Red blood met the mottled green of the forest floor in a torrent of spent life, splashing over the leaves and coating the array of colours in an all-encompassing red wave that dried steadily darkening as it did so and blending subtlety in to the colure of the surrounding forest. A further, smaller, fountain erupted as the knife was ripped fiercely from the stags neck, Jelki smiled and hummed a strange tune as he cleaned the blade, replaced it and drew another. This second blade was longer, for-curving, and slightly serrated, designed to slice through the rough hide and soft, now relaxed, muscle.
"Out of the trees with you boy" he grunted, scowling slightly as the knife struck bone in the dear's leg, braking small fragments off.
"How you manage to hunt anything I will never know…" breathed the boy, if he could be called a boy, stepping out of the shadow beneath the trees. He was tall for despite being called ‘boy’ and his age was implacable; he stepped lightly with his feet making no sound against the dried leaves flitting from shadow to shadow flowing through the trees like a dark liquid. Kaszak ended his dance with the shadows standing beside the man he called father with a faint smile playing across his lips that did not quite reach his eyes. Dark deep blue eyes, older than the forest they gazed at they were eyes that seemed to have seen too many years in too little time. The deep blue matched the one extravagant thing on his person; a long thin sabre with a stark white hilt set with a deep blue stone strapped to his back so as not to impede movement. The weapon seemed out of place among his garb; dark mottled brown dear hide trousers and boots, a coal grey woollen shirt. A hooded cloak of dark grey and black wolf skin hung from his shoulders, Filled with numerous pockets holding useful items; needle and thread, tinder and flint and a sharpening stone among other items. A small rough leather belt held six throwing knives bound with bright red hilt wrappings, to allow ease of finding them, was tucked under a layer of cloak.
"Pure skill" laughed Jelki as he cut the meat in to strips.
"Leaping from a tree with a knife and hoping for a clean kill in no skill father" said Kaszak with a touch of humour in his tone
"And your fancy little knives are?" barked the father, slightly affronted by the slight on his hunting ability.
"Pick a leaf" smirked Kaszak.
"What? Any?" asked Jelki, Kaszak nodded. "That one" he replied eventually pointing at a half-eaten leaf dangling down form an old oak on its own lonely branch.
"Elitaro" (fine) quipped Kaszak spinning in a flutter of wolf fur and letting a knife fly through the air, it span twice on its flight before sinking in to the oak. Half a small, eaten leaf fluttered down to the ground.
"You spend too much time with Cain" huffed his father, sinking back on to his haunches and resuming his task of butchering the carcass slowly going cold on the ground
“Only because he has things to teach me” laughed Kaszak “And anyway you shouldn't discriminate, it's really not his fault he's dead now is it?”
“I have nothing against the dead, when they stay dead.” breathed Jelki, with something akin to fear fluttering through his voice.
“It's your fault boy; I swear no one can stay dead for long around you…”
“Depends if I was the one who killed them father” whispered Kaszak, smirking as he wrenched the knife from the oak.

The forest of Glentooth swept over the landscape, a smothering blanket providing warmth and protection to those who knew how to don it properly, and a quick stifling death to those who did not. The forest swept down from the North Mountains and along the Silver Mare River, hugging the border of the empire but never touching. Down from the mountains flowed the green tide encompassing all; hills, valleys, and long forgotten relics of an ancient time. The Southern end of the forest hits the sea and the bridges of Dragonpass; two long, natural stone bridges reinforced by man and carved all over with dragons. In the setting sun the dragons seemed to dance with each other; a sad slow dance mirrored in the lazy mournful lapping of the sea as it empathised with the dragon's loss. Across the Dragonpass is the Isles of El’rieth, covered completely with Darkheart trees, the blanket broken only by the Moon Lake. Darkheart trees are famous for two things: firstly their wood makes the best bows in the known world, save those of the Renders, and second a single petal of their flowers holds the poison to kill a fair sized platoon of men. Tall and black barked, they have no leaves and no need for them. They devour magek; the energy released when someone dies. Among other circles they are known as the Whisperers, because they can speak to Soulborn. Deep in the forest two beings move. One lightly, a wraith and herald of death, though he does not yet know it. And the other treads firmly, the confidence of military service echoing through his stride. They are walking the same paths that they have walked for years, but now the forest is not the same. Dark and whispering the trees have moved from their centuries of indifference to a white hot rage and now, as the two hunters tread the paths of their home, the forest swirls and creates its own designs for the two beings.

