The Apples of Milors

Ralph Bunschoten

The Apples of Milors

Ralph Bunschoten

1e druk: november 2023

Uitgever: Godijn Publishing

Cover: Imber Studio, Ralph Bunschoten

ISBN 978-94-6464-169-1

ISBN e-book 978-94-6464-170-7

NUR 334

©2023 Godijn Publishing

www.godijnpublishing.nl

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‘Ah, Anath... once a pariah, now a storm in the shape of a man. A decade has passed since Flameheath cast him out, yet the echoes of that fateful night still reverberate through our kingdom’s heart. We tend to think of time as a healer, but, in truth, it is as much a refiner - shaping, molding, hardening.

Anath was like a sword plunged into the furnace, heated by betrayal and injustice, hammered by grief and despair, quenched in the cold reality of exile. Was it not us, who provided the flames of that forge? Indeed, it was. Through our actions, we transformed a man into a weapon, a son into an avenger, a pariah into a storm.

Now he is a tempest of rage and vengeance, waging a war against the world that cast him aside. You see, there is a kind of evil that is born out of the darkest corners of injustice and rejection. We look at Anath now, a vessel of wrath, and wonder how he became so. Yet, we forget the chains we bound him in, the scorn we fed him, and the betrayal that stung his heart.

Remember this, young ones. Evil is not born, it is created. And in the fires of Flameheath, we created our own worst nightmare. He is the reflection of our deeds, the shadow of our past, and, perhaps, the reckoning of our future.’

Afa Murmus

A Dark Omen

He had been praying for an heir of his own, and the gods seemed to have answered. His young daughter was soon to have a sibling, as one of his many whores finally turned out pregnant. Flameheath was a powerful yet corrupt land where one man held immense power over its inhabitants. While ruling from the Underworld, a gigantic palace located in the heart of Flameheath, he conducted cruel experiments on captured living souls. Dark legends and stories of him spread far and wide throughout Flameheath, their lurid tales sowing fear in everyone who heard them. It was said that he had many women who served only his every whim and desire, and any who disobeyed were met with cruel punishment, often resulting in a wish for death. He was known to have killed over a thousand souls using nothing but his own sword, each death serving as a warning to all those who would dare oppose him. His cruelty even extended beyond the castle walls – it was rumored that he would have people arrested for the most trivial of offences and then force them to fight for their lives in underground gladiatorial arenas or be sent off to one of his secret laboratories in the Underworld where unspeakable horrors awaited them. He also held lavish parties within his castle walls, inviting guests from the highest echelons of society. However, these festivities often ended in desperate slaughters as he would pick out someone from the crowd and execute them on the spot as a sign of power. He hailed from the illustrious Milor family, a dynasty that had been held in high esteem since its founding. All who dwelt in the realm could only fear the Milors and their reign, for they were known to be exceptionally cruel and ruthless. Loadris Milor was one of the most powerful rulers in the realm of Flameheath, and even in the entire continent of Mentiss itself. Everyone in Flameheath knew his name and feared it - after all, with such power came great responsibility - but few could ever imagine just how terrifying this man truly was until they witnessed it firsthand...

The Underworld was shrouded in darkness and secrets; no one could ever escape its grasp; not even those closest to Loadris himself were safe from his wrath. The fear instilled by Loadris Milor’s reputation made him an unstoppable ruler; no one dared challenge him or risk facing their own doom at the blade of his sword. All men and women living in this kingdom would tremble at just the mention of Loadris’ name, just like all the members who were carrying the Milor name.

Loadris’ chambers were a dark and oppressive place, one that could make even the bravest souls cower in fear, the living and even the dead. His presence filled the air with an almost palpable sense of dread and despair. The walls of his chamber were draped in shadows, pierced by the occasional torch or candle to provide dim illumination if any at all. Every piece of furniture had been crafted from ebony wood and adorned with intricate carvings depicting various scenes of death and destruction - all offering homage to Loadris himself. Even the floor seemed cursed, as it was covered with a thick layer of dust that had lain undisturbed for centuries. In the center of his room sat a large throne where he would sit, glaring down at anyone who dared enter his territory. The room reeked of death. His intimidating aura seemed to linger in every corner, reminding all those around him why they should never cross him. The atmosphere in this shadowy chamber was so overwhelmingly oppressive that it made even the strongest willed creatures of the daylight quiver in fear. The darkness in Loadris Milor’s chamber was so absolute that not even shadows dared to show themselves there. Even the dimmest glimmer of light seemed to be swallowed up by the thick oppressive atmosphere, leaving only pure and complete darkness in its wake. The walls of his room were draped in a pitch black fabric, as if designed. Only stone statues were known to stare at Loadris directly, yet even they, still showed fear.

The young woman trembled with fear as she entered Loadris Milor’s chamber. His presence filled the air like an oppressive fog, and the walls of his room were draped in darkness that seemed to have been there for centuries. The only light came from a few torches and candles scattered around the room. Loadris Milor sat on his ancient throne, glowering at the woman who dared enter his territory. His intense gaze alone was enough to make her heart race inside her chest. He wore a long black cloak adorned with what could only be skin, and his cold eyes seemed almost capable of piercing through souls. The woman stepped forward hesitantly, ready to reveal her secret - she was pregnant with Loadris’s child! He rose from his throne, towering over her and sending an icy chill down her spine as he advanced closer towards her.

‘You dare bring such news into my chambers?’, he said through gritted teeth. She stood firm despite her fear; this was something she had to do for herself and for their unborn child no matter what consequences she may face. He continued looming above her before finally giving a sharp nod and stepping back slowly as if satisfied with what she had said. There were no words spoken after that moment; neither one of them dare break the silence that hung between them like an invisible wall of ice.