LUNAR DAWN

THE ECLIPSE CHRONICLES

Book I

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

In The Beginning

A drop of water falls from heaven and makes a ripple in the lake of my life. I must use my strength to ride the waves and conquer the death at hand.

THOUSANDS OF TORCHES lit the black Demons' armour as they massed against the gates of the city. Mighty war drums thundered, quaking to the chant of SHADOW! BLOOD! SWORD! FLAME! They flooded into the crumbling resistance as their swords cut down all opposition. Soon, their enemies began to flee in scattered, hopeless fear.

“Commander Zeczel!” One Demon shouted, “We've driven the infidels back to the castle doors! Our forces have penetrated the stronghold!”

“Excellent!” He roared, “Let none survive! Onward!” His soldiers all howled as they happily carried out his order, and charged the enormous building.

Suddenly, they felt a tremendous rumble as beams of light exploded from all the castle windows. The tremor grew worse as a blinding pillar covered the fortress walls. The large doors flung open with a loud THUD! A few Demons came running out of the castle screaming, clutching their faces as they thrashed. Some of their comrades tried to hold them down as Zeczel approached. “Brothers, what happened in there?”

“Monster! He's a monster!”

“What? Who? Talk sensibly, soldier!” He pulled the Demon's hands apart to look, and then jumped back at what he saw. The Demon's eyes were burned out of their sockets, leaving only holes filled with ash. “No mortal could have done this, especially not an infidel.”

The commander and all of his men stared shaking in horror as they saw it. A man was walking towards them. He was young, bloodied and angry. The vision of his adversaries fell upon his weapon: A shining white sword. A flaming light covered his body, and his eyes were coated with a soft shade of blue. Following him out of the castle was a thick, bright mist.

“Stand firm brothers! Do not let the infidel's illusion scare you. Kill him!” A Demon rushed forward to attack. The man planted a firm kick into his chest, which launched him into the air and far behind the front lines.

“He's dead!” One of them cried.

“Cursed infidel!” Zeczel shouted, “Do not stop! Kill him!” Four more Demons charged, tackling the man and pinning him to the ground. They too, were thrust high into the air, their bodies evaporating, in an explosion of light as the man uttered his war cry.

“Close-combat will only thin our numbers. Use firearms to engage!” A row of Demon riflemen lined up and took aim. Rivers of fire spewed forth as the volley of burning hot lead covered the air. Each bullet burst as it struck the man. He flinched mildly when they hit him, but no harm was done. The white light protected him from all efforts. He spread his hand. The mist behind him surged like a wave, engulfing him and the Demons.

Zeczel wasn't able to see his troops, but they were there, briefly as the invisible enemy hacked them apart one by one. The flash of his weapon was visible, but only at the last instant of life. The commander looked at his hands: they were slowly being eaten away by the mist. “May the blackness protect us all!” he said as fear set in. A shadow darted in front of him. He swung, but hit nothing. The situation was grim. His forces were scattered, confused and unable to counter-attack. He had to withdraw. Zeczel shouted a final order, though not his intended words, before the stalking warrior cut him down as well: “Fall…!”

CHAPTER 1

EPHRAIM SAT ON the balcony staring up at the giant, full moon. His cape flowed elegantly in the soft breeze as the moonlight shimmered on his cloudy hair. He closed his eyes to the soft hooting of the owls, sighing, and scattering his thoughts. Why had this all started? His head fell lower, bringing into view the Saig that hung on his belt. The golden hilt, decorated with a single white pearl below the shoulder, the bright blade, and the intricate sheath. His pointed ears twitched at the sound of approaching footsteps. A soldier came into light, bowed, and spoke softly.

“His Majesty has requested your presence, My Lord.”

Ephraim's violet gaze turned to the messenger. “Thank you, I'll be there at once.” He arose casting one last glance at the celestial gem above the royal castle, the castle of Mother Glory.

Ah, Mother Glory, the capital city of Juran: his fond new home. Dive into the vast sea of stars entwined with red and golden carpets of light, and you’ve arrived in Orion Nimbus. Compared to this massive galaxy, the planet Seras must seem very small, but come down to her rolling pastures, or look at her mighty mountains, and you may, for a brief moment, think differently. That was before the darkness came, before Evil was born. In those days, her mountains were untainted, and then the darkness descended from the sky, corrupting the fair earth. Syndrome, the first victim, fought them, cursed them, and then became them. Soon the stories, then the hordes, then the blood all came. Demons. That’s what we called them, for no mortal could be so cruel, and so horrendous. Could they? Seras. The other kingdoms. They were not conquered or beaten in battle, but consumed. Juran tried to stand against the tides, and we had our friends, such as the Order of Light, Jehovah’s mighty warriors.

Battles were fought here, men died there, not to mention the king himself was slain and the prince had to suddenly take charge, but he did. Soon the day came: the day when we thought Mother Glory would finally fall like all the rest before her. But just as the enemy had Juran by the tip of his sword, he came: the Holy Knight. Seven years ago. An eternity of warfare.