The path ended suddenly in a clearing stopping Jelki dead in his tracks. The trees surrounding the edge of the clearing seemed huddled closer to one another as though both trying to protect themselves and hide the clearing from the world.
“We should not be in this place…” breathed Jelki dropping in to a crouch and knocking an arrow to his bow, his fingers trembled as he did so.
“Why?” spat Kaszak drawing a long curved knife and looking around nonchalantly.
“There are some places in the forest that hide from the world. Places the Dragon Kin build for evil ways long forgotten by all but the trees”
“Don't get all mythical on me now, the Dragon Kin” he said this phrase with a sneer “are long dead”
“Boy there are things in this world you do not understand! Your age counts for nothing in this matter as you lived but a fraction of your years in this world boy!” snapped Jelki, eyes wide with terror now. “The Dragon Kin lived and some still live in forgotten places such as this”
“Such as a grotty hill?” retorted Kaszak nettled by Jelki’s words.
“Look, really look at it!” shouted Jelki taking a step back and drawing the arrow.
A low wall ran around the barrow, dimly grey and dotted with moss, the wall was slashed by a single entrance, flanked by two stets or armour. Shapes littered the ground and a strange grass grew around these shapes. Jelki took another step back just as Kaszak took one forward, then another, striding across the open ground, knife held loosely at his side. Crossing the expanse of open ground the shapes revealed themselves to be long rotted corpses, now just bones filled with thickets of arrows that he had initially taken for grass. He slowed as he arrived at the low wall and bent to examine the strange stones; he reached out to touch one and recoiled as though burnt.
“Skulls” he breathed to himself straightening up and jogging around to the entrance in the grizzly wall, reaching the armour he paused studying them. Each stood with no means of support full plate and mail with a small shield and arming sword at their feet. Taking on last glance at the suites Kaszak smoothly bent stepped forward and snatching the weaponry leaped back settling into a fighting stance and watching the suits closely.
“You look like a frightened rabbit boy” snapped Cain “they will attack but only when you leave the barrow, If you leave the barrow that is. There not there as defence; they are newer than the barrow. My guess is some court mage was told to put them there to stop and one getting the Dragon Kin's secrets”
“Then why not attack me now?” sighed Kaszak straightening a little.
“Because there's no point attacking someone who they don't know has any information, why waist their energy on someone the barrow could finish for them”
“Fine, I'll go in the bloody thing. Pease keep an eye out for any traps”
“Which should I look through?” quipped Cain.
“Funny, now get back in a part of my head I don't use.” Snapped Kaszak out loud and marched through the entrance.
As he stepped over the threshold guarded by the two, still motionless suites of armour, dropping the weapons as he went through the wall that surrounded the barrow Kaszak became aware for the first time that the hillock of the barrow had actually been hidden as though by a swirling shifting fog that, although not in any way visible, clouded his sight and twisted the images that had lain before him. Now however he had passed through the mists affects and saw, for the first time, the hillock. He stopped. The ready knife fell loosely to hang like a caught convict creaking at his waist. Before him rose a tower, dark grey and flickering from and unseen light the walls were polished smooth, no cracks of bricks or joins of mortar could be seen. Two crevices watched him and he stood motionless, hollow spaces in the rock filled with an unearthly glinting fire that spun and danced in a way no fire should, flames licking at each other then springing apart spiralling around and bowing to their next partner before joining them for a mocking, glinting swoon around the great grey sockets. Below the flickering dark light of the eyes the top lip of the mouth, a slightly darker stone, was curled in contempt at the boy who stood before it. Long deadly sharp needle like teeth sparkled arrogantly down at him, daring him to etch within their range. A gap in the lower set of teeth relinquished a long languid tongue that rolled out of the mouth nonchalantly forming a deep wide flight of stairs. The lower lip was stained a darker colour than any of the surrounding material and, finally regaining his composure, Kaszak picked out the errant corpses penetrated lovingly by the wickedly curved fangs of the lower jaw. Kaszak pulled himself back, he felt as though he had been swimming deep in the eyes that bored in to him, but at the same time he felt like he had been standing motionless under a barrage of strikes to his body. Kaszak swore to himself as he managed to wrench himself together and both feelings where washed away like the tide. Drawing his second knife Kaszak rolled his shoulders flicked the knives through the air a few time to settle his nerves and stormed up toward the stair case. From far away he caught a soft voice screaming with pain and pleading to him, but this was merely a distraction for the maw was in his sights and he could think of no place he would rather be. As his feet touched the tongue of the tower it trembled at his touch, hungrily. Shy thought Kaszak to himself as though the personification of a tower being shy was the most normal thing in the world for him; he stopped to curiously examine on of the corpses that had fallen out of the maw on to the tongue. Curious how so many people had died at this spot, and a shame most of them fell on those teeth he mused happily almost skipping up the final stairs. He cleared the maw. A tunnel lay before him, a thought stretching down in to gloom, and more bodies now littered the floor shrunken decayed and rotten their stench was brought suddenly to his nostrils at the great teeth slammed shout behind him.

Rebecca lay twisted and bleeding on the cold stone, one arm hung limply and, though she tried, she could not move it. The numbness in her arm however did nothing to dull the bright icy pain and the warm trickling of constant fresh blood. An eye is what she had decided this room was; the bright light of the white was caused by high flickering torches however around her stone bed huddled the shadows, a black pupil focused on her, forcing her to cower and shy away from herself. Matted locks of dark hair hung over her face and shoulders, reaching down to her waist. Her top half had been stripped and her breasts and stomach where adorned with glistening runes drawn in shining warm blood. Goosebumps dotted her side and back, forming a pitiful defence between her skin and the cold unyielding stone on which she lay. Well-fitting trousers and soft leather boots told of a well off back ground yet the fire and harness deep in her eyes told a different story. Those same eyes flickered around the room, they were mismatched, yet beautiful. One striking electric blue and the other a deep fresh blood red, a livid scar ran through the red eye; a white line traced down through her eyebrow, iris and down to her delicate high cheek bone. Her lips where parted as though in an eternal last breath.

