A World Beyond the Dark

by Andrei Navala

  “Anvalth, grab this!” shouted Liam over the horrible screeches as he threw the sword through the flames.

  Anvalth was lying in a pool of his own blood, smashed on the ground after a terrible, direct hit from the beast. He coughed blood and clutched his amulet, restoring some of his strength and will. A massive piece of metal fell right next to him and he heard Liam’s voice through all that deafening noise. He reached out towards it and grasped it with his fingers. He could feel a dark influence from the blade. He could tell how many innocent lives were taken by its thick, sharp edge. The sword was drenched in human blood used as sacrifice, but it would soon take down the effigy it has served. He gripped the hilt tightly and swung it viciously, parrying a hit from the beast and cutting through its arm. He slowly stood up and used the massive blade as a shield against another torrent of fire thrown at him. His whole body ached and his legs were about to give up but he had to stand up to the demon to prove he was not of its kind. He had to prove his humanity right then and there! Scratching the floor with the blade as he pulled it after him, he swung once again with it, chopping off the arm that wanted to smash him. The limb disassembled, turning into corpses which flew past Anvalth. His arm was swollen and his veins were pulsating visibly, pumping with blood. He roared from the bottom of his lungs and coughed blood along with it as he raised the sword above his head. The fiend drove its other arm through his abdomen almost ripping him apart but he swung down with indomitable rage, splitting the limb into two and forcing it to turn into the corpses it was composed of. He then smashed the beast with the dull of the blade, pushing it away and slashed once more horizontally, cutting its belly wide open as more corpses spilled forth and blood splattered on his face.

  The fiend screeched once more wilder than ever before, forcing Liam and Anvalth on their knees from pain. The villagers from outside all swarmed towards the fiend and were eaten alive by the demon in order to replenish its form. With fresh new limbs made from the bodies of the villagers, the creature smashed Anvalth once more, throwing him into a wall.

  “I guess this is the end…” He thought as his consciousness was slowly fading. “Good bye, Liliana…” Her kind visage was smiling at him and her hand was inviting him to join her.

  Anvalth was suddenly brought to his senses by the ground shaking and shattering. The beast was crying out in pain, squirming on the ground. His heart was beating rapidly and he felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him. Anvalth clenched his jaw and used the large sword to stand up, leaning on it. He tried to sprint towards the fiend, limping and bleeding from all over his body. He turned to the side in order to gain momentum and forced a large, circular swinging motion with the sword raising it above his head and letting it down upon his foe in a devastating blow. With a final screech, the beast gave its last breath and fell apart into countless bodies filling the remains of the church. Anvalth collapsed on the ground and lost consciousness.

  It was cold and lonely; a realm empty as far as the eyes could reach, nothing but mist filling the air and coarse ground beneath the feet; a shriveled heart, a lost soul wandering without guidance. His dreams crumbled as he walked forward on his path. The once haunting demons overcame him. He was naught but a loser. The world was not made for him and he was not made for the world. He was without a sense of purpose, without a dream to chase. What did he want to do? What did he want to become? He never had the answers to those questions. Why did he fight with such fervor? Why did he want to see another day with such passion? Why did he want to return home with such haste? Was there something waiting for him, something that could take him from the brink of despair? Desolate plains devoid of meaning were much more fitting. He had returned from where he came. He came from nothing and had nothing. All his experiences, all his memories… they were all but a dream of someone else. He was a spectator to someone’s life but not his own. His love, his hate and even his friends, they were all fake, they never existed. Anvalth son of Geralt died wielding a sword stained with the blood of innocent. His death wouldn’t be remembered by anyone and his departure wouldn’t be mourned. There was no soul that would grieve for a demon, a phantasm out of another world. Yet this faceless spectator cried in anguish, as if the wounds of the man were his own, as if the traumas that Anvalth had experienced he had also been a part of. This nameless existence wanted to affirm itself but all it could do in its powerlessness was to watch and wail. Anvalth had a gruesome life filled with misery and yet he pressed on, even smiling at times. He had a kind heart and a pure soul, as much as it could be said for a murderer. He was also a thief, stealing away happiness from anyone around him. At best, he was unwanted by all those he held dear. Anvalth and the spectator had something in common. Neither of them had a sense of accomplishment. Neither of them lived a fulfilling life. Neither could be happy… Yet they never stopped and asked themselves the reason behind their lack of happiness. Were they not meant to be born? Were they brought in the world just to waste away eventually? Was their creator so cruel to give them such fate? For them it was easy to put the blame on others, but they never wondered if they were the ones at fault.

  Now that Anvalth had perished, the spectator was alone. He was afraid and shivering, but his life had only begun. It was time for him to write his own story, instead of watching that of another. He didn’t even know if he could speak, yet something like a whisper came from his mouth.

  “My name…” He didn’t continue. The greatest, most intriguing mystery that bothered him was his name. He had no origin, he had no relatives. He had nothing. What was his name? Did he need a name to begin his journey in life? Isn’t a name something he should earn over time, as he accomplishes feats and achieves his dreams?

