KMC Forums - The Mark of Solia.

This is something I have to do for my English Negotiated Studies, so it's not done yet. Please read and review. I will try to update it as often as I can.

*Solia was the grandmother of Alexis. She was murdered by a corrupted Torfith. Nobody knew he was corrupted, except Solia. She cast a spell so that all who had fallen from grace would have a scar appear on their heads. Then she was killed, but her killer was executed because he was exposed by her spell, they named the scar in her honour*

->This story is far from finished, but I�m posting it up as I work on it, please don�t think that the way it ends now is the way that it will conclude, as there is much, much more to come.<-

Prologue:

The last thing she saw, as she breathed her last breaths. Was the face of her beloved Zaphikiel, his eyes brimming with tears of sorrow and regret. "Forgive me, Alexis, I was weak, and shall remain so without you. I am not worthy of your love�" he spoke in a choked whisper, evidently in pain as the mark of Solia burned itself onto his forehead, a result of his crime. With every last essence of her strength, Alexis tried to speak, tried to do something, anything, but it was no use. Every second took her another step closer to death; she was running out of time, but she had to know.
�Why have you forsaken me?" she managed to utter a single question before she was gone. Zaphikiel buried his face in his bloodied hands and began to sob uncontrollably. Then, he was overcome by fury, no sooner than he had been overwhelmed by sadness. He rose up; picking his sword up off the blood-stained tiles of the balcony, and it glistened with crimson sorrow in the rapidly fading sunlight. By the body of Alexis, he swore her vengeance; justice for his lover, and maybe with it, would come a piece of the life which he had been robbed of. He knew nothing could bring her back, but that would not stop him from evening the score.
�Father!� He roared: His anger was as hot in his words as it was in his heart.
�I was wondering when you would put that thing to good use.� A voice came out of nowhere.
�As I was wondering when you would be brave enough to show your cowardly face.� Zaphikiel�s voice was like acid.
Voltaire slowly appeared in front of him, his face completely indifferent to the situation. As he watched Zaphikiel, the mark of Solia burned into his forehead just as it had his son�s.
�Looks like you didn�t escape it after all, old man.� Zaphikiel motioned to his fathers head. Voltaire reached up and touched his hand to his forehead, but drew it back sharply as the marking burned him. Surprise registered on his face, but quickly disappeared, and was replaced by indifference. He seemed to notice Alexis� body at that moment, as he gazed at it momentarily.
�I must admit, you did a pretty damn good job.� His voice showed no signs of remorse for his actions, or for his son�s inevitable doom. He either did not realise it, or simply did not care. �What have you done? You�ve murdered your own wife, when she did no wrong. And you were supposed to be better than that.� His tone was smug, and he seemed to be mocking Zaphikiel�s situation. He seemed to be taking pleasure in seeing his son fallen from the graces of Torfithien.
�I will hear no more of you, father. I have heard more than enough, and talking will not avenge Alexis! You will fight me here and now. Or are you going to find somebody else to fight your battle again? Coward.� Zaphikiel�s sword was at the ready and it shimmered wetly in the dim light of the evening. Voltaire accepted the challenge without hesitation, and drew his sword.
�Oh how I�ve waited for this day, child!� He hissed, and slowly moved towards Zaphikiel, all the while watching him, waiting for him to make the first move. Zaphikiel gripped his sword tight in his hands: His entire life had been leading up to this moment and they both knew it. Voltaire lunged towards him with a swift swing of his blade, catching Zaphikiel slightly off guard; enough to cut down one side of his face, from his left eye down to his chin. Blood trickled in thin streams down his neck, and his eye was badly damaged, but Zaphikiel did not seem to notice. Voltaire took the opportunity to attack again, slashing at Zaphikiel� s chest in fury, but even with one of his eyes useless, he managed to defend himself. Lifting up his blade to his chest, he made a sequence of blocks, using the middle of his sword to deflect his father�s fiercest attacks.
�Come on, old man! I know you can do better than this!� Zaphikiel screamed in rage. Voltaire retaliated with even more anger, and the two fought for hours, each deflecting every one of the others� attacks.
Voltaire tried to surprise Zaphikiel with speed, but Zaphikiel side stepped his attack, and stabbed Voltaire in the stomach, and he keeled over, blood pooling slowly onto the floor.
Zaphikiel could kill him now; end his pitiful life, but he wanted his father to fight for it, wanted him to get down on his knees and beg for mercy.
Breathing heavily, Voltaire rose up, and made another attempt to kill his son. Zaphikiel could see that the old man was tired: There would be no merit in dragging this battle out.
Calling on all of his strength, Voltaire went straight for the kill. Swinging his sword straight at Zaphikiel�s head, he should have won the battle. But, all in an instant, Zaphikiel dodged, dropped down onto the ground, came up from behind and drove his sword right through his father�s heart.
His father backed away, and stumbled over, clutching at his chest, where blood seeped through his shirt and his fingers. He was gasping for air; his chest heaving with every breath, his life was fading away quickly.
Unsatisfied, Zaphikiel took his sword and beheaded Voltaire with one clean sweep. Now he could rest. Zaphikiel began to taste blood: He looked down and realised that he was bleeding from a large wound in his chest. He would probably die from it, but he didn�t care.
->To be continued<-