The White Rose Alabastor: Chapter 1

Darkness. That's all the boy could see around him. No matter where he turned to face, darkness just stretched on ad infinitum. He couldn't see himself, it's not like the hazy outline you see of your hand at night, it was like his hand didn't even exist in the first place! He tried running, jumping, moving, screaming, but nothing seemed to get him out of this abyssal void.



It was so sudden, and so very bright the boy thought he would go blind. A pair of wings appeared, so blindingly white that it would have been a crime for even a single spot to stain it's grace. He raised the hand that wasn't there to try and block some of the light. He wanted so much to see who the wings belonged to. A soft, caring voice began to echo across the void, and through his mind. 'Today is a big day. Just remember, when surrounded by darkness even the smallest light is as bright as the suns.'



The boy woke with a loud thud. He wasn't too surprised to find he was face first on the wooden floor again. Though, the pain was something he wasn't too fond of. He quickly hopped to his feet, the feeling of something important weighing on him. He brushed some stands of hay out of his short hazel brown hair. One of the downsides of sleeping in the barn he guessed.



He looked down from the loft at the horses below. Most of them were still asleep, he was lucky if he could even get them up during first light. He grabbed a stitched up cloth shirt from his bed, and slid it on before jumping down from the loft. The village had a ton of farms, but his family had the only animal farm. That put a lot of responsibilities on his father and him. He grabbed a couple of black pots and started banging them as he walked along the stables. "Time to get up girls! That's enough beauty rest." He grinned.



His duties kept him busy through most of the day. He did most of the work at the farm since his father had thrown out his back last week trying to get Bessie back in her pen. She sure was a temperamental old cow whenever the old man bothered her. The animals always loved him though, and that was probably the reason he loved working on the farm so much. It was like having a huge fuzzy, smelly, and feathery family.



The boy was pulled from his thoughts as an old familiar voice called out for him. "Al! Hey Al! Are you still working in there?" The old man called out to him. It took a bit of waiting before he managed to pull himself into the barn, and push the large brown door open. The old man sighed when he saw the boy. "Alabastor, what are you still doing here? Don't you have the guardsmen test to take today?" He said trying to catch his breath. Surprise filled Al's unnatural crimson red eyes. "That's today? Sorry old man, but I gotta go! Stay away from Bessie!" Al put the beat up old black pot on his head like a makeshift helmet. The next moment he shot outside of the barn like sheep when it comes time for shearin'.



Even though he loved working at the farm with his father Al had always dreamed of being a guard. The thought of defending his village from vile monsters seemed so grand to him. He had spent his childhood wanting to be like the heroes of yore, but there seemed to be a lack of those now a days. He was going to be the next one, even greater than Veraxsus Vinyarro! The man who single handedly held off the four armies of evil for a month. Every hero has to start somewhere though, and for Al that just meant he had to become a village guard, for now. He spent every day after work practicing with an old sword a guard had thrown out. He'd practice straight through the solar day, and halfway through the lunar night.



Even though the heroes were gone now, it had only been a couple of decades since the world breaking war. Celete was a world so grand and vast, that every member of every race could have lined up, and still not circled the planet. But even Eden had it's snakes. A war greater than any other erupted, at first it was mortals against mortals. Eventually it grew drastically, drawing in all ten of the celestial deities. The decisive battle was so intense it destroyed the world. Al's homeland of Cel was the only known landmass left. Despite countless ships, and attempts the rest of the world seemed to have just vanished.



Their small haven wasn't even whole. The land was split in half, creating a valley so deep the ocean endlessly poured into it but never grew smaller. The Pious, working together with the technological genius of the Cretins, built the imperial bridge-- a bridge so strong and vast that it crossed the valley and held the two islands together. Not only that, but the bridge was also home to the largest city on Cel. Even the heavens were changed by the war.; the single white sun was replaced by two others: one red and the other blue. They split the sky into two shades, but came together as a brilliant purple in the middle. For a single hour of the Solar day the sky is fully dyed that deep shade of purple. When the suns set on the horizon, Cel is greeted by a short moonless night, quickly followed by a Lunar night. The lunar night is when the two moons rise up in the sky, each giving off enough light to keep the world in a state of dusk. the mix of these moons leave the sky pink-orange through out the rest of the lunar night.



