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His feet planted firmly on the Surface World, in what the mortals now referred to as the Red Lands. Tazrael could recall a time when it was called Ibleth Telmag’Klear (The Center of All), a great and prosperous demon nation that had once belonged to his people for thousands of years.

They had lived in peace, had worked in harmony with the land, and had used the energies of Coroleya to create wonders never seen before. All of it ended in the blink of an eye. The great cities of the world, brought asunder by the Breaker, and his legions of devout followers.

It was one of the few memories Tazrael had in which he had felt true fear for the first time in his life. Fire had rained down from the blood red skies, great cities had crumbled into dust, and the world had become a haze of blood and death, where everywhere he looked bodies lined the blackened soil.

His father had told him then, that this was the way of the world, that the strong devoured the weak. That they had become too soft for this land. But he had never understood why his father had never fought to defend this world. His power alone could have turned the tide of the war, and yet the God of Death had sat silent, and watched. He watched as the Breaker ravaged the lands, he watched as Ibleth was turned into a dry wasteland of barren rock, and he watched as his descendants cried out to him, seeking protection that would never come.

Tazrael had thought then that he had understood why his father had refused to battle the Breaker. But it seems he had been wrong about him. Cowardice had never been one of his father’s way, but it seems cunning was. His father, who had planted seeds all across the world, causing mortals to turn their backs upon the Breaker, and then reaping souls. Souls offered willingly to him in exchange for power.

And yet, this was never enough for Tazrael. For with every rebirth, he could still remember the world as it had existed before, before they were called demons and relegated to the Underworld. He remembered the light of the suns on his skin, the smell of fresh air that had not been polluted by vapors, and the taste of sweet clean water. Something his father had long since forgotten.

His gaze refocused on the lazy river that winded its way below him, he watched the flocks of birds descend from the skies, and in his mind he could see Ibleth Telmag’Klear, it’s beauty dwarfing even that of the Celestial Realms as demons flocked to the skies in waves that moved from city to city in the clouds, it’s great black towers standing like mountains that reached up into the deep blue sky, and all around them, bubbles of energy. Huge round bubbles of energy in different shades and hues that streamed up all around them, glistening with magic, and blanketing the world with it’s strangely peaceful lights.

It was a time of wonder, a time of legends, and the only time Tazrael had felt peace in a long while. And yet his father and sister wished to stop him from returning to that most glorious of moments.

Laughing to himself as flexed his wings, he let the whole world drop away, and he threw himself from atop the cliff, relishing the rush of air that flew into his face, before he spread his wings and flew upward.

With much of Coroleya already fallen to his denizens, it would not be long before he had enough power to break her prison, and only then would he see the world restored to what it used to be.

~*~

After learning what he needed to do to open a gateway into the underworld, Gregor had unceremoniously told the dragon to bugger off. Well, not in so many words, since the beastie was huge and extremely powerful, but he had told the dragon in no uncertain terms that he had no more time. He didn't know what had made him say that? But a part of him knew it was true. The dreams that had plagued his nights for many years had become more vivid, and he could hear her calling out to him.

And so it was on the fifth day of his training, Gregor had marched back down the mountain, and sought a quiet place to cast the spell that would open a gateway to the Underworld, when he was interrupted by Daria. The tall powerful barbarian woman stalking down the slope with Gauldryon and the others in tow.

Expression cold as ice as she swung her warhammer down from her shoulder, she screamed, "you would abandon us now?! After all have we suffered together?! While you battle the darkness alone?!"

Her eyes flaring in the starlight that gleamed its way through the trees, he held up his arms defensively, more than a little confused to say in the least since he had thought he was doing her a favor. "This battle is mine alone," he replied, then as if to emphasize his point, he shrugged his broad shoulders, and continued, "and besides you would have only slowed me down. I can't be carrying a bunch of mudsaps with me where I’m going."

Dark brown eyes suddenly glittering with twin flames, Daria let out a wordless roar of rage, and charged forward towards him.

Gregor however, ready this time for this ever predictable woman, simply brushed her attack aside, the warhammer that had sped down to his skull, blocked with his left hand as he caught the weapon’s haft, and elbowed hard in the stomach. He then twisted the weapon free of her grasp and tossed it into the snow. Leaving Daria winded, gasping for breath as Gauldryon who had not spoken a word, moved up alongside her.

Armour glowing with blue runes, he spoke softly, “perhaps a test then to see if you are strong enough to best the darkness alone. Defeat me, and I shall let you go. Lose, and we come with you,” his steady blue eyes burning with a fiery light through the slot in his helmet.

Smiling at the challenge he had been waiting for ever since he had first laid eyes on the lordling, Gregor laughed, “it would be my pleasure, little lordling. I know your tricks now.”

Greatsword swept off his shoulders, he watched the others form a circle around them, Daria glaring at him, when the knight came forward in a shield charge. The light that suddenly blazed from Gauldryon’s armour, evaporating into nothing as Gregor smirked, and came forward. Their footwork and swordwork, brilliant as his greatsword, met the knight’s shield in a thunderous crash of sparks, both of them circling and probing each other for weakness. But even in an equal battle with no spells, Gregor with his considerable size and speed, quickly put the holy warrior on the back foot, forcing him backward time and time again, when Gauldryon with a guttural growl unleashed another bar of light.

Gregor, who he had no chance of avoiding the magical energy, moved forward to absorb the attack, licked his lips at the pain that scored his chest, before he blasted the knight off his feet, his greatsword sweeping downward to press the tip between the knight’s helmet and armour. “I win, lordling.”

Panting as he lay there in the snow, Gregor could see the fiery rage again smolder in the paladin’s blue eyes, and he got this sudden urge to rip his throat out, when Gregor suddenly let out a mocking laugh, and took a step backwards. So much for the knight remaining calm, composed, and sane. He was the better warrior, and judging by the death glares he was getting from Daria, Tileya, and Pelwar, they knew it too.

Smiling at that thought, he returned his attention to the clearing, closed his eyes, and did as the dragon had instructed him to do. He whispered the words, “death is no stranger to those that follow the path.” And he felt a surge of energy leave his body, the ground before him cracking open to create a fissure in the snow that grew larger and wider, until all he could see was a black gate that slowly swung open.

Then with a smile on his lips, he looked back at the so-called heroes watching him, and walked forward. This time, he would save her. This time, it would be different. In death or life, he would save her.

And in the echo of his mind, he heard a woman’s voice whisper.

"And on the darkest of nights,

When the tears of mortals have filled the land,

There shall arrive a warrior of light.

A warrior to take my stead,

The one to lead the armies of righteousness against the Coming Darkness.

Be ready for their coming.

Be ready.

For the world shall need it’s soul for the Coming War.

For once she wakes, all the world shall burn.

She who would be first

And she who would be last.

She comes, and her name is Mother.”

~*~

Meanwhile Sezarath, Lord of Death, Father of the Dekaram, Firstborn Son of the Mother, and Slayer of Worlds, watched from his palace in the heavens, and laughed in glee. Things had just become interesting…

Note to Readers: I hope you guys enjoyed Book 3 of Heroes & Legends. Let me know if you have any feedback or thoughts on the story.

Plans for Future

So it could be a while before I return to writing more stories, but I will working on completing all the choices in a single go, fixing up Book 1 with a professional editor, as well as Book 2, and getting some artwork designed for the books. I'm also hoping to get another map designed, something with a little more detail to go with it.

If you'd like to help, purchase copies of Books 1 & 2 (reviews especially welcome), leave a donation by clicking the donate button, or just follow me on Facebook for updates. Thanks, and I hope to be continuing this saga soon.