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1. Omar Marshall, Diborn

  At a secluded campfire inside the wilderness of a never-ending forest, a single man sat alone. His breath lied hollow and frozen beneath his hooded scrubs. As he crouched down and observed the fire, its coals and embers reflected in his onyx eyes.

  “Through the fires of suffrage, we remember all that seems to be forgotten,” a faint voice beckoned through the narrow plains of the frostbitten mountains. A siege of fire grew brim by the second. The mighty roars shook the sturdiest of mountains, passing by the plain white lands. The clouds of smoke hummed over the crystal sun and engulfed it into nothingness. The darkness prevented everything but a bitter winter chill from passing by the lands. A person could scream for miles, and no one would hear. This country had turned into a place of emptiness, where dreams are reborn just to die again. It was now a country fallen to the ambition of humanity, disowned by the Lotus Crystals' blessings.

  The Pale Continent of Edindale was separated from the world’s Prime Lands. The Prime Lands of Eurafalia were four continents that captivated the greatest warriors in all the lands. These were the same lands where famed warriors like the Legend King and other Demigods walked this earth some time ago. The Prime Lands knew nothing but the harshest realities possible, whereas the Pale Continent was a place of repetition and contentment. There was never any change in the Pale Continent, whereas the average man in the Prime Lands fought every second of the day for a greater version of himself.

  The fire brimmed further into the dead forest. The flames continued to enter the man as if he were watching a film with the campfire acting as a screen. The lonely soul investigated the fire with such intent, examining it as if it were a piece of a puzzle he needed to figure out. The gloomy and doom-looking man held his hands tightly together until his fingernails pierced his palms, causing them to drip with blood.

  The pale mountains on the border of the Prime Lands continued to scream in anguish, warning him to leave this forgotten continent. The cries grew louder with each step marching towards the campfire. The eyes of the wanderer did not move from the flames.

  “Hmph. How far gone have I come…?” he wondered, his brim voice scratchy. The wanderer murmured to himself like a hardened sellsword who had seen his fair share of tragedy.

  He remained staring into the fire. All he could see in the flames were images of a crying infant new to the cursed world. What fate awaited the fair child? The mercenary lingered on the thought. Worried of his own fate, he returned to fidgeting with his black robes.

  The fire began to speak to the traveler, “Milady! It’s a boy…It’s a boy!”

  Two fair ladies whispered to a whimpering mother who cooed her child until his crying stopped. The flames cooled, turning from a mellow gray to a white flame.

  The father of the child stepped in, and with it, the flames of the campfire dwindled into a glowing magma red. “My son, you are a Marshall. You will rise from the fallen phoenix's ashes and bless the world with freedom. You are our son, Omar Marshall,” the mother and father spoke to their infant while holding him in their arms. Tears formed in both of their eyes as they looked upon their newborn family member. The fire burned brighter than ever, as a phoenix bird flew from the fire far into the distance.

  “Is that you, Jai?” the wanderer asked. He watched the phoenix fly away until it was no longer in sight.

  Startled by the sound of the footsteps growing closer, Omar averted his glance away from the embers looking for the source of the noise. They grew closer to the campfire, starting as a soft tip-tap, and quickly turning into an aggressive stomp. Suddenly, they began to multiply, one after the other, racing nearer and nearer. The wanderer sat motionless. He remained still, waiting for the figures hiding among the wooded trees to emerge. Searching for the footsteps, he was astonished to find the owner, standing naked and alone amongst the forest’s darkened greenery. The trespasser was a pale graying old man whose body showed no irritation from the frigid air.

  “The fires of Altira’s children always show the light we desire most,” the stranger spoke with a sinister smile brewing on his face. “What does your fire entail, Diborn?”

  The wanderer only examined the framework of the pale man. The figure's ivory skin nearly melted from his bones after dragging himself through the snow waist-high. Goosebumps were nonexistent on his skin from the shivering cold. His malicious face revealed sharp, pointy teeth that hung out of his overgrown mouth, sparking curiosity in Omar. The dull, gray soulless eyes of the stranger were startling to no end.

  “Hmph. A Doppelganger. You know nothing of my kin. We Diborn serve the empress of the night, Shieva, lover to Dragni. The evil one, the not-so-beloved sister of the goddess you praise, monster.” The wanderer smirked; he balled his hand into a gaping fist that turned into a black flame. As he did so, the bright campfire mimicked his fireball, turning its flames as dark as the night. To divert attention away from his fist, he began poking at the coals on the ground with a stick, calming himself.

