A little short story for you all. More parts.
This road to the city was steep, rocky, and genuinely guarded by bands of thieves. Never had anyone taken this route for decades upon its making, and never had anyone even thought of it. But really it was its history which made it so treacherous, and which made it seem so evil. Its history could date back even before the city itself was built, even before its walls were planned. The forests grew, and died around it. The souls of the Earth watched it live as they decayed in memory. In secret, below the bushes, the shrubs, and grasses which layered this hidden path, a legend formed. From within the deepest cracks of the Earth an evil took form, melded, and took its rein upon this land.
The city was built, and named Athenrye. Today that name is but a whisper in its marble walls. When its walls ,however, were erected those whispers…Were screams.
Some believe the city was built upon the very gates of Hell itself, and Hell at this time was obviously at its peak. Blood on the oak doors of resident’s houses dripped like water from icicles. Images of horned men on black, skeletal horses lined the alley walls like graffiti. People once in awhile were hung from the gutter poles in the dead of night by some unknown essence. It was a wonder no one ever found the perpetrator. There was none.
They say the path to Hell is the hardest part. The tears of so many who deserved this, but did not want it layered it like a glistening stair step to Heaven, but really it was its opposite. Secrets, gushing from its cracks never could reach the surface. No one could figure out why this city had been plunged into turmoil from the start, and possibly they never would. Except of course, one. One person who knew this path’s secrets holding the damned, the undead or whatever was kept within its fiery walls.
Like the whispers of the city, his name was dust in the wind now. But when Athenrye was new, and its Hellish ordeals were reeking havoc upon its people a man, a King named Overius Anthenrye delved deep into the history of this land, reading scripts of the past, and artifacts which left signs to the city’s troubles.
In one particular book he read, “Of those who travel one’s road like the horse he rides or the feet he carries, four more horses shall appear. Out of the wood and oak a black, red, white, and skeletal horse of fire shall show.”
Here the story starts in Athenrye, with its young King. The horrors and screams of its people still mark its abandoned walls now but then…They were just beginning to stain.
The Four Horses of Athenrye begin.
Year 452, Athenrye, The Path.
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