A sound reverberated through the room; footsteps. They stopped. Her eyes combed the darkness frantically searching for the source of the noise, her body stayed still, motionless. A rasp of breath echoed through the air; a sword being sheathed. None of the weapons her tormentors carried where blades, she knew them well enough by now, and any way she thought to herself, they would never be sheathing their weapon as they approached her. The footsteps started again. She held her breath. The figure came in to view and she gasped.

A shock of pure snow white hair cascaded around his face, falling down to his shoulders. His mouth was unnaturally cruel, feral, yet elegant and enticing. High narrow cheek bones framed a thin knife like nose. Two steel grey eyes gazed out from under the white locks; they took everything in about her in one sweep; her fear, resolve, anguish, suffering, nakedness, beauty and helplessness they seemed to calculate her entire being in a second. His mouth opened slightly as he exhaled thoughtfully, she may have thought it a gasp had she not been looking in those eyes. A man’s eyes may see her body and wish to hold yet those eyes knew they could have whatever lay before them, they looked through her body and tasted her soul.
“Rebecca” breathed the figure tasting the name as he had her soul. That one word he uttered was the most terrifying and amazing thing she had ever heard, his voice flowed like water carrying with it the forgotten sound of instruments long since rotted and the screams of those long since dead. 'Sit up. Now.' She obeyed. 'Stand'. She rose to her feet, swayed on the stop and slumped on the altar before rolling on to the floor. 'If you don't get up, I will leave you' said the figure simply.
'Bastard' she breathed hauling herself up using the altar; this time when she fell he caught her. The bone and muscle of his chest seemed to her as hard as the stone floor and she collided with the figure, he took her weight without swaying and, not caring where he put his hands, practically threw her back on to the altar.
'Here' he said pulling his shirt over her head, she caught a glimpse of a narrow chest, and narrower waist of rough scars stretched over toned muscle before he lifted her again and this time set he across the opposite shoulder a slightly curved elegantly ornate sabre that seemed to fit his appearance perfectly. Her dead arm fell with the fingers slightly brushing a strange scare, a paled golden flame.

“My name is Rebecca” called the girl from the small of his back “if you're interested” as she said this Kaszak smirked slightly and, although she could not see his face she realised he had already said her name, more than that; he had seen it in her.
“Kaszak” came the strange musically haunting whisper, “and why would I be?” sounding not rude, but actually rather curious.
“You did just rescue me…” reminded Rebecca feeling put down and surprised at the blatant lack of concern for the rescued girl.
“No, I was just passing through; you kind of got in the way of all my plans if I'm honest, but Cain said leaving you or killing you would be heartless, so here we are”
“Cain?” she asked as they passed through the iron gates “and what plan?”
“The dead man who talks to me. No I'm not crazy and no I'm not religious, and how some people manage to find a difference between the two I'll never guess. And neither am I lying” He said this so matter-of-factly she was stunned, he Kaszak continued before she could speak again “and the plan was anything but being forced to carry someone through a unfamiliar tunnel network where the local population and buildings have so far tried to eat me”
“So this…dead man? What's he like?” she asked innocently her cheek pressed against the warm skin of his back.
“Cain come out for a moment will you, I want the girl to know I'm not insane or she may try to hit me with a rock or some do some other inconvenient thing” as he said this Kaszak side stepped smartly to the right leaving behind a pale ghostly figure walking next to him. Short and well-built the hunter prowled down the corridor next to Kaszak and Rebecca a re-curved bow hung loosely with a quiver of arrows over one shoulder. Cain continued walking in silence for a while before turning his head and meeting Rebecca's gaze eye to eye, holding her eyes with his he tilted his head, bared his teeth then, suddenly, shouted “Boo!” Rebecca jumped so much she rolled off Kaszak's shoulder, he caught her at the last second, carrying her like a newlywed bride, and carried on walking as though nothing had happened. A small twitch at the corner of his mouth was all the sign he showed of acknowledgement towards the laughing, howling spectre besides him.
“God I've not done that for a while, last person was you're Dad yeah?” gasped the spectre once his laughing had abated somewhat.
“Yes, I remember that one. He put an arrow through you.” smirked Kaszak.
“Oh. Yes. That bit was not amusing. Bloody hurt too” sniffed the hunter indignantly.
“How could it hurt you?” interjected Rebecca
“When he takes that form he can still be hurt, he just dissolves back in to me if hurt too much, for example…” Kaszak, now only holding Rebecca by one arm, smashed the blade of his hand through Cain's throat, the spectral image disintegrated into pearly grey smoke that flowed back in to Kaszak.
“What…are you?” she asked.
“A Render”
“And what does that mean?” she breathed.
“So far I can absorb the souls of people I kill, some of the abilities of animals I kill, and when I'm killed the souls inside me die, one by one first, there's probably more but I just haven't discovered it yet” he said smiling. “Oh and I can tell when a girl is thinking of stripping me” he added softly. Rebecca blushed.
“Enough talk we need to find a way out, and no more questions you know the answer to” Kaszak said suddenly and with Rebecca in his arms stowed in to the dark corridors.

