here just as much as it would be if he was in his father’s estate. Being along he always found his mind to wander to strange places he could never venture to physically. In this land of Iunu he was looked upon as a celebrity, a hero, a god to worship, fear, and pray to. He never really took to it as such but demanded respect from Humanity. He was their superior after all and benefactor, just as much as the other gods were. He appeared as a human, not a giant or a shining being of ethereal material. He was flesh and blood just as the vulgar masses. He and his kind were deemed Olympiads by Humanity. What separated him from the others of our kind was his skill seemed unnatural. Not once had a man, woman, or even child in some instances, ever been able to harm him. Humans in warring nations knew that they stood no chance of victory unless one of the other gods was to handle Ivr themselves. Even then, his prowess in combat could never be matched by any other Olympiad except for his father, Thorkel.
This god race had been at war with each other for centuries. They fought for rule over Humanity and for the entire planet, Sanguine. Riches, land, resources were inconsequential to them. They warred over a much more precious commodity, of which Humanity was ripened with – souls. Humans were used as a resource because the Olympiads feared dying. Of why there were so few of them and why dying was such a crippling fear for them was something that escaped Ivr. He and his two siblings were born only three decades ago. Thorkel had put himself into a position of power by taking a wife and creating offspring that would follow his will. This is what caused the fighting between the Olympiads to cease. Without any choice the gods bowed to King Thorkel. After this forced truce had taken place then did Humanity claim Thorkel as their true god and ruler. All of Acragas, the Kingdom of the Olympiads, was now under the rule of one individual.
He was not a tyrant by any means and treated Humanity with kindness and compassion. They adored him as a king and worshipped him as the great architect of civilization and all creation. Never would such a caring ruler ever come about again. Nor would one as the Olympiads were, immortal, and their might could never be defeated by such a pitiful race as Humanity. But why would anyone disrupt the newfound peace that allowed them to prosper and evolve to the point which they have?
Peace, Ivr thought. What a farce.
Humanity, like himself, had been bred for war and violence and destruction. They started out as a mindless shambling hoard of skin living underground in the dark. Clawing at light whenever they saw it, mumbling nothings and clueless to the vastness of the universe beyond their caves. What began as a species to let die out ended up becoming a quickly evolving tool for war. The Olympiads had taken all of their knowledge and instructed mankind on how to do everything from mathematics to how to spend free time to keep their now busy minds at ease. In just a short span of time, maybe a millennium? Years mattered nothing to immortals. To the humans though they had figured out a system to divide the morningrises and noontides into weeks, then months, years, centuries, millenniums. Everything in existence and beyond had been given a name and defined. There was something Humanity kept locked away, even from themselves, which mystified the Olympiads. Whatever this was it had been forgotten – or were they ever aware of it? And where did they come from? They claim they were made by Ivr’s race but the Olympiads had not always been on Sanguine. Was this planet Humanity’s true origin was a question many of the gods asked themselves but never in the presence of their idolaters.
It’s not our place to question unknowns that can never be truly answered and hopefully they would understand their place after they die. When all the mysteries of the universe are revealed then existence loses all meaning.
There was something about these people that Ivr admired and respected though. On the field amidst hundreds and thousands dying by the sword had Ivr saw a brotherhood which was absent from his kind’s understanding. For the Olympiads they had always sought to be separate and fight one another. Humanity feuded with each other sure, but when placed in groups of likeminded individuals all with the same cause, they unified and seeing such a large group fight to help out their brother was a marvelous experience. Bickering and disagreements dropped and all of a sudden you would see somebody help to protect a person that in any other case would have been looked at as a rival. It was a shame though that this only seemed to occur during catastrophes or when one’s livelihood was at risk.
Such as things were it was not Ivr’s place to argue with his father. Or anybody’s place now. To defy Thorkel was certainly to be met with punishment, but to what extent could not be said as none had the will to do so.
These were the things Ivr thought on as he looked out towards the north. The silence was broken when he heard somebody coming up the path behind him. Ivr was not paranoid and felt safe in his home so did not bother with turning around. The sound came closer then stopped. He was met with a friendly, familiar voice.
“Prince Ivr.”
“Hume,” Ivr replied.
