Illarion.org

Away from the Island, Konstantin is stuck in a sandstorm in the Eastern desert lands. He cannot reach his boat and continue the journey home, because the horrible desert winds. He is miles away from the coast, in the middle of the desert.

The storms had been furious for weeks already, and seem to have no end. Even the poisonous scorpions hid themselves in their little holes, not showing up.
Konstantin is sitting in a small rocky cave, a hard to notice, secret little hole he found in the sand when he was hiding from the sun. His coat, cloak, his bag, and his weapons are on the ground beside him. He's ran out of normal human food, so for a week already he survives on his food potions. He thinks that if the winds do not calm down soon, he might just start drinking scorpion venom.

There is nobody to talk to, and absolutely nothing to do but wait for weather change. So he takes out some sheets, a quill, and a bottle of ink from his bag, and suddenly starts to write - for an unknown reason.

The Chronicle of Konstantin

Let me begin. My name is Konstantin. I am not an evil man. Although I did have criminal connections in the past but I’ll get to that... My past... Please prepare, this will not be a romantic story about a glorious hero, or a terrifying tale of a great villain. It starts like that though… But let me assure you, this is simply a diary of a tired, hopeless man. So let’s get to the glorious part first to be done with it.
It starts with my birth. I was born in Magadan, in a different world to the far North, in a noble family of a powerful father, Count Isbadan K... Like most noble families, my family was big. I had nine brothers and three sisters. My family is the worst thing I ever had in life, and the scar on my face I see in the looking glass every day is a gift from them. It’s an impressive scar I must say, runs down all over my right side. Last time I saw my father - he almost put a blade through my head.

Nine brothers. Three sisters. All humans. The brothers are at war. All of them, amongst each other, with the exception of rare alliances. Most of my older brothers are trained killers, and each one of them is separated from Father’s home. Each one has their own armies or at least gangs. Young brothers are kind and good, not evil, and that is unpopular in my land. I am the fourth oldest. When I was 3 years old, I was separated from my family, kidnapped from the family palace garden by a band of traveling thieves. They wanted to make my father pay ransom for my freedom, but all he said was “I don’t care, keep the damn child, I have more.” I did not know this by the way, until I was way older, otherwise, I would have never came back.

When thieves understood they would not get any money from me, they dropped me off in some rather large town, bordering my father’s lands. I would definitely die, if not for luck. I was found by local homeless abandoned kids and brought into their hideout. There, I was raised on the streets, under protection of older children. They taught me to lie, deceive, steal, and survive among the low level life. Ground zero, nothing to lose – I became a member of poor class.
That is where I fell in love with daggers for the first time. By my tenth birthday I was a skilled rogue already, hated by prefects, market traders, and town guards. But life had turned around again. I was found. Found by my family again. My elder brother, who was constantly searching for me, tracked me down and brought me back to my home. I always liked him. He told me later that he caught the bandits who captured me a long time ago, and questioned them, found out where I was dropped off, and spent seven years trying to follow my path. What a dedication… I accepted his proposal to return home.

Before I even turned 11, I was given a family weapon, and started my training in the military academy. School was fun. Apparently, my father wanted me to be an excellent soldier, because combat training was all I ever did, even for entertainment. They always made me hunt and kill my own food before the cooks would prepare it…
Every day for five years I was being trained to kill. My former street life helped a lot, since I had an urge to develop alternative fighting styles, in oppose to classic swordplay. I was scared, very scared, I did not know why this excessive training is being brought upon me, but my fear only made me work harder, I was like a hunted fox.
My father always told me that one day I would be the best fighter of all my brothers. I never understood why and how and what for. Besides, I never liked fighting. I usually went straight to killing… Why bother with the fight?

-Are you sure he is ready, milord?
-Of course he is, well, at least for where we want him.

Two men are standing at a podium in a dark atrium. A royal banner is behind their backs.

One man is tall, with dark skin, dark headed and bearded, with a diadem over his carefully combed hair, his face is sharpened with years, but still full of confidence and malevolent power, he is in his forties, richly dressed in black and purple, with white fur on his coat.
The other man is almost bald, he is short, his hair is white, he is almost bold, beardless, shaved clean, with a maniacal look in his eyes. He looks like either an alchemist, or a medic. His name is Derrick.

On the background, below them, on a small circle arena, a young, tall, thin but sharp-muscled boy in black silk pants, unshoed, and naked from waist above is beating an armored warrior to death in a one-on-one combat spar using wooden clubs.
The warrior falls, his helmet flies off, his head is bleeding. The boy smashes his head in a finishing blow. Dull sound of wood against flesh, and the warrior is down unconscious. The boy kneels down, takes his head in his hands, and twists it, breaking the neck.
A voice of the announcer: Fifty five to zero.


As I said, my brothers are in a constant state of war with each other. Except for the oldest one, the one who found me. He lives a secluded life in his fortress in a distant land. He abandoned the family, not willing to use his skills for destruction. Still, I don’t doubt that if he ever decided to go to war – he would win over all my brothers, and he would beat my father as well.
I was also getting tired of family battles, and went away when before my sixteenth birthday, without my father’s permission, without completing my training. I built myself a small village, and peaceful people joined me... It happened 70 years ago, although I look like a 20-year old kid. I will tell you how it happened.

Perhaps, some day, a grateful reader will look at this chronicle, and learn at least something… something about the world’s irony and evil sarcastic nature…
My tale will not be an easy to understand one. It will speak of how evil can beauty be, and how beautiful may be the evil itself.
Whenever my life had a glimpse of kind light in the end of the tunnel, fate played yet another joke with me.
By the end of this writing, you will see what result came from it. A tragic story about a man who denied goodness, being no longer able to catch its sight. What he never realized is that the source of light was all the time within himself…

It gets dark.
Konstantin closes his notes and goes to sleep for the night.

-He is only fifteen. He is not yet fully grown.
-We have no other choice. Soon he will understand everything.
-That would be bad, milord, very bad.
-I know. That is exactly why he should go through it before he realizes what it’s for, and what we’re doing.
-Just look at that my Count! – the old man points at the warrior’s dead body with a broken neck.
-Beautiful. He can no longer stay in the academy, he is already the best, it’s time to do our business.

