Genesis (Legends of the Kilanor Book 1) Read online

  Legends of the Kílánór

  Genesis

  Jared Stone

  Copyright © 2013-16 Jared Stone

  All rights reserved.

  Revised Edition

  ISBN-10: 1493532219

  ISBN-13: 978-1493532216

  Deep, heartfelt gratitude to all my dear friends and family who donated their time, energy, and editorial eye to bettering my project.

  Special thanks to my partner, Josh Buckman, whose unending love and support provided me with the freedom to write and complete this work.

  Extra appreciation goes to my mom, Pat Emmons, who was my biggest fan and closest confidant through this whole process. She read every edition of this story, front to back, and never once was unwilling.

  The phenomenal cover art is the work of the very talented Connor Pascale, who, with creative eye and remarkable skill, has crafted a masterpiece I am honored to have representing my vision.

  I love you all, and I couldn’t have done this without you!

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  1

  1

  Introductions

  10

  2

  Harmony

  34

  3

  Encounter

  56

  4

  Enlightenment

  77

  5

  Wisdom

  96

  6

  Contemplation

  117

  7

  Practice

  142

  8

  Anticipation

  162

  9

  Conflict

  182

  10

  Departure

  200

  11

  Recollection

  219

  12

  Connections

  241

  13

  Awakening

  268

  14

  Sacrifice

  288

  15

  Beginnings

  312

  Epilogue

  328

  Prologue

  Monday, September 1st

  The stars had all but disappeared behind a clouded curtain of darkness, and it was still hours before the sun would shine its purifying rays into the sky and bring light to the world. Summer had already come to a close, and there was a slight chill to the air. The almost new moon barely shone through the vapor-ous barrier above to illuminate the ground below, and shadows flitted across the dirt and fallen leaves like ghosts caught for a second in the corner of the eye. There was an eerie silence all around – the kind which makes one feel utterly alone and acutely aware of one’s own mortality. The wind through the trees provided the only sensation of sound, but an empty kind in which there is no evidence of life.

  As the ornate gate to the cemetery opened, the high-pitched whine of old metal hinges cut through the night air and reverberated off the erect stone slabs. A shuffling of feet and hushed words accompanied the three boys as they passed through the giant iron archway and crept among the morbid reminders of death and impermanence.

  Coming to a stop beside one of the tombstones, the boys clustered together to speak. “Ok,” whispered the first boy, “Sam said that the tomb was just down this path and to the right, all the way in the back of the cemetery. The one with a bunch of dead trees around it.”

  “But, Blake…,” said one of the other boys, glancing around nervously, “what if someone catches us? I ain’t goin’ to jail for some stupid frat initiation!”

  “Shut up!” snapped Blake. “You can turn back if you want, but I’ve come too far to wimp out now.”

  He paused for a moment, scanning his eyes across their surroundings. “Look, it’ll be a quick in and out: pry open the door, swipe the goods, and head back. That tomb’s probably ancient; there’s no way anyone’ll notice anything. The whole family’s most likely long gone by now.”

  “I never touched a dead body before…,” whispered the third boy. “Hell, I’ve never even seen one!” He swallowed hard and quietly squeaked out, “You sure this is ok? I don’t wanna be cursed or nothin’.”

  “Wow, you two are dense,” Blake remarked, glaring at the terrified pair. “Come on, before I make both of you permanent additions here, too….”

  All three boys had dressed entirely in black for the occasion, so as to blend in seamlessly with their dim surroundings. Of the pack, Blake was the tallest and most athletic. His black hair was cut short, and, in the darkness of the night, only his piercing blue eyes could clearly be seen. He was often mistaken for military, though his rebellious attitude and lack of manners made it evident that this was not the case. His two companions were not his match in either physique or intelligence. One was skinny and meek with red hair and freckles, while the other was overweight and slow to react. They were the type of boys who had never been popular and were willing to do anything to make themselves more respected by their peers. Blake was the undisputed leader of the bunch, and the two obeyed when he spoke with rarely a word of protest.

  They now scampered from stone to stone, hunching low to the ground and avoiding any stray slivers of light not swallowed by the abyssal darkness. Down the length of the cemetery they went, occasionally stopping behind one of the countless vertical stones to perk up their ears and look from side to side, much as a doomed hare listens for the ruffling of death from above.

  Cautiously continuing on like this for some time, the boys soon found themselves standing in front of a huge, grim fortress of stone and steel. The tomb was surrounded by trees, as their friend Sam had originally said, but they appeared to have been dead for about a century or more. Hollowed out, gnarled husks of their former selves, they were completely uninhabitable for all but the vilest of creatures, and their twisted branches had the appearance of wither-ed hands reaching toward the heavens in anguish.

  “Get the crowbar,” Blake ordered the heavier boy.