The tunnel stretched onwards, the dim light form the eye like room percolating down in the gloom leaving the two figures in a hazy twilight which revealed shapes at the very last moment. The girl looked around constantly, hair snaking around her head as she tried to pick out objects in the shroud. The boy walked on calmly his feet keeping the same pace and his eyes firmly clamped on the whirling darkness that clutched at his face. Unknown to the walkers the shadows watch them back, eyes swam through the darkness. Eyes with blades at their wastes and arrows notched to drawn bows. The Render and the human walked on unaware of the shafts trained on their hearts and the creature's scuttling along in silence behind, before and around them. The path way began to slowly level out, and as the gradient decreased the excitement of the silent watcher grew. Their silent communication and gestures became more animated as the floor finally levelled, scores more of the creatures dethatched themselves from the shadows, drawing bows and loping after their pray. The tunnel ended.

Kaszak stood, Rebecca in his arms, looking at the end of the tunnel; a great stone slab carved with runes and painted in blood, a seam ran down the centre revealing the construction to be a door of some kind. He took a step towards the door and, laying the girl down against it, turned slowly and drew the sword on his back.
“Show your selves” he called in to the gloom. The creatures answered and the silence was shattered glass fragments of peace ground to dust in the cascade of chattering jeers that were thrown back at him amongst the din he heard “Zoulak” repeated again and again; the old tongue for Render.
“Eliber, eliber fewatr” he called (stand, stand forward) and the silence rolled back in to the scene, some of the creatures edged out of the shadows for the first time, drool looping from long half snout jaws and the dark, sparse fur bristling with anticipation and curiosity. The bows where slowly lowered.
“You speak the old words?” called the most forward creature, its voice twisting through the air filled with innumerable years and hatred.
“Lothe” (yes) he said softly, more creatures clustered forward at this, and more bows where lowered.
“Where did you learn the words?” spoke the lead creature again, this one had not yet lowered his bow and the fletching of the arrow aimed at Kaszak caressed the creatures throat.
“I did not learn” called Kaszak in a clear voice that flooded the space. At his words the creatures took a step back bows rising and strings were drawn by not trembling clawed hands. “Lothe jn Zoulakz elibert unverkd zax” he called softly, his tongue twisting to form the words perfectly as though they were part of whom he was (yes a Render stands before you). At his words arrows the arrows released their grip on the bow strings and settled gently back in their quivers. The bows were stored on backs or placed in quivers. The creatures stood unarmed.
“Meaktosh” (begin) sneered the first creature who still held his bow, though the arrow was no longer drawn.
“Wha-” Kaszak started to say before three of the creatures leapt at him, blades ripped from scabbards as they shot across the empty tunnel between them. The first sword rose, painted bladed and barbed the weapon flew through the air at Kaszak. A brilliantly white thin saber intercepted the blade of shadows, knocking it to the side then spinning through the air as it danced from Kaszak's left had to his right before leaping forward to kiss the creature's throat. Dark, black blood erupted spraying down the length of the white needle as the body slumped to its knees and fell slowly sideward. Already the two others were upon him, the first came in high leaping and bringing the sword down at Kaszak's head. Simultaneously the second crouched forward snaking its blade out at his lower abdomen. Kaszak twisted, allowing both blades to go un-interrupted, sliding his white blade along the stomach of the one who had gone high while spinning past the last remaining creature. It turned to face him. Kaszak flourished his sword, sending an arc of blood at the creature, blinding it with its brother's blood. The creature screamed, falling backwards and clutching at its face. The screaming was cut off when Kaszak's blade descended through the flesh and bone of its neck. He turned, blood splattered and smiling, to find the creature holding its bow - the one he instinctively felt as the leader, facing him with a lazy smile, lightly and sardonically clapping.

"What" panted Kaszak "was that about?"
"It was a suceroth, a test or challenge if you will" answered the leader a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"To what point?!" growled Kaszak, resisting the desire to kill the little creature that stood before him.
"To the point of seeing if you truly where a Render and, if so, how advanced you were. We have dealt with your kind for year's boy. Do not dare trifle with me on this matter! You passed so control yourself." Snapped the creature it temper rising as it watched the arrogant youth before him.
"So if I passed now what?" asked Kaszak, the forced calm hanging heavy as shackles on his words.
"We pass through the door and begin your training. The girl, spill her blood on the stone and it will permit you entrance." Said the creature, its hand releasing the hilt of a knife witch, until then, Kaszak had not been aware of.
Kaszak turned to look at Rebecca, her form limp against the cold stone of the door, the saber flickered up from his side cutting through the air as he span around to face the leader of the creatures, the blade came to rest against its Adams apple. The creature smirked and, leaning back while twisting, fell backwards on to the ground, rolling to the side and coming up with two knives drawn and ready. A sharp clang filled the tunnel followed by two more as Kaszak's throwing dagger took the knife from the things left claw, both blades spinning through the darkness until they hit the invisible wall. Almost instantaneously the creature's dagger flew in retort, scoring a red line across his lower cheek, Kaszak, staggered by the knife wound, fell back a step from the creature.
"Know the name of Tuthelo and know death Render" laughed the creature drawing a sword from its waist and stepping forward. Kaszak stepped away from the enraged Tuthelo, backing off until he reached the area where Rebecca was spiralled, there he made a stand. Holding back a flurry of blows Kaszak began to tire, all his counters where met with counters of their own and he knew that, as a blades man, he was vastly out matched. A powerful stroke sent him tumbling into the wall of the cave grazing his hand against the rock he barely managed a score of parries before getting the opportunity to throw himself off the wall and back to standing. The creature changed styles suddenly, moving fluidly from straight forward swordsmanship to a combination of blade work and kicks, blisteringly fast Tuthelo struck with his sword at Kaszak's face while launching a kick at is right knee. The foot he avoided by throwing himself off balance while managing to get his forearm in the way of the sword. Tuthelo's bade grated through the soft leather and flesh slicing a deep gash in Kaszak's arm. Kaszak screamed and fell back, moving as though to bring his left arm to hold his injured right he through a great cloud of dust in to the creatures eyes and, as it howled, dropped his sword to grasp Tuthelo's right arm in both of his hands and brought his knee up to connect sharply with its elbow. The crack sounded as its fingers flew open letting its sword drop. Kaszak caught the sword and, spinning away to pick up his own blade, stood, planting both blades through Tuthelo's chest.
Kaszak looked up, blood soaked, the two blades held ready in his hands, at the silent circle of watching creatures. Their bows were once again drawn.