Konstantin wakes up, drinks his breakfast. Peaks out to see if the storms are any calmer. Not a chance...
He gets out of the cave and looks around for at least something like a desert snake - to fry up and eat. But nothing. Not a living thing. He crawls back into the cave and continues his writing.

Before I continue, let me introduce you to my cursed family. The K~. family is a noble family of power, curses, and evil enchantment, should I say. Good enough for a start. If Magadan were a Kingdom, my father would definitely be a King or close to a king. Since the country is not too big, he is a Count, so I guess it can be called a Countdom. I was never motivated or educated enough to understand politics and questions like why should a Countdom not be a Kingdom…


A tall mirror made of a strange material, reminding of gold, but a lot blacker is standing at the marble pedestal. A slim boy stands in front of the mirror, keeping cautious distance from it. He stands dressed in black trouser-pants with a gray stripe along each side, in a dark shirt without sleeves, and a silver-gray jacket. Along his waist, a lengthy sword hangs down, buckled in its sheath of black leather with silver bindings.

-Come, my boy.
-Yes, father.
The boy is looking at the mirror, amazed and hypnotized. The mirror is not something you would usually see. The mirror stands vertical, but instead of the glass – waves of metallic liquid are vacillating back and forth, projecting a dark shadow of the boy, instead of his clear mirror image. The whole “glass” looks like it is made of fluid that somehow was forced to support itself in a vertical shape. The mirror is of human height and reminds more of a door propped open.
The boy looks a little cautious, worried as he comes closer, soon – a little scared.

-What is this, father?

The tall dark man looks at the old short man. The old man speaks.

-This, Konstantin, is the Mirror Of Chaos, for you it may have many names, you can as well call it The Mirror Of Uncertainty, Mirror of Unpredictability, Mirror of Randomness.

-What is it for?
-It is for you. Only for you.
-Step closer to it, son. – the Count says, evil sparks shine in his eyes.
The boy tries to be bold, but the sight of the metallic-gray waves for some reason put his feelings into a mess. He trembles.
-Do you fear it?
-I am afraid of it, slightly.
-You are a brave man, Konstantin, and this is your final mission ceremony. What you are to discover...
-Answer my question. What is it for?!!
-It is for you, you must go through it.
-Why? Did my brothers do the same? And sisters?
-None of your siblings are fit for this. This is exclusively for you, my boy. Walk.

Konstantin reaches for his coat and puts his hand in the pocket. He takes out a wooden smoking pipe and fills it up from a tiny bag. He lights it up with his dagger and a flint, and starts smoking slowly.

…Every member has a family weapon. This part may bore you, but a lover of unique antiques may love it, so I will write this anyway… I do not know how these weapons work, but wounds they make - even the highest elves cannot fully cure.

Daqlin is the oldest brother - he is the best swordsman in Magadan and uses a long sword. He is always very serious, calm, somewhat ascetic, and always reasonable. I respect him for being wise and for not having an urge to give pain to other people. He was always the one I looked up to when I was young. I still value him as a brother, and a little afraid of him. He gave me a few tough lessons in the past… He abandoned our sinful family, not willing to involve in any family fighting, locked himself in his fortress and taken on reasonable life.

Next goes Gerrot - he is the largest and physically strongest, and uses a huge, gigantic axe with a black blade.

Cain - the evil tricky bastard, a ruthless killer without conscience, trained assassin - I hate him the most. He reminds me of everything I hate about myself. He was the last brother I had a fight with - he has a large claymore sword named Flamebridge, a two-handed sword with a black tip. He is the one who made my face so pretty…

Oksana - my older sister uses a dagger, with a specially made custom blade... She was always mean to me, I wish she was dead, but she probably isn’t. Vixens like here never die soon.

Greiz and Quinn are twins, younger than me, and are somewhere between evil and good. Quinn is a mage and uses a staff, Greiz is an archer, and a military commander. Greiz and Quinn are from a different mother, and their hair is fire-blonde. Greiz’s arrows are deadly and I find them nearly impossible to dodge.

Next is Diana - my younger sister from same mother as the twins. She is a fire-blonde as well, not like the rest of us, dark-haired. Never knew her weapon. She is now dead.

Youngest brothers - Julian and Adrian - I actually like them. Julian has an armor that cannot be punctured through with any ordinary weapon not belonging to the family or to higher magic, so his only weak spot is his head, if he wears it. The armor, not the head. Adrian ... I don't know. I actually almost never seen him. Met him once.

Filina is youngest and uses two swords.
I happened to be given Gracevandier, the broad-bladed, thin on the end sword, a successful combination of a broadsword and a long-sword, made of silver. I keep it away, and almost never use it.


-Tell me what I want to know! What happens if I go through this mirror, father? – the boy looks anxious.
-It is to give your life, all of our lives, an element of imperfection in uncertainty. Nobody can predict what happens as you cross the Mirror to the other side.
-Is this one of your tricks with the shadow world, Derrick?
-No… Come, come look into it. What do you see?
-Father? – the boy becomes insecure and look at the Count in search of mercy in his eyes.
-Konstantin, walk through it.
The boy sees no way out, hardens his fists and forces himself, shaking, to come to the mirror. What he sees takes an eternity in his head to describe. In each of his own eye he sees a universe of metal made into water, the waves of Nothing, where nothing exists, and even that “nothing” does not exist either. The sight makes his eyes widen. Out of this masse of living metallic nothingness, he can make out an image of a black darkness-rendered shadow, a siluet of a boy. Is it himself, rendered black? Is it his shadow? Suddenly, the shadow looks straight into his eyes, and becomes sharp. All the vague lines sharpen, and Konstantin can clearly see a human figure, looking exactly like himself. The boy does not notice that his feet are actually walking towards the Mirror, being hypnotized by what he sees. He looses control over the process and lets the shadow in the metal eternity decide for him what to do. With every step towards the Mirror, the shadow sharpens and becomes more humanlike. Konstantin stops within a foot from the living glass. Suddenly, his shadow in the mirror focuses its eyes, and they become white. Rainbow colored lines start flying around shadow’s body shape. The figure now becomes outlined with a rainbow contour. Black inside, colorful along the outline. The shape looks exactly like Konstantin.
The boy touches the mirror, and sees the black hand come out of the mirror from the other side, touching him. Suddenly he drops into panic, starts to shake, and tries to take his hand out of the “glass”.