  A voice from beyond a veil spoke to him in a soft, endearing manner. Even though he knew no one, that voice was nostalgic and familiar.

  “There is one trial you must pass in order to become something more than a withering shadow. Succeed and your life will finally be in your own hands. Fail and you will miss your only chance at something grand and beautiful, called existence.” The world around him was shattering, fading away like a distant dream. It was finally time for him to wake up.

  He gasped for air, filling his very lungs with the essence of life. His body was sore and heavy and he couldn’t move. Even though he was awake, there was no promised color or light. His entire being ached and he realized he was missing his right arm. How long has he been asleep? What he woke into wasn’t a nightmare, but the grim and crude reality.

  “Can you hear me?” Spoke someone calmly. The one sitting next to him was none other than Liam, the man he had been travelling with. He considered himself as his friend. As he turned his head in Liam’s direction, he felt a jolt of happiness. He couldn’t see clearly, but he could discern an aura similar to an outline around his being. It was a glowing halo of light, with small dark dots in certain spots. Was it a reflection of Liam’s soul?

  “Loud and clear.” he finally responded, sighing deeply. “How am I alive?” He slowly moved his hand up to his head, wiping his forehead of sweat. His fingers touched on a cloth wrapped around his head and he was reminded of Ainnea. As his hand moved around, he noticed the cloth was coming off but he let it stay a while longer as he listened to Liam.

  “After we defeated the terrible monster-”

  He was cut off immediately.

  “What monster?”

  “At the church… While you were fighting it, I managed to find the source to its power, a vile fetish hidden in the basement and destroyed it, helping you to land the finishing blow.” Liam seemed slightly disturbed as he spoke. He paused, breathing heavily.

  “Go on.”

  “Afterwards, you were gravely injured. I took you here into one of the houses and searched until I could find some tools with which to sew up your wounds. I was quite afraid that you might have lost too much blood but I did it anyway. And now you’re here, alive and speaking to me.” When he finished talking he seemed quite relieved.

/>   “Guess you paid your debt. Now you are free to go wherever your heart pleases without any moral constraint.” He slowly stood up from the bed but the immense pain he felt throughout his body prevented him from getting up completely.

  “You need to rest until you can walk properly on your own. And remember I swore to take you myself back home so I am not leaving you now.” The two smiled and Liam stood up. “I’ll be bringing you something to eat and water to drink. You must be famished and thirsty.” As Liam walked away from the bed to bring him food, he heard a faint whisper.

  “Thank you.”

  In the week he spent recovering in the village he found out they were all by themselves and that their cart was ravaged and the horse slaughtered. Liam was luckily able to retrieve the broken rapier and gave it to him. To Liam’s surprise, he no longer seemed that attached to it but still he clutched it to his chest for a few moments and then let go of it, putting it on the bed.

  “The sword I used that night. Do you still have it?” He asked with keen interest.

  “Why would you want something as barbaric as a ritual sword tainted with the lives of innocent people?”

  “I felt a connection with that sword, something that transcends words. It spoke to me on a spiritual level. It wants to be redeemed of all its sins and I think I am a suitable wielder.”

  Liam was getting slightly nervous and worried.

  “You’re returning home right? Why would you need the sword then?”

  “I am returning home… It’s just that it calls to me. It’s telling me to pick it up.” He was calm as he spoke and sure of his words, as if nothing was wrong.

  “It is a bad omen, bringing a sword like that back home.” Liam approached him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

  “I suppose you are right. I’ll forget about it.”

  The following day when Liam returned to his house to see if he was ready for departure he froze in place. Strapped to his back was the massive execution sword. He looked horrifying dressed in commoner clothes, with a knapsack on his back and that large hunk of metal. It was so thick and the metal was so raw that it was gross to look at. Liam said no word to him about it and the two departed from the village, headed for Bavey. What bothered Liam more than the presence of the sword was how he got his hands around it, blind as he was.

  As they walked together, Liam turned to him and thought something was off about his appearance. It seemed as if something was missing.

  “Why are you staring so long? It’s bothering.” He said jokingly, scratching his head.

  “Your eyes…” whispered Liam as he gasped. “Were you able to take off the cursed bound cloth?” His amazement was overwhelming as Liam stopped him and shook him by the shoulders.

  “I finally understood what my Telaar is.” He paused until Liam let go of him and listened silently. “It allows me to manipulate the mana inside my body. It is a concept I heard from my mentor while I was away from civilization. With the willing loss of my sight, I gained the ability to control my Telaar. This not only means that I can control every single bit of my power in battle, but I can also see a reflection of all living beings as an aura of mana. For example I can tell you where there are trees and how tall they are, or how much grass there is on the ground. And it goes both ways, if I give into rage and lose control of myself, the ability returns to my unconscious and I regain real sight.”

  “And to think I was granted palms of fire…” Said Liam, turning away disappointed.

  “As amazing as it sounds, it’s also a curse which I can’t escape from, my fate. I am fated to use this for who knows what reason.”

