Genesis (Prophecy Rock Series, Book 1)

GENESIS

BOOK ONE OF

THE PROPHECY ROCK SERIES

T. Sae-Low

Smashwords Edition

Updated Version 2.0 September 2013

Copyright 2013 by T. Sae-Low

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Also by T. Sae-Low

Shadows of Kyrus

A Prophecy Rock Novella

Available Now

Coming in 2014

Book Two of the Prophecy Rock Series

http://www.tsaelow.com/

To every child I’ve had the joy to teach. Your vivid imaginations and unbridled enthusiasm have inspired me to believe that nothing is impossible.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

…The flames of absolution will purify the lost, engulfed by the One into the void of nothingness, so they may return to this world spiritually rekindled. Once prepared, Her heavenly offspring will descend from her side, to transform unto the world the paradise that is Renzai, and lead the empire to its final destiny…

-A passage from the Renzai interpretation of Prophecy Rock

Chapter 1

As Octavius stood above the cliff’s edge, peering down at Carhay, he could not imagine a more blissful city. Carhay was situated on the edge of the River Fate, between the looming Gemini Mountains. On the northern side of the city sat the Onyx Waterfall, cascading into a pool of shimmering turquoise below, so clear Octavius could see the rainbow colored fish swimming about from where he stood. On the southern edge roared the Kalandes Waterfall, crashing below onto the most exquisite temple Octavius had ever seen; three stories tall with a sunburst emblazoned upon its entrance. It was painted in various shades of red, white, and gold. The temple’s peaked roof split the rolling water into two separate streams as it roared down upon it. Octavius could see villagers, dressed in simple robes of white and crimson, moving about the temple grounds, crossing the intricately designed wooden bridge that served as the temple’s entrance. Both waterfalls connected into a glistening river below that snaked through the center of the small village. Heaven on Eos, Octavius thought. It’s a shame that it needs to be burned to the ground.

Carhay sat on the southern edge of the Disputed Lands. For centuries, war had been waged upon these grounds without a victor being crowned. Geographically, the area was nigh-impossible to navigate. The territories in the north of the Disputed Lands were more populated, where grassy valleys and thick forests covered the land, but the South told a different story. Jagged peaks covered a majority of the landscape, with icy ledges and a wind so cold it stabbed the heart of you when the faintest breeze whispered by. The roads—if you were to call them roads, as they were more akin to a sea of shattered daggers—were riddled with the bones and carcasses of people who had braved the journey, but only succeeded in meeting the One earlier than they had anticipated.

In the midst of a land that resembled more so death than life sat the city of Carhay; a blossoming rose found on the outskirts of existence. Just above the foothills, the city had been uniquely isolated from the rest of the world. Shrouded by low hanging clouds, Carhay was a mythical city realized. Unfortunately, passage through the city was the most direct route for the Vicedonian Kingdom. Any attempt to circumnavigate the Gemini Mountains would delay the planned military offensive by days they could ill afford to lose. Octavius’ intuition told him that his army could easily proceed through the city without incident. The villagers did not seem to be of a warlike nature; no soldiers could be seen, nor weapons of any kind either. But since the king had decreed that Carhay was to be burnt to the ground, Octavius knew what had to be done.

Octavius took one final look at the city, closed his eyes, and bowed his head as if to offer one final prayer to the people below. He raised his arm, and at the moment he waved it forward, the deafening roar of the army echoed across the valley, and the trembling ground beneath its feet shook the mountains into submission. The bright sunlit sky darkened as arrows and boulders soared without restraint, violently finding their targets below. Villagers ran for shelter, but there was limited protection to be found. The shrill cries of the villagers could be heard from high above where Octavius still stood. Honor. Duty. Kingdom; was the sole thought that ran through his mind now. Once ordered, the assault could not be taken back. It was for the greater good and prosperity of the kingdom that such a sacrifice had to be made. Such sacrifices were necessary.

This needs to be done… this must be done. And with that, Octavius began his descent into the fray.

Poppa! Mama! Kimi! shouted Raden as he rushed back home from the fields he tilled. The lone thoughts of a seven-year-old boy who, only minutes ago, believed life to be full of promise and opportunity. Now, as the Vicedonian army poured into his peaceful village, he saw that opportunity burn away into ashes as flames consumed the world around him.

