| Once, the world was in peace. Two groups lived in relative harmony with one another. One was the race of humans. The other was the race of the Winged people from Listera, or the ‘Euphorics’ as the humans called them. The Euphorics were Magic users and could harmonize with the world around them, and live perfectly. They were not a war-like society, but peaceful and helped the humans. A god on another world to aid others created the race of Listera. The Euphorics were an extension of the god’s will and thoughts. All of the Euphorics created had wings of varying shades that denoted kinship, and of length that determined the age: One color would be for one family. The closer the color was, the closer the family tie. The Euphorics’ land was destroyed, and in order for them to be saved, their god, Lord Tyral, deemed that they leave the only home they knew. Thus they arrived on the planet of Wa’soire Valgreth, and thus did their nature become their downfall . . . The Euphorics, after they had arrived and lived for several thousand years, they came to Wa’soire Valgreth, and were innovators of much of the magic. They mentored bright young children from the human race and trained them in the ways of the Listera to help with the suffering they saw. They taught them how to heal, to create, and to build. The humans were not happy with what the Euphorics were doing. As many humans are, they were afraid of change. Soon the humans became too distrustful of the Euphorics’ good intentions. They didn't understand the strange words and the actions that these children were learning. It went against the holy religion that they believed in. What these children were doing was demonic. The humans made the illogical jump to "if these things are evil, then the teacher is evil." These humans jumped to conclusions, assuming that the Euphorics were incarnates of evil. At first slowly, then picking up steam, this belief caught on, and the Euphorics were hunted down. Much like the Spanish Inquisition tortured their victims, so then were the Winged Ones’ hurt until they screamed out falsely that they were evil. Even then, their torture continued. Some of the Euphorics were ‘relieved’ of their wings, leaving scars upon their backs. Those were the lucky ones. Well, as lucky as they could be. They ended up blending into society where they could. Some ran to the woods and became the Druids, or wood sprites, of Wa’soire Valgreth. The few with wings that remained untouched by the humans' inquisition, gathered what that they could, and flew to an uncharted island protected by huge reefs and unscaleable mountains. There they built the Tower of Tinishta to tame and undermine those that would, if they could, harm them. The tower was several stories high, filled with the most horrid creatures known to the Listera. Creatures of Demonic powers roamed the levels within. That which the humans did not know was that all Euphorics had a piece of their homeland, Listera. These were dubbed The Relics of Listera, and these were the key to gain access to the place of salvation. The Halls of Honor. There the Euphorics built their home among the clouds. A castle that contained the finest things in life. The gardens of Wa’soire Valgreth were replicated here, as well as the music and the culture of the ancient Listera. Here, they dwelled for thousands of years, fading out of legend and simply called 'The Zenthians', or 'Those Who Dwell Among the Clouds.' All knew that you needed to have the Relics to enter the sacred land, and thus, the Euphorics made the four pieces of armor central to gaining the entrance. If you had a relic and the armor was not assembled, there would be no access. The armor was that of their Hero, Yeshua. Those pieces the Euphorics hid around the world, or sometimes entrusted them to their loyal pupils that had survived. The Armor and the Relics would be guarded and protected until the time came for the reincarnation of the Hero. To make it even more difficult to enter the domain, only those with the Relics, the blood of the Euphorics, and the armor must be assembled before one may enter. To this day, if you look to the heavens and see a lone, wayward cloud, be aware that it is this world’s ancestors who dwell there. Their silver castle was where rainbows play along the turrets and the sunbeams dance along the marble. These people who were created to help failed to notice that humans, once set on a path of what they see as truth, would stop at nothing to destroy that which they fear. The humans had decimated more of the Euphorics in the name of what was holy, then any other race in the history of Wa’soire Valgreth. Humans had decimated over half their land, and had taken those gifts that were given to them by the Euphorics, and corrupted them. These gifts were used for hatred. The gift of medicine was twisted to the curse of poisons and the power to hurt. The gift of growing things was corrupted to grow useless things. There was no knowledge, no wisdom behind what the humans were doing. Very few of those chosen people survived the inquisition, but the few that survived created some of the most outstanding civilizations of the world. Not all the knowledge was lost, and every so often, a child will be taken, raised and set on the path of a Euphoric. Thus does the world survive. Sometimes. . . rules are broken. . . *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “What the heck did I get myself into,” Aryun muttered as she climbed the steps of the Tower of Tinishta, as Nara and Taloun told her all that they were allowed to tell, then they