The Lord of Shadows Rises

1798, Norway

It had been two hundred years since the Battle of Twin Peaks was decided and the warriors of the Order of the White Rose had fought a long and grueling battle, losing over half their fighters against the Army of the Lord of Shadows.

The reason for the losses of these brave heroes was due to an evil dictator known as the Lord of Shadows. With his army, he descended upon the Scandinavian countryside to destroy all who stood in his way. Pillaging and selling the vanquished into slavery, he showed no mercy to his victims. He was defeated, however, not by the army, but by one man. That man was the leader of the Order of the White Rose, Master Eirik. He was a monk who had studied the ways of the warrior and had mastered Aikido and Stav fighting styles. He fought the Lord of Shadows near the evil one’s temple and was able to seal the Lord of Shadows into an object using the forbidden technique of the Soul Seal.

It proved to be Master Eirik’s last battle as he gave his life to seal in the evil one. The Lord of Shadows had now been safely imprisoned for two centuries. This left five keys with the five Masters of the White Rose, as when The Lord of Shadows became imprisoned inside a statue of a Norse god his power was dispersed among five keys. Only if those five keys were brought together within the temple would he regain his power. The Guardians were there to make sure that did not happen. To further protect the keys, the Guardians eventually spread out across the world. For generations, the keys had been passed down from master to student.

This is where our story begins.

It is 1998 in Oslo, Norway. A young, blond-haired boy of about sixteen years runs to the bus stop. He is stopped dead as a slender woman in a white apron shouts from the doorway “Alexander, you’ve forgotten your lunch!”

The boy turned around, blushing, “Thanks, Mom.” Grabbing the bag he turned and boarded the bus for school.

In the house, the mother walked into the kitchen. “Theodor, honey, you up?” The woman called up the stairs, directing her voice toward the master bedroom.

A (tall man in his thirties with dark-black hair walked downstairs wearing a black suit and red tie. “Hey, honey, did you get Alexander off to school?”

The woman smiled kindly. “Yep. Do you want breakfast?” she asked as he leant across the table and kissed her.

Taking a seat at the table he replied, “Sure. I've still got an hour before heading into work.”

“So when will you tell him about the test?” asked the mother.

“When he gets home, Rachael. I’ll sit down with him and tell him all about the test to be a teacher at the dojo.”

“Are you sure it’s not too soon?” A tone of worry in her voice.

“Rachael, he's almost at my level already. In a few years with the self-training he does when he thinks we aren’t looking, he'll surely surpass me. That’s if he hasn’t already.”

“I know, but I don't want the position to go to his head. He is still young. Surely he needs some more time training the other students to ease him into it?”

“He's got a good head on his shoulders. Plus, I made it clear he's to get an education before I seriously consider giving him the rights to the dojo. After all, I had to make the same sacrifices with my training,” said the father.

"I’m guessing I can’t make you change your mind?” queried Rachael.

"I'll think on it at work and make a decision later today." Hearing the door in the foyer open, Theodor jerked his head around as a loud creek echoed from the foyer.

His eyebrows furrowed. “We aren’t expecting anyone, are we?”

“Not that I'm aware of,” Rachael said with confusion.

A strong odor came through the house. Getting up immediately, his chair falling to the floor from the sudden movement, Theodor turned, panic etched on his face. “I smell smoke. We have to leave the house. Now!”

Turning to run they found their exit blocked by assailants in black clothing. Their faces covered by white masks with a diagonal red slash. The two looked around unable to see an escape route.

“Run, call the police!” Theodor shouted as he punched the first assassin, the blow knocking his attacker unconscious to the ground. “They’ve picked the wrong house to rob!”

Rachael scrambled for the phone, grasping it as tightly as she could in her shaking hands. Theodor’s eyes widened as his wife suddenly slumped forward, the phone falling from her fingers. The metallic glint of throwing stars shone from Rachael’s back as blood ran from the wounds, staining the white apron a dark red. With a ferocious yell, he sprang towards the unknown enemy.

