Chapter one

unfinished but awaiting comments

 The sun set low on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the sacred grounds of Slador. The air was thick with the scent of candles and flowers, mingling with the faint aroma of roasted meats wafting from the communal feast being prepared in the restaurants downtown. Today was the Day of Remembrance, a time when the people of Slador gather to honor their deceased and reflect on the fragile threads that bound their lives. 

Lenora stood at the edge of the grove, her heart heavy with the weight of memories. She watched as families adorned the altars with offerings: flowers, bread, and tokens of love left behind. Each item was a testament to lives once lived, stories waiting to be told. Today, they would light candles for their loved ones, each flame a flickering reminder that though the dead were gone, they would never be forgotten. 

As she moved deeper into the gathering, Lenora’s thoughts drifted to the legends of Shilidour, the days when her ancestors had united under a single banner. Those were the times of harmony, when the clans set aside their differences and built a society rich in culture and collaboration. But the echoes of the Great War still haunted the land, a dark reminder of the divisions that had splintered their once unified people into separate nations.

“Lenora!” a voice called from further downtown, pulling her from her reverie. It was her brother, Elys, his face a mix of excitement and concern. “You must come quickly! They’re about to begin the memorial service.” 

She nodded, her stomach twisting into knots with a mix of anticipation and dread. The memorial service was always the most poignant part of the celebration, a moment when laughter turned to tears and the past collided with the present. As they walked together, Lenora felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. The stories of those lost would be shared, but so too would the memories of unity; the joy of people standing together, unmarred by the shadows of conflict. 

As they reached the center of the grove, the crowd fell silent, eyes turning to the elder who stood before them in front of the statue of Geoffrey Thorton, the founder. His voice resonant, carrying the weight of centuries as he began to speak. “Today, we honor those who have walked before us, those who have shaped our land and our hearts. Those who have fallen victim to the hunger of our neighboring nation.  We remember not only their lives but the bonds that once united us as one people.”

Lenora’s gaze drifted to the sky, where the first stars began to twinkle against the fading light. A chill ran through her, a whisper of foreboding that seemed to dance upon the evening breeze. Rumors of Raeruven’s darkness had spread like a wildfire, and as the elder spoke of unity, her heart ached with the knowledge that such harmony felt increasingly distant. 

Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the tranquility of the gathering, sending a wave of panic rippling through the crowd. Shadows flickered at the edge of the grove, and Lenora’s pulse quickened. The warmth of remembrance was eclipsed by a chilling reality; the darkness they had feared was no longer a distant threat. It had come to claim its due. 

In the distance there is a shadow figure, tall and slender. More shadows stand behind it. The figure waves its hand in front of it, palm facing the ground. The candles go out. The flower petals pick up and dance as if caught in a gust of wind. Yet there is no wind. The shadows were revealed to be their neighbors, the vampires of Raeruven. 

The elders of Slador gather the citizens. Once the citizens are inside the circle of elders they crouch down, bowing their heads. The shadow figures try to attack the citizens and they rip up the remembrance day decorations. The ring of elders’ eyes glow a purple color and what happened next could only be described as their souls leaving their bodies. Their “souls” hover above them and look like they are screaming, it's a frequency only vampires can hear and it slowly rots their skin. 

The vampires hissed, their sharp pearly fangs bared, as the eldritch sound pierced the stillness of the night. Each note seemed to claw at their very essence, unraveling the threads of their immortality. The leader of the vampires, a tall figure with eyes like the eternal flame of death, stepped forward, his expression a mix of rage and a sliver of fear. 

“Fools!” he spat, his voice a chilling whisper that echoed through the clearing. “You think your feeble magic can harm us? We are the night, and we shall feast upon your despair!” 

But the elders stood firm, their glowing orchid eyes casting an ethereal light that illuminated the darkness surrounding them. With each pulse of their souls above them, the frequency intensified, resonating like a haunted melody that twisted through the air. The vampires recoiled, their skiing bubbling and blackening under the onslaught, like leaves wilting under an unrelenting sun. 

As shadows writhed, the citizens of Slador watched in horror, their hearts pounding. They could feel the weight of the elders’ sacrifice, the toll it took on their bodies. The air thickened with the scent of decay, and a sense of desperation hung heavy. 

One elder woman with silver hair flowing like moonlight, stepped forward, her voice steady despite the chaos. “We are the guardians of this land! You will not take our home or our people!”

With a fierce incantation, she raised her hands, summoning a barrier of shimmering light that encircled the citizens. The vampires charged, their movements swift and predatory, but they slammed against the barrier, shrieking with fury as the light seared their flesh, adding to the mix of horrid smells in the air.  

The ground trembled beneath them as the elders poured their energy into the spell, their souls flickering like candles in a storm. The vampires, realizing the futility of their assault, began to retreat, their forms dissipating into the shadows from whence they came. Yet, the leader lingered, his eyes locked onto the elder woman.

“This is not over,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “We will return, and when we do, your light will be extinguished, you inattentive demon.”

With a final, defiant roar, the vampires vanished into the night, leaving behind a silence that felt both heavy and hollow. The elders collapsed to the ground, their souls returning to their bodies, the glow in their eyes dimming as they returned from demon form to their human forms.