Ephraim's boots clicked on the floor of the marble corridor. He found the doorway between two columns under a golden frame leading into a brightly lit room with layered floors of beautiful emerald marble. As he passed below the chandeliers and glanced at the pillars lining the walls, he stopped before two golden thrones. Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head.

“You sent for me Your Highness?”

Prince Raven, the young man before him, ruler of Juran, acknowledged. “Rise, Holy Knight Ephraim.” Silver eyes, looking from behind his black hair, relaxed at the sight of his best friend and soldier. He began his address as Ephraim stood. “I’m sorry the only thing we ever talk about is war. As we grow old together, once this is over, I hope you remember fonder things of me.”

Ephraim smirked, “No offence taken, it’s my job. What can I do for you, My Prince?”

Raven sighed, “The Demons have launched another campaign to crush the feeble defences your actions gave us time to build.” is voice was heavy with frustration and sorrow. Our brave men are completely overwhelmed, yet we have little to support them with. They’re pulling out from positions in every direction every day,” he was unable to finish his thought.

Ephraim stepped forward, “Say no more Your Highness, I will go to war against them, whatever you ask I will do.”

“No, that will not be necessary. You have already proven yourself on numerous occasions, and quite honestly, an ordinary soldier with your experience would have been granted an honourable discharge long ago.”

“But I’m not an ordinary soldier. I’m a humble man trying to repay you after...”

Raven quickly lifted his hand, “Please don't bring that up again. I know full well what your motives are. Seven years in my service like this is too much. I won't stand for it any longer!”

Ephraim ceased, seeing the prince’s anger was aroused. He then asked, “Please let me find favour in your eyes. This is something I want to do.”

Raven studied his soldier’s persistent spirit. “I know, you never cease to baffle me. Ephraim, our lives are equal in worth. The reason I took you in was to give you a chance to live in peace. You owe me nothing, I forgive any debt. Does that not convince you?”

Ephraim opened his arms as in sacrifice. “Great prince, live forever! Even so, this is my home now. I want to protect it.”

Raven thought for a moment, then reached into his black robe and took out a scroll with a sealed golden ring around it. “Inscribed on this paper is a battle plan that all of my generals assure me will only succeed with a minimum of fifty thousand men. This mission was drafted for the occasion in which we felt the final blow could be struck. A military action like this can only be authorized by me.” He looked at Ephraim intently. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? Do you think you’re ready?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Raven slipped the ring off the scroll and unrolled it. “The pestilence of Syndrome has crushed all that we have worked to build: our history, our livelihood and our happiness. Such evil must not exist. And so, bring under your sword every Demon you encounter, their allying brothers, and the entire land of Syndrome. Soak the soil with their blood and render the air flooded with their cries. Burn their corpses with the same flames they have unleashed upon us, and scatter their ashes to the winds of forgotten nightmares.”

Ephraim’s fists tightened, the leather of his gauntlets emitting a low whine. “A death sentence long overdue.” There was a brief silence in this moment, following the bold condemnation. The candles gently flickered playfully. Then, Ephraim inquired. “What kind of resistance can I expect?”

Raven nodded and promptly stood. “Yes, I'm glad you mentioned it.” He snapped his fingers and a silver sphere floated down from the centerpiece of one of the chandeliers and grew to form a globe. Raven pointed to several glowing blue lines running from the ocean into the mainland, and three more from the west. “As of now, we have been focusing the majority of our forces in two directions: East and West. With the remains of many of our stronger fortifications still there and partially intact, they can defend Mother Glory easily. The Demons are aware of this, and have tried to hinder any further expansion. To relieve the pressure, we have mapped out several key targets for your assault. Our intention is to buy time by causing the enemy to panic, tricking them into a belief that they need more troops. While they wait, we’ll shift our fronts around to create a more balanced, complete shield. Once this is accomplished, your next objective is Syndrome itself. Get into the capital, find their king and slay him.” The sphere shrunk and returned to its resting place.

Ephraim bowed. “I will carry it out my duty with nothing less of victory, Your Highness.” He felt two hands touch his shoulders and pull him upright.

Raven looked at him. “Please, I would rather be called your friend than your king. A king sends his troops into battle, but a friend would gladly take his place.”

Ephraim smiled, put his hand on his shoulder, and nodded in ascent. He walked out of the throne room deep in thought about all the possible outcomes of the war. He had a crucial role to play in this attack, as was the case many times. Maybe, just maybe, he could restore the people's hope again, like he had before. A young girl's voice pierced his thoughts, and he stopped.

“Where do you believe you are going?”

Ephraim turned toward a young, beautiful woman, dressed in elaborate robes of green and white, golden blonde hair, and dancing blue eyes. A smile came across Ephraim's face as his expression relaxed a little. “Good evening, Princess.”