Avoiding the first punch, Theodor retaliated with a kick, the power sending the attacker off the floor, and into the wall. The sickening crunch enough to suggest a broken spine. Managing to raise his leg up and throwing his hands out, he blocked another attack. Grasping his clothing he tossed his enemy to the floor. One of the assassins had yet to attack, standing back from the fight, analyzing the fighting style Theodor used against his men.
He's using counters against our numbers.

Making his way into the kitchen, Theodor grabbed a knife, hurling it at his closest attacker.

Grabbing a second knife, Theodor stabbed at the second assassin, puncturing his heart. He pulled the knife from the body causing it to fall to the ground. Turning around and kicking high the closest assassin was sent crashing into a glass display case as Theodor fought to survive. The remaining four attackers closed in.

The attacker that had until this point remained back finally saw an opening and rushed forward. With seemingly no alternative, Theordore threw the knife at one of the closest men, striking him through the right eye as the other three converged on him, their swords drawn.

***

At Oslo High, Alexander Theodorson sat in class as he listened to the teacher drone on about some famous person. The red-haired boy next to him leant across and nudged him.

“Hey, Alexander, you want to go to the arcade?”

Alexander sighed. “No, Samuel, I have to head home. I've got practice.”

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Still practicing? Man, I know you can beat any of the students in the dojo. Only your father is stronger than you. You know you aren't too far off from his level.”

“I need to keep practicing so I can improve my skill set. I hope I can take the Master’s test soon. I know I’m ready. Besides, there's no such thing as being good enough. You can always learn more, even a Master.”

Samuel stared at him and rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding me, right? You have been practicing martial arts since you were six years old, studying at least one style
and
working on a sword style. You’re more than ready.”

Alexander shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t mastered real swords, only wooden ones. Father will tell me when I am ready.”

Alexander
tried to listen to the teacher, but still struggled to concentrate.

***

After his second class had concluded, Alexander found Samuel being thrown into a locker by a brown-haired jock in jeans. Samuel hit the locker and fell to the ground after the impact.

“Tom, didn't you learn your lesson last time?” asked Alexander, clearly annoyed.

“You got a lucky shot,” said Tom with a scowl. “It won’t happen again.”

Alexander smirked, before replying, “I remember that, and I got a lucky kick and throw in last time we fought as well."

“Let’s settle this after school. Same place,” said Tom walking away as Alexander bent down and helped his friend up.

“You need to stand up for yourself, Samuel. I won’t be there to bail you out every time.”

The bell rang, signaling school was finished for another day. Alexander headed out of class and went straight to the spot behind the makeshift baseball field. A crowd had already started to form as Tom walked up with two of his buddies.

“Let us see how you do this time,” said Tom.

“This is purely one-on-one, Tom. This is total crush - for you,” Alexander stated, getting set into his stance. Despite his warning, the three boys attacked him as one, angry looks on their faces as they tried to overpower him.

Alexander blocked the first blow, then dropped, and swept the boy’s feet from under him. A shout from behind him alerted him as he turned and grabbed a punch heading for his head.

“You're an idiot. When launching a surprise attack, keep your mouth shut!" Mocked Alexander as he span and tossed the boy away.

“Tom, there's no shame in backing out,” Alexander said. “It’s just me and you now.”

Tom responded by charging and trying to hit the blond-haired teen, each sloppy punch he sent dodged calmly by Alexander.

“I'm done," Alexander stated with boredom before punching Tom in the stomach and knocking him down. Turning away he scoffed at the one-sided match. “Get better, Tom, before we do this again. That wasn’t even a warm-up and you’ve made me miss the bus,” said Alexander as walked away, the three downed bullies left writhing on the field.

Samuel and Alexander headed to their respective houses, chatting about the fight, until it was time to split up. “I’m heading to the arcade before home, Alexander, I’ll see you later.”

***

Fire trucks and police cars greeted Alexander as he turned the corner. Dropping his bag he sprinted towards his home, smoke billowing from the windows further evidence that something catastrophic had occurred. Police tape surrounded the house as crime officers wheeled two gurneys out of the front doorway toward the road.