-What’s happening to him?!!
-I told you milord, he isn’t ready!..He..
-Don’t say that! Don’t! You can do it, boy!
-Milord…
-There is nothing to be afraid, Konstan…

The boy shakes so hard that blood starts coming out of his mouth, he screams like he is in awful pain, he struggles, but the hand looks like it is forever stuck in the sticky “metallic water”. Spasms run through his spine, so hard that it looks like the boy’s back will break.

-Where is my hand?!!! Where is it?! Father! Derrick, where are you?!!! DERRICK!!! FATHER!!!
-He cannot hear us, I told you milord, he is not mentally stable to realize this yet. He is a child.
-Silence!!! We are here, Konstantin, concentrate, go forward, go ahead.
-No, milord! Please, he cannot hear us.

-Father!! I am blind! I’m blind, I cannot see. Where am I? Where is anything? I see nothing!! Help me!
No, Noooo!!!

The skinny boy's ribs are showing up and are covered in blood flowing from his mouth. His veins are pumping blood and become visible through his skin. It feels like they will pop any minute.
The boy suddenly takes out his hand of the mirror, and flies off ten feet away from it.

-Konstantin!

The boy’s eyes give out insanity.

-Guards, hold him.
Two guards run up to Konstantin, but before they can block his way with spears, he jumps three feet up into the air, like a panter, grabs one guard’s spear, and puts it through the other guard’s chest, while piercing the first guard's chest with his silver made sword. Both guards fall on the floor, the boy’s mouth is full of saliva. He holds his sword and makes a few slow steps towards his father. He breathes heavily, maniacaly. Blood and soapy drool drops from his lips. His eyes are looking into nowhere.

-HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT I HAVE SEEN..........
-Oh damn... - says the Count.
-What are we going to do, milord? - the old man shivers.

The lad raises the sword, but the Count quickly unsheaths his and throws it right into the boy's head. Konstantin dodges the blade, but the handle hits him on the jaw, and makes him fall. He jumps out the window into the night of the street.

Count and Derrick hurry to the window to see him run down the road towards the city, away from the castle.

-Well, at least he didn't kill us...
-Orders, sir? – the archer yells from the roof.
-Archers,…
-Let him go, milord – Derrick whispers.
-He's leaving, sir. Shall we take him down now, sir? - archer asks.
-Let him go…

-We will find him, milord. As you could see, apparently, his body is complete, but his mind is far from being finished. But it’s not a problem. Life will do our job for us. Time will teach him.

Life had never welcomed me too much, I was always suffocating in this small world, and frankly, the world didn’t like me either. But the time was to make a choice. I had to go somewhere. Like a piece of driftwood in a fast stream of life, I had to stick to some coast… Temples didn’t let me smoke, prisons didn’t let me drink, army wouldn’t let me live at my will… the only choice was to hit the streets again.

I decided that if I hit the streets – it will be my own streets. So I built myself a small cabin, and provided food for myself using natural resources. Looking at my peaceful, secluded success, people started joining me, and my little yard grew into a small village.

So I am living in the village I built, with my lady, Sophia, a girl I met while making my first attempts to cut wood in the forest… I’ll never forget. Moments we shared together - will stay my secret till the day my eyes close forver. The love of my life. The former love. She is now gone from me only because my life is gone from me.

But when we were together – we were living happily and nicely. We thought of dying together in one day, when we are old… Dreaming of children… Things like that… Suddenly, a rumor comes through the world about an ancient assassin named Konstantin. I am the only one who bears that name, so people leave my village, starting to accuse me of things I never did. Only my lady stayed with me.

Soon, troubles began.
Different people with different intentions, both evil and desperate, lots of them, started to pour on my head and knock on my door with orders to kill others. I didn't know where to hide, and ran and switched homes several times, but letters kept finding me. I suspect all that had to do with my brothers... they could have killed people using my name... I can't stop thinking that all of this, me being on this damned island has something to do with an evil warlock, an old fat orc, and my own father...

So... One day Sophia was kidnapped. I found a note saying I have to travel to a certain land and kill a certain Lord, only then will I see her again. There was nobody around for me to explain my problem to - I am not an assassin. But I had no choice. I had a past experience of childhood on the streets, plus the skills from my family's military academy, a special high-class type of school, where they taught eastern techniques, so I had basic knowledge of combat and herbs. I actually was quite good, and now the situation demanded my skills to be used.

I trained with myself for a month more or so, and went there, at the place specified in the note. Security was kind of lax. I killed the man. And received another note - saying where I can find my lady. As I came to the place, I found a piece of her hair, and yet another letter with another kill order. And then another letter, and another, and another.

Over 2 years I spent like that, killing 59 people, trying to trace down the kidnappers...Every time I would either find her hair, or a part of her dress, or an item of her jewelry... it was horrible. Desire of lost love, mixed with a killer’s rage, mixed with inflamed sense of abuse and unfairness… I thought it would never end. Until one day... I found her dead...

-What?!!! What do you mean he became a peaceful farmer?!!
-I am so sorry to inform you, but…
-A farmer!!! A farmer I ask you?!! A peaceful farmer?!
-Yes sir, in one of the newborn border villages…
-Do you realize how much money and time we put into this?!!
-Sir, that is what my scouts had found out, I am just reporting…
-Derrick! Did you hear what this man just said?! We need to talk.

Old Derrick waves the scout chief away. He leaves.
Doors close.