  The Doppelganger chuckled. He placed his long frail sword-like hand over his grimacing mouth. “Yes. We know all about Diborn. You creatures are no different than us. They are mutant irregulars who were born soulless. They say you do not harbor any feelings or connections to any beings, not even your family…”

  The wanderer raised his head to stare deeply into the eyes of the Doppelganger. The face of the pale deviant changed suddenly into an old, though not yet senile, tan-colored man with luscious black hair. The black clouded eyes of the wanderer widened in sincerity. He knew this man but showed no expression or emotion that alluded to any sliver of recognition.

  “Even Princes are born to be monsters.” The Doppelganger laughed in front of the Diborn. “How is it, someone of your silk, ends up being on the vanguard of Edindale Army?”

  The Diborn hesitated. He could only drop his head to the fire with a sigh. “They say a lot about us Diborn. Our charcoal eyes represent the lack of souls. What you may call a dull personality is a chosen and focused one of our kind. We bring death wherever we go, they say. But I say we deliver death where the highest coin is thrown. We know nothing of love… or do you think we are too strong to fall victim to those emotions?” the wanderer questioned. “Though we lack what others are born to feel, we too are just as human as any other. We are simply gifted…”

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  The wanderer removed his hood, followed by the rest of his cloak. The Doppelganger watched the masked individual transform into a broad, well-spoken Black man. The wanderer’s long-dreaded hair fell down his back. Hiding underneath his locks was a large silver broadsword. He wore a moon necklace chained around his neck that draped over his chiseled chest. Across his body, a large grayish white unbuttoned coat hung freely. His black trousers were scuffed by the snow, as well as his worn-out boots. The man slipped on two silver gauntlets and rose from the log he was sitting on.

  “…Gifted to protect the shards of the evil blade Sheiva tried to use to destroy our world centuries ago. We are protectors. Not monsters.” The wanderer pulled his sword out, pointing it towards the Doppelganger. “I’m afraid you signed your life away when you tried to rattle a soulless soul there, friend. You beasts will try and kill even Diborn for food. How fowl.”

  The Doppelganger moved slightly back. He became frightened by the forward threat of the soulless wanderer.

  “My mirage is perfect. It heightens emotions, yet you do not falter!” The Doppelganger immediately refigured his face by smooshing his hands on his clay-like skin. “No matter…” a feminine voice with a kiss of an angel replaced the being’s nasally speech.

  The wandering Diborn had been snatched in between another realm courtesy of the Doppelganger. The eerie white snow faded to gray, as all the trees around him died. A black orb closed off the outside world. The wanderer sensed the magic in the air. He was aware of it but forced himself to ignore it. His focus remained on the target in front of him.

  Long, silver strands of hair fell from the molded creature's face like vines on a tree. The skin of the pale being darkened into a healthier milky skin tone. Immediately, the Diborn knew from the hair alone who the Doppelganger was going to imitate.

  The wanderer shuffled closer to the Doppelganger who now stood before him as a beautiful woman. She wore a red dress with brim fire flowers scattered around the robe. The Diborn resisted, no matter how good the impression was. The Doppelganger’s manipulative tactics weren’t working on him.

  “My mirage taps into the very deepest of any soul. Why are you so resistant to what you want?” the Doppelganger asked. “You are lost. Alone. Sad. But not afraid. Do you want to die?”

  The Diborn grabbed the arm of the Doppelganger. He stared into the demon's eyes with his soulless black orbs. “The person I long to see isn’t this woman nor that man. They both sent me away to die long ago, along with this curse inside my vessel.”

  His fingers gripped around the Doppelganger’s wrist. “I live for a cause. And that memory is long gone. I only have one true wish.” The Diborn swung his other arm up towards the Doppelganger, swinging his sword with one swoop, severing the beast’s head without hesitation. The lifeless figure returned to its pale state, falling deep into the snowy ground. The Diborn wanderer let out a soft sigh shaking his head.

  “Find peace,” he whispered to the dead creature before him. “In hopes that I may find it, as well.”

  Two sets of footsteps were heard coming from the woods. As they grew closer, two soldiers dressed in royal gold and white metallic armor appeared in the Diborn’s view. One of the soldiers called out, “Halt, monster!”

