Midnight Eclipse
Volume 1, Chronicles of Heaven’s Curse
KALVERYA JOHANSSON
Part I
Part I
Copyright © 2019 Kalverya Johansson
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-79-073190-9
Copyright © 2019 Kalverya Johansson
All rights reserved.
Summary:
In modern society, the world takes a dangerous turn, when Noel-Len Ignatius and Gothalia Valdis unravel the dangerous truth of Midnight Eclipse.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used factiously.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information, please contact the author.
v2019.02.10, Part 1
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Contents
PART I
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
PART II
10
“There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right.”
Martin Luther King Jr.
Preface
REMEMBER THESE WORDS:
“Believe Nothing. Regret Nothing. See Everything. Fear None”.
A law formed by an ancient society; one engineered during darker times often painted and orchestrated by blood and discord.
The Excelian society, has long been forgotten and if remembered; it is effortlessly discredited or regularly discarded as a fabrication of lies. For that reason alone, humans need not fear their power.
No matter, the reason for the Excelians’ hidden existence. Their dark history drove them from the ravages of war; coddled by greed and pride, and into the arms of a world that encouraged peace and prosperity.
Excelian, a term used as a reminder, rather than a definition. A stint contrived from two words, ‘excel’ and ‘alien’.
They’re called Excelians, not because they’re aliens but rather because of their nature to be alienated. This alone, gave them the freedom and power to compose their own path. One, many chose to ignore for centuries. Enough so, they eventually became feared because every assumption made was often ill assumed.
Their dark past may have occurred centuries ago, but they remembered its history for it was a constant reminder of their current existence; their purpose within the illusion of time, who they were and what they were born to be.
PART I
An abrupt War
1
LAMPS FLAUNTED IN BURGUNDY AND GOLD.
Set into the ancient stone walls, throughout the Fire Reserve.
A city, unlike any other above land.
Torches shone high above the masses within the Cetatea, along the inner gates and around the cathedral plaza off to the east. They ignited the steel poles on either side of the walkway that effortlessly guided, any lost wanders towards the Chantry in the Cetatea or down the west wing, where the vicar conveyed the doctrine for the day.
He towered behind a grand stand, on the over-easing promontory of the marble stairs, pressed in brunet cerise and silver robes.
His wise grey eyes; strayed over the silent crowd of Excelian Centurions who heeded his words. Promulgated by, a thunderous yet thin tenor, coarsened from time, “In the past, our people were inflicted the worst cruelty known to man. When our ancestors suffered, no one aided them in their time of peril. Instead, they were shunned and shamed for their suffering. Beneath their bruised, bloodied and blemished skin; there was a strength of resilience, clarity and character.
“When all hope was lost, something had bestowed our people the power to fight their oppressors and encompass liberation. They became the first guardians for those allocated torture.
Throughout centuries, many lost their humanity and became Excelians. Beings gifted with their own unique natural skills and power. Blessed with our blood that is as sacred as the lands we walk. All of which, must be considered, and valued, with every action we do for the rest of our lives.
“Our muscles are sturdier than the strongest metal excavated. Our speed faster than the winds of a destructive hurricane, and our minds just as quick. Our senses had increased, beyond our comprehension to match our elemental abilities. While our hearts may be wounded. It’s our wounded hearts, of our ancestors’ pain that drives our actions to heal, aid and protect as our ancestors had. It’s our connection with the elements, and our home, that reminds us every day that our carefully cultivated world, is a gift to be cherished and not corrupted.
“Believe nothing, is to accept and know that the manifestation of manipulation and misdirected truth, exists. Regret nothing, is to understand, that for every action carried out to save yourself or many will befall criticism and hatred. See everything, with open eyes, open minds and open hearts, for the truth is revealed by every decision made and every action followed—it will always reveal the truth, often hidden by many layers of secrets and deceit.
“Finally, fear none, as the lands beyond ours; have little respect for life and fear is encouraged as a tool to control, oppress and suppress. May our blood guide us to value our world and our survival.”
Second Lieutenant of the Princeps core, Gothalia Valdis with everyone in the hall repeated, “May our blood guide us to value our world and our survival.” Before rising and leaving the Chantry.
The Order of the Phoenix; housed in the Cetatea, a large ancient fortress, had been responsible for training and educating, Centurions for centuries.
It guarded the land of Fire, including the city of New Icarus from the external world, with high set walls, ensuring climbers wouldn’t dare reach its peak. And, intimidating enough to deter those who’d dare scale it.
The towers of amaranthine durability, were fortified amid motion sensors; for earthquakes, lava spills and any undetected infiltrations or disturbances.
The deep crevices of the Earth’s crust hid her home well, tucking it away from prying eyes and poisonous minds threatening to invade. Powerful wards guarded the city and its people, powered by the Grand Elders and watched by the Foreseers.