Al shook his head, trying to shake those damn history lessons out of his head. He didn't care if their were twenty nights a day, it wasn't gonna stop him from training. He ran through the village square, dodging carts and stationary stands as he charged through the makeshift marketplace. He waved to a couple friends as he shot past, but he didn't have time to stop and chat-- he was late enough already!



He was completely out of breath by the time he managed to make it to the village wall. A long line of sharpened logs and sticks stuck out of the ground in front of a large wall made of many trees. Right behind the wall was a makeshift watchtower with a large person clad in iron armour inside. Al called up to the man inside the tower. "Gulf! I'm sorry I'm late, I got held up at the farm!" The giant man looked out over the wall a little bit longer before sliding down the ladder, landing with a loud thud. "I told you to be here before First Light, Alabastor." He had a full suit of large grey iron, segmented in each part by cloth so he could move more freely. He even had a tall pointed helmet that served to make him seem even larger to the boy. A sword landed next to him, silently sticking itself into the ground and staying there. Gulf put his hand to his side, and grasped the handle of his sword. "Are you ready for your test?"



Gulf sent him flying into the ground with one more blow, the sword once again landing neatly in the grass alongside the boy. "You're getting better. As long as you don't fight anyone who's ever actually been in a fight, you just might win." He gave a single hearty laugh at his 'joke'. Gulf took his helmet off, letting his long black hair escape. He held it under his arm, and crouched in front of the boy. His face was heavily scarred, including one over his left eye. Gulf smiled softly and held a hand out. "Being a guard isn't everything it's cracked up to be. I spend most of the day just standing there; it's a killer on the knees." He grinned before helping Al to his feet. "The only fun part of my job is accosting traveling merchants. Those greedy bastards make me ashamed to be Pious."



Alabastor dusted his brown cloth pants off. He cast a disappointed glance back to the marketplace. You could hear the yelling and arguing over prices all the way from here. Being this far out of Imperial reach you'd think more races would have settled in Lyatte. Al was quite disappointed that only the Pious lived here, other than the occasional Husks that came from the factory to the north-east.



Al let out a sigh before turning back to Gulf. "Okay-- so yeah, ya beat me again, but ya gotta admit that I did better this time! So come on; I'm ready! I can be a guard!" Al looked up at the man with a look of pure confidence, or at least as much of one that a 14-year-old could make. Gulf shook his head. "Sorry kid-- you're just not ready yet. Give it a couple more years, and a couple more feet and I'm sure I'll be happy to accept you." He smiled before putting a large gloved hand on Al's head. Sure Al was just a kid, but all that farm work made him strong. He had even beaten most of the village residents during his arm wrestling kick. He shook his whole body, as if to expel the disappointment. "Ya say that now, but just wait; next year, I'll beat ya with one hand tied behind my back."



Gulf gave him a sad smile. He had known this kid since he was but a wee lad. The one thing he had learned about Al is that he never gave up. It was quite scary how determined that kid could be. He cast a glance at the sword in the ground before turning back to the kid. "You're still using that piece of junk I threw away, aren't you?... It's more dangerous to have a faulty weapon than a real one." He looked at the blade one more time. "Al, why don't you hold on to that for me. If you're so determined to be a guard, then you need the proper equipment. But I expect you to bring it here every day before Final Dusk to sharpen it, you hear? If you're gonna have a real weapon then you gotta treat it as such." He watched the boy carefully before pulling the sword out of the ground and holding it out carefully to him.