895 years earlier.

The ballista spat its bolt, a huge length of iron tipped wood that shot over the glittering moat silent in the din of battle. It thudded deep into the sodden ground at the feet of a tall battle clad man. Kasfernth smiled as his eyes flicked from the length of wood up to the tower from where it had shot, he raised his arm and pointed with the long spear he held. Moments later the top of the tower burst as the trebuchet behind him flung its load, a mass of blood stained stone crumbled down the ramparts raking men from the walls on both sides of the now topless tower. He smirked as he saw a body tumble down from the crumbled top of the tower and brake against the mound of debris far below. Kasfernth strolled towards the castle, languidly spinning the spear as he walked, more blots flashed around him as the defenders caught sight of the enemy general and desperately sought to take him down. One team got their accuracy perfect; the bolt sped at the centre of Kasfernth's chest all that stood in its way was the thin morning air and the slightly thicker black silk of his tunic. A half spin on his next step caused the bolt to whistle past him, caressing the air above his breast. He laughed out loud and began to jog, eager to be in the range of the archers on the walls, their longbows snapped sending a dark cloud of arrows down at the running laughing man. He leapt and spun the spear in his hand dancing, whirling and flying through the air, three more volleys where shot down by the archers before, in confused amazement, the rain cessed. A man stood below the walls, tall, muscular and clad only in cloth, yet untouched by the forest of shafts that had broken the skin of the earth all around him, unharmed and untouched the general of the Render army knelt on one knee breathing lightly with his spear held loosely in one hand and an arrow, almost touching his chest, clamped in the other.

Paul stood in the ranks of men around him, lost and knowing he was out of place but desperately trying to feel as though he belonged. The mercenaries stood to one side, scum who fought only for coin he thought, yet as he stared at their worn armour and blood stained clothing he was glad the Duke had paid the Godless men with their notched swords and battle scared faces. He felt they at least knew one end of a blade to the other whereas the peasants (despite being good God faring men all of them) that he knew from his time in the village could no more fight than they could fly. Muttering prayers he ran the stone along the edge of the blade he had been give; old and blunt but he had fallen in love with the weapon when the gruff sergeant had practically thrown it at him, he had laughed as the sergeants eyes widened when he, a mere priest, had caught the hilt of the sword and drawn it in a smooth motion before testing the edge and balance, when he next looked at the sergeant he had been rewarded with a brief nod of approval. That had been this morning though and the lessons of self-defence at the Abby had done little to make him feel ready of the battle ahead. He comforted himself by going through the observations he had made from the tower that morning too, when he had been full of bravado with a new sword weighing on his hip, the enemy force was a best two hundred large he thought and despite those outside being Render's he thought the force within the castle would be enough to decimate the heathens. But then he remembered the man in black and how he had evaded the shafts of over a hundred archers, laughing as he did so and Paul quivered slightly before telling himself that the swords and halberds of the Holy Eighth Legion would be more than enough for these demons. Inside the castle the remnants of the Holy Eight Legion lay in wait, almost two thousand heavy infantry where formed up in the second caught yard, to catch the Renders after they had tired themselves with the mercenaries, villagers and him. He laughed bitterly, causing a few heads to turn, what did it matter that there where legionary's in wait, that same legion was under strength because of the army outside the gates, a few days earlier a rider had ridden to the castle baring the news of the demises of the entire Holy Ninth Legion and half of the Eighth, no one knew where or when the army had been destroyed but a full legion of five thousand and half of another legion had simply vanished. There was no doubt what had become of them however, the legion standards were planted in the wet mud before the gates, tall shafts of ash with their legion motifs fluttering unrecognisably on blood covered flags and the golden cross atop each standard desecrated with the heads of the leaders of the two legions, Pauls blood boiled as he thought of the heathens butchering the Godly legionaries. The war had to be won, a decade ago the Papal Throne had declared the Renders excommunicated from the protection of God, the emissary at the Radiant City upon hearing the news in the place halls had simply been confused and, rather arrogantly in Pauls opinion, commented that the Renders had never lived under any Gods protection. The war this remark had started could not have gone worse for the cross, Paul had visited the cities and towns after the Renders for years now, he and his monks always hoping for a survivor but never finding one. The Renders had reacted to the murder of their emissary as she stood confused before the seat of God's power on earth by decimating the Cruciform; the lands held and governed by the Papal Throne. Paul could not remember a single story of a Render falling in the ten years of war that had stripped the Cruciform's armies down from a hundred legions of five thousand to less than a dozen legions. A boom shook the ground and walls of the castle, resonating through his bones and shattering his silent musings. A second noise rolled through the massed ranked of mercenaries and peasants bringing them all to their feet, one more of the sounds and every hand found a weapon, the peasants holding their scythes and pitchforks with trembling hands while the mercenaries drew their swords with the overconfidence and slowness of men trying not to appear terrified. This time the sound was a crash as the trebuchet hit the gate dead on, the mettle struts and hinges screamed as they broke asunder, splinters did the work of a battalion of archers destroying the first ranks of un-armoured presents. After a few seconds silence fell, broken only by the faint whimpering of the injured and the soft dripping of the blood sprayed all over the yard of men. Out of the dust a figure walked to face too crowded mass of armed men, lazily spinning a strangely shaped bleached white spear. The figure laughed.