Gothalia walked the old stone grounds, never acknowledging the familiar faces she passed, nor bothering to conduct small talk with anyone before meeting up with her mentor.
Why tempt, any chance for their ill words to aid their hearsay? She knew, no one would dare speak to her. They feared, the demon beneath.
Except for Anaphora Reagan-Valdis, a woman of the Valdis clan but not by blood.
She never bothered to aid any discrimination of the demon and she didn’t care who she pushed aside to keep Gothalia safe.
For, she understood Gothalia’s curse and never paid it any unnecessary heed. Especially, considering she was an intimidating and intelligent woman, with sharper words than her blade for those who’d readily ensue defamation at the fruition of others harmful actions.
Even though, Gothalia had reached the age of twenty-three, she was required like the rest of the Princeps to complete her last year under her mentor’s guidance.
Then, she’d be free, to carry out her missions with no lingering eyes but she recognised mistrust would always befall her and bloom within the mouth of those with slight understanding of her.
Gothalia paused, her thoughts riddled with persecute retentions, one that’d demand a call for mourning—something she’d n
ever have time for but knew, her neglectful habit would hinder her later. One, she had to keep any eye on.
She observed the dojang, with despondency, a place she had trained in a few years beforehand.
The scary part was, she couldn’t return to that place ever again. Afraid, to relive difficult memories that eagerly resurfaced, accompanied by feelings of sadness, anger and pain.
A trauma that weighed in her stomach like a dangerous curse, worse than the one she was born with. That place had once been her sanctuary from the rest of the world, until it became a battlefield.
Walking away, was superlative at the time, regardless of how many times, she wished to return. A pointless desire indeed.
From that day on, she changed in a way she’d never expected. She became cautious of who she’d interact with, aware only very few could be trusted—that is until she’d let her guard down, paying the ultimate price.
The shorter the distance, to the main building, the sooner she recognised Anaphora’s dark eyes tapering on her, in deliberation. She can tell, Gothalia thought but she didn’t blame herself, for as long as she’s known Anaphora, nothing could escape her perception.
Discretely, Gothalia allowed the muscles in her face to relax, but the look on Anaphora’s face confirmed it hadn’t made a difference.
The tension was sturdy in her shoulders and prominent in her gloomy eyes.
Anaphora waited patiently, until Gothalia was close enough before voicing her thoughts. And when she did, her words were detached but strewn with concern, “You don’t seem happy?”
Gothalia eyed her old dojang from over her shoulder before turning away and choosing to not look back. “I could be better.” Her attention shifted to her mentor who analysed the young woman.
At twenty-three life hadn’t been too kind to her but this impressed Anaphora. Against all odds, her pupil survived.
A natural soldier.
A born warrior.
“You will be.” Anaphora expressed, her hands behind her back.
Inside they walked, their black combat boots lightly pulsed against the black marble floor, engraved with translucent flowers and ancient symbols. “I have a mission for you—tomorrow.”
“To the surface world, why not tonight?” Gothalia provoked, aware her mentor would throw jobs at her left right and centre. Her thoughts were halted by conversant outlines of Excelians at the end of the hall.
Women, huddled in deep conversation ceased any further comment on the matter. Their attention danced from each other to Gothalia; and to her mentor, between every spoken sentence and back to each other as if harbouring a secret, they refused to share.
They gathered at the mouth of a large breezeway, which opened into a garden varied in flowers, rich trees, herbs and one of the many aqueducts found throughout their home, dipping into a large central lake. That housed the main fountain, sculpted to replicate an ancient female Centurion many had long forgotten but her legacy remained ’til this day.
“Not tonight. I have other matters to tend to and no it’s not the northern Reserves this time. There’s another matter with the Xzandians that require our immediate attention. The northern Earth Reserve seems peaceful for now. No need to interrupt the natural order.”
“For now. Not to be uncouth but what natural order? The previous ruler may have been a wise man. However, his sons are power hungry and take what they want with no regard nor respect for the natural order of things.” Gothalia proclaimed, a little reluctantly as she recalled the young Emperor and his recent actions. “Of all the members in the family to ascend to the throne, why did they have to choose him.”
“It’s not our job to understand but to safeguard. They’ve been warned to be mindful of their actions but it’s his choice should he decide to be selfish, and if he steps out of line … we’ll know.” Gothalia didn’t vex Anaphora with her questions and concerns any further.
Instead, her lingered over the women, with disinterest.
The distance between Gothalia and her mentor, drew closer to the women at the end of the hall whose faces became discernible.
Regret filled Gothalia, and an unhinged desire to forsake the area, arose but she’d fought against it. Refusing to submit to her.
She was only one woman.
One, out of the small criticising group she’d be better off avoiding for as long as she lived.
Persephone Maragos and her friends.
Another one of Gothalia’s many thorns. “But for now, I think you have a different battle of your own.” Anaphora hinted with shrewd scrutiny at Persephone.