Al just stared at him. He couldn't quite believe his ears. No one had trusted him to actually use a real weapon before! That junked up blade he had been using was bent and rusted from years of use. To finally have a real weapon for once... now he could really train! In just one year he would be the best guard there ever was! He snatched the blade from the Gulf's hand and ran off. He could faintly hear the man yell behind him. "Hey! Don't run with that thing!" Al couldn't hear him though, or if he did, he didn't care. Today was the best day. Ever.



Al charged back through the marketplace, much to the chagrin of the various merchants. He darted around, between and under all the people and stalls. He didn't know why his village was so popular during midweek, especially considering how far out Lyatte was. There was an imperial city up to the north, but they didn't particularly care about non-imperial villages. As far as they cared: if you weren't with them, you didn't deserve their help. He shot out of the village square, and hurried back towards the barn. He was eager to start practicing with this new sword.



Al burst into the barn, sending the doors flying open. He paraded along the stables, showing off the new blade to his "family." "I know, I know-- It's great right?" He grinned showing the blade to the animals. He stared down at the grey iron broadsword. the handle was made of the same metal as the blade, wrapped tightly in a blue cloth to protect your hands. He waved off the animals as he headed to the back of the barn. At the very back, three straw dummies stood up against the walls. Tymen, one of the owners of a neighboring farm, needed help making a new scarecrow. Al took the knowledge and made some training dummies out of straw.



He gripped the cloth handle tightly with both hands. It was time for some practice-- with a real weapon! He raised the blade, then it lowered a bit. This sword was much heavier then the one he had been using; it'd take some getting used to, but it wasn't even close to being too heavy for him. He narrowed his eyes, staring down the straw dummies. "You bandits think you can steal my horses, again? You better hope I'm not tired, because I'm about to hit the hay!" That sounded awesome to him. He jumped forward, swinging wildly at the straw dummies. they were helpless to his assault, but even then his attacks didn't do much. It lacked finesse, or any form of stance. Anything that actually hit didn't even dig deep into the dummies. Al growled, getting angry that he wasn't doing anything to them. He took a step back, and took a deep breath. He lunged forward again, bringing the sword towards the middle dummy, in a single powerful horizontal slice.



Al opened his eyes, and stepped back from the dummy. The sword fell out of his hand, and clattered to the ground. He had made the dummies out of three very large and thick logs, straw, and cloth. He didn't expect to even cut halfway into one yet. But the middle dummy was no longer there, sliced in half from Al's strike. There was even a hole in the wall behind the dummy, like his cut had gone straight through and continued past. Al looked out through the hole, and into the forest behind the barn. He pulled away when he saw something he needed to go check out.



He climbed the ladder back up to the loft where he slept. He noticed something shining in the blue sunlight. He stepped over to the side of his bed and picked it up. It was a golden chained necklace with a large ruby amulet in the center. It was a gift from his mother, and the only thing he had of her. She passed away when he was born, so he never got to know her. He quietly slipped the amulet around his neck, cursing himself for not realising he hadn't been wearing it. He looked at the ruby for a moment, the dark crimson the same color as his eyes. With a sigh he hid it under his shirt, and got down under his bed. He pulled out a shoddily made pack from underneath staring at it with a frown. it had a single strap, and was actually quite large. The pack was hideously made, but it was his first and only attempt. The old man never gave him any money, so anything he wanted he had to make-- or fail to-- himself. He wrapped the pack around him before dropping back down and heading outside with the sword in tow.



He took a glance around outside the barn just to make sure his old man hadn't heard the racket, and came to investigate. He made his way behind the barn as quickly and quietly as he could, trying to get to the forest before anyone saw him. Thankfully he made it to the treeline and quickly got over to what he had seen from the barn. He could still see the hole in the wall from here; his dad was gonna kill him. He swallowed before looking at the trees around him. There was a gash that went through several trees in a straight line, and when he stopped to look, it looked like it matched up with the barn-hole. He began to get worried at this point, but he wanted to see just how far this cut went. He followed the gash deep into the forest until he came upon a fallen tree. It seemed like this was where his attack had stopped. The tree stump had a perfectly clean cut on it-- whatever that had been went straight through and cut down this tree. He stood there for a long time, staring at the fallen tree. Could he have done this? There was just no way-- he couldn't even put a dent in those dummies!