Ivr turned to see the head bishop of Thorkel’s church and an old compatriot of the king. Their friendship helped to bring him into the prestigious position. He was battle hardened but not old enough to be useless in any battle – if any were to emerge. His experience came from the last battle where some small band of humans disagreed with Thorkel as being their ruler, as any utopia is not without its bloodshed. From these events did a bond of trust grow and both felt they could rely on each other. And to Ivr, this human was worth respect.
Tonight was an unrelated event, Isilya, Ivr’s sister and Thorkel’s second born, was to be married and sent to her husband’s city. For the occasion Ivr had adorned a ceremonial armor that had the symbol of the sun painted on its breast. It was new armor and had never been worn into battle, thus, retaining its splendor.
Hume held out his hand and Ivr shook it firmly.
“I take it the ceremony is about to begin,” he asked the bishop.
“Indeed, my lord. The guests are beginning to arrive and I have to bless the grounds and the attendants.”
“Let’s not keep my sister waiting then.”
With the position of Bishop, Hume had to learn the annals of the gods and teach the masses of them. He had even written them down and collected a tome of their teachings and stories into what he called The Codex. It contained a myriad of past battles and other happenings that were used as learning tools on how the humans should live their lives. Many took to them wholeheartedly and practices and prayers were built around them. Since some did not know how to read the priests of the church told these fables to the uneducated and already discrepancies were popping up here and abroad. Exaggerations were the biggest problem among these.
The human offered to let Ivr lead the way to the main cathedral. It was not just any church but also home to Isilya, the most beloved deity in Iunu. Her followers had come to call it The Great House. This building, due to its size, one would think giants had lived here. Massive was its scope and layout and any other structure would pale in comparison. The architecture itself was built around the ideas of geometry, every inch of it was designed to harness peaceful energies.
A roll of thunder could be heard as the two made their way into the main thoroughfare and clouds began to cover the stars. The bustling streets and noise of many conversations quickly overtook this the closer they got to the temple. All the people they passed stayed clear of Ivr’s path. On banners lining the roads were stitched the solar sign, the same as the one on their prince’s armor. With this icon they understand who he is and gazed upon him with just as much glamour as fear.
The smooth stone road led them all the way to the Great House. In the front of it were ascending stairs reaching up to tall doors that were wide open for the guests. The stairs themselves held three rows. The center lane, the widest, was reserved for clergy and the Olympiads. The common man was forced to use the two on opposite sides; these were crowded and slowly moving. The center though was clear.
When they reached the top the bishop put his hand on Ivr’s shoulder to stop their pace.
“Ivr, your family is upstairs in the living quarters,” he said, pointing high above their heads. The family had gathered some time earlier this day to be together before Isilya would leave with her husband. Ivr had walked his father and younger brother to the Great House in the morning and had set about readying security and guard placement for the event.
The living area was below the well out of reach rafters lining the ceiling. From here on down priests were finishing lighting the braziers and lanterns along the walls. Here on the main floor the guests, all wealthy human landowners and well-to-do folk, were seating themselves in the pews on both sides of the middle aisle where the beautiful goddess would be walking down. Random chatter filled the room and echoed loudly but nothing specific could be made out. The acoustics carried this all the way to outside the doors.
“Thank you, Hume,” Ivr said. “I know you’ll give my sister a respectful and proper service.”
Hume replied graciously and excused himself. They parted ways and Ivr made his way up the side stairs to reunite with his family. He was proud of the choice his father made for Isilya to marry. His name was Fadlan, keeper of fire and a renowned blacksmith. This decision was not entirely without Isilya’s input as the two did have a growing affection for each other. Fadlan was the first Olympiad to side with Thorkel taking the place as ruler, which probably helped solidify his choosing.
At the top of the stairs were Thorkel’s personal guards standing around making small talk. There were four of them, all well known heroes for different reasons. Their captain, Faraam, Agamemnon, the greatest bowman to have ever lived, Arenjun, a female assassin, and finally, the mightiest of them all, Ulster.