-Did you hear him?!
-I know, milord.
-We created, raised, and trained a perfect killer, and he is leading a peaceful life? Do you realize what will happen?! We need him soon.
-Apparently, he is not interested in killing on his own…
-What do you mean, he is not interested in it?
-Maybe he doesn’t like it?
-You said he will develop himself and grow in the wilderness. He is not growing! He may forget the trade!
-He still has his sword, doesn’t he? If he wanted it, he would have used it already… but he is happy in peace. Perhaps, the Mirror had changed him and his mind. He was too young to resist its destructive power after all. You know that it has a power to reverse things… what was evil and demolishing in his nature… could have been reversed to… good and productive?
-No, you don’t understand me, do you? He must be back! We have to make him work! Make him kill! He must grow, you hear me?!
-Yes, milord…
-He must grow!! At all costs!!
-Yes…
-Make him! Make him kill! Find a way!!
-He-he-he… well, actually, there is one way… that never failsss… - Derrick grimly hissing.
-Find it. And use it!!!

My hatred knew no boundaries! It burned me. I returned to Magadan, and surprisingly, the whole city was hunting for me! My older brothers organized troops to catch me. It is normal for our family to fight each other, but this time they united to kill the "rat". I had no idea what suddenly made my selfish brothers unite against me. I had no other choice but to run again...

From town to town, from tavern to tavern, always in shadows. Wherever I went - they were after me, breathing in my back. As I ran to other places, I needed money to protect myself, so I actually became a real assassin, because I already had the craft in my hands, and Konstantin was a known name, guaranteeing me clientele. I started working for trolls, orcs, goblins, dwarves – anyone at all, without discrimination. I figured: I have nothing to love anymore, so I can use this power to build myself a fortress and an army to defend myself. Just like Daqlin did. Well… Except Daqlin had finished his academy training completely, and went away from the family only when he reached maturity (age of 20), besides he was a brilliant tactician and military commander, good in strategy, war craft, and leadership. I was not like him. I was always a loner. I guess that’s why the fortress idea never worked…
There was another thing that we had different… Daqlin did not enjoy killing. I did.

-I still think we made a mistake by stepping on his weak spot, milord…
-I know… but it was the best way! We could not risk him having a family. Every peaceful man eventually gains one.
-But we killed his woman, milord.
-…and he is out there to get us. He is coming here for his revenge, I can feel it. Expect him any minute.
-How do you know, milord?
-He is my son. That’s what I would do.
-So what do we do? He can kill us, you know.
-Not all of us. Not when we are together as a family. Gather my children. They will protect us.
-But how will you bring them together in a union? They are always at their own wars. How are you planning to make them protect your capitol? How will you get them to fight for your castle under one banner?
-Watch me, Derrick…

…

-Behold, my children! As your father I announce now the contest among you. The winner will be my rightful chosen heir. There is one man among my children who had exceeded all of you in power.

Gathered young men and ladies look at each other surprised and annoyed.

-One of my children is the best, but he is not present in this room.

-The bastard Konstantin?!

-Exactly. He has grown too strong and arrogant in his rage against the family, and your contest is to find him and bring him to me, dead or alive.

-Damn… the little no good half-wit did spend five of his years in the academy… - some brothers muttered.
-Father, are you saying that the one who kills Konstantin, will get to be your heir?

-Correct, children.

-Even us, women? – one of the daughters asked.

-Yes.

-Why don’t you simply ask Daqlin to find and hunt him down? He surely is the best of us. None of us had spent so much time in the military!

-Daqlin refused. As usually, he prefers to sit in his walls farming, feeding horses and cows, counting his soldiers, you know him. He was never part of the family… He does not want to help kill Konstantin, and he is not interested in the Countdom. Is that not right, Daqlin?

Deep voice comes from a shadowed corner of the castle hall:

-Do not tempt me, father. I said I will not help. Good bye.
Daqlin comes out of the shadow and leaves, closing the doors behind him.

-Too bad. He is the only one who spent more time in the academy then the bastard.

-Now go, children, and start your hunt!

-We don’t think anyone of us can handle the bastard alone. What if we bring him to you together as a group?

-Then you will divide my throne, castle, land, and power among you.

-To arms, brothers and sisters! Let the hunt begin!
-Who should be in the lead?
-Cain is the next best. Lets put him.
-Let’s make Gerrot the leader.
-Let’s make Cain.
-Quinn is a mage. What about Greiz?
-No, let’s put Cain…
-I vote Cain.
-Go, Cain!

Soon I built myself a mansion, and a little army. I kept performing ordered kills, using my mansion as a base, until one of the orders took me to an ancient kingdom.
That kingdom had a castle.
The castle had a room.
The room had a small pedestal.
And on that pedestal was a stone.
A special kind of stone, the Aurora Stone. This stone does 2 things.
It selects the host, the owner, the one who manages to break its magic.

When the owner is selected, the stone keeps their body young, and lets a man travel between worlds, like an instant portal. Actually, the stone is more powerful then a single portal. It can control and switch between portals, but it is hard to learn to use it correctly in that feature.

My customer who wanted it and paid me for it - was a wizard. He told me that the stone is heavily guarded, so I will not be able to exit the castle alive. Therefore, I would have to use the stone to teleport back to the wizard. He gave me instructions on how to break it. So… the rest was a matter of time. I broke into the castle, found the right room, dealt with the guards, stole the stone, and at that moment my brothers appeared! Nearly all of them at once! I was surrounded!




-Father, you called for me?
-Yes… please, come in. Sit down…

Tall, dark-skinned black-haired young man, dressed in black and brown tight clothes, black military boots with shoelaces, sits down. Family resemblance with his father is very apparent. Son’s face looks almost exactly like father’s, but young. A huge claymore is buckled on his backpack in a sheath.

-Cain… You were always my most trusted and favorite son… I trusted you both magic and weaponry. You and I are pure same blood. I have hopes for you more then for anyone of them.

-Don’t worry, father. I am getting this done. – Cain smiles.

-You know how much I love you, Cain… you know that it has to be done, right? Otherwise we’re doomed. And you are the only hope. The rest of your siblings are either spoiled babies or magic abusers. – Count puts his hands on Cain’s shoulders.