  The Diborn held his sword in one hand with the head of the Doppelganger in the other. He recognized the voice of the man calling out. He saw them motion their hands to join them as the two soldiers turned the corner. The wanderer stealthily followed them, turning his hips and holding the Doppelganger’s head like a lantern lighting his path.

  The captain threw an arm in front of his partner, stopping him in his tracks. He wore a gold-plated helmet, one that was quite fitting for a brave knight such as himself. His cloak was covered in dusty snowflakes. His boots cackled with a radiating glow, flowing from the head of the captain up into the night sky. He removed his helmet causing his luscious silk-gold hair to flow out like vibrant daises in a garden. He sheathed his buster greatsword on his back with a small nod of approval.

  “We had that, Pegasus. Shouldn’t Diborn be at ease with creatures of their kind? You shouldn’t be ripping their heads off like a bag of bread,” the knight lectured his fellow soldier, Omar Marshall, the wandering Diborn.

  “Is that… the former–” the soldier hesitated. “He’s the Diborn who was named Knight of the King’s Court?!” The young soldier jolted in surprise.

  Omar hesitated to answer the question. He only looked down in hopes that an answer might come to him and turned his head in annoyance when he had none. The other soldier, a scrawny weakling compared to the giant muscle head standing next to him, felt uneasy. His armor was two sizes bigger, weighing him down immensely. He kept his black hair to the side to cover most of his face. His eyes never met Omar’s, and he didn’t dare glance at the dead body. The scrawny soldier threw his shortsword and shield over his back and took a steady breath, trying to steady himself.

  “Cap–captain. He got ‘em. Why is he even here?” the young soldier asked the brave knight. The weakling was barely out of his teenage years, not even able to go to a bar and grab a drink. The poor boy looked to his captain The captain, from his stature alone, had exuded more confidence than the poor boy had in himself.

  Leonidas slapped the cheek of the young boy for speaking out. “Hush, Rorke. No one gives a damn what a pathetic runt like you thinks or should ask. Do as you are told and that is all, boy,” Leonidas commanded.

  “Yes, milord. I won’t fail you anymore, Lord Leonidas,” Rorke obeyed with his head down. He could barely mutter any words out.

  “As for the former court knight…” Leonidas disapprovingly walked by Omar. “This scoundrel falsely underwent his duties of the court. He never was meant to be a court knight. His older brother Malakai was. But this Diborn looked to gain favor over his wretched Diborn brother.”

  Omar turned to Lord Leonidas with a sarcastic grin. Lord Leonidas of the Edindale Empire understood the usual mannerisms of this Diborn. Omar was shunning the captain away like always, treating him as if they were both soulless creatures. Yet, Leonidas smiled amusingly at the Diborn.

  Leonidas approached Omar, taking the headlamp he had created from the Doppelganger. Leonidas examined it while Omar sat beside him analyzing his skepticism. The captain’s expression went from a pleased aptitude to irate. “Amazing how creatures can try to deceive you and still fall to your might. If you were not such a profound fighter, you would be dead. You damn monster, remember your sin! We lost three men for this operation alone to that deceiving creature.”

  “Mm. So, you expected more deaths?” Omar asked with a conniving gesture. He shut his eyes and shook his head.

  Leonidas chewed on his blistered lips. He became more agitated. “Focus on the mission, perhaps. Your job is to ensure my men don’t die to your kin. You already have failed at that. The least you could do is ensure we capture our target. If Malakai came to the capital, the power of Buhamad would not be questioned how yours always is, Diborn.”

  Omar turned around, grabbing the body of the Doppelganger and dumping it into the campfire. He let the corpse melt entirely to ash, as he grabbed a potion bottle from his pouch. He dumped an unknown black elixir into the fire, causing black flames to erupt from the embers once more. The frame of the creature melted like candle wax from its pale skin down to its bone marrow. The fire silenced into a large black smoke, with a tar-like goo resonating from the wood.

  “Capturing a superior isn’t an easy task. But it seems I don’t have much of a choice.” Omar stared at the goo, muttering to himself.

  “Focus, Diborn. Make haste. You are the key to the success of this mission.” Leonidas nodded with an encouraging smile.

  Omar nodded his head in agreement, grabbing all his gear. The three made their way towards the direction the shapeshifter had come from in the forest. The snow began to fall like hail, plundering down upon the three travelers. The march seemed to last forever. All that continued to pass by them were dead trees and the same terrain as before. It was an endless parallel labyrinth.

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