Writing Those Who Cannot Die, Book1: The Disease

T

Terror of Death DG-X

Aspiring Trainer
Member
Those Who Cannot Die-The Disease

The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly as I nonchalantly strolled through the town gates. The sounds of children playing happily and adults laughing at their amusing little jokes wafted by slowly, peacefully. Everything was happy. Everyone was happy. The perfect day, in a perfect world. I knew better, scoffing at the unawareness of those who did not know; the people who, even now, wouldn't give a damn about what was coming if they knew. Then I remembered how I felt, all those years ago, before death had numbed my senses.

My weapons gently rocked with the breeze, the brown hilt of my sword gently nudging my hard leather belt. My brown pants blended with the dirt, as my black cloak blew with the breeze. My raven-colored hair gently blew along with the harmony of the rest of my equipment. I re-strapped my glove on, belted on as it was. It was coming. It would soon be here. My Soulbind, a circular pendant with unique powers, gently padded my chest. A feeling had overtaken me; the feeling of blissful, unending happiness that experience had taught me was merely an illusion.

I looked toward the source of the wind. Vengeance would soon be mine, for everyone I loved, and everyone I cared for. The wind blew again, harder this time, and with an entirely different feel. I felt the malevolence that this wind carried. So evil, it was, that if wind had color, this wind would be the color of freshly drawn blood. A few more minutes, I thought, A few more, and vengeance for everything, will be mine.

Just as I was about to charge into the wind, a voice knocked me off-guard. "Hello there!" I spun on my heels, looking at the villager, who wore a hat with pieces of straw sticking out. His blue overalls were muddy and brown, and he had a pistol in a holster along his belt. "How do you like our peaceful town?" he asked, smiling.

"It won't be very peaceful if you distract me." I replied harshly, the man stepping back.

"Why you--! I oughta teach you a lesson!" he exclaimed with outrage, drawing his knife. What a pain, I thought as he pointed the weapon at me. I grabbed the blade of the knife before the man could blink, my blood beginning to ooze out onto the blade. Tossing it across the empty lot, my blood sprayed lightly off the blade. Then, the malevolence increased, and I realized that the fear on his face was not towards me.

"Oh, crap!" I said as the sky burned red. The man started to scream, looking around. The sky burned, more and more red as time passed. I grabbed the hilt of my blade, blood still spilling from my palm. Realizing that I had lost track of where the wind was coming from, as it was now coming from everywhere, I sighed. A flash of red consumed everything I could see, the screams of innocents all around the town ensuing. I fell to the ground, pain through my chest. The red turned black, and I found myself in a void. A familiar, blank, dark, void.

I dragged myself into what I assumed was an upright position, and looked around, seeing the familiar purple ripples that encircled the chasm of what was death. "I was so close...!" I said, looking down. I closed my eyes, feeling the absence of tears. How many times had this happened, and how many more would it happen? Despair overtook me, then I remembered that I couldn’t ever, truly, die.
I opened my eyes to find the village destroyed. Pulling a sword out of my chest, I examined the blood that dripped off of the blade. The large gash wound healed almost instantaneously, and I dropped the blood-coated bastard sword, looking around. Then I felt a burning sensation, familiar yet unloved. It grew, pain reverberating throughout my body. It burned my very soul, and I coughed blood. The world grew bigger, as I grew smaller. It was happening. I was reincarnating.

I tossed my clothes aside, now too small for them, and smashed down the weak door to the tailors, taking my time browsing through the limited selection. "Dammit..." I muttered, tossing aside a worthless rag that used to be pants,
"…sometimes, Immortality can be a real pain..." I stopped looking through the clothes, and stared at the necklace that was still around my neck. The mystical item, marked with the crest of the Immortal society, Those Who Cannot Die, kept my memories and magical power intact. However it left much to be desired. I now had to train myself all over again, and gain my muscles and flexibility back, my ten-year-old body was useless at the moment.

I had finally found a tunic when I heard a small whimpering. Pulling on the dirt-brown tunic, I ran outside the tailors toward the source of the sound. To my surprise, I had found a survivor.


Part 2:
The village lay in ruin. The sole survivors of the dreaded event stared, each at what the other considered a miracle: another survivor.

The small boy wearing a dirt-brown tunic took a step forward. The cowering woman stared in awe and fear. The boy offered her a hand to help her up.

"You survived..." the boy muttered,as the woman grabbed his hand, and was pulled to her feet. The boy was still amazed at her survival.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, standing at twice the size of the young, fair-haired boy. He seemed so small, so defenseless...

"Call me Isaac," the boy said, turning his back to walk away. "You are very lucky that you are still alive."

The woman looked at the boy, still amazed at his courage. She followed him through broken buildings and passages, over shattered glass until they reached the ruined town square. The woman could not help but notice the black sky with ripples of purple.

"If I am lucky to have survived, how..." the woman started, and the boy stopped in his tracks, his head, fallen.

"I didn't survive." Isaac said, pointing to the carnage across the square, where he had been standing when he died. His body; large, muscular, with raven-colored hair, lay lifeless against the body of the villager.

"A...a ghost?" the woman whispered, walking over to the body, lifting it off of the villager. She tenderly closed the eyes of Isaac's old body.

"No. Just a new body." Isaac muttered, looking at the black, circular pendant around his neck, a golden design similar to a pentagram emblazoned unto it. "It is a few steps beyond human comprehension, but I am an Immortal warrior." he paused, leaning against a building. "I can never, ever, truly and officially be dead."

The woman looked at the boy, examining his bronze-colored eyes, which spoke of eons of age. His body betrayed this, however. She had deemed the boy had gone mad.

"Child, you don't have to pretend," the woman muttered, "you can cry. I know what it is like to lose your family..."

The boy looked up at the woman, raising an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" he asked, letting his pendant drop to his chest.

"You don't have to pretend that you are immortal..." the woman said, her eyes tearing up. "I-I'll take care of you...!"

Isaac's mouth dropped. "Excuse me? Pretending!" he looked the woman in the eyes wit ferocity. "I assure you, woman, that I am NOT pretending!"

The woman slapped Isaac, "You will not speak to the woman who is going to take care of you in such a manner!" she hissed, to Isaac who was recoiling from the startling gesture.

"Listen to me. I am much older than I look!" Isaac said, raising his voice. "Thousands of years, I have been hunting the thing that destroyed this village, the 'Red Flash' Disease!" he gestured around the square, hinting at the carnage that even now, sprawled all around them.

The woman merely stared at the kid. Once again noting his eyes, but appalled by their contrast to his childish body.

"Hundreds of warriors and beasts, going at lightspeed! I have been killed many times by their hand!" Isaac kept exclaiming, until he was out of breath.