-I agree. I was about to address this to you myself. Gerrot seems decent, although he is dull as a stump, but the rest… It’s not working to hunt Konstantin in a group. They are too unorganized, too obvious, too different. In styles and in behavior. We are not meant to work together, Father. It’s hard to command these obnoxious people. Besides, just like Konstantin, I am a loner. It really would be better for us to work individually, not as a team.
But it’s alright. I told you that I will kill Konstantin, and I will. I will do that personally. At all costs. For you. That’s why I have decided to separate from the group and work alone from now on. I will go my own way and find the bastard myself.

-But Cain, please remember, we have to keep the siblings together, and close to home in case Konstantin comes near here.
-Don’t worry, Father, I know exactly what we will do. I already have a plan…

Turned out that my brothers made this order with the Stone, and the wizard was just means of third hands, and they were waiting for me there, at the target place of operation, so they could frame me for it, while I do their dirty work, and they get the Stone for themselves.

I believe the Stone would go to Cain, and Gerrot agreed to help him, along with Quinn and Oksana. I probably became the most proficient assassin-thief of them all, and they probably knew it was good to use my skills.
As soon as I had the stone and realized this was a setup, I put it on my neck, and instead of killing the target, I disappeared into the portal I opened with the stone, leaving my siblings amazed in the middle of the room.
Thus, I became the owner of the Aurora Stone.

The End of Chapter One.
<~{K/K}~>



-We have failed, Cain... Now he is lost to us forever.
-No, Father. I will find him.


Konstantin closes his notes, puts away the quill and the ink, peaks out of the cave for another moment. A blow of hot sandy wind hits his face. His black hair dusted with sand, not looking black anymore. He crawls back into the cave again.
He scratches his neck, his face showing quiet discomfort. Evidently, he misses a bath really bad.
He drinks a potion, prays to his God, and goes to sleep, covering himself with his coat.

I'm a killer, and I always have been. They say once you taste blood, it changes you forever, I wouldn't know, because it has been part of my diet since day one. What is worth killing for, you might ask? I would not know, because I never had any other choice. I have always followed orders. I'm taking another man's life, all I can say is, it's both easier and more difficult than you might imagine. So this is my life, and what is life? Religion offers very simple answers, knowledge offers new possibilities. If you take the religious stand, Man was made the last, at the end of hard work, and Gods was pretty tired. Imperfections, flaws, weaknesses, vulnerability - that is the price we pay for being the last item on the list. No matter which version is right, if you can improve on this peace of artwork which is human body, that not even time has perfected yet, by means of magic, patience, and alchemy - create a sharper original instead of this sloppy copy, this mortal coil, why not? Ask yourself, what's worth living for? A lot. What's worth dying for, then? Not a lot. So if you had the choice, it wouldn't be that hard, would it? It would be worth killing for, wouldn't it? Life is a blessing, but death can be a friend, there's always a price to pay. In nature there's neither good nor bad, right or wrong, there are only consequences. Not so long ago, a few able clerics were willing to assume the cape of the creator, delve deep into this creational abyss to find the secrets, to stretch the known boundaries, to create life, they could not foresee the consequences...

Konstantin suddenly wakes up in his cave of a scratching noise. A little desert mouse had ran into the hideout to survive the furious winds. A creature trying to hide from heat and death... Just like himself. Gray, pityful, hopeless against the sandstorm... So alike...
In a lightning-quick move Konstantin grabs a dagger and stabs the mouse into the back.
"Sorry, fellow. Didn't want to do this. But we both got to eat, and I'm the one who is bigger... Bad luck for you, nothing personal."

Small fire out of dry sticks, smoke and the smell of fried mouse meat, crunchy joints. Delicious lunch for the hooded man.
He continues writing.


PART 2: Right before Illarion.

Sinful time of my life. Although my brothers were always more evil then me, at that time, I was pretty evil myself. Actually, I got so confused in what is evil and what’s good, I don’t even know if my brothers were right – maybe I did become the damned bastard they were hunting… But on the other hand, what choice did I have but to become what they made me? To become what I was meant to be…

My girl was dead, my family hated me, I had nothing in my heart. Having the Aurora stone, I realized how much power I have now. While my brothers wanted the stone too, they kept hunting me, and at the same time I was performing assassinations over different worlds! They could never catch up with me - it took months for them to sail and ride to places where it took me 5 seconds to get.

Some worlds I went to cannot be reached without magic at all. Some of them hang in the air, some grow under water… But sometimes my brothers found me here and there from time to time. Quinn helped them with his magic, and I had a couple of battles with them over the years. Plus, it took me a while to figure out how the destination element works on the stone. And then something happened that changed my life.

I was leaving from another successful assassination in a distant world... and the stone randomly took me back to the lands of Magadan, my homeland!

From rumors I learned the true history of why my father hates me.
In summary, without many details, he made a deal with a very evil warlock to catch me. The warlock was the one who killed my girl, and my father approved the plan. There is an orc chief involved, that's where my hatred to orcs comes from, but I won't bother you with those details... The three made a union, and their overall plan was: Raise a perfect mercenary and make him work for the advantage of the house of nine brothers with father being in the head of course... Use some power over him to make him work - the girl, my girl...

But things went wrong - not the way they planned, I ran away, they killed my lady, loosing power over me, and everything took a new course, making my family – my enemies forever. Besides, I developed so much hatred, that even they hadn’t planned on it. My emotions became uncontrollable. They had no way to control me now, I was free. But one thing my Father’s alchemist Derrick was right about – life taught me much. It taught me to kill in order to live. It made me go even further – to live in order to kill. They were not ready for this.

I became unstoppable. Not that no one could stop me, but they simply couldn’t find me. I was a shadow in the mists. People kept dying, yet no evidence was left. But they knew who was working…

Cain stands in the main hall of the Count’s castle. Dressed in a tight black suit, with a backpack on his back and a brown mask on his head, one to protect his face from sandy desert winds. The mask’s mouth cover it taken down, Cain’s head is unwrapped of cloth. He is enjoying the coolness of the air in the high castle halls. His claymore is buckled to his backpack.
There is a new piece of gear in his arsenal, it seems. On his belt and on his legs – two short leather holsters are buckled on each side. The holsters are too short for sword sheaths, but too long for knives. They are both empty. Cain looks up.
His father, Count Isbadan comes down the stairs of black marble and approaches him.

