The Blood Fist: One Man Stole the Egg That Should Never Be Taken
A Dark Fantasy Story About Desperation, Imprisoned Evil, and the Price of Stealing From Forces That Should Never Be Disturbed
Author's Note:
This story wasn't planned. I was taking a stroll when the idea suddenly hit me and I couldn't wait to put it to pen. I hope you find it enjoyable — it came from a place I never expected, but that is the life of a storyteller. We live in imagination out of the ordinary.
The Quiet Wood
The wood was quiet and the scent of pine could be smelled on that fateful morning. The moist soil was damp, the insect chirping had stilled, and the song of birds had long faded. The trees were tall and their leaves blotted out the light, making the woods darker and more ominous. If you were carefree, you would become food for the forest. Even then, there were vines creeping and snagging any living thing that had blood — and blood was what they fed on. People had said it time without number: the forest can make you or mar you.
The leaves swayed from the small breeze that escaped the giant wings of the branches. It was a small mercy, but if you were in that wood at that moment, you would have appreciated it. The silence was so intoxicating that most of the forest's inhabitants moved about carelessly, knowing nothing would attack them at that hour. It was a time when even the weakest of the forest's inhabitants knew they were safe, for the predators among them were on the other side of the forest — the side known as The Blood Fist.
The Blood Fist
The Blood Fist was the part of the forest that housed the living ghosts of the greatest healers of the mortal world who had died. Legend had it that those ghosts still possessed power, which they used to create an egg that could heal any sickness and bring the dead back to life. But before those ghosts would give you that egg, you had to give them part of your essence — enough to allow them to return as mortals again. What many people did not know was that those ghosts were evil spirits, imprisoned by a warrior named Leo.
Rumour had it that they had been killing people, summoning beasts of the underworld, terrorising, kidnapping, and carrying out experiments — all working toward a power that would make them untouchable and equal to the most gifted God-maker.
There was Ebony, darker than the night. He had red eyes and teeth longer than a middle finger, and he commanded the underworld beasts. There was Rust, the colour of bronze, with eyes like a combination of twinkling stars. He was the meanest of them and was in charge of souls. He used the essence of a soul, combined with the underworld beasts, to create what was known as The Bane — a cursed human that could never be killed unless by a sword forged from the soul of the unblemished: those with no evil in their hearts. They had to sacrifice their souls in order for the sword to be forged, and in doing so, lose their lives in the process. And then there was Silver Light. One would think she was made of silver, but that was entirely wrong — she was made of darkness, with eyes as black as midnight. She controlled the elements of nature and bound them with what Ebony and Rust had created, giving their work life and the power of nature itself, which could never harm them unless it was also crafted from an unblemished soul.
These three had been the bane of the world. Even a breath of their names could cause earthquakes and famine. They were feared by all, and they were gunning to rule the world by carving it into three equal parts — before Leo, a warrior gifted by the Gods, defeated them. The Gods were stingy with power and afraid that Leo could become worse than those he sought to defeat, so they asked him to sacrifice his last-born child's soul to create the weapon that would defeat them, and to sacrifice his love life in order to banish them.
Something Runs
The crawling inhabitants of the forest felt the tremor on the ground. It wasn't normal — they knew it was their safe period. They froze in their tracks. The blood-sucking vines paused in their search for blood, curling around trees to blend in while waiting to snag unsuspecting prey.
The little insects stopped, waiting for the tremor to cease, but it grew nearer. Those near holes bolted inside, covering any track that would expose their hideouts. And then the silence was shattered by running feet — panting and breathing hard, the owner of those feet putting in every effort, knowing their life depended on how fast they ran.
Yun's Escape
Yun was not sure how to describe how he had escaped The Blood Fist. It still felt like a dream. Running through the forest he knew housed danger, he had thought he would die. His sharp eyes spotted a vine setting to strike and he timed it well with his tired limbs — he slowed just a little, and as the vine struck, he increased his pace and leapt, catching a low branch and swinging up. He had been told that the best way out of the forest, and the best way to hide his scent, was to use the trees — especially at the moment a vine tried to strike him. He climbed up and clutched the small bag hanging around his neck, feeling it to make sure what he was risking his life for was still intact. When he felt it was inside, he began hopping from tree to tree.