"You really have gone mad..." the woman muttered.

"Mad? I am well beyond that." Isaac stated, regaining his posture. "When you cannot truthfully die, you go past mad." Folding his arms, he began walking away from the woman.

"Why do you keep insisting on the impossible?" the woman asked, looking at the boy with empathy.

"Because," Isaac stated, his anger returning, "what you claim impossible is, indeed, completely possible. And it happens more than you think." Isaac started walking in a new direction. The woman followed, and eventually, the town gates came into view.

"Please, at least let me take care of you..." the woman said slowly, through timed breaths.

"Fine!" the boy shouted, punching the arch of the gate, and watched it fall to the ground, taking the rest of the dilapidated structure with it. "What is your name?" he asked, breathing so hard his shoulder moved to rhythm.

"Rose." the woman stated, a smile overtaking her face. She would do her best to take care of this child. No matter what. The boy was surprised that she managed to ignore the fact that he had broken a large stone arch with his bare fist alone, even though he enhanced the impact with magic.

Isaac led Rose outside the broken gates, the carnage spreading even beyond the village gates. Trees were still smoldering, axes and blades left deep inside the charred, black bark, which only barely remained intact on the trunk.

Rose winced at the sight of everything that she had known in its dilapidated, wrecked state. The sky granted no light, a miasma of evil blocking most senses. The sun and moon were covered with pure malevolence. Her light whimpering was the only sound in the dead, rotting forest.

Isaac looked around the clearing, destroyed and ghastly. He slowly thought about what Rose had said. He scoffed. His real family was the first victims of the “Red Flash” Disease. The memories of that day were burned into his soul. Watching his family’s corpses, without a clue why he had survived.

That was when he met Cornelius, the man who had taught him all about his powers, all about the “Red Flash” Disease, how to stop it, and the one who gave him the Soulbind. Around his sixteenth life, he and Cornelius, and each their own adventures.

That was over seven hundred years ago, in the year 530. Since then, he had secluded himself from others, he was the only flower that would not wilt, and refused the pain of loss by being with others that would.

The overall journey through the forest was quiet and peaceful, albeit unsettling and oppressing. Isaac and Rose had finally made their way outside the destruction. The lights of another town sparkled in the distance. At least the “Red Flash” hadn’t spread this far, Isaac admitted to himself in his mind. The “Red Flash” only struck once a decade.

Isaac and Rose walked toward the town gates, which were shut and locked tightly. Isaac walked over to a side of the wall, sitting down against it. Isaac looked at Rose, expecting her to be as comfortable as he is on the ground. After laying on the ground, Rose woke about an hour later, complaining of pain.

“Oh come on,” Isaac said, disappointed, “I thought you were supposed to be taking care of me. Not the other way around.” At Isaac’s snide comment, Rose shut her mouth. She had never been a mother before, but she knew that she needed to take care of him. She needed to show strength.

The sun broke over the horizon. Isaac stood to look over at the gates, which made creaking noises. Isaac stood to walk toward the gate, cold and unfeeling toward the half-awake woman who started to walk after him.
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Thanks for any and all feedback!
 
Awesome man! I think I already told gave you advice in class. Uh you seem to have forgot to separate the chapter when it switches perspectives (still don't understand why you would do that.).
 
Brilliant. You can tell you are an experienced writer. The grammar and vocabulary is very sophisticated. A great length for the opening chapter. Keep going!
 
Thanks, raichu!
I'll post Chapter 2 now. Tell me what you all think! (btw, I added dates instead of chapters)

