Prologue
Before the coming of the Forever Box, the land of Eretum knew nothing but darkness and anarchy. Although there were not many records kept on this time, one thing was certain; it was chaos. However, out of the confusion came the soon to be king Solomon, who used the power of the Forever Box for Eretum’s salvation. With the help of six other righteous men, later called the Keepers, he brought order and stability to the people. This ushered in a new era of peace that Solomon managed to keep for over 200 years.
The box itself had a clear diamond-like exterior holding a strange orange substance that changed from gas, to gel, to liquid, and back again in seconds. It bestowed unlimited power to its possessor to use however he or she saw fit. It also granted the user immortality, and the ability to manipulate their surroundings using magic. Solomon shared all this power with his Keepers, and with their combined might, no evil could ever hope to challenge them. However, that was before the king’s son, Varlin was born.
The king had an enormous amount of love for Varlin. Solomon even went as far as to share immortality and a small use of magic with him. Despite his generosity, Varlin hungered for more, yet when he asked, Solomon refused. He knew that the little freedom he gave to Varlin was too much, as no one other than the Keepers and himself had wielded the Forever Box’s power before this. Varlin soon grew power-hungry and furious with his father, so one day, he stole the Forever Box from the royal palace. When the Keepers gave chase, Varlin allowed the box to completely consume him. It was previously thought that such a stunt would burn a man’s soul from his body, and in a way, that was exactly what happened to Varlin. He was changed completely. His skin burned charcoal black, and his eyes turned blood red. His strength increased ten-fold, and he became virtually indestructible. Varlin became an abomination, and with his newfound skills, he killed three of the Keepers and crippled his father. The rest barely escaped with their lives, and Varlin fled into the woodlands to the east, where no man dared venture, for fear of the unknown threats that lurked in the dark. This region was called Shadowdale.
While the Keepers recovered and attempted to rehabilitate Solomon from the disastrous battle, Varlin busied himself with conquering the dark forces in Shadowdale to build an army capable of overtaking the empire Solomon built. After successfully acquiring all the power Varlin could hope for, he yearned for conquest, and the death of his so-called family. This was the first major disturbances in the peace the people of Eretum were so familiar to, and word of the deaths of three Keepers traveled quickly. In desperation, many turned to aid Varlin, with Solomon’s cause already appearing discouraging. Eretum was split in two, and civil war was upon them all.
Chapter 1
Marther walked down the stretched corridor leading to the throne room at a rapid pace. During festive times, the halls were usually filled with laughing children, and servants carrying platters of food, however for the past four years, things had been different. When Marther reached the two gigantic golden doors guarding Solomon’s room, something almost as big blocked his way. It stopped mid-growl when it saw who approached. Standing between Marther and the room, was a Rhionoke, a new species that had been issued to all 4 of the keepers after 2 attempts were made on the king’s life. The Rhionoke stood 25 feet tall, and resembled a lizard with large pores all around its body. Marther knew that razor-sharp spikes would emerge from each of the pores if the creature felt it necessary. It could also spit acid clouds capable of eating through flesh in seconds. King Solomon specifically chose Rhionokes as the Keepers guardians, not only because of their ferocity in battle, but also because of their surprisingly advanced intelligence. “It’s alright Sourez. I need only 10 minutes with Solomon. Something important has come up,” Marther quickly said to the beast. It relaxed its muscles and gave way to him with a troubled look.
Marther burst into the room. Solomon had his back turned on him and was gazing on the city of Aren through two glass windows. “My Lord! Another city on the outskirts of Eretum has been taken by the Tangi! Those animals slaughtered all but the ones they captured. How many more innocent lives must we allow to die before you take serious action?!” Marther shook with anger as he said this, but Solomon responded in a calm tone. “And, what exactly would you have me do?”                                                                                                                                                                            “Send me and the other three Keepers straight into the heart of Shadowdale! We will exterminate this threat, take back the Forever Box, and return this land to peace. You have restrained yourself from giving this order for four years, but now is the time to do it, before it is too late!”
