Immortal

Tina Bright

Immortal

The characters and events of this work of art are fiction.

Any resemblance to real people, living or deceased, was not envisioned by the author.

Prologue

The Oracle's Grotto, 2015

This has happened only three times throughout human history. And each time it marked another end of the world, merciless war, pestilence or epidemic. All the Guardians had been called to the Oracle's Grotto only three times before that.

A small army of 530 Guardians crowded together. An eerie calm set in a dome-shaped stuffy grotto. None of them was old enough to know what was going on. Never before have they gathered in the same room at the same time for the last 300 years. Even their Commander, the stern guy named Tol, felt confused. He stood at the end of the grotto, thoughtfully looking down at his soldiers. Tol crossed his arms over his mighty chest. Irritation was growing inside him.

The grave silence of the Grotto was only occasionally interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet or a noisy sigh. The impatience grew with every minute, and everyone began to feel the alarming tentacles making their way through the strong armor of warriors. None of 530 Guardians knew why they had been called from their posts and how this strange visit would end.

Only two hours later, the High Priest slowly and majestically floated into the Grotto. He looked at all those present with his stern gaze as if looking for someone specific. And when his eyes finally lingered on the Commander he nodded.

The High Priest silently returned to the depths of the Grotto; Tol followed him and stopped only when they reached the Sanctuary, which no males could enter.

"This is a pretty extraordinary honor for you to behold a moment of prophecy. Leaving this Sanctuary, you will have to find the best Guardian and send him on a mission, which the existence of Life on Earth will depend on."

Tol nodded again and glanced into the center of the Sanctuary. A young woman of extraordinary beauty laid on a narrow ledge. She had nothing on except for transparent sacred garment. That woman was the Oracle. Only three prior Oracles have used their right to call the Forces for the protection of the Source.

Suddenly, a frail body levitated off the altar, twisted in a bizarre position, and let out a rough otherworldly voice,

"Charon left his post. Over his deeds, the army of Ancient Evil will gain freedom and try to capture the Source… The Girl must be protected at all costs… She is the one to pay the debt of Charon and protect the Source. Gather all the forces. The battle is coming! The waters of the Styx will parch, Chaos will reign on the Earth! Don't let him have her Power!" the High Priest echoed, interpreting the strange gibberish of the young woman.

The Oracle helplessly fell on the altar, but her voice was long echoing around the place.

"You can go! Follow your destiny! Protect the girl at all costs!" the High Priest said.

"I did not understand a single thing! Must my best Guardian protect the mortal one?" the Commander of the Guardians was astonished. "How can she be useful to Chaos? And how can she protect the Source? A little over 20 years ago, Charon had already left his post and was punished for that. His chains are woven from the heavenly matter! There's no chance he could escape! May the Oracle have misunderstood something?

The High Priest looked rigorously at the Commander.

"How dare you doubt the vision? The Oracle has been serving us for centuries. He calls a vision on our order because it is nothing but a weak-willed creature, a Vessel filled with the knowledge we need. There have been only several times in the history when the Oracle had a vision on its own. This vision is a direct message of Balance. If the Dark Forces succeed in taking over the Source then Chaos will awaken! And then everyone will die: the Balance, the Supreme Gods! Therefore, if the Oracle said that Charon had left his post, then so it is! Choose the best Guardian and send him to protect the girl. He will know exactly whom he is destined to watch. Let him follow the trail of Charon."

The High Priest left, and the Commander of the Guardians was long pondering over his words. He had no habit of contradicting the Priests who occasionally gave orders, even though he was the only one of 530 Guardians who could resist their Will. But right now, he could not believe the words uttered by the Oracle. He personally chained Charon more than twenty years ago. And when Tol got down to work, then, as a rule, no one could doubt the quality of the result.

When Tol reached the Grotto, he was surprised by the extraordinary revival among his soldiers. He could see the signs of indignation, fear, and dissatisfaction on the faces of the soldiers – emotions that were not typical of them for more than one thousand years.

"What is going on?" the Tol's voice thrilled through the place and instantly silenced everyone present.

"They're recruiting!" one could hear from afar.

"Many of us are removed from posts for the protection of the Source!" another voice echoed.

"And the rest of us need to cover the territory three times as much as we have previously guarded!" the third Guardian concluded.

The Commander thoughtfully rubbed his chin. He understood the reason for the indignation of the Guardians. One could not become but only be born as the Guardian. This privilege was granted by the right of birth. Only the eldest son of the Guardian could become a warrior after many years of training and feats. Only a few women were fortunate enough to be the only children of their fathers and with huge efforts to defend their right to fight among the defenders of both kingdoms in order to subsequently prove via the hard daily work the rightness of decisions by the Council of Elders that had adopted them.

The need for recruits meant only one thing – the Oracle was not mistaken, and a terrible battle was coming; they needed to get ready.

"Brothers, the Oracle called us in here to a

"Yes," the Grotto was shaken by a motivated, harmonious roar.

"Be courageous then! We are about to meet with danger face-to-face!"

"Why me?" Eugene asked.

Tol had no answer to this question of his Guardian. He himself had no clear understanding of the entire situation but was certain about the choice. Despite the fact that Eugene drastically differed from all the other Guardians due to his temper that was simply unmanageable, often argued with the Commander and ignored orders completing the mission at his own discretion, he was gifted with some unprecedented strength, agility and courage, surpassing even Tol. The latter had long considered the young man as his successor and tried to teach him all the tricks of the army management. Tol was certain that he could entrust the most important mission to this Guardian and be sure about the result. However, it was Eugene's prerogative to choose the strategy to be applied.

"I need someone I can lean on. You are definitely not the one asking for specific instructions I ca