Chapter 2:
February 18,1250-My Day of Regret
Of that day, the day I met Rose, I remember much. Her beautiful, brunette hair, her hazel eyes. It almost made me realize that unlike me, mortals don’t last forever. The gates opened, and I led Rose through the sprawling, sun-baked town. The people there all seemed as though they were from the desert or travel there often. Their heads were veiled by sweat-soaked white cloth. The skin that was still visible was contrasting tanned brown against the whites of their eyes. Their turbans were reflected the brilliant light of the burning sun.
The massive crowds were overwhelming, people everywhere doing most everything. The noises of the crowds blurred into a mulled roar, each different conversation indecipherable from the others. I felt small, and yet, knew my story, my life, was so much more important than theirs. My goal was more important. Rose tagged behind me, to my annoyance, and to my internal happiness that I lied to myself wasn’t there. I shouldered my way through two more tall, white-garbed people, Rose squeezing in-between them.
Today was the last day I would see these faces. I resolved that I would leave her behind. I couldn’t have her with me anyway; my work was too dangerous. We made our way throughout the town, ducking and weaving through crowds, and finally made our way to what I assumed was the church. The windows boarded shut, the doors dilapidated, and the small murmur of people on the inside. At three stories, the gothic architecture was almost surreal.
If nowhere else, I could leave her at the church. That is what I thought at the time. Little did I know, this small decision, in a small town, over such a small matter, would change my life eternally.
Part 2:
The people sat in rows, the man in front reciting a sermon about God. The men on the right sat attentive, their bibles out and reading intently. The people on the left were drunken, and acting as though they were there for something else. The church itself was in a truly decrepit state. The glass lay shattered across the whole room, the statues of important deities lay in disrepair. Not many people cared about religion in this town, Isaac thought. The large path in between the benches the people sat was covered with a shabby dull red carpet, torn and ripped in a way that one step you were on the carpet, the next was on the dull, brown floor.
Rose shuddered behind him, looking at all the shady people. Isaac had experience with drunken men, having been one himself. Two men looked at Isaac, followed by Rose, and stood in their way.
“What business have you here?” the one on the left, wearing a turban that covered his face on purpose. His hand on the hilt of his blade, he looked at Rose with scornful black eyes. Isaac motioned for them to move, but they didn’t. “I repeat, what do you want?” Isaac looked up to the man, scanning every aspect of the man. He had several wounds through training, particularly around his wrists and knees. This was obvious from his slightly limp stance, as well as the way he held his sword. All weaknesses he could exploit if need be.
“I need a place to stay,” Isaac stated dully, not paying much attention to the other guard, as he had no weapon drawn. Footsteps could be heard behind Isaac, the whole church had evacuated. Isaac raised an eyebrow. The halls no longer echoed with the minister’s voice. Isaac wasn’t that terrifying, was he?
The guard drew his blade, Isaac in response stood ready to disarm. Over a thousand years of training in combat, Isaac’s only disadvantage was his height and strength of body. The guard had many more disadvantages. He swung his blade from the right, his wrist was angled oddly, giving Isaac his chance.
Ducking under the blade, Isaac grabbed the guard’s wrist. He twisted it clockwise, then counter-clockwise, and repeated the process, harder each time, until the guard let go screaming in pain. Grabbing the sword, Isaac spun around the guard, trapping the guard’s good leg and stunning him. Isaac then used the momentum he had created and slammed the blunt side of the blade into the back of the guard’s weak knee, forcing him to his knees. Isaac then grabbed him by the back of the neck, lifting the poor, pain-weakened guard up, and threw him into the ground face first. The guard rolled in pain, his belly facing up again. Putting the blade to the guard’s throat, the man looked wide-eyed at Isaac, his face covered in rivulets of blood, his left eye steadily watering. The guard would pose no more danger, so Isaac backed away from the agonized man.
Isaac looked toward the other guard now, who had his blade out as well. Examining the guard, he noticed that this guard had nowhere near as many weaknesses as the one he had just incapacitated. But the man still had wounds from the past.
This guard had been whipped in the past, his posture showed that. Maybe a traumatic injury as a child caused the weakness in his ankle. Isaac, however, focused on disarming the man. He had no desire to kill. Not yet. His analysis was complete when the man attacked. His elbow wasn’t locked with the blade, his attack range shortened. Isaac ducked and weaved through the flurry of incorrect chances. Isaac was appalled at how badly the man fought. He almost wasn’t worth defeating. After ducking under a left horizontal slash, Isaac grabbed the elbow, twisting the elbow left. Hard. He kept going, until he heard a crack, and the guard dropped his weapon.
Isaac used the guard’s weight, tossing him across into a row of seats. Isaac had forgotten about Rose until now, looking at her face. It was filled with terror, as she gazed behind Isaac. Wait, behind me? Isaac thought, looking down and seeing a large shadow. A large mass landed on Isaac, holding him down by the throat.
“You little bastard!” he exclaimed, his face covered by steel. “You will pay!” Isaac sighed. He had hoped not to use magic anytime soon. He lifted the man off of him, his hand glowing with the blue magical energy that emanated from his soul. The man’s eyes grew. Isaac tossed the man into one of the boarded-up windows, which splintered and cracked under his immense weight. The cries of people ensued, the people never suspecting a little boy to defeat trained guards.
Isaac walked over to Rose, who he expected to run in fear. To his surprise, she didn’t. She gulped, and started walking towards Isaac. This woman was getting on Isaac’s nerves. She should have run. Run at her first chance; run when they had first met. But she didn’t. Isaac toyed the thought of killing her, and being done with it, but decided against. What had she truly done to him? She posed no threat. However, Isaac needed to get away. Get away before he had become attached.
Run, dammit! Isaac found himself thinking. Come on, you have to! If you don’t, you will only cause us both pain. He was desperate to scream it, but something stopped him. Something he feared. The pain of loss. He needed to get away, and fast.
This church had been a failure of a place to drop her off, so he left the building. The crowds of people now centered around the heavily injured body of the third guard. Rose made motions to go see him, and Isaac hoped she would, but she stuck with him. The buildings of the next slum he had found were even worse than the church. Isaac looked around at the shady people, each one drinking or looking at Rose, save for a home full of courtesans, who all eyed Isaac fondly. Isaac considered leaving Rose with them, but decided against it. She shouldn’t sell her body on the streets like those rats. Darn it! Why do I even care? Isaac thought, punching himself. It wasn’t for a few minutes that Isaac realized that he had lost his shadow.