“Marther, the last time I gave such an order, three of the most powerful men in this world died by Varlin’s blade. We are not nearly as powerful as we were the last time we faced him, much less now, having not tasted the Forever Box’s energy for such a long time.”
“Yes but-“
“BUT NOTHING MARTHER! I will not have you, or any other Keeper, die at such a time as this! Our forces are spread thin, while Varlin’s grow each day!” Solomon’s outburst shocked Marther into silence. “You have no idea the kind of sacrifices I’ve had to make for the greater good of this kingdom. Every attempt I make to attack Shadowdale, my men, nor word of their travels, make it back to me. I’m in a very difficult situation.” Solomon looked miserable as he said this. Marther’s anger slowly drained out of him.”Than perhaps…perhaps you could send a small squad of soldiers to Shadowdale. I could lead them, and instead of the typical straight-forward assault, we could take a stealthier route.” Solomon thought on this. “It would take longer, as we would be traveling along the river. There is no way that Varlin could expect this kind of attack, and I would be able to take the box right out from under him. With a small group, it IS possible,” Marther pressed on. Solomon knew he was right, but he also knew the dangers of this voyage Marther proposed. “It appears that I have no choice. I will supply all that you and your men need for this expedition, though you must leave as soon as possible. We can’t afford Varlin’s spies to catch wind of this plan. Gather who you need, then be on your way.” Solomon said with dread. Marther thanked him and turned to leave. “And Marther? Be careful. The world can’t afford to lose another Keeper,” Solomon said as his goodbye. Marther nodded, though he had a grim feeling that this would be his last audience with the king.

Chapter 2
The night was dark and quiet, a dim cream-colored moon high in the sky. A party of five ironclad warriors moved quickly and swiftly through one faint trail amongst a dense, jade forest. Except Marther, the squad traveled on dark grey horses. He rode his Rhianoke, Granga. The squad stopped for nothing, and the only thought on their minds was their destination.
The middle rider spoke up “Why have we met no opposition yet? It is all too quiet.”
“I agree, brother. This doesn’t feel right… Marther, are you sure five men are enough for this task?”
“Unless you two desire for the opposition to welcome us, I suggest you hold your tongue! We are in enemy territory, they have eyes and ears everywhere,” Their leader, Marther, snapped back. Granga slowed down and licked the air, tasting for a familiar scent. The group’s horses came to a sudden stop behind the immense beast. They waited for Marther’s signal to continue on, while Marther waited for Granga’s signal as to which direction to ride.
She grunted then turned left toward an even narrower pathway. They arranged themselves into a single file and moved forward. “We’re close. Be vigilant and proceed with caution,” Marther announced in a hushed voice. The bunch grew even more anxious than before. They didn’t believe it possible, but the night seemed to become quieter, except for the sound protruding from the soft tap-tap of the horses and the heavy pat-pat of Granga. What were minutes, felt like hours, and Marther ached with the desire to DO something, for it was the feeling of uncertainty that was tormenting him.
They soon came into a large clearing. In the middle was a transparent box. It was filled with a strange orange substance that changed from gas, to gel, to liquid, and back again in seconds. “Sir…that’s it isn’t it? The Forever Box? This can’t be that easy. It must be a trap. What do we do?” Before Marther could reply, a great shriek broke the silence the men had been so accustomed to. Out of the tree tops sprung four dozen or so horrendous spider-human hybrids in front of his troop. As much as Marther hoped he and his squad could make it in and out with the box, he had been expecting an ambush of the likes; however that did not help abate his shock. The abominations had spider legs sprouting from their backs and hissed with a pair of mandibles instead of mouths large enough to eat an entire head.
