Novel Prologue (Flicker WIP)

Good morning everyone! I wanted to share the prologue to my current novel. Normally it is saved only for Patrons, but I wanted to say thank you for all the support during my Writetober challenge. Enjoy!

Prologue

“Fuck him…Fuck them.”  Sakar clenched his as he stared defiantly at the bald man that nearly coward before him.  His anger was misplaced, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to apologize to anyone, regardless of if he deemed them friends.

You’re pacing.  He hated pacing, but what else did he have to do?  For the briefest moment he imagined ringing the neck of the fear struck man before him.  No, Nuun doesn’t deserve this.  Not yet.  Since before Sakar wore the robes that hung heavily from his shoulders, and before the tattoos that rested beneath his eyes, he had always had a plan.  He always had steps and plans that were laid hours, months, and days prior.  Except today.  His anger boiled to the surface as he slammed his fists into the wooden table that brunette the weight of many strikes prior.  Sakar wished his hands weren’t covered in gloves, he wanted to feel the painful kiss from the table he beat.  Through the thought of pain, a slight grin formed on Sakar’s face as he noticed the feeble man flinched from the sudden outburst.  

“What should I do?”  Nuun’s voice trembled in Sakar’s ears.

Sakar stared daggers at the man as he watched him pull the grape soaked robes close to his body.  A weak form of comfort.  He hated him…no, he didn’t hate him, he pitied him.  The same way a child pitied an insect for not having the understanding or power to prevent its death at their tiny fingers.  

“Short of taking accusations as your own?  Nothing.”  Sakar spat hatred toward the man before him.

Nuun was the closest thing Sakar had that resembled a friend.  In no time, Sakar would kill the bald man without question, but so far he needed him.  Sakar had thought long and hard about twisting a web to lock his only friend as the blasphemer.  He never made a choice, time wasn’t on his side, it never had been.

“What will you do?  Where will you go?”  Nuun’s eyes were glossy and sad.  Possibly fear?  What a fool.

Sakar stared at Nuun’s innocent and nervous filled face as if trying to memorize it.  Sakar had wondered how the man before him was born with two shining emerald colored eyes.  His were near the blackest filled brown possible, as most who were born in Nilfjard were stricken with.

Three heavy knocks shook the wooden door that held the only entrance into the room.

“I will hang them all from the tree as it burns to ash.”  The anger flared within Sakar as he turned to the waiting door.

…

“Shaman Sakar, you stand before us and the temple in judgement over accusations of blasphemy to the Temple and what you’ve sworn to protect.  In light of the evidence, you are facing the most severe punishment if found guilty.  What do you say?”

“If?”  Sakar peered into the cold eyes of the five men that focused on him.  Supposed Elders.  The taste of disgust sat in Sakar’s mouth.  “You have all decided my guilt!  To say that there is deliberation to be had is more of a mockery than this temple you hold so dear!”

“Keep in mind, your words are being heavily weighed.  For your sake, I would recommend you think carefully before you speak.”  The youngest shaman of the counsel tried his best to keep a stern face.

Sakar read him like he would the dust coated books within the walls that surrounded him.  In turn he showed no emotion.  Why should he?  Their belittlement of him was satisfaction enough.  “I stand before you as a guilty man.”  Sakar let the idiots around him enjoy their false victory.  “I am guilty or blindly believing your words for years.  I allowed the poison that you spat to trick me as I entered these walls as a lost child.  I admit, I am guilty of not slitting your throats as you slept.”

“Enough!  You will not turn this trial into some martyr of your innocence!”  The youngest shaman stood in a weak attempt to show strength.  Pathetic fool.

Sakar did not respond, instead he focused on the oldest shaman, the closest resemblance to a father he had.

The eldest man held his hand up to quiet the brash shaman.  “This was not a trial to prove your innocence, but to evaluate your character in the face of our verdict.”  The oldest elder sat, unmoving beneath his deep purple robes as he spoke.

Really?  Dread sat like a rock in Sakar’s gut.  Klioko was the only shaman that Sakar would feel something after killing.

“Sakar…”  Shaman Klioko spoke once more.  “What was done is complete, but the way you carry yourself now will do much for you.”

Sakar swallowed hard on the memories that tried to force into his mind.  “Fuck you.”  With those words Sakar destroyed any emotions that tied him to the old bastard.

“You dare!”  The poor young shaman would die with those words his last.

Purple light flashed from Sakar’s eyes as thunderous air began to swirl around him.  That night was to be his baptism.

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