Chapter 1: The Meeting by the Shore

In the upcoming weeks, I will be sharing the initial pages of my debut novel, The Soulburn Talisman. If this intrigues you, be sure to pre-order your copy before its release on May 31.

At twilight, two figures convened on the beach. Cloaked and faceless, they stood silently as the saltwater lapped at their feet, pulling the white sand back into the ocean. The beach was deserted, with only the sound of the waves breaking the stillness.

After a while, a ship emerged on the horizon, a dark silhouette against the fading crimson sun. The two watchers remained mute, observing as it grew nearer, propelled by the outgoing tide and filled sails. Its oars dipped rhythmically into the water, yet no noise echoed from the vessel as it approached.

At last, the ship halted. The sails were raised, and the anchor splashed down. A smaller boat—a skiff—rounded the side of the larger ship and began its journey to the shore, rowed by a single set of oars. Two figures were visible on the deck.

The cloaked duo remained quiet as they watched.

Minutes later, the skiff reached the shore. They heard it scrape against the stones, followed by the sound of its passengers splashing into the water, wading ashore while dragging the boat behind them. The sun was nearly gone as they stepped onto the sandy beach, panting from their effort.

"You're late," one of the cloaked figures stated coolly.

The sailors offered no reply. Instead, one of them reached back into the skiff and, with a grunt, pulled out what appeared to be a bundle of wet rags.

A muffled cry emanated from the bundle as it was cast onto the sand.

"Untie him," ordered the cloaked figure closest to the rags.

The sailors complied and stepped back. The taller cloaked figure tossed a coin purse to them. After a quick glance inside, the sailors hurried back to their skiff. Moments later, they were rowing away, the last embers of sunlight fading behind the ship.

The bundle on the sand groaned.

"Get up," commanded the tall figure.

The rags shifted to reveal a man in filthy, tattered clothes, barefoot and curled up on the ground, cradling his head. He groaned again.

"Get up," the tall figure repeated.

The man squinted through crusted eyelids and, with a gasp, scrambled to his feet.

"Don't run," warned the shorter figure. "You won't get far."

Ignoring the caution, the man bolted. A flash of violet illuminated the beach. He shrieked and fell back to the sand, clutching his singed and smoking back, moaning in pain.

The cloaked figures approached him, standing over his crumpled form.

"I did warn you," remarked the shorter figure.

The man rolled to his side, gazing up at them. His face was ghostly pale, and his eyes, wide with rage and fear, glistened.

"What is this?" he sputtered, glaring between them. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Freed you, you mean," the tall one corrected.

"I don't feel particularly free right now."

"Strictly speaking, you're not," the shorter one replied. "But you will be if you do as we instruct."

The man hesitated, slowly rising to his feet while wincing from the pain.

"This isn't a trick?" he asked, cautious.

"No."

"I won't go back there."

"That's entirely your choice."

He swallowed hard, running a hand through his greasy brown hair.

"What do you want me to do?"

The shorter figure produced a pouch from his cloak, resembling the one given to the sailors, and extended it. "Here."

Cautiously, the ragged man accepted the pouch, glancing from one cloaked figure to the other, who had fallen silent once more. He loosened the drawstring and peered inside.

His gray eyes widened. He stared at the contents, then back at them.

"Are these...?"

"Yes."

"Where did you acquire them?"

"It doesn't matter." The shorter figure glanced towards the horizon, where the skiff had returned to the ship. "Do you understand what they are?"

"I do." Awe tinged his voice.

"Good. Your task is straightforward. One must be delivered to our associate—it must be placed directly in his hand. How you accomplish this is up to you. We selected you for this mission based on your... unique talents. Consider it a second chance for redemption."

A grin spread across the ragged man's face, revealing teeth the color of mustard. The pouch quivered in his grimy hands.

"And the other?" he inquired.

"Keep it for yourself," the tall one replied. "The time will come for you to use it. You'll know when."

"How?"

His gray eyes widened again. "So it's true? Everything they say?"

"You're his servant, are you not?"

The ragged man peered into the pouch, then tightened the drawstring. Standing tall, he seemed oblivious to the burn on his back. "I am."

"Good."

"I complete this," he stated, "and I'm free? You won't send me back?"

"If you succeed," the shorter one said, "you may even command those who imprisoned you."

Malice flickered in the ragged man's eyes. "Now wouldn't that be something?"

"Come," the tall one beckoned. "We will explain more on the way."

They began their journey up the beach as darkness enveloped the horizon, and the ship faded from view.

Read Chapter One here.

Pre-order your copy of The Soulburn Talisman here.

Dive into the intriguing world of The Soulburn Talisman with this introductory video!

Experience the excitement of The Soulburn Talisman through this thrilling HD gameplay trailer!