had left. “If you are the one, you will be allowed to enter,” Nara had told her. “Use all the weapons you possess to gain access to the top.” Aryun blew out a puff of air that ruffled some of her bangs. “Well, now or never. I stepped into this hole, now I’ve gotta climb outta here gracefully without falling on my face.” She looked around her and snorted. “Like that will happen.” Slowly, Aryun started forward into the darkness that seemed to consume the Tower of Tinishta. It was beautiful in its own way. The Tower of Tinishta seemed dark and brooding from the outside, but once on the inside, things changed. It struck Aryun as a place that lived and breathed. The air around her hummed with energy; with life. The building was old, its age sang along with its spirit, and it unnerved her. Aryun unsheathed Soul Stealer and slowly started to ‘cat-foot’ down the corridors, expecting an attack. None came however, and the halls were quiet save for the soft padding of her leather-clad feet. "Something isn't right," she whispered to the air around here. "There should be creatures here . . . And I should not have been allowed to climb up the steps." Still, she continued through the tower, winding around the turrets, the crooks, and the crannies. Soon, the stairwell opened into a huge room with a dais upon it. A large chandelier lit the room, and it made the silver wall ornaments shine in the soft light. There was a runner coming from the stairwell onto the steps of the dais, and beyond. In the middle of the dais, upon a silver stand, floated a sword. Aryun took note of the delicate sword upon the pedestal, as it was indeed unique. It was a long sword, like the type she carried, but was thrumming with a life of its own, almost as if it were intelligent. Its long silver blade gleamed in the soft light of the torches, and she took note that the end wasn’t quite the same as other swords. The tip of the sword tapered out and split into three different tips, each save the center, gently curving out then back in. The torchlight flittered along the blade, the etchings glimmering. The light played along the edge and the etchings as if it were fey. The handle of the sword was exquisitely crafted, and seemed to take on a life of its own. It was the darkest green jade that Aryun had ever seen, and was carved in the likeness of a dragon. The dragon’s outspread wings curved around the base of the sword and its head curved down to guard the pommel. The rubies of the dragon’s eyes sparkled dangerously, almost compelling her to take the hilt into her hand to feel its weight. The pommel was wrapped in a fine gold thread accenting the deep jade of the hilt, and the end was studded in a beautiful gold embroidered coin. Aryun surveyed the rest of the scene, finding the stairs on the other side of the stand. “Damn it,” she muttered. “It would have to smell of a trap. . . Maybe they set me up. No. The fortuneteller was insistent. . . I don’t believe that she would lie to me. . .” Aryun moved as she had been taught since birth, like that of a mouse; quiet and uneventful. Slowly she walked up the stairs at the foot of the dais, towards the floating sword. Deftly, she moved around the edge of it and back towards the stairs. A silvery voice from the top of the stairs laughed at her. “There is no need to be afraid. You showed yourself worthy by not taking my sword.” Aryun jumped several feet and turned, pointing the sword in the direction of the voice. “Hn. I’ve always been taught, if it’s not yours, and you didn’t buy it, don’t touch it.” “Ah. A wise person who said that.” “She was my mother.” Aryun still did not lower the sword. “Ah. You are lucky then. You knew your mother at least.” The silvery voice seemed sad. Aryun growled softly, not really feeling anything at the moment, but she heard the sorrow. “Yeah, well, it’s a mixed blessing considering that she’s dead now.” She scanned the area around her. “Now, would you be so kind as to walk down those stairs, slowly, and in plain view before I do something I’ll regret later.” She seemed to sense that the person nodded their head, and there was movement from the top of the stairs, and a rustle of clothing. Soon a young man emerged from the darkness with his hands politely splayed, as if he was saying he was no threat. There seemed an infinite sadness about his face, but what shocked her the most was that he was so young. He was tall, even by human standards, more elfish tall then anything. He was thin, so much so that even the folded cloth of his robes couldn’t hide it. His face was sculpted, slender, and looked sad and tired. His blue-green hair was tousled, and looked like a wild jungle. His sea-green eyes reflected his emotions like a mirror. It was undisguised sorrow and despair. Aryun felt a pang, and her walled heart went out to this young man. She knew more then anyone that a sorrow like the one his eyes showed, could kill. She had tried it herself. Suicide was often the easiest way to release oneself, but often it is the wrong decision. One of her best friends had committed ritual suicide after he had been shamed. It still hurt to think of that. She had held him as he fell back, his face serene as he died for his honor. “Who are you?” Aryun asked quietly, her soft voice carrying through the hall. A smile almost touched his lips. “I should ask, who are you, but since you asked first, I am obliged.” He gave a slight bow. “I am Erdric Cathaoir Media Hieme.” Aryun did not lower the sword, but calmly replied. “Aryun Narice KimVay.” Now the smile touched the lips of the young man. “You