The citizens rushed to their side, fear and gratitude mingling in their hearts. The remembrance day decorations lay in tatters, but the spirit of their community remained unbroken as they tend to the elders. 

As dawn broke, painting the sky with hues of gold and crimson, the elders rose, weary but resolute. They knew the battle was won, but the war was far from over. Together, they would prepare for the darkness that loomed the horizon, united in their resolve to protect their home against the encroaching shadows of Raeruven.

As the sun continues to rise over the horizon, the elders begin to regain their strength. All the citizens of Slador pick up the torn and battered remembrance day decorations, trying desperately to piece them back together. The restaurants down in the central square begin cooking up the feast that was meant for the night before, once again. Everyone starts getting that feeling of satisfaction as they begin their  celebration from where it left off. The air is nice and crisp, the smells are rich and soothing. The day goes on, the celebration filling everyone with joy overwriting the sorrow and fear that was etched into their veins that night. 

During the night of that same joy filled day one of the elders received a letter with terrible news, it reads: 

**To: Elder Thalor**

**From: Aelion, Slador Spy**

**Subject: Urgent Warning - Dire Situation in Raeruven**

Elder Thalor,

I write to you in a state of utter panic and despair. The atmosphere in Raeruven has turned dark and suffocating since the attack. I have witnessed things that chill my very soul.

The dictators are plotting something horrific. I overheard them speaking in hushed tones, their faces twisted with malice. Their plan is to execute Caroline, our only hope for change in this oppressive regime. She is a beacon of light in these shadowed times, and they see her as a threat to their iron grip on power.

I fear for her life! If they succeed in silencing her, any chance of reform or rebellion will be extinguished. The people of Raeruven are restless, and Caroline is their only voice�"their only hope. We must act swiftly to protect her. 

I implore you, rally our forces and send aid. We cannot afford to lose her. The future of our kind hangs in the balance. 

Time is running out. I will continue to gather information, but I fear it may be too late. 

Stay vigilant.

Yours in desperation,  

Aelion

As the elder opens the letter his eyes widen in horror. If his hair wasn’t already white it would have been now. His eyes trace the curve of every sacred letter on the page, desperately wishing it wasn’t true. The elder Thalor plans on keeping it to himself till he can get to the other elders to discuss their call. Thalor clutches the letter and turns to the portrait of Caroline he has hung up on his wall. Her long dark red hair cascades down past her pale, exposed shoulders. Her eyes, dark red like her father’s… There’s papers(newspapers) surrounding her portrait, from the day she was born to today. He puts the letter on the wall next to the most recent newspaper clipping before saying a silent prayer to Geoffrey (founder of Slador).

Later that night, the elders convened in the dimly lit town hall, their faces etched with worry as they gathered around the long, worn table. The atmosphere was thick with tension, each elder acutely aware of the gravity of their situation. They had come together to discuss their precarious plan, but the reality was stark: their only connections to Raeruven were a handful of spies, a small and fragile lifeline against the vast and oppressive machinery of the Raeruven empire's grand dictatorship.

As they leaned over the meticulously drawn blueprints their spies had managed to procure, frustration mounted. The intricate maps outlined the fortified walls and heavily guarded gates of Raeruven, but offered little hope for a successful infiltration. Since the shocking announcement of Caroline’s impending execution, Lartius, the ruthless dictator, had tightened his grip on the empire, deploying additional guards at every entry point. The once-possible routes of entry now appeared as insurmountable obstacles, fortified by the iron will of a tyrant who would stop at nothing to maintain control.

The elders exchanged glances, their minds racing as they brainstormed potential strategies. They explored every conceivable option, from elaborate disguises to distraction tactics, but each idea was met with the harsh reality of their limited resources. Days turned into a blur of sleepless nights and fruitless discussions, leaving them feeling increasingly helpless and despondent. The weight of their responsibility pressed heavily on their shoulders, and the knowledge that Caroline’s fate hung in the balance only deepened their despair.

As the dreaded day of execution drew nearer, a somber decision crystallized among the elders: they could no longer remain silent. The citizens of Slador had to be informed of the impending tragedy. With a heavy heart, a female elder, known for her unwavering courage, stepped forward. She made her way to the base of the towering Geoffrey statue that loomed in the center of the town square, a symbol of their collective hope and resilience.

As the other elders gathered the anxious citizens, a hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned towards her, a palpable sense of dread hanging in the air like a storm cloud. The weight of their collective fear and uncertainty was almost tangible. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly as she prepared to deliver the grave news.

“People of Slador,” she began, her words laced with sorrow, “we stand on the brink of a dark chapter in our history. What is happening in Raeruven affects us all…” She then goes on to explain everything, including the devastating news about how they won’t be able to help at all. 

Reviews

[Joss Jeffrey]

Your work is absolutely remarkable, and I will love to help to bring it to life through story art and animation and also i can help you to reach a broader audience. Do you have any other social media account when we can connect? you can find me on this Telegram: @Yaroslava_6ixyes or discord: @yaroslava70