The Dying King
The man who lay on his sick bed was just forty years of age, but looking at him — his shrinking skin, his eye sockets sunken like a skeleton's, his skin so white you would think it had been bleached — you would have thought him a dead man, mummified and waiting to be buried. Only the slight rise of his chest told you he was still clinging to life, but barely.
"There is nothing I can do," a short man with a bushy beard said, shaking his head as he felt the pulse of the man lying before him.
"You must do your best," another man said, grabbing the short man by the hand and stopping him from leaving. "They say you are the best healer in the world."
"I'm sorry," the short man said, looking exhausted. "There is nothing I can do. I am already feeding him my own life force slowly, just to extend his life."
"You call this a life?" the other man, Cobby, said, shaking his fist. "Look at him — he is dying."
The short man sighed. "What do you want me to do?" he said, sounding irritated. "I am feeding him my own life force, and only the Egg from the Blood Fist can save him. Bring that, and he will be whole again."
"You know no one has been able to get it. A whole regiment vanished without a trace, and some people say they were turned by the devil."
"How would they know, when there are no survivors?" the short man frowned. He knew the man was trying to protect his master, and seeing the king laid low like that was eating the kingdom alive — everyone was suffering from this malady.
"So what do we do, Healer Frey?"
"I don't know," he said tiredly. "I really don't know."
"Then all hope is lost," Cobby said, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, tears falling freely.
"I wouldn't say that," Frey said, patting Cobby on the shoulder.
The Hunt Begins
The forest grew colder, and a voice that was not natural could be heard giving commands. "I want the intruder found. He has taken the egg we have been growing for twenty years. I want him alive so I can relish the joy of carving out his soul."
Yun sat in the tree as silent as he could be, watching the scrambling monsters below. He stifled a yawn. *No, this is not the time to sleep*, he muttered. Then it clicked — his master had told him that the trees were the safest place, but they had one drawback: they would make you sleepy unless you had a strong will. His eyes sharpened as he watched. That must be the Ebony one, he thought, watching the figure summoning and directing his beasts. His master had told him that if they looked up three times and still didn't see him, he would be safe enough to come down and walk freely. But seeing the kind of monsters below — some with shadow heads and teeth, others looking like carved wooden masks — he wasn't about to give them that kind of chance. He hopped to the next tree, and the next, carving his way toward the edge of the forest and home.
Ebony's Fury
Ebony was furious. How could a mortal enter their domain and steal from them — and steal the one thing they guarded with everything they had? That egg had never left their sight for twenty years, and yet one mortal had taken it just like that. And now they had lost his trail. He looked up, saw nothing, and swore.
"Find him. Go to the border and wait. Nothing leaves — not even the wind," he snarled.
Here is your edited story with corrected grammar, punctuation, and subheadings added:
The Ghost's Council
"This is a disaster," the woman with the dark eyes said, glaring at the man with the bronze-coloured eyes.
"You don't need to spell it out. I know the consequences," he said, looking at their ghostly, transparent bodies. He knew the Egg of Life was what they had been planning to use to resuscitate their forms. That fool Leo, who had been used to imprison them, had no idea what he was dabbling into — and now, just as the world was at their fingertips, another fool had stolen from them.
"What do we do?" the woman with the dark eyes asked.
He glanced at her and could feel her hands shaking. Their lives depended on that Egg. "We wait for Ebony," he said, glancing in the direction Ebony had taken.
"How did a mortal even get through all our security measures to steal from us?"
"Might be another fool being used by the God creator."
"That all-powerful fool who uses and dumps his crusaders."
"The mortals don't know what happened to their Leo. If only they knew his soul is part of that Egg."
A Moment to Breathe
Yun had been hopping from tree to tree for hours. He occasionally took a break, but whenever he heard any rustle behind him, he would push on. After gaining a fair distance again with no sign of pursuit, he sank down onto the branch of a tree, breathing hard. Instinctively, his hand drifted to the bag around his neck and he felt the Egg. This time it was pulsing with a faint red glow, and he could feel it beating with the same rhythm as his own heart.
"This is what will save the king," he muttered. All this trouble for a king who didn't even know him.
He sighed, taking a drink from his water skin. His mind drifted to how it had all begun.
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