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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1350317-The-Unnamed-One
Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #1350317
A prologe to a story I am working on...
Three figures moved calmly across the hot sand, unaffected by the intense heat.  Their black clothing, two of which were cloaks, flapped behind them in sync with the blustery winds.  The tallest, an attractive young male with glaring eyes, walked with confidence to the right of the leader.  He had three inch white hair; rare for one of his age, and in place of a cloak he wore a long duster. 
“Why, in the name of the High Priest of Zarchond, would anyone hide a door way out here?”  The tall man’s question, directed at the leader, was instead answered by the one to his left.
“Possibly because they wished it to remain hidden?”  The mocking voice of the female resonated with the tall man’s volatile side.
“Don’t get smart with me,” He replied with the sinister grin still on his face, “If it were not for me, you would not even have come to join this little group here, so shut your trap—…”  The leader finally chimed in, his voice thick with malice. 
“We have arrived…”  He said, pulling a device out from his cloak.  It seemed to be a mechanical stopwatch, with day, month and year dials set into the face.  But instead of the hands ticking up, they appeared to march slowly backwards, like time for this man was moving in reverse. 
“What is that?”  The white haired man questioned, appearing board with the prospect of spending another minute out in the desert heat. 
“This is the only thing that keeps me going!”  The leader said in rage, growing angry at the slightest mention of his timepiece.  “You don’t ever ask me about it again, and I might consider letting you live a few minutes longer.”  The white haired man looked down to see his leader holding a knife blade to his throat, cutting his pale skin and leaking blood down its blade.  Glancing at the watch again, an excited look, though still wrapped in evil, emerged on his hooded face.
A small click from beneath the groups feet made them look down.  The ground below the trio began to shake, sand quivering with the vibrations.  A small mound of sand began to build up in front of them, becoming larger by the second.  Part of it broke away, leaving the exposed edge of a doorframe.  The door rose up out of the ground, first half, and then the whole thing was visible. 
“Incredible…”  The leader muttered under his breath.  “Simply incredible…  Kira, the Splinter.” 
The female, Kira, drew her hand out from beneath her cloak.  On it was a complicated glove, with an energy orb resting in the palm.  She reached out toward the door and tweaked her wrist, performing an action she had performed many times in the past.  At first, nothing seemed to happen, but after about ten seconds, what Kira was doing became obvious.  The door was being sucked into the orb splinter by splinter, like a miniature vacuum cleaning the air where the dirty door shouldn’t have been.  Everything within the frame was being concentrated into one tiny little ball of energy. 
“I must say, that is a cool trick Kira.”  Said the tall white-haired man. 
“You mean you have never seen a Splinter before?  I thought you, Kale, of all people would have seen one of these before…”  Kale looked at her with sadism, almost enough to cause her pain.  But her joking tone wasn’t enough for her.  “Honestly, it is really simple how it works.  All it does is condense the matter of the door by minimizing the space the atoms take up.  The door still exists, but it is now small enough to fit in this small of a space rather then in that small of a space…”  She gestured toward the empty doorframe.  “All the basic materials needed to remake the door are right here, but just in a smaller space. 
“I am not stupid, Kira, so please do not make me out to be an ignorant person with no knowledge of our culture.  I KNOW what it is, what I said was meant to be a compliment, but don’t expect another one.”
The leader began walking away from his two bickering acquaintances, heading back the way they originally came.  The followers finally realized he was gone and rushed to catch up, having to run to overtake him. 
A question had been nagging in the back of Kale’s mind since they had first seen the door. 
“How are we going to open the door without the key?  Unless you do have it…”
“We are not going to open the door at all, for the very reason that we don’t have the key.”
“Then who has it?”
“The one on the other side, of course.”  At this, the white haired man began to scratch his head in confusion. 
“So how will the one on the other side find the door?  He can’t possibly know how to use it, can he?”
“Everything has a time.” The leader answered, calm as ever.  “He will open it when the fates will…”

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