Kasfernth loved the dramatic, and he knew that he cut a striking figure as he strolled out of the dust laughing and spinning his spear. He loved his spear; no weapon could be so elegant yet so deadly, the Render blades literally had souls worked into their weapons, the arms of the Renders whereas fluid and changeable as the beings that wielded them changing shape at their master’s thoughts yet always sharp and always deadly. He considered the mass of men before him as he walked slowly towards them, too many and too crowded for a spear he concluded and, as Kasfernth watched the faces of his opponents to gage their reaction, the spear in his hand changed, still spinning, moving fluidly from the form of a spear to that of a slightly curved single handed sabre. Kasfernth drew a dagger from his thigh and threw it glittering and spinning through the air high above him; he caught the second sabre by the hilt as it fell towards him. He turned and looked at the men before him, the laughter dying on his lips. He raised both blades in a salute then bowed before loping forwards looking to Paul like a wolf stalking chicks.

The castle stood, a skeleton propped up against the backdrop of a broken kingdom, Paul swayed, spattered in blood looking down at the mass of dead laid out in rows, their arms folded over their chests. He had run in the end, loosing himself in the twists of the castle tunnels and corridors before bursting out of the postern gate, the Renders had fought like nothing he had seen before, faster than the men around them, stronger and tireless they had brought carnage on the initial force and simply grinned at the sight of the Eighth Legion. However for all that Paul had watched as they carried each body out of the castle and lain it down, their weapons in the ground above their heads and eyes closed, he had watched crying as the Renders sang funeral rights for their dead foes, only when the kind and respectful demons had departed had he ventured from his hiding place to pay his own respects for the dead men he had abandoned. He stood looking quietly down at the ranks of the legionaries and the lines of farmers felling the pointlessness of their death against a foe who did not know mortal limitations.
“They were brave” came a voice from his right. Paul spun around to find him facing the black clad general “brave but foolish. We did not ask for this war, just as you did not ask for this blade” he said, plunging one of his swords through Paul's chest.
“But we do not choose all that happens to us Paul” he said allowed “I truly am sorry but I hope you now understand”. Deep within Kasfernth's mind the soul of Paul sensed what had been taken from him, sensed the pain and the cold hard madness. And learn the meaning of his name; Kas-God’s and Frenth-Vengence.
“God almighty who art in heaven!” screeched the soul of Paul over and over again as it was slowly burnt, consumed and devoured by Kasfernth's own soul, madness and pain took Paul as he was used as fuel for the fires of hatred that burnt in Kasfernth.
An Angel had been born.