know I won’t hurt you.” “No I don’t. You’re assuming that I can’t read auras. I know you’re a magic user. Why would I want to not defend myself against a sorcerer?” Aryun arched an eyebrow. “You are equally matched to me, if not greater. What have you to fear from a lowly magic worker?” The young man also raised an eyebrow. “The same that I have to fear for myself. You are not a lowly magic worker as you say. You’re power is beyond that which I’ve read in a mere human, so I guess that you would be out of the ordinary.” Aryun reasoned logically. “Indeed. The same that I know that you are no mere human, Lady Aryun.” “What makes you say that?” “You aura speaks volumes of yourself.” “Oh really? We’ll see about that.” Aryun’s eyes fluttered briefly, and then reopened to gaze into the young man’s sea green ones. A grin was plain on her face. “And now, oh Sorcerer?” Erdric frowned slightly, then closed his eyes, concentrating. His eyes opened and he looked about to pout. “That’s not fair, Sorceress.” Aryun shrugged. “Who said life is fair, young Erdric? You must get used to tricks.” He sighed. “The monsters I know, don’t use tricks.” Aryun arched her eyebrow again. “Ah. So have I passed your ‘test’ then?” The young man sighed and stuck his hands in his robes. “Yeah, you pass . . . Let me get my sword then.” He whisked past her and took the sword by the hilt, placing it in a scabbard at his side. He then turned around to look at Aryun, “Shall we ascend?” Aryun still had her sword drawn. “What do you mean by ‘ascend’?” The man gave a soft smile and pointed upwards. “Up there.” Aryun muttered, “More weird stuff a-foot in this place . . .” “Hmn? What was that you said?” “Nothing, lets just get going. This is getting annoying.” The young man chuckled. “Indeed, you see it that way, but I see it as an offer of friendship that we did not try and kill each other.” “Hn. Whatever you say. Whatever you say.” *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Aryun and Erdric stepped out from the oppressing darkness to the top of the tower, into the brightest sunlight that Aryun had ever remembered. She blinked into the light, marveling at the transition between light and dark. “It’s kinda pretty up here. Almost serene.” Aryun looked back down at the stairs. “Too bad there weren’t any monsters.” Erdric stopped. “No Monsters?” “Yes, that’s what I said. There were no monsters. None in the tower, and none in the area around it. The only thing I saw was you.” Erdric seemed greatly disturbed by this. “When I first came here, it was littered with monsters . . . This makes no sense. None at all.” He sighed. “Maybe, Master Dragon would know, but first, you must ascend to the heavens with me.” Aryun sighed. “That sounded so lame, you know that?” Erdric looked at her with a touch of malice. “It wasn’t a pick up line. I’m not fond of females myself, nor of males. I need no one to help me, no one to ease me. I’ve lived alone and in torment for most of my life. I can rely on myself. Have no fear.” “Hey, I didn’t say you were hitting on me.” Aryun said raising her hands. “I just said it sounded lame.” She shook her head. “‘Sides, no one would take the risk and hit on me.” He arched an eyebrow, his anger momentarily forgotten. “Oh? Care to elaborate?” Aryun gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. “If you took the man that hit on you, cut him up, and poured salt into those wounds, but not before nearly destroying the bar that you were in, how would you be perceived?” “Not to well, I take it.” “Yeah, they learned not to hit on me. I believe the last guy to hit on me, ended up for three months in a healers care. Hn. I know I could do much better.” Erdric stepped back. “Remind me not to get you angry.” Aryun gave a small smile. “Same with you.” “Why do you say that?” “Because you seem the type that would skewer someone before getting the truth.” Erdric sighed. “That’s not the case.” “Oh?” Erdric sighed again. “I might have done that once. . . but it’s more, if you get me mad, you likely won’t live to see the next dawn.” Aryun smirked. “Like I said, I don’t want to get your angry.” “Whatever.” Erdric walked over to an ornate carving in the floor, and stepping on it, he disappeared. “Guess I’m left to play follow the leader.” She shrugged and followed his lead. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The next thing Aryun knew, her feet were sinking into something that felt like wet cotton. “The hell?” She muttered as she looked down. She was on clouds. Nice, white, fluffy clouds were all around her feet. “Wonder how it does that. . .” she shrugged. “Oh well, I guess that’s my destination.” She pointed, to no one in particular, at a large castle that floated among the clouds. Impossible someone might say, but magic is complex like that. Aryun looked down at the clouds and took a tentative step. Amazingly, she didn’t sink through, but bounced back. “Stranger and stranger. . .” she muttered as she ‘walked’ her way towards the castle. Aryun had heard folk tales about Zenthia, but nothing could be farther from the truth. The castle was magnificently wrought of a stone that glittered in the sun, while sunbeams danced about the turrets and played upon the marble. "However did they create this?" Aryun wondered aloud. As she approached the gilded gates, a young man with bright white wings threw them open for her. "Welcome, Savior, to Zenthia. Please, enter and seek Master Dragon," the guard said. His voice was rich and soft. The guard’s wings shook slightly and a few feathers fluttered down from them. His wings enthralled