Raden ran past the school, the market, and the blacksmith’s shop, choking on the smoke billowing from their charred remains. In his hurry to get home, Raden’s foot caught against the branch of a fallen tree, sending him tumbling into the dirt road. Pain shot up his back, shoulders, and head as he finally skidded to a halt. Confused and dazed, the spinning world slowly came back into focus. His eyes centered on a shadow off in the distance. A lone figure stood atop the mountain’s edge. He appeared to be watching the attack from above, hesitant to join in. Was it doubt that held him back? Raden found him strange and out of place, but the sound of a burning house collapsing to the ground nearby refocused his priorities. He shot back up to his feet, ignoring the fresh cuts and bruises, and ran home. He turned the last corner to his house and made a beeline to his family. Thankfully, his house was still untouched. He raced up the front stairs and burst open the door.

Raden! You’re safe! shouted his mother. She clutched him tightly to her bosom, Raden grasping her in kind.

Quickly, we have to get out of here before the soldiers find us. Raden’s father hastily threw day-old rice cakes into a bag, slung it over his shoulder, and clutched Kimi, only six months old, in his arms. He exited through the back door, his family following close behind him. The view from their home was unimaginable; fires blazed across the entire village, the Grand Temple of the One peeling apart piece by piece. Vicedonian soldiers flooded the streets, killing indiscriminately.

Raden’s father quickly refocused his family’s attention, before the grief could consume and paralyze them. Follow me, now!

As the army ravaged the village, swords unsheathed within the blink of an eye, transforming from polished virgin steel to maroon soaked instruments of final release. They cleaved through the villagers, from men to women to even children. As the remaining forces reached the bottom, villagers escaped out the entrances of their homes, hoping to find liberation from this sudden nightmare, but were instead greeted by the sting of unexpected arrows.

Everything appeared to move in slow motion as Raden followed his parents through the high grass of the city’s outskirts. The grass stood seven feet tall and easily concealed them as they headed westwards.

We have to make it to the next village and warn them. Stay low and quiet. Follow me. Raden’s father moved nimbly through the grass. Raden, clutching his mother’s hand, stared at the ground, fighting with every fiber of his being to not let his emotions overwhelm him. They made their way close to the outer edge of the village, the sound of the River Fate flowing nearby, guiding them step by step. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps halted their advance.

I thought I saw something move over there, an unfamiliar voice spoke nearby. The proximity of the strange voice sent a shiver of fear racing down Raden’s spine. He was on the verge of crying when his father covered his mouth. They remained completely still and silent for what seemed like an eternity. When Raden’s father believed it to be safe, they slowly continued their escape.

Octavius looked on as the scene he had brought into existence unfolded. He could see villagers fall, every shriek of pain as distinct as notes on a piano. Catapults continued their bombardment. The booming explosions were deafening as wood and tile debris shot up into the sky and rained back down. Far worse than the sight of it all was the smell—charred wood had combined with burning flesh and the saturated blood of the villagers to create a stench so foul that Octavius needed to cover his mouth.

All in all, the assault had taken little time to complete. The so-called ‘enemy’ was in truth comprised of completely harmless and unarmed villagers, making the mission all the more swift. Nothing remained. The river that snaked through the center had been transformed from a clear surface of reflection into a clouded fog of burgundy. The army settled into their victory and began their search for riches; Octavius left them to their own devices. He called for his second in command.

Sergeant Markus! What is the status of the perimeter?

Sir. We have soldiers patrolling the edges of the River Fate for any escapees. Every possible route is blocked off. No one is making it out of this place.

You better hope not. The king doesn’t tolerate failure. We both know that.

Yes, sir.

Raden’s family had made it down to the edge of the River Fate, narrowly escaping capture. They could see the river flowing peacefully downstream. All they needed to do now was stay close to the shoreline and head south to the next village. There, they could find help. The voices they had heard earlier were now gone. Only the sounds of nature filled the air. Raden’s mother remained completely silent, but her lips mouthed the Prayers of Deliverance to the One over and over again. Deliver us unto paradise, drowning the darkness away with the light of your glory; reunite us in our lives and in our dreams. Save us and keep us until the end. Raden found himself mouthing the prayer instinctively, too. They followed the river as it bent to the left and saw no movement ahead of them. A brief sigh of relief released from their bodies, the tightness in their muscles finding respite in the growing success of their escape.