Isaac spun and backtracked. This definitely was not the place to lose her. As much as Isaac hated himself for caring, he did. Looking around, he saw many people. But no Rose. Isaac realized he had made a mistake, leading Rose through here. There were rapists, slavers, courtesans, anything and everything to taint a soul.
Courtesans then surrounded Isaac, all more than likely hoping for Isaac to give in to his desire. Little did they know, Isaac had long since grown past this desire. They would not cease surrounding him, however.
“Hey there, kid…wanna come back to my place?”, “I could show you a great time, kid!”, “Lets spend some alone time, just you…and me.” Were among the things the courtesans said, still trying to get Isaac to give in. More annoying than anything, in Isaac’s opinion. He shoved through the courtesans, looking for Rose. Men stood, others watched. Three men drew daggers, walking towards Isaac.
“C’mon, kid…wanna piece of me…?” he muttered, his pupils different sizes. The other men merely followed him. Isaac sighed.
“Get out of my way.” Isaac said in a commanding voice. All three men pounced, Isaac easily stepping out of the way. Isaac analyzed all three, taking mental notes of how dumb they were to get drunk before a fight. The leader came after Isaac, trying to punch him with his left hand. Isaac grabbed the fist, pulling the man closer. He grabbed the knife, stabbing the man from his waistline and pulling the knife to his arm on the same side, careful not to damage any major organs, but incapacitating the man nonetheless.
Gripping the bloodied knife, Isaac looked at the others, whose faces showed the fear from their soul. Dropping their weapons, they ran. Isaac cleaned the knife on the man on the ground, and grabbed its sheath.
Isaac belted the sheath on to his tunic, inserting the small weapon. A knife was better than nothing, he thought. Isaac looked around for Rose again. If she wasn’t here now, then she either ran or was never here. It would be so much easier if it was the former…but I can’t take that chance…merda…
Isaac walked back through the city, looking around for Rose. He was getting nowhere, and it was beginning to frustrate him. He had made it to town square, filled with people from everywhere, traders, travelers, locals. No Rose, however. He walked to the fountain in the center of the square, the place deserted save for one man. A man Isaac recognized. The man was wearing a hood, and cloaked in a manner that none could see his face. Odd, Isaac thought. He was usually such a cheerful guy.
“Cornelius!” Isaac exclaimed, walking up to the man. His eyes widened in surprise to Isaac’s presence. He stood, his brown cloak swaying with every movement.
“Isaac! Long time no see!” the man exclaimed, removing his hood. “What are you doing in the outskirts of Rimini?” he asked, his face bright and optimistic as it always was.
“I could ask the same of you. And why the hood?” Isaac asked, the elation already over. Cornelius sat against the fountain again, looking at Isaac.
“Well, you see…” he said, looking behind Isaac. “I got in a bit of a hairy situation, and need to hide.” He put his hood back on, folding his hands and leaning forward so none could see his face.
“Who were you caught cheating on this time?” Isaac said, sitting by Cornelius.
“Well, er…” Cornelius started, “…I married the figlia da il sindaco, the daughter of the mayor…” Isaac slapped his own face. “…and he wants grandchildren…”
“I thought you learned this lesson. Che dolore! What a pain!” Isaac sighed. Cornelius looked around the square, shaking nervously.
“Well, we had been happily married until he decided to want a grandchild…” Cornelius muttered. “Normally I’d be happy to oblige, unfortunately after reincarnation, I no longer have what is needed for that…” He sighed. “That, or, I am just a really unlucky bastard.”
“Listen, Cornelius,” Isaac said, “I have a problem of my own, one that a mezzano such as yourself can help with.”
“Just because I love them doesn’t mean I manage who they sleep with.” Cornelius said. Isaac sat cross-armed, looking at Cornelius, who finally started laughing. “Fine. What do you need?”
“If I needed to know the location of a specific woman, where would I find her?” Isaac asked, Rose still plaguing his mind. Cornelius groaned.
“Well, it all depends. Recent or…” Cornelius started, looking up.
“Yes, recent. Her name is Rose, and…” Isaac started, Cornelius raised his hand.
“Rose? Only one Rose in this town. She is recent, too. A ruckus started over her and a few slavers a few hours ago. She was screaming...my god! Sono stato così stupido! I have been so stupid! She was screaming for you!” he stood, motioning for Isaac to follow. “Come, follow me!” He called, beginning to run. Isaac stood and followed, angered at himself for even asking. His goal was to dump her, and yet here he was trying to get her back? Why? The question stuck in his head.
The town gates began to close under the setting sun, Isaac and Cornelius already well beyond. Cornelius had been following a trail that looked as though it was from a horse-drawn carriage. The major town of Rimini could be seen in the distance, the smell of the sea filling Isaac’s nostrils. He preferred the smell of Venetian waters to the sea, but in the end it wasn’t his choice.
A horse-drawn carriage flew by, a blur against the rest of the forest. Isaac stopped for a moment, but decided to continue. Cornelius and Isaac arrived at Rimini, where there was a gathered crowd. Cornelius was backing away.
“Now, now…I am not cheating on you, dear…” Cornelius stammered, staring at a blonde-haired, brown-eyed, light-skinned, fabulously garbed woman. “…j-just give me a chance. You have to understand, I don’t want children!”
“Come now, how can you not want a child?” the woman demanded, stepping up to Cornelius. “The process isn’t hard…” she gingerly touched Cornelius’ chin, smiling.
“B-but…” Cornelius muttered, “…I don’t want a child! I…I can’t!” Isaac grinned at Cornelius’ act. Over two thousand years of practice, Isaac supposed.
“What do you mean, you can’t? Come, talk with me.” She ordered, her men grabbing Cornelius by each arm and carrying him off. Isaac stayed hidden. This was Cornelius’ problem, not his. He quickly made his way into Rimini, staying good distance behind Cornelius and his wife.
The gothic architecture of Rimini didn’t startle Isaac. In fact, it hadn’t been too long since he had been on the Eastern coast of Italy. One or two hundred years, give or take a few decades, he mused. He took a side street, separating his path from Cornelius’, and eventually made his way to the main streets.
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A brilliant read, I have been following now. I think this could make it into one of the Fan-Fics archives, of course I'm not the person do judge, eh. You're a fantastic writer and your description is awesome, I really hope more people read this and give it the credit it deserves. You make all the coolness of being an Assassin, well cooler I guess.

