The legends tell of a small village created by the Gods, where life flows without death stopping it. The Adults hide a great secret: on the mountains lives an evil Dragon, guardian of an ancient power, and it is said that he only eats children.
In the darkness of the night, moved by the lust for this power, the Demons invade the impenetrable mountain range of the Kolgòta that protects the village. Only Dasmond, a young boy, fights his enemies to save the true heir of the ancient power: “The Son of the Dragon”.
An exciting story set at the time of the Emperor Constantine, where the Demons mingle among the people and only a select few can eradicate Evil from our world. They are those who will one day be called “The Demon Tamers”.
Targeted Age Group:: +15
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I was inspired by Dante and the Divine Comedy for the theme of Demons, Satan and the Infernal Gate. By Rowling and Martin for the Dragon's theme.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Damian is the protagonist, for his appearance I was inspired by Naruto of Masashi Kishimoto. The Japanese style has also greatly influenced me for the other characters, the same for Christian, Indian, Chinese and Nordic mythology.
«They heard screams of pain in a blood bath».
Nothing would have been more like before, in that valley with the white smell of brooms. A voice sighed in the ears of every man, woman or child. It was death, he was calling them to him. The invaders descended from the Kólgota, in the darkness of the cold night that enveloped those terrible mountains. No one would ever have foreseen this catastrophe. Many did not understand what was happening, others tried in vain to escape, others still relied on their divinity in a useless desperate gesture that did not put an end to their cries of pain.
The Romans, that noble lineage, put “The Village of the Gods” on fire and fire. It was impossible to face the attack since the powers of the enemies went beyond imagination. It was a small village of farmers where almost no one had ever wielded a weapon, unlike those mighty soldiers who dyed their infernal blades of the blood of the fallen with each sword bow. For centuries peace had reigned in that place, for so long that the only protection of the village was only a wooden fence, ten meters high and with pointed poles.
Each Roman warrior had a bronze breastplate resistant to any attack and a helmet that inspired terror. They were skilled in the art of the sword, they used the spatha, a weapon capable of tearing human flesh without the slightest effort. Others used the gladius, a smaller sword, as if it were an extension of their body. They used spears, bows, crossbows, each type of weapon with admirable mastery. But not all of them had this gift, others were launching attacks without grace against defenseless men, reducing them to shreds as if they were meat for slaughter. They used an unpredictable and unstoppable war strategy. They attacked the village by all means possessed. Cleverly and almost without the slightest effort, with the ram, the ballista and the catapults wrapped in black and dark energy, they destroyed the main entrance to the village. The huge wooden door that had protected its entrance to the village with its hinges for centuries, that day was destroyed along with much of the fence that surrounded that small village.
«How did they get here? How did they manage to destroy the fence?» Will asked.
«Only a “Demon” with great powers can do all this» Xandor replied.
Destroyed what was blocking the way, the Romans continued the assault with the Testudo Formation, a squad of soldiers with quadrangular red shields on which were painted the golden wings of the divine eagle, arranged in such a way as to assume a form that remembered the shell of a turtle. Powerful men fought in unison, as if they were one. The red banner with the golden word “SPQR” waved as a sign of victory.
«It was not a real battle, it was a genocide of innocents. It was a very rich people, the Roman one, but it was not the desire for wealth that drove them to attack the village, it was the desire for the ancient power hidden inside it».
«Run! All is lost! Escape!» Zakhior said, the old baker, throwing stones, tools and everything he had against the invaders, using his little catapult made of diamonds. The old man was very clever and witty, he had devised everything to protect his home and his treasures from the invaders. Never would have imagined having to face the real warriors alone.
He was not the only one fighting against the enemy. In the north of the village, some Romans were defeated thanks to the courage of a young man with a heart of gold.
«I will stop them!» Dasmond said, rushing into the middle of the battle with his father’s forged sword, the legendary blacksmith Zylien. Some infantry soldiers tried to slaughter some women but Dasmond, with his intrepid courage, twirling with his sword in a dance of blows killed the first legionnaire by hitting him in the throat, causing the escape of a black blood full of hatred that splashed on his face. He cut off a soldier’s hand, hit another Roman in the legs, made him kneel and then pierced him with his blade. He saved the women and went on his way. The demonic energy within him came to life and became unstoppable. Anger increased its power, it was so fast that the enemies could not see it. Many in the village said he was able to see in the dark and demonstrated that during the event. That power buried inside him that night came to life. The black scar, vivid on his face, gave off lust for blood. From the right front stretched over the glabella and the root of the nose and then reach the left cheek. That was his curse and now, for the first time, he manifested his dark powers. A new power flowed in his veins, a demonic power dormant within him and awakened to kill. He hit the armor of a centurion, his blade crossed his armor and so he managed to save three elders. But Evil had not yet corrupted his heart.
«The cavalry destroyed all the houses, setting a fire that did not spare the people hidden inside them. On the morning of that fateful day, the village enjoyed its homes painted in the colors of the rainbow, but that evening they all became as black as ash. There was bloodshed everywhere».
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