It was then that circumstances betrayed their fervent prayers. As Raden’s father continued to move forward, Kimi let out a shrill cry. The family hunkered low, hoping her cry was drowned out by the sound of the river, but it wasn’t.

Who goes there? a voice called out ahead of them. The sound of grass brushing aside grew louder as the voice drew nearer.

Show yourself!

The family remained still. Raden stared into his parents’ eyes, wondering if this might be the last time he would see them. How he wished he could take back that thought. A soldier appeared out of nowhere, grabbing ahold of his father.

I’ve got them! They’re over here!

Raden’s father struggled with all his might, but was no match for the armed soldier. In the chaos of the moment, Raden’s father dropped Kimi to the ground. Somehow, Raden managed to pick her up. He was about to hand Kimi to his mom when another soldier appeared out of the high grass, knocking her to the ground.

Run, Raden! Escape into the river! Go! Save Kimi! his father called out while the soldier continued his brutal attack. Raden raced to the river’s edge, but couldn’t bring himself to jump in. His love for his family pulled him back. He turned around, hoping he would somehow see his parents unharmed, that this was all a bad nightmare. But when he did, he saw his father’s lifeless body, and his mother collapsed onto the ground, and with the last bit of life she had, she whispered to him.

Go.

He jumped into the river, and let fate take its course.

Chapter 2

The smell of smoke permeated Raden’s nostrils as he awoke. He sat up, crossed his legs, and buried his face into his hands, trying to calm his heartbeat from the panic that refused to subside. He breathed in a deep, long breath, and exhaled slowly. His perspiration thickened the air around him, giving the darkened room an energy that was heavy with grief and remorse.

It had been ten years since the massacre at Carhay. From that day on, Raden had been unable to truly ever be at peace. He knew what he had done, and why, and that in and of itself was justification enough. He had honored his parents’ final wish, saving Kimi and surviving the massacre of his village. But deep down, Raden’s guilt would never let him truly forget. Perhaps there was one small action he could’ve taken or word he could’ve said to save his parents. The all-too-vivid reenactment of the massacre played over and over in his dreams. The nightmare always ended the same way: his mother staring back at him, telling him to flee as Raden jumped into the river with Kimi. The cessation of air, the involuntary swallowing, the darkness closing in on him induced an uncontrollable terror. The sensation of drowning freed him from the nightmare, finally forcing him awake.

He stared out the window, watching the branches of a willow tree flowing softly against the cool, early-morning breeze. The leaves rustled gently, swelling up and down, quietly wisped away by Mother Nature’s loving whisper. Raden allowed the moment to calm his nerves—but then the visions began to reveal themselves once again. Strange glowing markings, flowing throughout the willow tree, outlining it in a mysterious aura. Not again, thought Raden. He closed his eyes, blinked tightly, and slowly counted to five. When he reopened them, the markings had faded away, and the willow tree was untouched as it had been only moments before.

Ever since the massacre at Carhay, Raden had begun to see these mysterious markings, sometimes in the grooves of a tree trunk, in the ripples of a lake, or in the face of a mountainside. Raden could make out the strange angular patterns of the glowing markings, outlining them with his fingertips. He knew not what they meant, but they were captivating. He stared and studied them for as long as he could before they faded away. The markings glowed warmly, capturing his full attention. He found them fascinating at first; that is, until he realized he was the only one who could see them. Friends, teachers, and even Kimi caught him staring off into the distance, asking him what he was staring at. Initially, he tried pointing out the markings to them, but their doubtful expressions only made it clearer that this was his problem alone. Raden decided that he would simply tell people he was daydreaming. The excuse felt so much easier than trying to explain the truth. Now, ten years since the massacre at Carhay, Raden dreaded seeing the markings again. Was it a sickness? Was he hallucinating? These visions had become an undue burden that made an already-difficult life that much more stressful.