Four Weeks Prior to Kaszak’s Events at the Tower

“Toss the coin boy” Jelki called across the fire, “high. And hold it in the air”'. Kaszak complied, flicking the coin high into the air. The silver glinted flicking the fire light back across the faces of the father and son as they watched its accent, it slowed as it reached its apex then hung, still spinning, a faint glow hung around it. A strange colour, not any colour either had seen anywhere other than in magic yet the glow seem to encompass all colours at once, it was the glow of life, the colour of magic. The two sat, transfixed for a moment before Kaszak broke the silence.
“So, what did you want the coin in the air for?” he asked as he tore his eyes away from the beauty of an undeterminably colour.
“Tell me how it will land boy”
“Heads” Kaszak guessed.
“No fool I said tell me no guess” Jelki scolded across the now dying flames of their fire, taking up a stick and releasing his frustration at Kaszak in a torrent of jabs at the embers that caused to flames to leap back up and resume their dance.
“Well it's hardly going to land on its edge” said Kaszak flatly.
“Yes!” beamed Jelki, laughing as Kaszak's eyes widened at the conformation of his sardonic remark.
“And the point, dearest Father” continued Kaszak his voice dripping sarcasm like venom “of my truly marvellous brake through is to what avail exactly?”
“Boy if you were twice as smart as funny you'd be the village idiot” sighed Jelki, choosing as usual to ignore the bait Kaszak offered to him.
“Explain then” Kaszak moaned exasperated, slumping back against a tree and proceeding to begin to twirl a knife around his first finger and thumb.
“My point, you errant fool” Jelki began fondly “is that it would take the whole council of seers a few decades to come up with such an answer as that if it were applied to life. Think for example that coin is a declaration of war, you can react aggressively: heads or defensively: tails. But it would take some of the wisest men in the world a good number of years to point out doing nothing, edge, is a bad plan and simply cannot occur.” By this point Kaszak had stopped playing with the blade and his eyes where gleaming at the thought of war. “Take you boy, the last Soulborn Render” Jelki said these words with a deep pain swimming through his eyes “You could do great things or terrible things but you won’t ever forget to change the world.” Jelki sat back; his piece said leaving the fire, forest and most dangerous being alive to slowly ponder his words. Eventually Kaszak sat up surfacing from his musings he brought the coin, still spinning in the air, down towards his hands until he held it hidden from view by both hands.
“Look at me Jelki” he said, his voice was that of the Soulborn Render not of Kaszak any longer, deep and fluid and dangerous yet calming and full of mirth as well as wroth, this was the voice he uttered when using magic for the power unlocked deep recesses of his being and change him while he wielded it. Jelki brought his eyes up to meet Kaszak's and found them the same colour as the iridescent glow that had surrounded the coin.
“I did not choose to be Soulborn Father” he said in his normal voice “if it would give her back to you.” He rose from the fire and, as he stood, a single tear fell from his now cold blue eyes. Kaszak held out his hand to Jelki and dropped the coin in to the older man’s hand before striding away in to the dark.

Jelki opened his hand to look down at the coin; instead of a silver metal disk he found a small perfectly detailed modal of a woman. His wife. Kaszak's mother. The woman who had died giving birth to him and in doing so both blessed and cursed him with the power of the Soulborn. Jelki smiled once at the perfect image of the woman he had, and still did love before sinking slowly back against a tree and sobbing until, watched over by Kaszak he fell in to an uneasy sleep.