He sat down against a nearby tree and stared at it's fallen companion. Although he had always wanted to see one, he was suddenly very grateful this wasn't a living forest. He didn't particularly like the idea of being killed by moving trees because of something he didn't think he could even do. He tried to think of how he would even explain this to his father. How was he even going to explain it to himself?! Maybe the sword Gulf gave him was enchanted or something... Al stared at the dull iron blade, trying to figure out if the semi-sharp sword was somehow magic. He sighed and fell backwards, lying on the ground. He stared up at the canopy. From what little patches of sky he could see, first light was ending. The sky above was dyed a dark violet, from the setting suns. It would be four hours until the start of the Lunar night. Al closed his eyes, hoping that this whole thing was just a dream he was having after Gulf knocked him out during the test.



Al sat back up with a yawn, and stared up at the sky. There was no way he had slept for four hours! The sky was already turning orange, but... the glow was coming from the direction of the village. He shot to his feet, scrounging around for the sword. Something felt wrong, horribly horribly wrong. He grabbed his sword, and ran back towards the village, darting in and around the trees. He slid to a stop at the treeline when he finally caught sight of his village. The orange glow in the sky hadn't come from the rising moons; it had came from his village. It was burning down.



He tried to make his way to the village as fast as he could, only stopping to swing by the barn and make sure the animals were alright. Al grabbed a torn up old piece of cloth so that he could breathe through the smoke. He'd have to keep a close eye on the barn, if it caught fire the animals had no way out. Without thinking too much about it he quickly left the barn, and went straight towards the plumes of smoke rising from the village center.



He could have sighed in relief when he finally made it to the marketplace, but rest was not in the cards for him. The ground began to quake, and shudder underneath his feet. It was all Al could do to stop himself from falling to the ground. The shaking came to a stop rather climacticaly. The center of the marketplace burst forth in a thunderous boom, blazing hot magma spewing forth from a crater where stalls used to be. Bits of lumber and fire rained down around him. A large metal construct followed quickly after the lava: a giant metal machine, with a huge whirling drill attached to the front. Al could see at least two other craters like that one around the village; this must have been what started the fire!



He didn't have long to stand there in shock. Eventually he came to realize the people around him. The villagers and merchants were running around the village, not with buckets of water, but weapons. He looked at the flaming crater once more and saw more movement within. A grey clawed hand came forth from the lava, quickly finding ground and pulling itself out of the crater. Climbing out of the miniature volcano, like it was a morning shower was a terrifying beast: the Hellborn. They live up to the north east of the Clay Coast, right where his village happened to lie. They were huge serpentine lizard men. Their scales burned grey or black from the constant heat and pressure. Clawed hands gripped curved serrated swords, and large spike covered shields. They had the head of a croc, and a large rattle-snake tail, and fangs like a cobra. Al had heard rumors from the merchants that the Hellborn even filled their fangs with magma before they left for an invasion.



The boy shook his head, trying to snap out of it. The villagers were already desperately trying to fight back the intruders. Most didn't even have real weapons, they had just picked up the nearest thing they could find. Some had pitchforks, others blades, and a few were running around with clubs broken off of whatever was near them. They were getting slaughtered. The Hellborn had better weapons, better training, and a better plan. His village was being wiped out. The only ones who managed to put up a fight were the village guard. Each one of them was fighting with everything they had; their home was under attack and they would protect the others with their lives. It wasn't until he saw Gulf fighting in the middle of a crowd of those beasts that it finally, truly sunk in. They were being invaded.