He exhaled again and stared at the small painting nailed against the wall of the cabin. The corners were crumpled and the paper yellowed from time, but the picture always settled down his heart rate. He had painted it at the Lunar Festival eight years ago, when he was nine and Kimi only a toddler. Falling cherry blossoms filled the picture, whisked about by the wind. Raden held Kimi’s hand, his other hand gripping a sweet pastry that was just out of reach of her tiny outstretched fingertips. She was reaching with all her strength, her feet propped up on her tiptoes, so close to her prize. Right beside Kimi stood Lulu; a young pup at the time, his talent for standing up on his hind legs and stealing food off of tables was both hilarious and an increasing problem. Lulu had become a member of the family from the beginning. When Raden escaped the Carhay massacre and had finally made it down the River Fate to the next village, his body washed ashore racked and exhausted. He lay by the riverbed, hoping he was close enough but unsure of which way to go. If not for a young pup nearby that had taken an immediate liking to Kimi, they would’ve been lost. They followed Lulu as he diligently guided them to the village and into the comforting arms of his own people.

Suddenly, the front door flew open as Kimi rushed in with a bowl in her small hands. In it she had prepared breakfast for him: hot steamy porridge and a few pickled vegetables, just the way he liked it.

Good morning, Raden! Kimi exclaimed as she made her way to the cot. Lulu barked in his attempt to say hello. The sight of the two of them, inseparable since they were little, made him smile.

Raden, I made your favorite breakfast for you! It was supposed to have a piece of rice cake, but Lulu snatched it while I turned my head. I told him he was a bad dog, but I don’t think he cares.

Raden chuckled as he stared at Kimi’s jet-black hair, done up in pigtails this morning.

Kimi, did you know that I am the luckiest big brother in the world? Not only do I have a great little sister, but she also cooks me breakfast!

With that, Kimi shined her big bright smile that stretched from cheek to cheek, and Lulu barked with joy to share in the moment.

Why don’t you sit here with me? We can share this wonderful breakfast you made, whispered Raden into Kimi’s ear.

Whenever Raden whispered into her ear, Kimi couldn’t help but giggle from the sensation of his breath. It always made them both laugh hysterically, but inside Raden also felt a twinge of pain as he remembered how their mother had done the same to him.

Lulu, do you want some breakfast, too? Kimi whispered into his little furry ear, but rather than giggle, Lulu sat up on his hind legs, ready to beg and receive.

They all shared a laugh and basked in the quiet joy of the moment. Kimi glanced over to the painting on the wall. Raden followed her eyes and stared along with her.

I was so young in that painting, and all I wanted was the dessert in your hand. It’s too bad mom and dad couldn’t be in it, too, said Kimi in such a soft, tender voice that Raden could barely hear her. To listen to his ten-year-old sister speak with such maturity both filled his heart with joy and sadness.

She misses her, but never knows what to say. She was only a baby when mom and dad were killed. How many memories could she really have of them?

Somehow, she could read his thoughts. I think I remember the way she smelled, whispered Kimi. Like roses in the springtime.

Yes… she did, answered Raden.

They finished their breakfast, talking about Kimi’s schoolwork and how her favorite subject at school was history. She enjoyed learning about the past and about the heroes and heroines of the Renzai Empire. She always reminded Raden that he could, someday, end up being a hero in her storybooks as well. That notion made Raden smile, for as facetious as he may have taken it, a part of him always knew that that’s what he truly wanted as well. He wanted to protect his family, his people, his empire from forces that would do them harm. We are the peace. We are the daylight. The mission of every Renzai soldier reverberated within his soul. His heart now, devoted to his empire’s cause. But deep down, his visions haunted his every step. Hiding beneath the surface, unsure of when or how they would disrupt his life.

As sunrise came up over the hill and filled up the cabin with morning light, Raden knew it was time to put on his uniform and head to base. Today he had a special meeting with the Prophet, and when one of the members of the Ministry of Transcendence called upon you personally, lives were often changed. The opportunity to become a hero had possibly presented itself this day.

Chapter 3

Raden arrived at headquarters promptly at 0700 hours. Never one to be late for an appointment, especially one related to the military, Raden appeared before the southern gate ready to check in. He was adorned in his traditional military attire. Steel plates covered his body from the neck down. Numerous rivets pinched at various hinges allowing him great flexibility and movement. Large boots with studded soles gave him increased purchase. He covered the armor with a single sleeved robe, the customary attire of all citizens of the Renzai Empire. The robe was snowy white with red trim. The crimson sunburst symbol of the Renzai Empire splashed across his back and chest. At his waist, his sword dangled low, resting closer to his thigh.