“It’s the Tangi! Defensive positions!” Marther yelled. Granga puffed in and her throat expanded with green liquid. She breathed out a cloud that instantly disintegrated 8 Tangi, and then let out a rough growl. Marther leaped off of Granga’s back as she charged forward into the mist of enemies. Several Tangi jumped on top of her, and in an instant, she exploded with spikes that impaled all the monsters on her back, as well as anyone foolish enough to approach her. The men bounced off their mares and drew their weapons, ready to fight. The few Tangi that made it past Granga were soon cut down quickly by Marther and his men. With their Rhianoke leading the massacre, the fight ended almost as quickly as it had begun. As the dust settled however, a new threat revealed itself.
Standing besides the transparent box, as if it were there the entire time, stood a character cloaked in black. His face was as dark as the coals burning in his eyes. There, was Varlin himself. Displaying a mouth that seemed to suck in the air like a black hole, Varlin said in a deep raspy voice, “You shall never obtain the forever box! Surrender now and I promise you a better death!” The men flinched at the voice, but stood their ground nonetheless. “Never, traitor!” shouted Marther.
“Very well, old friend.” Varlin responded. Before Marther could make another move, Varlin’s skin turned bright red, and the area around him lit up. Granga quickly jumped to wrap herself around Marther, and while he was protected, the others weren’t as lucky. In their place was a pile of scorched bones. Anger swelled inside Marther, and he swallowed his grief and lunged towards his comrades’ murderer.
Before Varlin could recover from his attack, Granga thrusted her tail into the torso of the cretin and sent it flying into the trunk of a tree with a sickening crack. As much as he hoped, Marther knew they couldn’t kill him that easily. He spoke something in an unknown language, and his voice seemed to echo. A great yellow blast of pure energy came from Marther’s open palm, and straight towards Varlin. The force of impact was so strong, he went flying through the rest of the tree, and into a nearby lake. Marther grabbed the forever box then hastily climbed on Granga’s back as Varlin climbed out of the water, chuckling. Without another thought, the two of them raced through the trees, desperately trying to escape certain death. Marther could see the shadow of Varlin in the trees, and no matter how fast Granga seemed to run, it matched that speed far easier than what should have been possible. Marther had not anticipated how powerful Varlin could become, and his heart was beating faster than the rapid footsteps pursuing him. He finally saw that escape was hopeless. “Granga! This is futile. We must face him.”
  She stopped in their tracks and turned around. Out of the dark came Varlin, who was now smiling, the thought of such a hopeless battle amusing him. He paused for a second, as if taking in the moment, then approached them. Granga attempted to bite him, but he sidestepped to land a kick on her snout. She fell to the ground, and Marther jumped off to quickly draw his weapon. Before he could do anything however, a black hand came out of the cloak along with a long blood-red sword that brought itself down on Marther fast as light. He barely had time to defend himself, and even then, the force of the blow sent him sprawling on the ground. He jumped for the finishing blow, but a few quick words from Marther blew away the ground underneath Varlin, and he went flying through the air. When he landed, he sounded more annoyed than hurt, and he charged Marther. Before reaching him however, Granga was up again, and gave Varlin a flurry of attacks. She bit and clawed, though Varlin managed to doge each strike. Marther managed one hit to Varlin’s shoulder, and the strength of the blow should have cleaved an ordinary man in half, but the small wound it created was quickly healed. Each swing of Marther’s sword took more and more energy, yet Varlin seemed to be enjoying the exercise. He struck his sword into the ground, and the force sent Granga through the dirt and Marther into the treetops. He landed with a thud, and every bit of exposed skin had turned crimson.
Varlin wrapped his hand around Marther’s neck. Slowly and painfully, it squeezed. Marther felt life slowly inching away. He looked around. Granga wasn’t getting up. He was completely and utterly alone with his soon to be killer. The feeling of helplessness was worse than the pain to Marther. However, there was nothing he could do but stare with hate and fear into the Varlin’s horrible, evil eyes. He was exhausted, and the slightest movement tired him. Varlin put his mouth near Marther’s face, a stench of rotting meat on his breath. “When you wake up, tells Solomon, I’m coming for him.” He muttered a few words, than Marther’s eyes suddenly felt heavy and began to close. His last thought before the world went black was how he had failed.