Al couldn't bring himself to move. He was stuck in place, no matter how hard he willed his legs to move. He could only watch as the others were killed and slaughtered. He wanted to help, he truly did. It was what he had spent years trying to train for! This was his chance-- he could save his village, he could protect everyone, and he'd be a hero! Just like he had always dreamed of being. But he couldn't move. He wanted to do all that, to save everyone with a single swing of his sword, but... He was scared. His legs just wouldn't stop shaking, and he couldn't lift them no matter how hard he tried. He didn't have much choice, as soon another explosion sounded from behind him-- the barn.



He turned to face the barn, still filled with terror. Smoke was rising from the newly ablaze building. The animals were trapped. The villagers had the guard to protect them, but no one else would come to save his animals, his family. Although still terrified, his mind finally won and he took his first step towards the barn, and then another... He practically crashed into the door, too scared to stop himself from moving. He tossed the doors wide open, and ran inside the smoking barn. He almost forgot to breathe through the cloth as he went about haphazardly opening all of the stables. The inferno had almost consumed the back of the barn by the time he had managed to make his way to the last stable.



The very last stable held the barn's pride and joy: a large, powerful, and proud black stallion. His father had spent a pretty coin buying that horse. They had to eat cabbage for the rest of the month! Al hated cabbage, at least he did after that month. The stallion was freaking out at the moment, kicking at the wall and everything around it with it's powerful legs. Al had to avoid one or two kicks before he was finally able to get the gate open. The horse, seeing freedom, charged straight through him. It knocked Al onto the ground, and went flying out of the barn.



Al had been winded by the impact, and had to lie on the ground until he could get enough strength to stand back up. He coughed loudly, getting back to his feet. This smoke was starting to get to him and it was getting hard to breathe. There was a loud crack; the loft above him snapped free of the fire. Startled, Al jumped away from the swinging flaming wall of wood, getting himself pinned between the back of the barn and the new wall the loft became. He had to find someway to get out of here. The loft-wall was covered in flames; he couldn't even get close to it. He looked around desperately, backing up against the wall of the barn. He turned around, facing the cut in the wall he had made earlier. He closed his eyes, thanking the gods for saving him. He started ramming into the wall over and over, trying to break through the weakened section. It seemed that even with the fire and the cut it still wasn't weak enough for him to break through. He closed his eyes and kept trying. He really had no choice-- if he stopped, the fire would get him. The flames themself were slowly encroaching upon him, giving him less and less room for each charge. He was running out of strength and air. He clenched his watering eyes shut, his lungs burning with every breath. He backed up to the edge of the flames and got ready to put everything he had into his next charge. He thought loudly to anyone who might listen. 'Please... Someone, anyone! Please, just give me some of your strength...'



Al burst froth from the wall, rolling slightly away from the barn. He was glued to the ground in a fit of coughing and choking. It hurt, but fresh air never tasted so good. He was trying hard just to keep the tears from flowing. He had lived, he had actually managed to make it out of there! He even managed to save all the animals. He smiled, surely he had earned a bit of a rest... He slowly started to close his eyes, until a nearby sound woke him with a start. He could hear the cry of one of the horses from here. He had just risked his life saving those animals-- he wasn't going to let someone kill them now. He picked up his sword, using it to help pull himself off of the ground. He coughed, stumbling off towards the direction of the sound.



He rounded the side of the barn and saw another one of those craters and metal monstrosities. It was hard to make out; his eyes were still filled with smoke. He saw a mass of forms a little bit away from the crater and closer towards the house. He slowly limped towards them, sticking the sword into the ground as a makeshift cane. He stopped a short distance away from the group, pausing to catch his breath and lifted his head to finally see who they were.