The southern gate was one of three gates that served as the only means of entrance into Renzai headquarters. The western and eastern gates were smaller and primarily used for trade shipments by land and sea, respectively. The southern gate was the main gate and nearly three times the size of the others. It stood twenty feet tall and twenty feet wide. Three layers of steel encased the gate, with wood and reinforced iron sheathed between. The Renzai sunburst decorated each door. The gate had never been breached, nor even dented in any skirmishes from past wars. It was designed and constructed centuries ago during the founding of the empire. The first emperor Renza was credited with the design and construction of the gate. It was rumored that he had forged the giant pieces of steel himself, molded them with his own hands, and placed them into the ground where they still stood today. Raden was never one to believe in such myths so easily, but the mere fact that Renza had garnered such a legend made him all the more respectable in Raden’s eyes.

The gate guards watched as Raden methodically approached the checkpoint. They stood in two columns, one on each side of the paved roadway leading up to the gate. The guards were massive soldiers, giants amongst men, sworn to oaths of silence so they would remain ever vigilant for the empire. They dressed in black; from head to toe they could scarcely be seen in the cover of night. The ancient armor they wore shimmered meekly against the glint of the morning sunlight. Their single sleeved robes hung low and heavy off of them. The spears they carried were twice the size of their already-massive bodies. The gigantic spears should’ve been the most intimidating part of their attire, but it wasn’t. That honor was saved for their headpieces. The helmets they wore almost covered their entire heads, save for their face and a small gap underneath the neck that was left exposed to enable greater movement. On top of their helmets were attached a great pair of horns, each soldier’s different than the next, the only distinguishable feature that helped to tell them apart. Beetle horns, stag horns, and ox horns, each pair unique, bent and exaggerated in its own grotesque way.

Each guard wore a white mask with red paint splayed out in bursts of sunrise. Six gate guards protected the southern entrance, and not surprisingly there had never been an issue with trespassers. As Raden approached, the guard with the beetle horns lowered his spear, aimed directly at Raden’s head. Although he should’ve been used to the protocol by now, Raden always hesitated a bit before standing at attention, saluting with both arms exed across his chest and declaring his name, rank, and division. The sight of that giant spear aimed right at his head wasn’t something he would ever get used to, he thought. The gate guard lifted the spear and nodded to two others to open the gate. They waved him in, and Raden obliged, eager to be on his way.

A massive statue of Emperor Renza immediately greeted visitors. His right arm thrust up to the heavens, his left hand clutching the hilt of Lightstorm, the most renowned sword in all of the empire, with a blade so sharp it had been rumored to split the sky in two, letting fire rain down from the heavens during the First Great War. Renza was garbed in the dress of olden days: a simple robe with one sleeve torn off, old cloth boots, and Lightstorm’s scabbard attached to a belt wrapped across his waist. It was said that in the early days of the founding of the empire, armor was scarce and difficult to make, and only the mightiest of warriors survived. Raden stared at the statue’s face, the sculptor capturing perfectly Renza’s look of sheer determination. Perhaps founding a nation as mighty as the Renzai Empire required such greatness. Raden reminded himself of his own desire to prove that determination to his people some day.

Raden paid his respects and moved further down the main path towards the Inner Sanctum. Down the main corridor he walked with deliberate steps, the clicking of his boots echoing off the acoustics of the large, empty hall. The hall was dimly lit, torches providing the only source of light. From the little light provided, Raden could still make out the paintings on the wall. Legends of past heroic deeds retold from the founding of the empire to the present. There stood Renza at the beginning of the story, extinguishing his enemies with a burst of fire from Lightstorm. Another ten steps and Raden could see the formation of the Renzai headquarters, Renza placing the southern gate into place, and the One from the heavens above pouring down blessed water into the middle of the structure, producing the Kamo Garden, the heart and soul of headquarters. Raden continued along and could see Akira with his legendary bow; Teza with her two faces, the most famous spy in all the empire. Her ability to infiltrate was so great she had convinced the Mazus that she was their queen, expanding the empire without any bloodshed. A few more steps laid Dogen, the one and only Renzai commander to betray the empire. He was lured by promises of riches by the enemy, but was later captured and publicly executed for his treason. Raden stared as the rope hung taut over the tree branch, with Dogen’s body hanging lifeless from the noose. Such cowardice was to be punished, but Raden believed that such a punishment was too lenient for a traitor.

As Raden exited the main hall, the Courtyard of Ceremonies