-They are almost ready.
-I am quite anxious to see them, Father.
-Want to take a look at them?
-Oh yes. It would be lovely.
-Follow me.

They go down many stairs in the darkness of the halls, candle lights become dimmer as they go down further and further, through a long maze of tunnels. They finally reach a dead end - a black wall.
It turns out to be a hidden trap door, when Count hits a rock in the wall – it spins around and opens, letting the visitors in. They disappear behind the door, as it shuts behind them.


My father had one last hope. Cain.
Well… he had two hopes actually. Daqlin was still the best swordsman in the whole land, but there was no way Father could make him work. Magadan lost its best fighter forever.

But there was still Cain. Trained in ranger style he was the next best candidate. His assassin skills were similar to mine, but we had different approaches: I trained in the wilderness, chaotically, and with live practice. I never paid much attention to strict learning, rules and regulations, training schedules… I was a child of the streets and forests, using street smarts and learning as I walk through life.

Cain on the other hand was structured. He was methodical, like a true professional. He studied books and techniques, he paid attention to theory, spent much time in repetitive exercises, practicing skills to perfection. When I first felt a strike of his fist on my face, I knew for sure that he had trained this strike thousands of times, hitting a wooden dummy for months, probably. He was a perfect professional, he considered everything. He analyzed the situation, and knew exactly what to do. Sharp-minded, and strong-willed.

To further elaborate on our differences, I will tell you this:
For example, we both learned that it hurts when you kick someone in the knee or hit in the throat with your open palm. But we learned it in different ways.

I learned it by accidentally hitting my knee when I fell down the mountain and hit a sharp rock. I learned that hitting in the throat hurts when I randomly used it on someone.
Cain, to learn this, would read a dozen of books written by healers and clerics, and he would research all the pain-causing nerve spots in the human body, elven body, dwarven body, and he would know exactly how much pain will a certain strike cause.
I would learn of poisonous berries by trying them and getting sick. He would ask a druid or read about it.

Still, in my opinion Cain was too perfect to be an assassin. He knew exactly how to move, what to look for, and what to do, but he lacked… spontaneity. He was predictable.
In any event, it did not make me feel any better to know that he was now hunting for my head…

My kind relatives had an all new and interesting idea.

They contacted an ancient blacksmith wizard, and gave him some unusual type of silver-like material, it was liquid... They called it Mercury. I called it Quicksilver. He made an ultimate weapon for the selected “perfect” assassin, and kept it in the Armory on a distant island.

That weapon was made for the best of the brothers, the best assassin to prove himself on service. My personal choice would be myself. But father selected Cain. He was supposed to obtain this weapon, and use it to kill me.
Pompous stupid pig… he even made leather holsters on his pants before the blades were ready. I saw him myself! He had two empty sheaths buckled on his belt and wrapped around his thighs. Good to be optimistic… But oh well…
I sneaked into the Armory, killed the guards and stole - Them. The SilverDaggers...
Oh… and unlike Cain, I tailored my holsters AFTER I had the blades in my hands.




Now comes the boring part, if what was above didn’t bore you to death.

I visited Elven Whichcraft Masters, and they performed some rituals over my always-young body. The changed my eyes, making me see at night like during the day. The side effect is that they always stay gray – both in the light and in the darkness…

After this, I became unstoppable... An eagle-eyed assassin with deadly SilverDaggers and a stone that has such power... My... was I arrogant... Money, money, money… I made my life an endless killing spree. Time seized to exist. I forgot humanity… I also forgot that my brothers were jealous. You see... I had both the daggers AND the family sword... so they wanted to take one or the other. They would prefer to take my life, of course…


End Of Chapter Two

Konstantin closes the notes, and goes to sleep. He sighs bitterly.
"So much pain to let out of my chest. So much pain yet to confront..."

It's morning again. The world looks hopeless, the winds never fail their thrust, the sky cannot be seen, covered with whirlpools of flying sand. No creature, no human shall survive in the desert at this time.

Five potions left. Konstantin drinks half of a potion, lighting up his eyes for some time longer, keeping the fire of life in his body. For another day. Who knows? Maybe the fate is merciful. Maybe he is yet to be dragged out of this mishap. Half-potion a day. Ten days to live. What then? Who knows.

"But before I die, this journal shall be complete..."

Konstantin takes the quill. Writing is all that he has to do now...




PART 3: Coming to Illarion.

My last assassination - a piece of art, a marvelous work from a killer's point of view. I silently infiltrated a castle and killed a monarch surrounded by thousands of soldiers... As I think of it now - it is frightening... but at that time - I was proud... And there I am, back at that moment... my last scene.... I remember like now...

Me, fleeing from the castle in my little sloop, and a dozen of mages lined up against a tower wall, throwing fireballs at me. I killed their leader, they swear to get the killer. The battlemages light up the night over the sea with fireballs, archers firing arrows... but I opened the portal in front of my ship, and I am steering right into it. One of the fireballs hits my ship and starts it on fire! The ship blows up. I am almost all the way through the portal, flying up in the air, my arm is broken by the explosion, and then...

Then something happens. I think one of the mages manages to influence the structure of my portal, and changes my destination. I feel that the portal is throwing me somewhere randomly. I hear the cracking of a few of my ribs. Pain. I lose consciousness. It gets dark in my eyes. I start dreaming.

I see Daqlin. I am standing in front of him. He gives me his hand. I shake it. He grabs my hand with his other hand and puts a chain on it.

-You have to stop now, brother. Stop this madness.
-But Daqlin, I have achieved so much!
-You achieved nothing; you’re going in a wrong direction.
-But look how powerful I had become!
-You have no power over anything.
-What are you talking about? I have the power of the world!
-No, Konstantin. You have nothing.

I try to reach for my dagger, but Daqlin is holding my hand chained in his. I reach for the other dagger with my free hand, but Daqlin knocks it out with his sword in a split second. He takes my other dagger too. He pulls Aurora medallion off my neck with force, breaking the chain. He hits my shin with his foot and makes me fall on my knees in front of him. Ednodinn is pointed at my chest. He takes me by my chin and makes me look up at him.