A Hellborn clad in gold plated armor stood before him. It was so different from the other Hellborn. All the others were covered in steel plate armour, like walking blocks of metal. This one didn't even have a helmet, open spots showed in it's armour. Almost like it thought it would never get hit. The lizard was holding onto something... It was tightly grabbing onto the black stallion Al had worked so hard to save. The creature was limp and lifeless, the Hellborn's fangs killing it quick and painfully. Al froze at the figure below them. A short old man, covered in grey hair, and bent half his size from a bad back was dead in front of the two. Hands calloused from years and years of working on a farm, now lifelessly clutching at a pitchfork.



Al felt numb and sick all at the same time. He was sad and angry. There was a hurricane of emotions and feelings raging inside of him, but all he could do was stare. By now the golden lizard had noticed him. It removed it's fangs from the horses neck, two bright glowing orange holes left in their place. The lizard picked it's shield back up and pulled out a wicked looking scimitar. The curve of the blade was pointed at the boy. Clearly the beast meant to kill him, just like it had his father. What could he do? He wasn't a guard, he was just a kid! But his father and the horse were killed right here by that monster. Anger and rage finally won out over the other emotions. The hatred giving his body renewed strength, he pulled the broadsword out of the ground and pointed it at the lizard. "Mark my words reptile, I will avenge my father."



The lizard hissed in response. It clearly didn't think this whelp was worth talking to. It didn't even think he was worth fighting. Let it never be said however that a Hellborn said no to more mindless bloodshed. It was fast, way too fast for Alabastor to dodge. The first swing came straight down at him, trying to cut him in twain. He didn't see the attack; he didn't even think of moving. It was pure animalistic instincts that moved him out of the way of that streak of steel. He rolled over to the side on his knees, looking up at the monster. It was even larger than Gulf was, another head taller at least. Doubt plagued him, biting at his heels and telling him he couldn't do it. But he had to, he said he would, and Alabastor always followed through on his word. He was ready for the next attack. Again, the lizard swung down at him. He darted forward, the blade just skimming the air next to him. He leaped up when he was right up against the Hellborn. Al brought the blade curving up towards the creature's face. He stumbled, and almost fell when he landed. Al looked up at the creature that was now clutching it's right eye. He had hit it! He had actually hit it! Pride was starting to fill him, pride and confidence. He could do this-- he could win and save the village! He could be a hero! He recklessly charged forward again; he wanted to try that swing he had used earlier. He closed his eyes, and put all his strength behind a huge wild swing. He spun completely around-- his hands were suddenly lighter. The lizard had sent his blade flying. Al turned to look at his sword before it landed in the ground. Could he still get it? Could he reach it befo-



Al let out a gasp as he suddenly felt something cold in the pit of his stomach. He slowly looked back at the creature. He was somehow face to face with it, staring into the pitch black eyes that all Hellborn had. He looked down, the curved sword sticking straight through him and holding him in the air. The blade was covered in crimson... was that blood? Was it... his blood? He couldn't even feel it when he was thrown off to the side. He could see the creature walk off in disgust. That was really all he could see as he just stared up at the night sky. He felt so cold, and tired... darkness was encroaching on the edge of his vision and he thought about letting it in. The boy slowly closed his eyes, accepting death like everyone else.



Except, that's not who he was. He wasn't everyone else; he was going to be a hero! He couldn't give up now or ever; even death wouldn't get in his way. His vision was red from the blood covering his eyes as he glared up at the sky. He coughed out drops of scarlet as he yelled to the heavens. "Was this your plan for me?! I can not, will not die yet! I will be a hero, and I will change this world!...Just... just give me a chance..." Even with the boy's absurd willpower his eyes were growing heavier and heavier as the darkness grew thicker and colder around him. Maybe this was where the story was supposed to end. 'Do you want to live? Will you give up all for that chance you desire? I can give you power, but you must give me everything in exchange.' The voice rang out all around him. His vision was almost completely black, but there was a single light in the middle. A light at the end of the tunnel. 'How much, can you sacrifice?' Al clenched his teeth and reached a hand out towards the light. "Everything!"