Brilliant read! =D
 
Chapter 3 is now ready for feedback! Thanks for the compliments, everyone.

Chapter 3:
March 2, 1250-A Glimpse of What Was to Come
The next few weeks of looking for Rose were quite uneventful. I learned much about the city of Rimini, currently under the power of the Malatesta family. I had interrogated many slave traders, tortured some, killed others. My entire time there, I hadn’t seen Cornelius once. I assumed that would take on another form the next time I saw him; after all, his wife would probably have him executed. Not that it would really do anything, Cornelius would merely bounce right back.
In my time without her, I realized how valuable she could have been. Everything I was missing out on. Now that I realized that I still felt the pain of loss. I had tried so long to numb myself to it: I avoided relationships with people, rejected many kindnesses, even fled their hospitalities, but that pain found me. Found me where I hid from it most. Found me in time.
The search was that much harder without Cornelius there. Why did I have to get attached? Why don’t I walk away now? These questions filled my head as I desperately ransacked two houses, looking for any clues about her. It was sometime around then I decided to look toward the higher powers, to acquire the assistance of the Malatesta family.
I stood at the gates to the mansion, the gothic style of the building oppressing my very being. The stone arches and gargoyles set around the large stained-glass windows repelled visitors, their stony gaze inviting death and suffering to any who passed, or stared too long into their grey-blue weatherworn eyes. The only one among them scarier was me—my inner darkness. The hatred of all those wars I had fought so long ago. On the battlefield, as I am sure you have realized by now from my tale, I was Death. Indestructible. I was the unstoppable Roman soldier, the one of which many tales have been told.
I had been called the God of Death, the Grim Reaper, the Disease upon mankind. I slaughtered many an enemy, their faces of fear fill my vision to this day. And I knew, that war would never cease to plague me. My war on the “Red Flash”, the wars of Rome, even the war to save Earth. That, however, is a story for another time.

