Outcasts, Prologue: The Nightmare's Beginning

Chapter "Soundtrack": Passion of Victory by Future World Music

When the Nightmares first came, some said it felt like the beginning of the end. And in a way, it was, for it marked the beginning of dark and desperate time. A time where fear and nightmares would swallow light and hope, a time when heros would be few.

No one knew where the sand horses came from, or what they wanted. No one, except the one who had given the Nightmares form, the one who had shaped them from the sand and breathed fear into their very existence. The Nameless One.

He had no parents, no family, and, it seemed, no identity. The people in the village called him Kozomo, but that was where the bond stopped. To them, he might has well have been indivisible. That was why, not too longer he was old enough to realize what they thought of him, he left.

From that day forth, Kozomo became a wanderer. He traveled over hill and dale, fueled by his hatred of being treated like an outcast, and the desire to be seen, to be remembered. He swore that one day he would do something that would give him a name people would speak in hushed tones of fear and respect.

That is why he entered the cave. Others might have passed by without a second glance, but Kozomo was not like other people. He felt drawn to the darkness that dripped from the stalagmites hanging on the ceiling, from the cold that radiated from the puddles on the floor. He breathed in the dark, the cold, the fear, and entered.

At first their was nothing but darkness. Then, as Kozomo narrowed his eyes, he began to make out a faint blue glow. He continued forward, then stopped and stared.

A narrow, jagged path stretched before him. On either side it dropped off, revealing a seemingly bottomless chasm. Lining the edges were upright torches, each bearing single a bright blue flame. They illuminated the pathway, showing that four red crescents had been painted on the floor. Kozomo recognized them as "blood moons", and remembered one night when the moon had first disappeared, then had reappeared, covered in red.

Kozomo walked quickly down the path, his bare feet striking against the rock and echoing in the silence. It seemed like hours passed before he reached the end of the pathlway.

He stopped again, and this time when he looked, his eyes became like chips of ice.

"How dare you," he hissed. "How dare you."

A large, perfectly smooth sheet of black stretched out before him, reflecting thousands of tiny stars that hung near the cavern's ceiling. As Kozomo leaned over, it felt as though someone had gathered all his worst nightmares and was now grinding them in his face. He had no reflection. The stars, the torches, even his walking stick shone as clear as day in the black stone, but he, the Nameless One, could not be seen.

The cave was completely silent, yet Kozomo could still hear the voices screaming, You are no one. Nobody. You have no identity, will always and forever be... invisible.

"No!" the Nameless One shrieked over and over, sinking down and slamming his hands on the floor. His breathing grew ragged, and his eyes stared at the mirror with a ferocity like never before. "No!"

Time passed. The Nameless One, closed his eyes, opening them with a cold, icy determination. He rose to his feet, his fists clenched, and with one stride, stepped on the stone.

"I will be remembered," he vowed. "I will be feared. They will speak my name with awe and respect, the name of the Nightmare King."

And he slammed his foot onto the black rock, cracking its flawless surface.