Though not the leader of the group, Ulster was seen by many as a hero. His status and journeys were epics in themselves. His name had become immortal in bard songs. He was a legend in flesh. Along his arduous life he befriended a wolf he named Tyr, who lay at his feet and raised his head when Ivr was spotted leaving the stairs and coming their way. Their companionship was unique to say the least and Ulster viewed the large wolf as an equal, a true friend he could trust his life with.
Arenjun had started a small troupe of all female assassins that retained a sense of honor and loyalty to Thorkel. She was very important in removing leaders of those who did not approve of Thorkel’s leadership. Seeing her in a fight was a mesmerizing sight to behold. She also harbored strong feelings for Ulster but could never find the courage to let him know, finding only the strength to hint she was affectionate towards him. These small clues were lost on Ulster and he still has no idea how she feels about him. Rather comical such a strong woman could falter to something she felt so passionately about.
Agamemnon had been chosen to lead the king’s archers due to being admired so by all aspiring bowmen. This character was prone to talk at length of past experiences and had grown bored with the newfound peace in the land. He felt useless, to be short.
Their captain, Faraam, was recognized for his skills in leadership being an intelligent war strategist in Thorkel’s lesser guard. Hume had actually been under Faraam during the last war and they knew of each other but were not close by any means. When they met each other though they were polite enough to pass as acquaintances.
The four greeted their prince with a smile and everyone was greeted in kind.
“It’s a shame we don’t get to dress up all the time like we used to,” Agamemnon mentioned in his deep voice. “It seems a bit lackluster compared to what warriors used to wear.”
“Quit reminiscing on darker days,” Arenjun said. “We’re much better off minding where we are now rather than where we’ve come from.”
“Bah!”
The large archer meandered over to his cup of beer on a small table beside a couch. He had grown bored of his existence. Already he felt his skills with a bow were rusting, just like his armor. This down time was turning him into a boring person to be around. The other three had gotten over his attitude a long time ago.
There wasn’t much to discuss at this point so Ivr politely excused himself and remarked how great everyone looked. “I thank you all for being here to protect my family. Enjoy the drinks and hopefully we will have time to talk after I see my sister off.”
It was a short walk from the stairs down the walkway to a room reserved for gatherings and family get-togethers. Ivr knocked on the door and when it opened there stood the mightiest of the Olympiads. The King of Iunu and all of Acragas, the sun god Thorkel.
Thorkel appeared as a wise old man with a long grey beard and long hair to match. He wore a black robe and his crown had four long spikes that denoted the four corners of the planet. He did not have his sword with him as there was no need to carry it around. Behind him on a sofa was the rest of the family. Ivr’s mother, Ahania, Isilya, and the Thorkel’s third born, a son named Straid.
The goddess of the moon, Ahania, had her long black hair styled up to not hide her face. It was the deepest shade of black ever seen and the length was well past her knees. This was kept that long because she said it acted as a catalyst for her spiritual energy. She, just as with Ivr, recognized that there was something more to humans then the other Olympiads gave them credit for and had started a school for them to learn how to harness their soul’s energy. Only select humans were capable of this feat, however, and it was she personally who decided who got to join in these learning centers. All of her students had to grow their hair as long as hers to increase their power. All of her closest pupils were women. Males were able to harness their potential but had to do so through another means. Again, a curious wonder of Humanity. The men who envy or despised this truth played with the word witch and turned it into bitch, a derogatory term for female casters. Her age was well beyond count but physically she was just as youthful as fresh snow.
But yet despite her intense following she has a strong influence among her own kind. If her approval on a matter is not met it doesn’t happen. Plain and simple. And no god or human provokes her ire.
The second born, Isilya, was chosen as the goddess of the planet. Her beauty was unmatched by any that had ever walked upon the lands and was well versed in medicine through alchemy. This being her house there were a number of different plants potted here and there in decorative fashion throughout the interior. The sun was made to shine into every room in the temple so her flora could thrive. She was always serviced and followed by 7 maidens who she taught botany to. All of them were also very beautiful and usually men’s eyes followed them whenever they passed by.
Finally, the youngest, Straid, was not given a position as a deity yet but oversaw the laws of his father and acted as judge to humans who committed crimes. It was he alone who decided what their fate was to be. In short, he holds dominion over human law and nothing concerning the gods other than how humans worship them.