Isaac looked the two bodyguards in their eyes, hoping to avoid conflict so early. If need be, he would kill everything here, nothing would, and certainly nothing could, stop him. The guards naturally blocked his way.
“What business have you amongst the Malatesta?” the one on the left asked, his face covered completely with the steel mask. His burly frame made him a seemingly overwhelming opponent, but the weight also slowed him down. He also had slight weakness in his knees, if attacked correctly he would be incapable of standing back up.
“I am here to seek the guidance of the good Malatesta da Verruchio.” Isaac stated calmly, silently placing his hand on the hilt of his knife, the weapon to grant him entry should things get ugly. The man turned and entered the large building, the other guard watching him closely.
“What is it that you wish guidance on?” the man asked, showing signs of sympathy. Isaac studied him closely. A burly frame, just like the other, but this man seemed more fit as a farmer than a guard.
“The matters are private, thank you. What are you doing as a guard? You seem more like a—”
“Farmer? Yeah, I get that quite a bit.” He answered. “My father before me trained me to fight, fight off what was plaguing our ranch. One day when I returned home from gathering supplies, everything was destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” Isaac questioned, suspecting the “Red Flash” Disease.
“Yes. The sky was black, with ripples of purple. My family…” he said, slowly, “…my family lay slaughtered. The house burned to the ground, as well as all the cattle being mutilated and dead.”
“The ‘Red Flash’.” Isaac commented. “A plague upon the Earth. Certainly you are lucky not to have been caught by it.” The guard leaned against the gate. “My family died gruesome deaths as well. The house collapsed on us. My sister’s demolished face, my father’s bloody body…those never left my mind.”
The guard dismissed any thoughts of what Isaac had said. The other had exited the building, motioning for Isaac to follow. The guard by the gate held his tears, clearly Isaac had touched an old wound. This made him feel at the very least slightly better: he wasn’t the only one suffering at the hands of the Disease.
The vibrant red carpets sprawled out through the building, though the only bright color in the hall. The dark grey bricks and dull burning torches dampened the mood of the room drastically, sending Isaac’s brief happiness down a pit of despair. The guard clearly was no longer affected by the malicious darkness of the corridor, though Isaac detected a slight shiver go through the guard’s spine. The silence matched the hall, which went on seemingly without end.
The guard’s baldric had a broadsword attached, keeping it better than glued to his back, but was easily drawn if needed. His brown hair shown slightly from his reflective metallic helm, the sounds of his heavy footprints echoed throughout the hallway.
Finally, a door appeared, metal engravings and runes shone all over the door, the symbol of the Malatesta family crest, destroyed upon the face of the door. The guard opened it, a vast, bowl-like room spanned before him. The floor had a steady downwards incline, a hill sloped inwards. Isaac slid to the center of the room, looking around at the chains that hung from the ceiling.
Isaac sighed, looking at the darkened walls. He hadn’t found the Malatesta house. He should have suspected as much. Cracking his neck, Isaac looked at the chairs that stood before him now. Three shadowed figures sat in them.
“Child!” the man in the center shouted, standing, “What do you seek?” Isaac folded his arms, looking at the figure, whose features no longer existed due to the darkness in the room.
“I seek slave traders.” Isaac said. “Specific ones. Ones carrying a young woman named Rose.”
The man stepped out from the shadows. “I am Lord Cyrus. Hello, Isaac.” Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Shocked? She has told me much about you. About your power, your skill, your mission, even that which I find the best.” He smirked devilishly. “What I want the most, and what I will force from you. Your Immortality.”
Isaac started laughing hysterically. “Honestly? You must be joking.” The mood of the room returned to Isaac quickly. “Now, where is Rose? I wish to leave.”
Lord Cyrus snickered. “I don’t believe you get it. You aren’t leaving. And if you resist, we will kill Rose.” Isaac smirked.
“Go ahead. Saves me the trouble.”
“Truly? Then why do you put so much effort into finding her?”
“Simple. I want to know whether or not I have to kill her.” Isaac stated, knowing that deep inside this wasn’t the truth. He wanted her, and at the same time, knew she would die without him. He had to resist.
“If that is true,” Lord Cyrus mentioned, grabbing the figure to his left, “then you won’t mind her death right now.” There she stood; Rose. Her eyes were shut as if unconscious, her mouth gagged and her hands tied behind her back.
“Go right on ahead.” Isaac said, mentally shielding his eyes.
“Actually, I have a better idea. I shall marry her.” He said, throwing her back into the chair.
“Good luck with keeping me here for that.” Isaac muttered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“You really care for her, don’t you? Otherwise you would stay. Stay and witness what would agonize a normal man.” Cyrus called.
“You are right. I care the world for her.” Isaac said, leaving. “Bye now.”
“Very well then. Men!” Cyrus called, “Show the Immortal his quarters for the rest of his existence.” A group of four guards came out of the shadows, fully armed. Isaac scoffed, drawing his dagger. Gripping the hilt, he glanced at each of his foes, almost copies of the guards outside. The disadvantages here were, of course, the bowl style of the room, everything was pulled to the center. Also, Isaac now had no escape, the bowl had sunk below the door, walls filled with mechanical devices the kind of which Isaac had never seen before now surrounded him.
The walls, however, granted him a weapon. An angle that hadn’t existed previously. All Isaac needed was to get near the wall, and a whole world of skills would be his for that one strike. Even killing all four of them at once with naught but a dagger.
The sound of gears filled the room, the guards circling. Like hawks around their prey. Isaac slowly made his way towards the walls, their circle closing in. Tension hung on every breath, the only thing that truly made Isaac comfortable was the air, fresh and ready for blood to fill it. The visions of those ancient battlefields filled his mind; the Romans. His brothers, his family, what he needed to escape from the most.
A guard pounced, using his weight in an attempt to take Isaac down, which he easily avoided. Another guard took him from the left, forcing him skyward, spinning. He landed on his side, his dagger landing blade-first into the ground three feet away from him. Another guard stomped on Isaac, keeping him down by leaning all his weight onto the small child. Pain reverberated throughout Isaac’s body, visions of Rome flooding his eyes. Visions of the dead, the screams of agony, the ride for glory.
Isaac channeled his Astral Energy into his arms, pushing his way up against the guard, who looked wide-eyed at the child, who stood abruptly, sending him flying. Cyrus stared from his seat atop the sunken bowl battlefield, his eyes widened with awe. Such power must be his!
Drawing their blades, Isaac somersaulted, grabbing the dagger out of the ground, snapping part of the blade off. “Merda!” Isaac exclaimed, the guards all charging in to knock him out. Isaac ducked under one guard’s legs, spinning and somersaulting backwards, getting all of his targets in front of him. He backed toward the wall, the guards all steadily following him. The one he had knocked over had now stood once more, his humiliated face covered by steel. The sound of gears filled his ears, they all charged, Isaac spun and began to run up the wall, letting his momentum carry him against the pull of gravity.
Leaping off the wall, Isaac now had his chance. All four could now die in one torturous combo. Isaac landed on one guard’s shoulders, a pop telling him that the man’s spine had now been dislocated. Isaac placed his foot on the guard’s face, launching into another guard, who had spun with shock in his face. Isaac slammed the dagger through the man’s heart, another piece of the blade shattering within. Landing, he stabbed the guard to his left’s shin, bringing him down making it easy for Isaac to grab a hold of the guard’s shoulder. Landing on his back, he leaped off, the last guard watching in horror as his death descended upon him.
Isaac had stabbed the man’s throat, blood spurting out in a glorious dark red. Rome still flooded his mind, particularly the war with Alban. The screams of men and the deaths of many—surprisingly, it seemed to no longer faze him. Bloodshed’s effect dulls after centuries of war.
“So, Immortal, you seem to be an adept fighter.” Cyrus said, smiling grandly. “But I must ask, how long can you endure this torment?”
“That depends,” Isaac said, tossing aside his shattered knife, “how many men do you have?” Cyrus merely smiled.
“Not enough, apparently.” Cyrus said, looking down. “But I wasn’t asking about them.” Isaac raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Isaac asked, kneeling to grab a sword. “I don’t get—” The sound of buzzing filled the arena. Gates opened around him, hundreds of insects swarmed out.
“Against man, you seem to be a god. But what about insects?” He called, a net screen now covering the top of the pit. Isaac looked around, the buzzing blocking all other sound. He swung his blade at the insects, soon realizing the futility of attacking. The insects landed on him, and began feasting. Isaac dropped his blade, holding his arms out, and fell backwards. The biting, the buzzing, the biting, the buzzing…
Everything went black, Isaac found himself floating again. But something had changed this time. Something else was there. Something sinister. Visions filled his mind. People dressed in green and brown, with large black metal machines, firing small metal pellets and making loud noises. Explosions sounded in the distance, dismembered body parts remained scattered around the battlefield. The dirt reflected the sun in a dull golden-brown, the dust tinting the sky and air as well.
Two people had lay still, both panting. One had been missing his leg, the other’s face had been covered by the bloody gore of the battlefield. By the time Isaac looked around to wonder where he was, the vision was over. The world had returned to darkness, leaving Isaac to wonder what had happened.
The burning sensation had overtaken him, his blonde hair turning brown. His eyes shut tight, his body morphed, his shoulders changing shape as well as his hair growing a small bit. He shrank as well, losing the weeks of life his body had before reincarnation. The world flashed, purple, red, and black. The colors constantly shifted, covering Isaac completely, before he realized he was back in life.
Isaac opened his eyes, his limbs immobile. He was strapped to a wooden board, more than likely a Rack. Looking around, he saw a small room, more than likely a cell. Isaac laid his head back, relaxing himself. Great, he thought, looking to the shadowed and invisible ceiling. The images of what he had seen still were burned into his mind. Not of trauma, but rather, of intrigue. He wondered what was happening, and how their warfare was different than his own. How not only life would change but who he would be by then.
A noise could be heard at the end of the hallway. Isaac moved his head, looking to see Cyrus. Isaac smirked, looking at him.
“So, you won. What now?” Isaac asked, smirking. He could stand pain, and didn’t mind death, so what could torture do to him?
“Now, we figure out how you Reincarnate.” Cyrus said, walking over to a corner of the room. Isaac sighed.
“How we Reincarnate? Simple. I am Immortal.” Cyrus stopped, looking at Isaac.
“Yes but, what made you Immortal?” He poked Isaac’s forehead. “That brain of yours must contain such vast amounts of knowledge. Of power.”
“I don’t know how I came to be. I was adopted almost two thousand years ago by nice people. They were killed.” Isaac explained. “The only one I know who would know that is nowhere near here.”
“Oh? More Immortals?” Cyrus said, grabbing a knife, “That sounds intriguing. But tell me more about you.”
“Not much to say.” Isaac said with a monotonous voice.
“You must be kidding me, almost two thousand years and no story to tell.” Cyrus said, walking around Isaac. “No story at all? Dormant all these years?” He grabbed a handle, and began turning it, pressure increasing on Isaac’s limbs. He was being pulled apart.
“Torture will grant you nothing.” Isaac said, ignoring the increasing pressure, which quickly became pain. The pain increased, a normal man would have been screaming. He had felt worse.
“We shall see, shan’t we?” Cyrus said, motioning for something. “Allow me to introduce you to Lady Rosa, my fiancée.”
“So now you attempt to attack my heart?” Isaac asked, laughing. “I already told you. I have no feelings for her.”
“Oh, dear. It is just as I had told her.” Cyrus said. “Oh well. We shall both live forever, free to rule the world.”
“The world, huh? Pretty big wish.” Isaac remarked, looking upwards, bored.
“So, you will give us your Immortality, and we shall leave you hear to die.” Cyrus said, putting the knife to Isaac’s throat.
“How, exactly, do you plan on doing that?” Isaac asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We shall find out, won’t we, O Ancient One?” Cyrus said, and everything went black.
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Great job! It's very well written and you have a decently unique story. I scanned through chapter 1 and I did not see any run-on sentences that Shaymin mentioned. What do you plan to do with this story?
 
