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Kuro: A Land in Eternal Night

Novel By: Mykall
Fantasy


What would a world without the Sun be like?

When the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu Omikami, vanished under mysterious circumstances a thousand years ago, she left the land of Kuro blanketed in eternal night.

Over time, the people of Kuro have learned to harness what remains of Amaterasu’s power: the precious and finite resource known as the Goddess Essence. Kurokyuu Orbs, miracles of modern technology, harvest the Goddess Essence and provide light and power to all.

But there is a problem: the Goddess Essence is running out. And it couldn't have come at a worse time.

Whispers abound of a growing evil in the North; stories of shadows that can only be harmed by the light of the sun.

From out of the darkness rises Taiyou-Shi, City of the Sun. Light Spires shine through all twenty-four of Taiyou-Shi's hours, providing artificial sunlight for all. Everyone that is, but the residents of the Utter Darkness. In this forsaken place, Mina, a young orphan, is forced to beg and steal on the streets to sustain herself in the hardscrabble way of life.

In the darkest corners, Marauders lurk, hunting little girls, searching for the one known only as “The Maiden”.

When Mina falls captive to a roving band of Marauders, she is faced with a life-altering decision: reveal the secret she has been hiding her entire life or stay silent and risk losing her already meager existence?

When people die as a result of her inaction, Mina realizes her secret is no longer hers to keep. A secret that lies in a most unusual ability: the power to manifest sunlight...

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Kuro is an experiment: an attempt to prove that there is an audience for the Anime Novel. Kuro contains many of the aspects that make anime great: fast, frenetic action, large-scale battles, and striking visual imagery.

If you happen to like it, please comment and vote -- it goes a long way. Support writers of Anime Fiction!

http://www.landindarkness.com Copyright © 2013 Miko Limjoco View table of contents...


Chapters:

1

Submitted:Mar 30, 2013    Reads: 7    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   


"Remember me always."

A voice whispered in his head as he awoke. Remember who?

The darkness was all-encompassing. It was comforting, like the warm glow of a fire on a cold winter night.

And yet there was treachery in it. Cold and disconcerting, a deathly quiet that threatened to entomb him in its icy chill.

How long had he been asleep? Where was he? Curiosity overcame him, but movement did not come easily. His slumber must have been long and deep; his muscles felt atrophied.

A vision flashed in his mind, a memory of days gone by. A boy standing under the cherry blossoms, eyes closed amidst a flurry of crimson petals. A lesson imparted. "The sword is forged in the mind first, the body second. A warrior's mind is his most powerful weapon."

His senses were coming back now. He could feel a chill, and something else he hadn't realized until now. His backside was wet. He had a sudden fear: Am I awash in blood? Was it my own? He felt no pain, no sharp, cutting sensation that would seem to suggest a significant injury. Was it someone else's? Cold stone and liquid. His sense of smell returned. The air was fetid. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Calm down and focus." He opened his eyes.

Darkness. He squinted and stared out into the distance.

He stood up with great effort and began to survey his surroundings. There was the smallest sign of light, possibly coming from an opening above him. It was not much at all, just enough for him to make out faint details.

"Your parents are no more. Your mind may be in darkness today, but not forever. Talanoth is your home now, boy. Duty and honor will be your new companions." An old man with wise eyes, gentle, but that had seen much death.

He reached out slowly to touch the objects, his first real movements. He was like a newborn; the entire world was different to him. Born in darkness, like a babe in a mother's womb. Or was it king in an otherworldly tomb?

He went to the floor and felt around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His hands touched several objects - a glove, a helmet, a dagger. Did they belong to him? No, these artifacts, whatever they were, belonged to more than one person. There were far too many of them lying around. He looked down at the wet floor. The liquid substance looked more like water now to his eyes.

Another memory. A boy holding a katana, training under a waterfall. "The spirit and the sword are one." A commanding voice spoke above the roaring water. "If the spirit breaks, the sword breaks along with it. Let your spirit guide your hand and the sword will cut true."

His eyes went to the floor. The stones were set in a pattern too deliberate to occur naturally. Instinctively, he dusted himself. His hand felt a mishmash of textures; cloth, chain links, leather, and cold steel. His chest was covered in a linked iron material. Leather straps secured the covering in place. He realized he was geared for battle, and that the armor he was wearing had been well worn, as if he had just fought in a large war. The cloth was tattered everywhere, the leather straps torn, the iron-link breastplate ravaged from what he could tell in the darkness.

He took a few more steps and realized his feet were bare. The cold cut into them. "Think! What am I doing in this place?" After that question came another one, surprising, a knot twisting in his gut.

"Who am I?"

He had a sudden, sinking realization. He could not recall his name, or what he had been doing before he got here, or of the events that had led to him being in the place he was in. He felt sick. His breathing was tight, his mouth open. He realized he had lost the ability to speak. "Calm down!" Panicking would not serve him in this situation.

"You have lost today because both mind and body are weak. Do not be afraid to be weak. Weakness does not lessen the man if he learns from it. It is through mastery of fears and weaknesses that a warrior is made. A sword becomes stronger in the forge, when it folds inward, unto itself."





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