  They continued their travel and by the end of the day, their goal was in sight. They were approaching the outskirts of Bavey. Neither of them hesitated in their steps but Liam had an irrational fear of something unknown.

  “Why have you stopped?” He asked Liam, turning to him. Liam was brighter than before and the dark spots seemed to have blurred, mixing with the light of his aura.

  “This is as far as I’ll go. The reunion with your beloved is yours and yours alone.” Liam stretched out his hand and he grabbed it, gripping tightly. Liam returned the strong grip and smiled at him, raising his eye brows in a pitying expression. As much as he wanted to see the outcome of his journey, it was not for him to be by his side. They parted ways and Liam shook his head. “Will the conclusion to your journey be to your liking? Will you finally find that calm haven you have been craving for? Is love really that powerful to have brought you so far?” He sighed, trying to imagine himself with a woman, spending the rest of his life alongside her. Liam chuckled and went on the road towards Darnaeth.

  He could feel the place of his search so close in reach. He took in a deep breath and was reminded of his childhood. The trees around were just how he left them. He could tell it was getting dark by the cold breeze blowing all of a sudden and that there was no one out on the street. His heart was beating faster and faster and his fingers were trembling. His steps were heavy and uneasy and as he returned home he felt dirty, both on the outside and inside. He felt burdened with something heavier than he could carry on his shoulders. His feet were getting heavier until he stopped, right before his home. He was there, at long last. After tireless struggle and countless nights deprived of sleep, he had achieved his goal of returning home alive. He leaned closer to the door and stuck his ear next to it. He couldn’t really tell anything from inside so he took a decent, normal distance and knocked on the door, trying to contain his excitement. His hand was shaking and he had a bright smile from one ear to the other. His breathing was getting heavier and the wait was killing him. He couldn’t stand there any longer.

  Suddenly, he heard footsteps from the other side and the door slowly opened. His heart skipped a beat and he swallowed hard. It was her presence, Liliana. But she was not alone… he felt another presence, tiny and innocent by her side. It was so small he barely noticed it. There was a long silence as they stared at each other. He was really nervous, sweating heavily as he stood in front of the door. Time seemed to have stopped for him and his body was frozen in place. All he knew was that she was standing there right in front of him. His smile was slowly going away, turning into a stoic expression.

  “How may I help you?” The kindness in her voice was tearing his heart to shreds. Her voice was more beautiful than he remembered but it seemed so distant and cold to him. She was a grown woman by the time he returned.

  Another set of steps approached from inside and he could feel a large aura, taller than him and all dark.

  “What is it darling? Who’s this filthy drifter?” The voice was that of a man, deep and full of nerve.

  “Daddy, he is just standing there, staring at mommy.” This time, the voice came from the faint, small aura he had sensed. It was a child, pure and untainted by the world he had seen. He felt a warm connection towards the young girl. It was as if a thread was binding them together.

  “If you’re looking for trouble you better bugger off. That slab of steel isn’t scaring me.” The man approached him and pushed him away with some visible difficulty. He could still feel Liliana’s gaze fixed on him.

  “Are you from the army as well? Have you come to tell me something more about Anvalth?” Liliana darted from the doorway and moved past the bulky guy who pushed him.

  “Has anyone come here from the army before?” He asked, fretting nervously.

  “A menacing young man with black hair and a sharp look came a long time ago and…” Her voice was shaking and he could hear faint cries. “He told me Anvalth was dead.”

  “And he’s better off dead, that wanker. Leaving you with his child while he plays soldier in a mercenary band.” that arrogant, insolent voice was getting on his nerves but he tried to ignore it.

  “I don’t wish to break your heart any more, but I bear a message from him. I was his best friend during the war, you see…” The man cut him off abruptly.

  “I bet he died like the dog he was and y
ou ran away for your life.” The man was laughing to his heart’s content.

  “Stop it already, Cain. Please…” Her distressed tone was bringing him on the verge of tears and he couldn’t contain his fury much longer, now that he knew who her new husband was. Anvalth and Cain never really got along in their childhood, even though they were neighbors. Cain was a few years older than him and would always beat him up when he had the chance, for no reason in particular. Once Anvalth married Liliana from Darnaeth who he also loved, he left their village, only to come back after Anvalth was gone.

  “He died with his sword in hand, like a true warrior and not one afraid of wars. He wanted to tell you Liliana that he is sorry for abandoning you and being so weak. He never told me he had a daughter but that is probably because he didn’t know himself, so I’m sure he would’ve been content to know. What is her name?”

  “Miria…” She whispered through faint cries.

  “She loved his wife Liliana and his daughter Miria more than anything in this world, that’s what he would’ve wanted you to know. Please forgive his incompetence, because he always strived to do his best for you.” He felt the urge to reach with his hand for her cheek but he didn’t do it. He sighed, scratching the back of his head as he feigned a smile. “Live a long, happy and prosperous life Liliana, no matter what.” He was about to turn around when she caught his hand.