CrazyAipom said:
Great! You gotta continue this!
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Thanks!
Chapter 4 is (finally) done! Check it out!

Chapter 4:
June 8, 1250-The Note
Over those few months, the pain I felt was near unceasing. My only relief lay with the knowledge that within a hundred years, he would be unsuccessful and I would be free. Each new day, he brought new and frightening devices in, each constituting a new and even worse pain. Time had passed, and I had even started to forget what the sun looked like. It didn’t matter; time was all that stood before me.
The day soon came, however. The day I escaped. And it came from a person I never would have expected; one I had always pushed away. However, after that day I never saw that person. All I have left is the Note left behind, still blood-spattered.
“Wake up!” Isaac heard, pain circulating through his latest body. Bright red hair now accompanied his bronze eyes, his body that of a severely beaten ten-year-old. Scars around his shoulders, bruises anywhere you looked, but he still stood from his hard, wooden bed as if it was nothing.
“Who are you?” Isaac called, dazed and slightly confused. After a few moments of silence, he realized the cell door was opened, his wrists unshackled. He walked toward the door, looking down each end of the hallway. The pain throbbed within his shoulder. He considered killing himself to relieve the pain, but decided against, as that would take too much time.
Isaac leaned against the cool dungeon wall, feeling the stone. Which way should he go now? He couldn’t tell. The voice was gone, but something dwelled within him. The malevolence he had felt before now dwelled deep within his heart. Possibly because of all his Reincarnations. Maybe Cornelius would know, but he had to leave.
He began running down the left hall, hoping for the light of the sun. A large door came in front of him, light coming out, piercing the darkness that had taken hold of his soul. He looked inside, seeing the bowl-room. The smell of blood still wafted in the room. He slid to the center, looking around. The arena-like trap was disarmed, for now it seemed. Isaac began climbing the wall, to the throne-like chair of Cyrus’. Reaching the ledge, Isaac clambered over, looking at the three seats.
Isaac spotted a door behind the chairs, black with red arches. Opening it, he saw what looked like a small study. Two book cases lined the walls, one singular chair in the center of the room. On it, a piece of paper, with a bloodied knife covered by a single rose upon it. He picked up the rose, looking over it carefully. “I wonder…” Isaac muttered, grabbing the knife. He looked at the note, covered with blood. “…who was killed here and why?”
The door slammed behind him, and he spun in reaction. The candle on the table was the only lighting. He took the candle, walking towards the door. “Who is there?” he called, his echo the only response. Isaac kicked the door, his leg still sore from the torment he had been put through for the last few months. Sighing, Isaac sat in the small wooden chair, feeling the relief of his legs.
He looked at the note, trying to read what wasn’t covered in blood. It was almost completely illegible, save for the bottom of the note which read: Farewell, Isaac
-Cyrus. It had been written to him, but why? Cyrus never seemed to be the one to give up. Maybe sense had finally come to him, that Immortality wasn’t worth it. Maybe not. He couldn’t find out until he had left the building. Then a thought came to him. A rose covered with blood…was Rose in trouble? Isaac needed to find out.
“No chance of that without getting out of here.” Isaac said to himself, walking again to the door. He slammed against it, using what little Astral Energy he could muster. The door flew open, a tall man standing at it.
“Isaac, where were you?” asked the familiar voice of Cornelius. Isaac looked up in awe, Cornelius’ bronze-colored eyes matching his blonde-colored hair, his skin barely visible in the shadows.
“Cornelius, you jerk…” Isaac muttered, smiling. “…why didn’t you come earlier?”
“I had to skip out on a date.” Cornelius said, turning around. “Besides, I didn’t even know where you were. I only just entered the building.”
“Is anyone else here?” Isaac asked, hopeful that at least Rose was. Knowing Cyrus, however, and his attachment to her, she wouldn’t be.
“Unfortunately, no.” Cornelius muttered, looking at Isaac. “But I do know where that slime Cyrus went.” Isaac gulped. “However, in your condition, you are not going to help her.”
“I don’t get you sometimes.” Isaac said, walking to the chairs, and sitting down.
“Like when?”
“Nothing. I have a question, Cornelius,” Cornelius raised an eyebrow. “I have been feeling something…something evil.”
“Something evil? Have you been having visions?” Cornelius questioned, leaning on the chair to Isaac’s left. He nodded, looking forward blankly. “I see. I have been feeling this since long before I met you. If I am correct, these visions are from far into the future, maybe even at the end of the planet.”
Isaac sighed, folding his hands and rested his chin on them. “That is a cheery thought.” He remarked, and Cornelius smiled.
“Maybe, maybe not. I can only assume the end, I cannot truly tell.” He said. “Anyway, they were headed for the Mountain of Life.”
“Mountain of Life?” Isaac asked, looking at Cornelius. “Never heard of it.”
“I know where it is. Supposedly, it is where the Immortals left the planet prior to us.” Cornelius said, “Not much is known, but Cyrus must have found something I never knew.” He stood. “I suspect he has done quite a bit of research on us, considering how much he knew.”
“More than you have?” Isaac asked, a slight smile forming.
“Maybe. That is what I wish to find out.” Cornelius said, walking towards the study. Isaac stood to follow him, but he stopped. “You have to go stop whatever it is he is doing.”
“How? I don’t even know where the Mountain of Life is.” Isaac commented, looking upward to Cornelius’ head was.
“No, no, no…this won’t do…but then again…” Cornelius muttered, grabbing a book off of the shelf. “I forgot what condition you were in…but maybe…”
“Maybe…?” Isaac questioned, trying to keep up with Cornelius, who even now was tearing the room apart, placing some tomes on the table and others on the ground. Isaac looked at the book, but the symbols were antiquated, Isaac had no clue what any of them meant. They weren’t used back in his time.
“This Cyrus fellow certainly knew his archaic symbols…” Cornelius commented. “I haven’t seen them in a long time…”
Isaac sighed and gave up, sitting down. Cornelius slammed one final book onto the table, Isaac looked around on the shelves which were now barren.
Cornelius sat once more, now searching over the various texts and documents he had pulled off the shelves, entranced in whatever story they seemed to offer. He grabbed a quill and began writing different symbols down, all the odd markings forming words in some odd language.
“What are these, Cornelius?” Isaac asked, looking at the odd symbols which formed archaic runes.
“A code. The Timeless Code that this man tried to recreate.” Cornelius answered half-consciously, still writing down the runes almost automatically. “It is our lineage, Isaac! Where we come from. This man gathered quite a bit of information. The question is…” he said, putting the quill down and grabbing more parchment, “…how did he get this information when I still struggle to gather…”
“The Timeless Code?” Isaac asked, leaning on his hand.
“Yes, the Timeless Code! The code which tells of how to gain, or lose, Immortality, as well as how to regain one’s memory after Reincarnation without a Soulbind.” Cornelius explained, holding his hands out in a gesture that told Isaac to stop talking. He took the hint, and stood.
Walking to the doorway, Isaac pondered the note. He held the rose, looking at its delicate, blood-spattered stem. It seemed so innocent, so gentle…why did she have to get involved? Isaac thought, again and again, guilt plaguing his every breath. He stood by the railing, looking down into the bowl-shaped room. What could it mean, and why was Isaac pulled into it? It was always his fault…always.
The sound of Cornelius pouring over his texts and runes, papers flying, and quill scratching at the surface of parchments was easily distinguishable from the silence of the room. Whatever he was feeling, Cornelius had felt it for a much longer amount of time. He stood from the rail, sitting again in the throne-like chair. He then took out the knife, cleaning it of the blood on his tattered prison cloth. Were Cornelius not here, Isaac would exit the building as quickly as possible.
Cornelius slammed something, Isaac quickly checking what had happened. Cornelius sat at the desk, his hands over his head.
“What happened?” Isaac asked, looking over what Cornelius had been doing. It looked like a large circle, many intricate designs that any art connoisseur would pay a fortune for. But there was one piece missing.
“The Timeless Code is missing a fragment.” Cornelius stated grimly.
“Then just fill it in,” Isaac suggested, leaning against the barren, wooden shelves.
“You don’t understand, Isaac.” Cornelius said, slamming his fist on the table, Isaac stepping back in surprise. “The Timeless Code predicts everything that is supposed to happen in existence, as well! Without a final piece…”