Darkness swam before his eyes as Kaszak pulled himself upright, the shadows of his vision separated in to individual shapes leaving a merged mess of dark and light for the canvas of his vision. From his left voices drew his attention deep in a heated discussion about a person; himself he worked out after a few moments.
“What where those creatures?” came the first voice, light and flowing; a woman.
“Shades of the cave, there to hold the door” replied a gravelly voice.
“They attacked him?” the woman asked confused.
“The creatures would have ignored him but for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” The man replied simply.
“Any expansion?” she asked voice rising in slight fear.
“Look girl, he’s a Render, those creatures live to protect his kind, and to kill their enemies. Humans are currently enemies of the Renders; however he would have been fine with you except that he decided to fight for you”
“He’s a Render but he didn’t let that leader kill me?”
“Yes girl. Where not evil you know.” He said in a deeply sarcastic drawl.
“You’re...?” She sounded horse now. Kaszak decided this was enough, his vision had begun to form into colours now and he could vaguely determine the shape of Rebecca and a lightly built yet tall man before her. His vision split as he got to his feet, colours spinning out of control in a rainbow that washed across his field of vision. He took a few seconds to allow his vision to right itself before striding forward, he pushed the pain down inside himself, knowing he would have to feel it later but also knowing he needed his head clear at this moment. The pain and blurred vision cleared as it was pushed down into the well with in him.
“Who are you? Now” said Kaszak simply putting his hand on the man’s shoulder and spinning him around.
“Watch your tongue boy” snapped the man, pulling himself out of Kaszak’s grip, the man turned away and began to walk from Kaszak. The ringing of Kaszak’s blade cut the air. “Boy try not to be an idiot” smirked the man, turning to face him.
“You claim to be a Render.” Kaszak said as though this made the blade in his hand acceptable.
“That I am, therefore one of your people...” said the man, his voice now was being held steady as he realised Kaszak was holding a Render blade of snow white brilliance, and deadly capacity.
“I have no love for my people.” Retorted Kaszak simply.
“Why?” said the man quickly, both trying to keep the blade before him still and out of genuine curiosity.
“Because they have sent men to kill me on two occasions and I’m tired of killing your assassins”
“Ha!” scoffed the man “boy if we had tried to kill you twice you would be dead”.
“Here” said Kaszak simply, reaching around his back and drawing two daggers from his belt before letting them fall into the earth at his feet, they stood quivering in the ground. Each blade was long, slightly curving; a smooth blade ran along the outer edge of the knife with a viciously serrated set of tooth blade on the underside of the knife the blade and hilt where all the same dun grey colour. The grip on the hilt was ornate as was the wings of the cross guard. A crown of sharp blades rested on the top of the pommel. The blades drew the man’s eyes and a gasp escaped his lips.
“They are blades of the Faceless” he whispered astonished.
‘The what?’ asked Kaszak letting his blade lower a little.
“The Faceless are assassins of the Renders, they never remove their masks and are the deadliest men alive, and it takes over a millennium of training to earn such a knife”
“They were slow” said Kaszak simply.
“Not possible” muttered the man frowning then, more audibly he said “the grey in the blades signifies their status, it should have turned white when you touched it” he reached down and clasped on of the blades to make his point, the grey colour gave way to a swirl of pure white the spread from his touch. “Pick up the blade” said the man, gesturing towards the grey one. Kaszak complied, ripping the knife from the ground. The weapon remained grey.
“And the second” said the man quietly. Kaszak, after dropping the first blade, bent once more and grasped the blade, the white devolved blending into the dark grey colour of knifes twin.
“So?” Kaszak asked simply as the man’s eyes went wide.
“Tell me boy, where is your mother?” the man asked tentatively.
“She’s dead” Kaszak said simply.
“She died in child birth?”
“How did you know that?” Kaszak demanded.
“Then you’re a Soulborn?”
“What?” interjected Rebecca.
“Yes I am.” said Kaszak cutting off the man’s reply to Rebecca “what difference does it make?”
“Every difference” the man drew his sword, the blade and hilt was the same white as that of the assassins blade he had touched, he spun it once before sinking to his knee and presenting the hilt to Kaszak. “My lord” he said simply.
“Explain what is going on.” Kaszak said, lowering the sword fully for the first time.
“Boy you’re a Soulborn; they are very rare, very deadly and very important. There have been only nine in the whole histories of the Renders, and we have long histories. They have always leaded our armies in times of war. You have the right to claim martial leadership over the whole of the Renders, and by the ancient laws all lives belong to you.” He said this with a rush, then as realisation dawned added slowly “And you’re the second of two to walk the earth at the same time...”
“The second at the same time?” Kaszak asked smirking; he knew of the prophecy, and held all such fortune telling in distain.
“Yes, boy, never before have two Soulborn walked the earth at the same time.”
“Who’s the other?” Rebecca interjected. The man gave her a strange look as though considering then eventually answered.
“Gabriel” he said quietly.
“He’s an angel of our Lord!” she exclaimed.
“Fool of a child!” roared the man suddenly; as he did so Kaszak took a swift step forward, his sword rising slightly. The man softened his tone “he is not messenger of any god, he was known as Kasfernth and once led the Renders to war against the old Cruciform before for some reason he turned traitor, decimated the render army and almost destroyed my nation!” the man slumped after his quiet explosion. Kaszak stepped towards the man and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“I remember that event my friend, many were lost. Who did you lose?”
“You remember? But that means a Soulborn was among us all that time? Who are you? Where have you been?” the man looked on Kaszak with more respect now.
“My Father decided to hide the fact I was Soulborn. I am Kaszak, son of Jelki.” Kaszak stood proudly with these words “but I think you should give Rebecca hear some background on what happened in those years.”
“Kaszak? But you died?” Kaszak shook his head slightly at the words gesturing at Rebecca. “Okay, Rebecca the realm you live in now was based long ago in the north, there was peace with all the races but then the pope decided the powers of the Renders should be eliminated as we were the only people with the strength to stand against a world dominated wholly by the law of the church. The pope excommunicated us and murdered our ambassador, Gabriel’s, or as he was then known, Kasfernth’s wife of many centuries. You must understand Renders mate once and for life, and with a race that live uncounted years this is a great commitment and the love runs deep. Kasfernth was driven man. He lead the Renders war against the church but before he fully eliminated them something in him, his memory or caring, broke and he saw a chance for power or something ells, but he turned on his men. Three hundred men who had taken down an empire fell like flies to that man.” The stranger’s forehead creased “except the ones who joined him, only one man really stood against those traitors; Kaszak, this Kaszak. The legend says he realised he was being overwhelmed so he used a huge amount of magic to blast the whole land apart. The Angels and Kaszak survived but that country is decimated still to this day save for a few kingdoms skirting its edges.”
“How long ago was this?” Rebecca asked, sounding amazed and scared.
“Around nine hundred years ago” Kaszak said, sheathing his starkly white sword. “And that ‘huge amount of magic’ blasted me in to a limbo realm for the past eight hundred and ninety of them.”
“You’re over nine hundred?!” Rebecca exclaimed.
“Just about” laughed Kaszak “I’m around two thousand, but to us that is a teenager, anyway it gets hard to keep count.”
“You’re still young then Kaszak” said the stranger “but I am honoured to have met you and for your actions in that war I hold you with respect.”
“You spoke of significance around the second Soulborn” said Rebecca.
“Yes, there is a prophecy about the man you see before you.”
“Oh really” smirked Kaszak. “Would it refer to the Blade of Fallen Shadows?”
“The what?” asked Rebecca.
“The ability to turn Render steal back, much like the grey assassins daggers, a legend says the man who can do that will be able to master all forms of magic, and draw the Blade of Fallen Shadows from is scabbard” Kaszak smile “a myth Rebecca”
“What does it say though?” she asked.
“I know not the exact words” Kaszak said looking to the stranger.
“The second coming of the mother’s death
Two in the world both draw a breath
The first is destined to madness and wing
The second will make the black blade sing
Insanity in the sky and shadow drawn on earth
A war between gods who killed at birth”
The man recited slowly before falling silent. The darkness seemed thicker after he stopped with the chanting of the prophecy.