  The backpack was set on the ground and unzipped, and the tool was extracted. Once it had been laid in Blake’s outstretched hand, the crowbar met with the handle of the tomb, sliding between the rusted iron chain and the crease in the doors. With one swift movement downward, the chain was pried open, and it fell to the ground with a clinking that pierced through the silence previously blanketing them. The three boys froze there, listening intently to see if they had aroused anyone from nearby. But the night remained as silent as it had been, and the ringing in the boys’ ears of the chain’s collision quickly faded into nothingness once again.

  Gripping the edge of the steel door with his fingers, Blake pulled very slowly, in an effort to minimize the creaking and popping which accompanied the flaking bits of rust from the old hinges. With some effort, the door opened to about three feet in width, and the boys all quickly slipped through the crack.

  The darkness outside was nothing compared to the pitch black within the tomb. The smell was almost unbearable: a mix of stale air and the festering of mold upon the damp earth and walls. Blake’s two companions felt the need to cover their noses and mouths with their shirts in an effort to filter out the stench. Reaching into the bag once again, one of the boys pulled out a flashlight and switched it on. The light suddenly illuminated the interior of the tomb, momentarily blinding the three.

  As their eyes adapted to the flood of energy, they began to see that the inside of the tomb was mainly bare stone walls, covered in vast networks of cob-webs that hung down from the edges of the ceilings, as if they were nets constructed to entrap unwanted visitors. In the middle of the floor lay a tremendous stone coffin, standing roughly four feet in height and seven feet in
length. This massive case was not ornate in any way, other than some kind of writing which encircled the lid. The passage of time had all but covered these carvings with a thick layer of dust, and the boys did not feel inclined to put in the time or effort to try to decipher what these words might have to say. On either side of the coffin were candelabras about five feet in height. The candles had long since melted away, and only remnants of dried, dripped wax remained. On the far wall of the tomb was a tattered and dusty tapestry. One could barely make out the central image of a bull with wings, and the surrounding, frayed edges still held traces of what appeared to be the embroidered representations of flames.

  “What’s that all about?” the large boy questioned, stepping closer toward the tapestry and squinting for a better look as he directed his flashlight onto the mysterious imagery.

  “Who knows? Probably some family crest or some-thing,” Blake said as he slowly made his way to the coffin. “I don’t really care; it’s not what we came for.”

  “I don’t know about this, Blake,” said the redheaded boy. “This place is really creepin’ me out. I just have this feeling…, it’s like….” He stopped his sentence short as a visible shiver shot through his whole body.

  “Oh, geez! Shut up and give me a hand, will ya?” Blake mandated as he placed both palms on the coffin lid and began to push. The other two hurried up beside him and started pushing as well, more out of fear of Blake than the desire to be helpful. After a moment of strained effort, the sound of grinding stone finally issued forth, and the big slab moved just enough so that one corner of the coffin was un-covered.

  “Good enough,” said Blake. “I don’t want that thing crashing to the floor. Here, give me the light.”

  Blake grabbed the flashlight out of one of the boys’ hands before either had the opportunity to offer and anxiously tilted it toward the darkness within the stone case. With a puzzled look, he bent in closer, to the point where his entire upper body was almost inside the coffin.

  “What is it?” asked the heavy boy timidly, wishing that Blake would just snatch the prize and let them leave.

  “Nothing’s here,” Blake’s voice echoed from deep within the empty case. “Like, no body. Nothing.”

  “That’s fine!” quickly added the other. “Someone probably came and moved it a long time ago. We can leave now!”

  “Wait a minute…,” Blake then said curiously. “I see something.”

  After reaching even further into the coffin, Blake emerged holding what appeared to be a gold coin on a long golden chain. He lifted it up and pointed the flashlight toward the flat metal object. Upon closer inspection, the boy could see that the face of the coin held the image of a bull’s head, and the reverse side was covered in some kind of illegible mark-ings, similar to those around the border of the stone lid. It appeared to be some foreign language, but whether it was Chinese or Arabic or Sanskrit, the boys couldn’t determine.

  “It’s heavy,” said Blake. “Probably worth a lot.”

  “Cool. Now let’s go,” urged the redhead, grabbing the backpack from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ve had just about enough of all this….”

  “Fine. We got what we came for.” Blake smiled as he held the coin up to the light again and marveled at his newly discovered treasure. “Let’s go.”

  As he said this, Blake grabbed the chain which was connected to the coin and slipped it over his head. The metal trinket fell heavily upon his chest. The other boys turned to leave, but Blake stood motion-less for a few seconds.

  “Blake, are you coming?” the larger boy asked him anxiously.

  Suddenly, without any answer, Blake’s body began to tremble and thrash around, and the coin on the chain began to glow with a red aura like burning hot embers. Sounds of screams could be heard; not any of the boys’, but rather what sounded like distant wails of anguish and torment. Blake’s companions stepped back as they watched their fellow student fall to his knees, grabbing his head and writhing around. Aghast, they stood there paralyzed, unable to help and completely overwhelmed. Then, as un-expectedly as it had begun, it stopped.