“So we don’t have a spoiler to our lives, oh well.” Isaac scoffed. “Cornelius, get over it.”
“It means that the universe will eventually come to an abrupt halt.” Cornelius stated. “My visions, they almost make sense now! But then…” Cornelius said, looking at the symbols, “…look at these symbols, the Runes of Darkness. They foretell the dying of the sun.” he walked around the table as well, looking at various other symbols. “They tell other things…dark things. Mostly about us, but also on humanity’s advancement through ‘science’.”
Isaac stared at him. “I don’t deny human advancement, but the dying of the sun and a halt to the universe? That is kind of extreme, isn’t it?” he asked, standing over the table as well.
“Unfortunately, no. This was written by Ambrose, the King of All.” Cornelius continued examining what he had done.
“You have mentioned him before,” Isaac remarked, looking at Cornelius. “The one who led the Immortals off of Earth.”
“I didn’t understand his motives at first, but this is basically a road map of the Timeline. See this design here?” He pointed near the middle of the circle, “That foretells that if the Immortals stayed, everything would already be dead.”
“But how? How could one man, Immortal or no, foretell all this?” Isaac asked, his skepticism quite apparent.
“The same way you and I get vague images of the future. The difference being in that he is much more adept at it.” Cornelius said, standing erect and folding his arms. “Well, that is obvious from the get-go.”
“If they left before you were born, how do you know all of this?” Isaac asked, rubbing his temples, chasing a headache away.
“I cannot say. Not yet. I need to confirm my suspicions first and foremost.” Cornelius said, leaning against the table. Isaac sighed, placing his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger touching his temples.
“One of your many shortcomings, Cornelius, is your ambiguity. Say what you mean,” He said, standing to full height.
“I mean, I won’t tell you false facts.” Cornelius said. “For now, lets carry all this out. Once we are gone, we won’t be capable of coming back.”
“Huh?”
“There is a rather powerful spell on this building. At certain, randomized points, entering the Malatesta Palazzo will bring you to this horrific torture den.” Cornelius explained. He rolled the Timeless Code into a portable, scroll-like form. He grabbed many tomes, and told Isaac which ones to grab.
The darkened halls seemed to stretch on and on, just as when he had first entered the building. He remembered the guard he had spoken with that day, how they had both suffered from the “Red Flash”. The memory, however, had been broken. He could not remember the sun, nor the clouds. To him, remembering that day was simply imagining him and the guard standing in a dark void, not unlike the one he and Cornelius were walking through now. He had to find Rose, he had to know if she was okay. He just had to…something drove him on.
Cornelius opened the door with his leg, his arms full. “Careful, the light will hurt for a few minutes.” The door opened, the light flooded into the dark corridor. It burned. Isaac closed his eyes, unable to shield them as his arms were preoccupied. Even closed, the light burned his eyes. A bright red color had flooded his vision, rather than the bleak darkness his eyelids usually brought.
Opening his eyes, he managed to squint, gradually letting the light in. He now saw more of Cornelius, his cloak had been replaced with a fine silken shirt, his pants were finely colored black. He wore a small ponytail, his hair parted down the middle. They walked through the gate, the foreboding gargoyles still watching. Isaac admitted to himself, he missed them slightly.
“Nice clothes,” Isaac remarked, looking around at the crowds of people that filled the streets. Beggars, merchants, aristocrats, everything he had been robbed of for a few months. It wasn’t the worst, but it made Isaac realize what it was to be robbed of something, even if you didn’t think much of it.
“The same could be said of you, Isaac. Now come, our estate is this way.” Cornelius said, walking around the corner. Isaac followed, the building now surrounding him on either side. “Welcome to my estate. You see, my wife and I divorced, and I made off with her fortune by some miracle.” Isaac smirked, rolling his eyes.
The bright, colorful mansion sprawled out before him, the shrubbery pristine, even compared to the green grass of which the front garden had to offer. Servants tended the plants, visitors admired the view. It almost compensated for the months of pure darkness Isaac had gone through.
Cornelius talked with a slave, they both nodded, and agreed with whatever they were talking about. Isaac didn’t pay attention, something else was nagging at his conscience, something darker. Isaac had no thoughts about the presence in that void before now. Why did it plague him now?
A servant took the documents and tomes from him, catching him off guard. He almost attacked, but then he realized it was probably his orders.
“Come, now Isaac. Let us feast, to freedom.” Cornelius said, leading him into the building. The room expanded before Isaac, red carpets, beautiful stained-glass windows, luminous torches. A paradise.
A large door lay before Isaac, the room inside filled with torches and sunlight. A large table sat in the middle, candles and a glorious red tablecloth with purple adornments covering the tables. “Come, sit, have a glass. Lets talk about worldly happenings.”
“What worldly happenings would I know of?” Isaac asked, the servants placing a wine glass and a silver platter.
“The time has come for me to tell you what I have really been doing, Isaac.” Cornelius said. “Now that you are experiencing these ‘visions’ as well.”
“What you have ‘really’ been doing? I don’t get it.” Isaac said, the servants pouring wine into the glass, and putting a full turkey onto the plate.
“Yes. You see, we are not the last two Immortals on Earth.” Cornelius said, sitting down, sitting back as the servants served his meal. Isaac nodded, indicating that he understood. “There are three others, which I have searched for, and have only had luck with two. You…” he said, grabbing his fork, and putting a bite in his mouth. Isaac looked at his food, he had no appetite at the moment.
Cornelius gulped, taking a drink of his wine. “…and another in Italy. Coincidentally, he is also Roman.” Isaac shifted in surprise, looking at Cornelius. “His name is Orpheus.”
“Do any of the other Immortals have these crazy nicknames you gave us?” Isaac asked, humour in his voice.
“Yes, actually. In fact, my vision mentioned five titles. ‘The Disease’, presumably you, ‘The Genius’, more than likely me, ‘The Twin’, ‘The Crusader’, and the ‘New Life’.”
“I see…” Isaac said, taking a sip of the wine, feeling the cool liquid pour down his throat. Placing the glass down on the table, Cornelius was sitting back.
“So, I ask you if you know anything, about any other Immortals?” he asked, folding his hands and resting his chin on them.
“I’m sorry, but no.” Isaac said, standing. “I have no appetite at the moment.”
“Ah, then shall I show you your room?” Cornelius said, standing.
“I’d say ‘yes’, but I am afraid of what you could have come up with.” Isaac said, a smirk coming over his face.
“Ah, come on then.” Cornelius led Isaac down a long hallway, a decorated door leading to his room. The main decoration was the glorious large bed in the center of the room, surrounded by stairs and a red carpet. The window let the sun shine through, now orange as the horizon overtook the light. Isaac slowly walked toward the center, feeling his pocket for the note, the dagger, and the rose. Holding the rose in front of him, he saw her face. He didn’t want it to be, but it was. He was infatuated.
“Something wrong?” Cornelius asked, standing at the doorway. Isaac placed the rose on the bed, along with the note and the dagger. “There are some new clothes for you in the closet. That prisoner’s tunic doesn’t suit you.” He started to walk out, and stopped. “If you need me, just look for me.”
The door closed, Isaac left to stare at the note, the only legible words being “Farewell Isaac” and Cyrus’ name. He sat on the bed, looking at the three objects, still trying to discern what they could mean. Cyrus didn’t write the note, otherwise there wouldn’t be blood on it. Unless he was psychopathic. That didn’t seem likely.
Isaac lie on the bed, sleep overtaking him. The first non-torturous sleep he had in months, and it was more painful than any of the nights inside the torture den.
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Hope you all like it!
 
You know, I just realized, you really need work more on your formatting. It's great, but the thing holding it back is that it's a giant wall of text. Space more, I mean I can't believe I've been ignoring it! You'll get more people reading this too that way.

Like whenever there is another character speaking, hit enter!
 
Normally that would work, but I write this all in a word document, so just hitting enter would be exhausting.
Another announcement: until I get this copyrighted, I won't be posting any more of the story (for security purposes)
Good news: It should be copyrighted soon.
Until then, I'll work on spacing what I have here. Thank you!
 
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