As a Lieutenant Colonel, Anaphora had no place intervening in meagre rivalry. As a Triarius she was often regarded highly for her wisdom and tact in delicate matters.
She nodded at Persephone and her friends, as a silent greeting in which Gothalia didn’t approve before, vanishing into the shadows of the building. Leaving Gothalia alone, with the intolerable Excelian women—or rather woman.
Gothalia knew without needing to be informed for Persephone’s presence. Her father was here for another business meeting or proposal, as others defined it, a point Gothalia found no need to make.
Persephone Marago, the daughter of Michelob Marago a wealthy banker, within the New Icarus.
Whatever she wanted, she got. Including, all the men Gothalia was ever interested in. Explaining, why she no longer bothered. “Look who decided to crawl out of the mud? Tell me did you enjoy your bath?” As on cue her group chimed in laughter.
Gothalia wondered, if she remembered how that happened. As expected, Persephone was more concerned with the outcome of Gothalia’s failings never on what embodied the aftermath. If only everyone knew…Gothalia pondered itching to smile at her remark. No, I’ll keep her little humiliation to myself for now.
Instead, she replied, “Why don’t you go and do something worthwhile other than open your legs?” Ignoring, Persephone’s stunned reaction. Gothalia pushed passed her but glared at Persephone, when she voluntarily stepped in front of Gothalia refusing to allow her to pass. She wasn’t going to let it go, unfortunately for Gothalia.
“You think you can speak to me like that, you’re nothing but a filthy orphan! No one wants you and I’m certain your parents didn’t want you either.” she added coldly and smiled when Gothalia’s eyes narrowed dangerously. She uttered those unsympathetic words brashly, for the male Centurions across the garden to overhear. “You maybe a Centurion but you’re a lowlife, unworthy of the title. A loner like you doesn’t deserve it.” The girls giggled and Persephone circled Gothalia who was unphased by the denigration thrown at her even as the men watched.
It was their eyes that amused Persephone, instilling a poisonous smile to her lips. “Look, we seem to have their attention. No matter, it’s not like they’re looking at you.” She discretely nodded at the men, easily batting an eyelash or two their way.
Gothalia rolled her eyes—slowly, ensuring Persephone noticed, “You’re right. They’re not, you’re the talk of the town.”
“I know.” she sung, in a whimsical voice.
Silence befell her friends.
They watched Gothalia with fearful anticipation of her next words, “Rumour has it, daddy’s losing money because of your family’s dirty deeds and illegal affiliations. Explaining why he’s here? So, no, they’re not looking at me, they’re watching you. You know, because you descend from a line of criminals, a once proud family now tainted—pretty clever, mind you. Sully your reputation and everyone who worked with your family. If anyone is unwanted around here, it’s you.” The sarcasm was evident in Gothalia’s voice until her once placed cynicism, was traded with a perilous warning, “Now, get out of my way before I have the Peacekeepers arrest you for harassment and defamation.”
“You can’t do that!” she wailed.
Gothalia’s dark gaze tightened and an evil smile curled at her dark pink lips, “I can, and I will. Or have you forgotten, daddy has no power here, princess? You’re on my turf now. You di
dn’t make the cut, so technically you’re a ‘guest’, I’d advise you best behave.” With that said, Gothalia left Persephone behind with bubbling rage. As quickly as her anger erupted, it vanished, leaving her friends allotting a perplexed look amid the group.
“We shall see, demon.” she snarled.
Impoverishing her friends of a glance as she stormed away before aversely pausing to glower at the three women, who didn’t readily follow, at first. “You don’t need an invitation. Let’s go!” Hastily, they shadowed her as she crossed the garden. Passing the men who’d witnessed the altercation and eagerly they avoided eye contact with the raging brunette woman.
Gothalia viewed Persephone with distant calculation as she vacated the gardens. She hadn’t appreciated her attitude however, in that moment she questioned, whether or not she was too harsh. “Don’t stress about it too much.” a woman voiced from beside her. Second Lieutenant Princeps Demetria Crystallovis and First Lieutenant Aquilifer Asashin Brutus, approached.
Their eyes lingered on Persephone’s figure, until she was out of sight. “I don’t understand why you feel empathy towards a person like her. Then again, I’m not female so I won’t understand.” Asashin remarked, all eyes on him.
“I don’t think it’s a female thing.” Demetria commented, not too pleased by the comment. “Sometimes, not all women care equally for each other, remember?”
Asashin glanced at Demetria, surprised by her bluntness, though he knew she’d meant no disrespect by the question. Nor did she query his memory, she knew he remembered.
It was a rhetorical comment on her behalf, a habit Demetria had and one her unit was familiar with.
In that sentence alone, Demetria hinted at the Earth Reserve and their only princess, an insinuation that empowered an emulated echo of silence and reflection. “I’m certain, Lieutenant Colonel Regan, will expect us to respond should we need to.”
Midnight Eclipse Page 1
