Prolouge to a New Novel

“Geez, that old geezer is taking his time…”

A lone boy sat upon the dock of a harbor that showed very little activity due to the time. The sun was down. Dusk had become night, and the moon displayed itself bright and glamorous in the night’s indigo sky. The boy had been there for hours. He looked down on the rippling waters below him to see his reflection. Despite his baggy eyes caused by lack of sleep, he was healthy and fit; the agile type. He was rather thin for his height, but he was famous for his mischief among the townsfolk. He would often steal fruits from stalls and ran away without being caught. They said that his reflexes were not of the ordinary.

He was waiting for his father; an old, merry merchant that loved the seas as much as his sails. He was told that his father, Lark, had an important business he had to attend to. Aboard the Fortune Savior, Lark set sails for an island that would require 3 days travel. Lark made a promise that he would return at noon on the night when the moon was full, bringing home the boy’s favorite chocolate delights. The twelve year old boy held on to the promise so tight that he cared to wait until nightfall. But nothing came. At last, he dozed off.

…

…

Aroused by a gigantic presence above him, the boy woke up and jumped back. Before him, towering above him was a sculpture he was too familiar with. The combination of metal and wood, combined to unify an image of an angel savoring a gold coin in one hand, his other hand gripping a pouch of what people would suppose it be gold coins. The Fortune Savior loomed above him. But the boy felt something amiss. Except the thudding of the ship’s front to the docks, all was quiet… too quiet… The sails were set, yet there were not a single active presence up there. The world seemed to have turned for the boy. Everything seemed wrong.

The ship’s anchor was suddenly released from its place, making a deafening crash that put the boy back in his wake. He looked around. Strange enough, he was alone. No one was there on the harbor side. Having no hesitation, the boy found the anchor’s rope climbable and was on board before he knew it. It was as if a great battle happened on board the Fortune Savior. Everything was a mess. Barrels were broken, crates were shattered, and even the cannons were out of place. A shiver ran through his spine. No one was there. Who or what navigated this thing then? The anchor fell by itself? And I don’t see dad anywhere…

He decided to check the place he was familiar with; his father’s office and bedroom. It was located up the deck of the ship. The once-sturdy oak wood door apparently collapsed, disengaged from its hinges. Oddly enough, the room was tidy unlike its outer sector. Everything he remembered was in there; his father’s work desk, his bed, scrolls and charts, maps, books, even the ancient Family Tome past on generations to generations. Everything was there except his father, and an odd object that laid by the corner of the room.

Inside the 2 by 4 meters room, there was a body; limp but recognizable by the boy. It was the figure of the second person he would always remember; the Vice-Captain of the Ship, Roger Edwards. The body was breathing, barely breathing. In his right hand, he was clutching a piece of parchment. Without further hesitation, the boy took the parchment and read it. The writing was an utter mess, as if written in the middle of a battle.

“Larke,

Find the Kha’Mus!

Destroy it!

Farewell, my son!

Signed,

Lark VII”

The obscure message confused the boy. His father told him to find something he had no idea of, and bid farewell.