“Mom, Dad!” he shouted as he ran up to a temporary barricade. The police Captain present reached out to prevent him running past.

“Who are you, son?” asked the Captain as Alexander struggled to get free.

“I live here. What happened?” asked the worried teen as his eyes darted from the Captain to the burning house.

The Captain sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Alexander," he said and then asked again. “What’s happened?”

"What is your relation to the deceased?”

“Deceased?” asked Alexander with a stutter. A feeling of dread crawled up his skin. “Who?”

“The couple who lived in this house.”

“I am the son of the couple,” said Alexander.

The Captain sighed again and pulled the young teen aside. “I hate my job sometimes. I'm sorry, son, but your parents are both dead. We found their bodies riddled with cuts and partially burned with most of the house. We got here only a few minutes after a neighbor called about a fire in the house.”

Alexander turned in shock.
How could this have happened? Father should have been able to fight off any intruders,
he thought as he clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm. “Can you tell me how were they killed?”

The Captain noticed the tears welling up in the eyes of the teen. Glancing around and seeing no chance of anyone overhearing, the Captain replied, “We think it was murder due to the damage on the bodies.”

Alexander dropped to his knees, his head in his hands as the Chief of Police approached.

“Captain!”

“Yes, Chief?”

“Have you find any clues?” the Chief asked.

“Yes, sir. We have found a used match by the gas line. We have also found a variety of weapons by the bodies,” replied the Captain.

“Who is this?” asked the Chief.

“I am the son of the deceased,” said Alexander.

“Good. No harm in telling you what we found so far, then,” said the Chief, turning his attention back to the Captain.

“What else did you discover?” asked the Chief.

“The lady was hit with what appears to be a multitude of some kind of throwing star from our initial investigation. The man appears to have been cut by a sharp object, some kind of blade, perhaps? We don’t know what type,” said the Captain.

Looking down at Alexander, the Captain did his best to console him, “Your parents put up quite a fight, son. We found five dead assailants littering the floor, one in the foyer and four more in the kitchen. We’re doing our best to identify them, but they’re pretty badly burned."

Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he listened. His sadness began turning to rage and anger. “Did you recover anything of use?” He asked through his tear-stained face.

The two looked at each other. “Not yet,” said the Captain. “After we complete our investigation you can enter your house and salvage anything you can find.”

Alexander nodded his head. "I’ll be by later then."

“You are a minor so you need to stay with a family," remarked the Captain.

“My friend’s family will be fine,” Alexander replied as he struggled to hold in his emotions.

“We’ll wait for you to call your friend and have them pick you up.”

Thirty minutes later, a blond-haired woman in a black dress used for office work arrived with Samuel. Rushing to Alexander, she hugged him. “I am sorry for your loss. When I heard what happened, I rushed over," she said with sorrow.

“Are you a friend?” asked the Captain.

“Yes. Well my son is." She opened her bag and pulled out her identification to show the Captain.

“Very well,” the Captain replied before turning to Alexander and putting his hand on his shoulder. “We will find out who did this and you will get the justice you need, son.”

Alexander nodded his head and turned from the scene of devastation, leaving with his school friend and his mother.

***

Alexander was called later that evening. He was accompanied down to the station so the officer could escort him to the remains of his family home. “I am sorry for your loss but we will find the ones responsible. You have my promise,” the officer at the station told him as he left.

Getting to the house, the officer told Alexander he would be outside.

Walking in, Alexander looked around and saw a glimmering object in the cracked floorboard beneath him. Crouching down and pulling up the board, a box was revealed underneath. He quickly put it into his backpack and looked for anything else that might be intact. An hour went by, Alexander found nothing more that was salvageable.

Getting outside, he turned and took one last look at the home he had left his parents in earlier that morning. Wiping a tear from his eye he went with the officer and was taken back to Samuel’s in the police car.

***

Alexander went straight upstairs and into the temporary bedroom Samuel’s mother had prepared for him. Sitting down on the bed, he took the box from his backpack and opened it. Inside was a cubical item ornate with the carving of a rose, accompanied by a note.

He took out the note to read it.