Being the youngest he retained a beauty himself that nearly made him appear feminine. Not just in appearance but also in stature and mannerisms. He always tried so hard to earn his father’s favor but Thorkel was not one to just hand it out on a whim. There were no more wars to be fought and it would be harder for Straid to appear strong than it took for Ivr. This being the case it seemed in Ivr’s mind that Straid held some resentment towards him for this. His older brother pitied him for not living up to his true potential as Straid built himself up on the opinions of others.
How could this judge expect to be as their father while being so weak? He needed to find his own courage.
“My son is finally here,” the King said. Thorkel wrapped his arms around his first born and gave a warm hug. “My boy, that armor suits you just fine.”
“Thank you, father,” Ivr responded. “Let’s save the praise for Isilya though. This is her day.”
“Of course it is. And now that the family is together, a quick toast to our success.”
The King was handed a bottle by one of his daughter’s maidens while the rest gave them a glass each. Thorkel poured everyone of the red wine and spoke as he went around doing so.
“Not even those damned dragons could destroy us. It took us centuries to establish our rule and with the cooperation of Humanity we’ve dominated over the wild lands of this planet. We settled, married and started families. And now my beautiful daughter goes to start her own.” He looked to Isilya with pride. The entire point of their marriage was to benefit her bloodline and to keep the peace between the Olympiads. Her husband, Fadlan, was a fine soldier from those darker years and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind or her own that she was happy to be marrying such a figure. Their wedding was symbolic of the continued existence among the gods.
Ivr was told of the unrest between his kind as the kingdoms were being established. The wars started when one of their own had been out casted far to the north. He betrayed his own by going against their collective will but what this was exactly was had never been gone into detail with Ivr or his siblings. Their parents suggested that there was no need as betrayal is betrayal and how can one lessen its impact any?
Coming out of the old memory and back to the current happening Thorkel continued, “Those we lost to let us live in paradise…” He raised his cup high as did everyone. “Bless them.” Everyone drank from their cup until it was empty. Thorkel cleared his throat and was about to speak when Ahania said something.
“Everyone come and watch Bishop Hume bless the grounds. It is nice to be bragged about, right, Thorkel?”
“Of course. We are gods, are we not?”
The youngest, Straid, helped his sister up to her feet. They all then went out to the railing overlooking the church floor. Below they could see the pews were filled and the many conversations were settling down as Hume began to walk down the aisle between the crowd. He wore garments embroidered with the most intricate designs of white and gold thread. His head was covered with a hood and his hands gloved. He began to chant in a language taught to him by one of the Olympiads spoken by their kind before discovering Humanity. As he repeated a verse his drew invisible shapes in the air with his pointed finger. Following him were four priests holding incense on long rods.
Ytal gyn Thorkel lat i theju kery.
Gwy shegovra gyn pa.
The chant gave praise to Thorkel, his King, his living god. The priests gently swung the gold rods back and forth. This process was to clean the floor for Isilya and purify the air that these mortals had sullied with their presence. This was not meant in a demeaning manner and all the humans even felt ashamed to be in the presence of their gods.
“I believe this is all a bit too much,” Ahania said.
Her husband cocked an eyebrow and looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Considering this golden age we’ve given them I say it’s flattering.”
“We didn’t have to bring them out of the caves,” Straid added. Sucking up to father again, Ivr imagined.
“Father did bring them light of the sun and out of darkness and ignorance. They have a will of their own now and did not have to service us in this way,” Isilya explained.
Their mother hung her head pretending to be observing the finishing touches given by Hume. “How could I forget,” she said apologetically. On the contrary though, she had not forgotten about humans surrendering to their gods’ will. They merely traded service for a living and a better way to live.
“They pray to me before a battle. The ones who fight beside me or for me, those are the ones who feel like gods themselves. As if godhood would rub off. I don’t understand their superstitions and the praying but if it allows them to feel superior – stronger than their opponents – let them believe it works. It is flattering,” Ivr said to take the attention off his mother.
His father smiled and smacked him on the back. “They’re where they belong.”