-Now I have all the power. So what? Shall I go and kill everybody now?

I breathe heavily. I have nothing to say. I feel pain. I see light. Shame. Regret. Remorse. I see years of Darkness. Years of my own inevitable darkness. I wasted my life. Where have I been? What have I done? I can hear the voice of love. I hear singing. I am the growing grain. I am a flower, a black lily. I want to dance, I want to be a farmer and plant trees to make money. I want my hands to create life. I want to take my gloves off and feel the grass. I cry with a smile on my face.

-Finally, Konstantin. I thought you’d never understand.
-I… understand…
-You’re not hopeless. Now I can call you a brother. – Daqlin says in a calm voice.

I remember this dream still. Very clearly.

I suddenly wake up and look around, as consciousness returns. I find myself floating in water holding on to a wooden piece of my wrecked ship. It’s a dark evening. The sky is clear, no clouds. I have no idea where I am. The ocean seems endless. What world is this? No idea.

I check the medallion – safe on the neck. Daggers – present, resting in my chest holsters. Sword – buckled to my belt. At this second, holding on to a piece of wood, I realize that I will not live my life like I did before anymore. I will not be a hired killer ever again in my life. The minute I think this, it comes to me that I was saved for some reason. I survived.

Thought of survival make me hungry. Hunger makes me think of what I am holding on to. Imagine my joy when I discover that the wooden thing I am floating on is actually a rescue boat from my ship, it just has a broken side, and had turned sideways.

I turn it over in water, and inspect it. Luckily, it has no holes, just a small segment of a side wall is torn off, which really makes no difference. It’s big enough for me to sit and even lie down in, and has space to put down my clothes to dry off.

I look around. I see no land. Damn it. Let’s get out of here – I think. I calibrate the Aurora Medallion, adjusting the scaled disks to match each other. Portal location, destination... Fear is the word to describe my feeling when I find out that the Stone doesn’t work anymore. The disks are adjusted, but the Stone is not lighting up as it usually does. Instead, it is glowing pink, very weakly.

I don’t know what to do – I am no good at such things. I was happy when the stone worked, I knew how to use it, but I don’t know how it works and what this means. Common sense tells me there is still some power in it, but it’s running out of energy.

A few hours pass. A thunder cracks behind me, although the night is clear. I look back, and I see a small open portal closing in the sky above my boat. A shadow drops in the water with splashes. I didn’t get a chance to see who it is. I only see the splashes. I start to worry.

My arm and ribs are broken, I am still in pain, not ready for a fight. I unsheathe my dagger, but it’s too late, a gloved hand comes out of the water, grabs my neck from behind, and pulls me overboard.

Two shadows underwater. But there are no such things as shadows for my eyes. I see clearly like during the day. I recognize my foe. The man is my brother Cain. It’s dark for him. He cannot see me. I am the only one who is shadowed. I dive deeper in water, making him lose sight of me. I don’t know how he found me, but I do know that I need to breathe. I swim up. I stick my head up from the water to get some air, and Cain grabs me by my hair instantly. I kick him in the head, I try as hard as I can to swim for the boat. My bones hurt as hell. I am failing. He tries to drown me.

I reach the boat, I grab the side with my hand. Cain grabs my mouth with his black gloved hand. I feel the taste of his leather glove with my tongue. I bite him. He screams. We both scream. I roll over into the boat. I cough the water out of my lungs. Suddenly, Cain’s sword appears in his hand. I recognize its blade. He strikes the boat from the water. I reach with my hand for Gracevandier, but his blade outruns me, blocking my way.
He is in the water, slashing his sword at me. He strikes the boat, and wood chips fly. He destroys the left side of the boat completely. He jumps into the boat. I parry two of his strikes.

I jump back into the water. He dives after me. We are fighting.

“I will drink your blood! I will take your heart to feed my dogs!” He shouts.
“Find my heart first” I reply.

I can feel my hands shaking, I can fight no longer, I am failing. I know I’m failing. Strength leaves me, pain grows, I try harder and harder, but it just won’t do it, my fingers are simply not responding, I can’t parry anymore. I feel a burning sting. Again. Again. Hot, cold, painful. He paints on me with his blade. He scars my back, my right side of the stomach, and my face. I’m nearly dead. I am swallowing water.

I dive out of the water, I yell out loud because it hurts. Pain is so bad it makes me go crazy. I see the boat. I swim closer to it. He is after me. I dive deep. I see my own blood mixing with water, I can even taste it.

He loses track of me. I see him clearly. I swim up from behind his back, and stab him with a silverdagger. I stick the second silverdagger in his back right beside the first one. His body shudders, blood mixes with water. He stretches like a snake, he drops Flamebridge and then I close my eyes. I use the last of my strength to pull the daggers out.

I am out. My fingers grab the side of the boat. I roll over. Daggers fall and hit the wooden bottom. Cain is nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t fall asleep, he’s not gone yet, don’t pass out, don’t pass out, don’t pass out, he’s not dead, he’s still there, he’s not dead, don’t pass out…”

I pass out.

I wake up. It’s morning already. I check the stone. Weakly glowing pink. I am floating in my half wrecked boat, which still keeps its balance.

I spend over fifty years floating in the boat. I eat raw fish and crabs, birds sometimes. Sometimes, when I get sick of fish, I pretend to be dead, and put fish all over myself, seagulls get closer and land on me, to get the fish, I catch them and eat them.

I live like an orc. There are no people, there is nobody to talk to. I sleep in the boat, I go crazy. No living being for fifty years. I use my sword as an ore. I tried to make a sail out of my coat, but it didn’t work. When I’m awake, I try to row in one direction, away from the sunrise, towards west. When I sleep – I give myself upon the mercy of the waves and currents.

Good news – I am not aging. One power of the Stone failed, I cannot escape, but the other power is still active. It is keeping me young. The stone keeps glowing weakly pink.

Bad news – my wounds are not healing. My ribs cannot quite grow together, my arm hurts, my right side tortures me at night, reminding of pain. My face does not heal. It bleeds sometimes. A wound on the cheek that stays open for years!! Injuries that do not heal. This would drive anyone crazy. I am afraid. I suffer. I now understand the meaning of the word “punishment”.

