Book 1: Awakening (The VIth Element Series)

Vladimir Alcaeus was, for the first time in his extraordinarily long life, tired. As he walked along the ancient, candle-lit hallways, he sighed, overcome with a sudden weariness. He just wasn't as young as he once was and now, much to his frustration, he was finding each and every day exhausting, despite his remarkable talents and incredible mind.

Stopping temporarily outside the ornate wooden doors before him, to catch his breath, he tightened his flowing cloak more closely around his body. It had gradually been getting colder by the second, as if all the warmth was being sucked out of the atmosphere. It also seemed that the dark, once his comforting friend, was now steadily becoming threatening, filled with shadows half glimpsed and that lurked just out of sight. This could only mean one thing...

Mortimer had re-awoken.

Vladimir Alcaeus shivered even more at the thought of such a foe and clung to the cold doors for support. He had once stopped Mortimer, many moons ago, in an almighty battle – a battle that had changed the course of history forever. That memory haunted him the most.

Vladimir lost himself in a flashback.

*

Suddenly, he felt something gloopy trickle down the side of his face. One of the dead had spat on him, marking him...mocking him. Vladimir felt rage well up within his chest. And yet, he was too weak to respond. It was pitiful, really. His robes were torn and bloody and he had shrivelled within himself, almost like a snail reseeding into its home. He felt weak. He felt feeble.

He felt crushed.

This was far from the almighty warrior he was regularly portrayed as being.

"You can't win now." Mortimer laughed coldly, his eyes flashing. "I've got you just where I want you and finally," he paused dramatically. "I shall have my revenge and you shall get what you deserve!"

It was then that Mortimer lashed out, kicking Vladimir repeatedly, until he was almost unrecognisable. Vladimir shuddered with every blow. His head hurt. His feet hurt. His chest hurt. All in all, he was exhausted. Something stroked his face and his eyes lulled. Was that death touching him? Was that death calling him...calling him into an eternal slumber?

"No." Vladimir shocked himself with how fierce his response was. He spat out blood through gritted teeth, defying both death and Mortimer. One of his eyes was swollen shut. "No. You're wrong."

Wincing, slowly, ever so slowly, he found the ability to stand.

It was a miracle.

"I'm sorry you feel the way you do." He'd added, hoping that the sincerity was there in his gaze. His heart thudded like nothing on Earth. "And I'm sorry for what I've d –"

"SORRY WON'T SAVE YOU NOW!" Mortimer's voice resonated around the battlefield, magnified a million times. "SORRY WILL NEVER SAVE YOU, NOT AFTER WHAT YOU'VE COST ME."

As he stood there, Vladimir could have sworn that he noted the tiniest of drops appear within Mortimer's eyes. However, they disappeared almost as quickly as they'd appeared. The blow, both physical and emotional, hit him like a bullet to the chest. Vladimir fell, winded to the ground, his body wracked with further pain.

"ENOUGH." Mortimer snarled. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH!" Like a stealthy panther, he walked towards Vladimir, his teeth bared. "YOUR TIME'S UP AND MY TIME'S BEGUN."

And so, it came to this final moment.

Vladimir was on his knees with Mortimer almost upon him. Only one could win. Who would it be? Gathering up the last of his strength, Vladimir searched deep within himself, finding his waning powers. With a roar of defiance, Vladimir projected his powers onto his enemy. In his eyes, a hardness gleamed. Behind that hardness, seen and known only to Vladimir himself, was remorse and bitterness. Vladimir's powers hit Mortimer by surprise. He stumbled back, his feet nearly giving way. His followers tittered in shock and alarm, some even reaching out to help their master.