The four royal guards had been further down the walkway and had begun to descend down the main floor, possibly to shut out the conversation. They respected their god-king and had knew not to speak out of line against their superiors. Many warriors, Ivr found, had a lesser view on immortality. Being one himself he still viewed victory and coming home far more rewarding than dying, to him to die in battle was to fail. Not having ever sustained a wound, he believed he would never taste the bitterness of defeat. The shame of succumbing to steel would be an experience he would not ever have knowledge of and if he did then he was not truly a god.
As far as security went, it was pretty heavy. Knights stood outside the main entrance and all along the outer border of the pews. They had been summoned mainly to take part in seeing their princess marry so that they could go home and tell their families about how wondrous the event had been. Many had wanted to gaze upon her beauty one last time and take the memory home to their wives. Her contribution to medicine seemed a distant second in their minds. The other reason? To keep the peasants out and from distracting the dukes, earls, vicsounts, and barons and the like with their depressing appearance.
The captain, Faraam, bowed before leaving his lord’s presence. Hume was near finishing his blessing and the four had to take their positions. The bishop was now behind his podium with the Codex opened in front of him. Isilya’s maidens also started their way down to the floor and formed a triangle with the pews being the base and Hume at the top point. The incense carriers stood on both sides of the bishop and the meaning was only known to Thorkel and the bishop. The audience was simply stupefied to the whole esoteric symbolism of it all.
Outside thunder was right at the cliff Ivr had been sitting at when Hume came and retrieved him earlier. The masses standing outside did not mind the rain that had begun to fall.
“Everyone, please bow your heads as I lead us in prayer,” Hume requested of this congregation. The gods, lords, and dukes – all – followed the instruction. The entire prayer was merely a praise of the King standing high above them all. And shall it continue forever and so forth.
By the end of it the family had made their way down and stood behind the pews. Fadlan walked down the aisle with Ivr, Ahania, and Straid. They stayed on the right side of the bishop. Once their positions were taken the seven maidens began to sing. Their voices echoed high through the rafters and were carried outside. The rain clouds that had gathered blocked the sun from shining down on this glorious occasion. Defeating the purpose of the painted windows and creating a darker, more foreboding ambience. All the little people in awe of what they heard outside suffered the gentle rainfall.
And after a couple minutes had passed father and daughter walked down the aisle grabbing everyone’s attention. Many of the wives in the audience noted Isilya’s dress. Jealousy and want were just as proportioned to the men desiring the bride. Fadlan could not take his eyes off his bride and she too could not avert hers.
At the end of the walk Thorkel happily handed his daughter over to Fadlan. They gazed at one another then turned to face Hume. Hume started to sweat just a pinch from the pressure he was under to see this through but cleared his throat and proceeded.
“King Fadlan and Princess Isilya, you union together is a blessing for all of Acragas and all kingdoms to follow. Some believe we were already living in a utopia, but we all know that starts today. May our continued peace last forever and may your marriage last beyond that time as our gods, the Olympiads, lead Humanity into the light and pull us further from the dark abyss we were spawned from. I, on behalf of all humans, give thanks for choosing us as your loyal servants. I assure you we will not falter or our faith be imposed against.
“Isilya, do you swear to love and to be faithful to your husband?”
“I do,” she said looking to him.
“And Fadlan, do you swear the same to your wife?”
“I do,” he swore.
There were no vows to give as the contract had been worked out beforehand. So, in hindsight, this event was a visual extravaganza to the people. That’s how it appeared to the well-to-do bunch in the pews. What was intended, however, was simply to let everyone enjoy themselves for a day and forget about the hard work that was to follow with the next morningrise. A celebration of the contractual agreement.
The wife and husband kissed and applause was followed inside and then by those standing in the rain. The couple began to walk towards the exit. Isilya’s family followed and Thorkel’s guard was right behind them. The crowd stood and applauded the entire time. Praise and thanks were shouted from various persons here and there.
With all the positivity going on nobody suspected the robed figures standing right by the doors with long knives under their sleeves. They remained silent and did not clap their hands. They looked to each other and nodded slightly and waited until the couple was closer. When they brandished their blades the crowd around them dispersed and now they were the center of attention. Screams of assassins roused the guards into action.
“Humanity will not be enslaved,” screamed one of them.