  Blake knelt there motionless on the floor, his head hanging low above his chest, arms dangling by his sides. The coin had returned to its original state, swinging back and forth upon its chain. With the flashlight still pointed at Blake, the freckled boy stepped forward.

  “Dude, are you…, are you okay?” he asked.

  Blake’s head slowly rose, his eyes a silvery gray that caught the light and accentuated the emptiness within. The corner of his mouth twisted ever so slightly upward before opening into a devilish grin.

  “What the…?” said the boy, stepping back and turn-ing to run.

  * * *

  Blake calmly walked out into the crisp night air. He paused and looked around with the appearance of someone who had returned from a long journey to a place he remembered as a child. Behind him, the door to the tomb slowly creaked shut, sealing in the two lifeless bodies now on the floor. He took a deep breath.

  “Finally…,” he whispered as he walked out into the night.

  1 - Introductions

  Tuesday, September 2nd

  “Honey, don’t forget about this one!” Mrs. Aarden called out from the car, holding up a box the size of her head.

  A boy about 18 years old ran down the grassy hill to grab the box from her. He was tall, roughly six feet in height, with teal eyes and blonde hair cut short and spiked up in front. Though not very muscular, he was toned from throwing javelin for his high school's track and field team. He was dressed well, with a fitted polo shirt and faded jeans, and he had light, slightly freckled skin that had become more red than brown under the summer sun. His face was only made redder by the embarrassment he felt as he grabbed the box from his mother.

  “Mom, shhhhh! Don’t call me ‘honey’ around here! These are my classmates!!” he said as he turned to the side and hung his head, trying his best to avoid any unwanted attention drawn to himself and his mortifying predicament.

  “I’m sorry, Lucian,” said Mrs. Aarden as she pulled her son close, embracing him. “I just can’t believe that my little boy is all grown up and going off to start college.”

  “You’re embarrassing him, Mary,” said Mr. Aarden as he came around the rear of the car. “He’s only a couple of hours away. He can come home on week-ends and holidays, and you can do his laundry then!” Mr. Aarden laughed at his own jest as he put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and looked proudly at his grown up son.

  “Oh, hush!” said Mrs. Aarden, playfully smacking her husband’s arm. “Let me have my moment!”

  “Mom, I’ll be fine,” Lucian insisted, gently twisting out of her embrace and turning to face his parents. “It’s just college. Nothing here is gonna kill me. I’ll be back home next week sometime, I promise.”

  “You had better!” said Mrs. Aarden, wiping a tear from her eye. “Now, do you have everything from the car?” She quickly turned and looked back into the passenger side in an effort to hide her fragile emotional state from her son, albeit unconvincingly.

  “Yeah, Mom, I got everything,” said Lucian as he gave both of his parents a hug. “Have a safe drive back home.”

  Mrs. Aarden stood there a moment, beaming with pride while at the same time fighting back the flood of tears welling up behind her eyes. She breathed in deeply and exhaled strongly. Being an only child, Lucian was acutely aware of how much he meant to his parents and how proud of him they were now that he was going off to college and advancing in his life. But he also realized just how much they would miss having him at home, too. He smiled at his mom with deep compassion and understanding, thankful that she cared for him so deeply. Leaning in and kissing her on the cheek, he gave her one last parting hug. With their goodbyes said, Mr. and Mrs. Aarden climbed back into the car, tears rolling down Mrs. Aarden’s face, and drove around the circular drive in front of the dorm and out into the street. Lucian watched as his parents’ car faded out of s
ight, giving a slight final wave before looking away.

  It was a strange feeling for Lucian, finally being on his own. He wanted so badly to have total freedom from his parents, yet it ironically scared him to death too. Lucian believed that it was time to take control of his life, set his own boundaries, and hold himself accountable for his success; but, with so many potential obstacles and temptations in college, he was admittedly skeptical of his own strength and ability to do so.

  Choosing to forcibly suppress these thoughts for the time being, Lucian turned and looked up at the residence hall in front of him. Although he had been in and out of the dorm all day, moving in boxes and boxes of his stuff, he hadn’t really taken the time to survey his surroundings. The building was three stories high and made primarily of brick, with big gray cement corners and decorative sculpting just below the roof. The windows were dark against the red exterior, and all manner of colorful items were placed on the sills in the various rooms. The dorm itself was beautiful, but the eclectic nature of the items strewn about the windows gave the place an atmosphere of unrest and disorder which was very unappealing to Lucian. Although he’d just arrived, move-in had been going on for a week, and many other students had taken that time to get settled into their new home for the semester. Feeling that he should do the same, Lucian began the ascent back up the grassy hill to the front door.

  To gain entry into the building, Lucian had to first swipe his student card. He had received this new form of identification from Student Services when he registered on campus, just before they drove to his assigned dorm. Without the card, this door was otherwise inaccessible, in an effort to prevent any would-be thieves from stealing all the precious freshmen possessions. Lucian smirked a bit as he pictured a thief creeping in at night to scoop up all of the heinous items lining the windows, only to be honored the next day by the dean for helping to clean up the campus.