First 25 years were the hardest. They drove me insane. After – I simply stopped hoping. I understood that nothing can be worse, nothing is wrong. This state of being, which I am currently in – is still a state of being. I am alive, whatever I am now, and survival is the key. Maybe this is Hell, and I am still living in it. I can live like this, and that is what I’ll do. Everything has an end, this law was never cancelled by anyone. The stone keeps me alive for a reason, although the wounds received by Flamebridge try to drink my powers from me. My weapons are still with me.

On my forty fifth year I understand that I hate fish.

I see whales, sharks. I kill small baby sharks and eat them.
When big sharks attack me – I throw my daggers into them and do my best to give them a scratch. Sometimes I use my sword. Power of my family weapon seems to work especially good on animals. After being wounded by my blades, sharks die in a matter of minutes. They start to bleed, become weak, and soon float in water with their bellies up. I pick them up and take my daggers out of the bodies.
Whales never attacked.

Everything has an end. I wake up one morning, and check the stone as usually. The stone stopped glowing completely. I think “this is the end of me”. I look around. Still no land. Why now? Why did it die?
I start aging.
Two years pass. I notice that my body no longer stays young. I have gained two years. Scars slowly heal. Wounds are still open, but they don’t bleed anymore. I do not understand how this is related.

Finally, I see land. An Island. I do my best to swim to it.
Feeling of sand under my fingers. I don’t know what to compare this moment to. I can’t even feel it. After fifty years of not seeing anything solid – sand seems unreal. Grass. Trees. Normal life seems strange to me. Water became normal. Water…

A woman finds me. Her name is Malinne. She gives me maps. She shows me around. She treats my wounds, she warns of danger, she gives me dry clothes, a shield, and a bow with fifty arrows. She takes me to her home and lets me study and rest.

I study the maps. I am in Illarion. Land where many races live at once under protection of sixteen Gods. I immediately pick a God to worship. A God who saved me in shadows from my worst enemies. A God who helped me through my pitiful life.

Now I understand how it all worked. The magical structure of the Island blocked the mana flows inside the Stone. This world’s nature killed the medallion’s powers. The Island is the heart of this world’s magic, the closer I was to the island, the weaker my stone became. Actually, it didn’t only block the Stone, it blocked any outside magic, that doesn’t belong to this world.

My wounds started healing slowly, which means that Family’s magic is also fading.
I realized that I spent two years floating in the island’s vicinity, trying to get closer, but at night the waves kept dragging me back away. That is why I was aging for two years. Now it all made sense.
Malinne said that the Island is usually full of different creatures, both good and bad, but currently all creatures are gone. It had something to do with Ogres in the caves… Well, this was the time to heal my wounds and start living again. But how?

I thanked Malinne for help and wandered away - to find my own dwelling.

Konstantin fills his wooden pipe with the last of what he had to smoke. He lights the pipe and breathes the pleasant smoke in.

Life had never welcomed me too much, I was always suffocating in this small world, and frankly, the world didn’t like me either. But the time has come to make a choice. I had to go somewhere. Like a piece of driftwood in a fast stream of life, I had to stick to some coast… Temples didn’t let me smoke, prisons didn’t let me drink, army wouldn’t let me live at my will… the only choice was to hit the streets again.
Northerot. Now I go there and call it home…
Who knows what this future will bring me…

~<>{THE END}<>~

Konstantin wakes up and peeks out of the cave.
Finally, here comes his hope. The winds are calming down, the weather changes. He feels a change in the air as well. He coughs the dust out of his lungs, crawls out of the hideout, and falls on his back.
His eyes are facing the sun. His clothes are all dirty and dusty with yellow sand. His lips are dry.
But he drinks a potion and gets up, suddenly refreshed. He straightens his back, cleans his coat to the point where it's not that yellow anymore, takes his bag, putting his potions and his writings in it, puts on his dagger holsters, and starts marching forward.
The winds had changed the desert's landscape a lot, adding more sand hills. Konstantin now has a long way to go in the dunes.

"I have to make it to the boat. Dermott is probably already looking for me all over the Island. He can take care of himself, but I must get back quickly"

With the help of Shadow God Ronagan, Water Goddess Zelphia, or with pure luck, Konstantin makes it out of the desert land and catches smooth speedy winds. His boat travels at high speed towards Illarion.

He notices changes in the air. Something strange or magical had been happening, he thinks.

Just as soon as Konstantin spots the island, he looks into the sky and sees his happy hawk Dermott, flying towards him with all his might. Konstantin laughs and takes off his hood.

-Oh, my dear friend. I am so happy to see you. Have you been sitting in the trees by the shore all the time, looking out for me?

The hawk talks to him in his ear.

-You have a way better sight then I do, old man. I couldn't see you until you came close.

The bird tells Konstantin everything essential that happened on the island, and the latest news.

-Good news. Take this note, please, and drop it on Northerot walls. Meanwhile, I will dock the boat.

Konstantin gives Dermott his congratulatory message to Grant, which is now hanging on the Northerot message wall.

Konstantin places his foot on the dry sand.

-Home...



He goes to the library of Troll's Bane, and finds a shelf with the Island's history.

Konstantin designs a cover for his book, wraps the book around, and writes on the front page

“Chronicles of Konstantin
The Man Who Lost His Purpose
Written by Konstantin”

He takes the book and finds an empty slot on the shelf. He reaches out to place it there, but his hand stops.
He thinks.
He looks at the book again.
He reads the front page carefully.
He takes the cover off, tears it apart, and puts it in his pocket.
He makes a new cover and writes on it in a different style from his own:

“Chronicles of Konstantin
The Notorious Assassin
Writer unknown.
Found and translated by Anonymous”

He puts the book on the shelf and leaves.

“That’s it. It is done. I did it… God of Shadows, I have confessed to you in all my sins… Take me now where ever you wish…”

He exits the library into the rainy night. Hooded, as always, invisible to curious eyes, silent and quiet. Dead stone on his neck, two daggers under his coat, a scarred face, an empty soul, and no visible future ahead of him.