The crowd became hysterical and the knights around the walls could not make their way through the wall of bodies. All rational thought escaped those who were not trained in warfare. The assassin who shouted began to run towards the princess and Fadlan. The husband held his wife tight to protect her from the harm coming her way. As the knife was raised high to strike a blow to the gods, the hand holding it flew even higher followed by half the killer’s head when Arenjun’s knives met his flesh. Blood sprayed Fadlan and Isilya’s perfect white dress and anyone close to the mayhem.
“Get Isilya back towards Hume,” she shouted. Ulster grabbed the both of them and pushed them back deeper into the church. The four knights were the only ones close enough with weapons to take on the swarming assassins. The other knights lined themselves in front of the married couple. She was safe, leaving the other assassin open to attack. Knowing he could not kill his primary target he sought after Isilya’s family. His progress was halted quickly by Arenjun and Faraam. Agamemnon stayed behind to protect the King. The killer stopped in his tracks and rethought his situation quickly. He gritted his teeth and ran towards the two knights.
Arenjun seemed to dance around the killer, taunting him with her dexterity. Every swipe he attempted was met with empty air. Faraam waited until he had the man’s back and broke his knee with a sharp kick from his heavy boot. The human collapsed to the floor, dropping his weapon to the floor. Ivr sped to grab the man by his collar and lifted him off the ground with ease. The god’s eyes could have mirrored the sun in that moment.
“By what right do you strike at your goddess? Who do you think you are, human? Why have you done this,” he demanded.
“To kill you all,” the man replied. “You are demons stealing the souls of men!” That last sentence was shouted for all to hear. He would be heard before silenced and tried to explain his actions. “We are not your slaves. We are not tools or pawns. We have forgotten who we are and there are those who remember who will enlighten the ignorant. We have traded our caves for our own hands. You are not gods by any means but demons living off of us like livestock.” The man then spat in Ivr’s face.
“And you are the worst. Spawn of that whore and liar.”
Ivr threw the man to the ground and took Arenjun’s knife from her. He kneeled down over the man and put the blade against his neck.
“Your lies should be your final words then,” he asked him.
“Indeed, noble lord. Fuck yourself!”
Thorkel approached and the man saw his face covered in shadow. Small white dots appeared where his eyes should have been. Fear crept into the man’s face and he could not hide it.
“You have threatened my family – your own gods. Are all of your kind so ungrateful for what we have given you,” he asked.
The man said nothing stead fasting himself against the creeping fear.
“You should have brought more than knives if you sought to murder a god,” Thorkel said.
“I bring word that there will be more attempts and we will never stop until your kind is all destroyed. So that we may rule ourselves,” the man said. “We inhabit all the lands you claim ownership over. Humanity’s soul is not misguided and sees beyond your control.”
A flash of lightning illuminated the interior of the temple for a second.
“We know what you are and will do what we can to save ourselves from all of you.”
“Then we have nothing more to discuss,” Thorkel said.
Father put a hand on Ivr’s shoulder and then walked away to see his family. Ivr slit the man’s throat open and watched as he gasped for air. He saw the man look into his eyes while he bled out. There was no sign of regret or misguidance in his actions. He was doing was what he believed in just as those who fought against him in a field. Something happened to this man to make him give his life for his purpose. Even if he was lied to and brainwashed he had gone too far into the deceit to believe anything to the contrary. When the man’s life escaped him Ivr felt something pass into him. It was a familiar feeling that swallowed him on a battlefield. Normally Ivr would close the man’s eyes but the attack on his family was unforgiveable and he walked away from the pool of blood and sought to his sister.
“Is everyone alright,” Thorkel asked his family.
“Yes, father,” Isilya said.
Thorkel hugged Arenjun and thanked his knights for being here.
“Of course, my lord,” Faraam said.
“What was that rabble about,” Straid asked.
“The talk of a mad man,” Ahania answered. Her eyes glued to the blood on the floor.
Ivr pulled the captain aside. “I want you to get all of our men together and put an immediate curfew in effect. I want the streets empty now. I will not have another attempt on my sister’s life.”
“It will take at least an hour, Ivr, but I will see it done right now.” Faraam shouted to the other three to follow him and explained what he wanted done as they left for the outside.
When the whole ordeal was over Hume fell to his knees and prayed. The dream was turning foul and dark.