Aryun. No race that she had ever seen or encountered had wings! She had been to many places and seen many people, but none as beautiful as these creatures were, if they were indeed 'creatures'. As she stepped through the gates, Aryun was hit with the power of all the winged ones. It felt like a tremendous push, and she wavered, momentarily forgetting the spell that would block the 'assault'. Finally, after casting a spell of reflection upon herself, Aryun recovered enough to notice that all the people with wings were watching her intently. They were watching every move she made. Aryun felt like she was being sized up, if she was a threat. She really didn't mind, but the fact that they all had unique color hues in their eyes disturbed her at first. Then she noticed that the hue of the eyes, the wings and the hair matched. Some were so similar, that it was hard to tell them apart unless you looked at their face. 'They're all relations! Some blood ties those that have the same color hue!! By jingo, I think I have it!' After several minutes of observation, a young woman with flowing pastel green hair stepped forward. "We see you have made it this far, we could not take the words of Lucreana's young lightly. Since you have made it past the tower, it is befitting that you are properly introduced. I am Lady Lucria, sister to Lucreana. We welcome you to our city, Zenthia." A soft smile played upon Lucria's lips that were eerily like that of Erdric. "Perhaps, you would wish to hear our tale before meeting with the Master?" Aryun looked around at the assembled ones, and realized she really had no choice. "Yes, I would like to know how you could support a castle on a cloud." Lucria laughed. "That can easily be explained. Since you are the Center, you must know all. All shall be explained as to your true path among us. . ." Aryun’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean ‘true path’?” Lucria smiled enigmatically again. “All shall be revealed.” She motioned to a small bench that was enclosed within a garden, right beneath the winged ones. Aryun stood for a second, muttering, then sat upon the marble seat. “Now, will you tell me what’s going on?” Lucria nodded her head. “Indeed I shall. . .” *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “It happened many years ago. Our world was dying, slowly being choked from its anima. No one knows why, or even comprehended why we would need to leave our home. I was just a child when we all fled upon the crystal ship. . . But I remember our home. Don’t look so shocked young lady, you are older than I. Now, the tale. . . We all fled Listera, and we were all homeless. You see, our life spans are extremely long. Maybe longer than elves, but none have bothered to measure it. On Listera, we were keepers of time. A race completely created by the Gods of that era to keep track for them. He made us wings, and made us unique among all other races. That whole world was our own.” Lucria stopped for a second, eyes closed. “So, we had to flee. We traveled for many years, searching every planet we came across, until we arrived here. “Wa’soire Valgreth was a world filled with green growing things, of water and of new life. We wanted to stay here, and so, we hid our ship among the mountains and took up residence alongside it. We realized soon that there were creatures like us here, well, not quite like us as they were wingless. These people called themselves anthropoi, or humans. They were workers of the land, and were very good, but some of my brethren thought it best that we mentor some of their children; teach them how to better their life. “We did this, and some of the humans accepted our gifts, but many did not. They saw us as evil, which I still do not understand. Many, when they saw us, pelted us with stones, while our supporters tried to make them cease. We were warned of a growing movement in the humans’ settlements, but we ignored it, thinking it was natural. What happened as a result of this unrest was anything but natural. “Humans fear that which they do not understand, and we were what they did not understand. They started to . . . persecute us, hurt us, wound us and rip our wings off. Several of my children came back with shreds of their wings remaining. We decided it best if we left the humans, save our students who wanted to flee their race’s hatred, far behind. “We fled to this island with what little provisions we had, and built the Tower of Tinishta, and created this world around you. We created the system of Relics and blood to gain entrance, and it has not failed. Our Lord, Erdric, was the first to achieve this for over one thousand years. And now, less then two years later, you are able to climb and enter the tower without our aid, nor our keys.” Lucria fluttered her feathers. “Tis disturbing to say the least.” Aryun looked up at her with wide blue eyes. “I am sorry for interfering in your normal life, but I was honestly brought here against my will.” “Oh?” Lucria lifted an eyebrow. “You made a bargain with our merchant friend.” Aryun nodded gracefully. “Indeed I did, but I had not expected to be embroiled in an affair that does not concern me.” “But it does, Lady Aryun. Indeed it does.” Lucria laughed at Aryun’s slightly puzzled expression. “I am sure that Nara told you that you are the Center.” “Yes. What does that mean, though?” Aryun tilted her head. “It is. . . essential that you merge. . . with the Chosen.” Lucria made a face as if she thought was distasteful. Aryun thought very carefully, choosing her words with caution. “What do you mean by ‘merge’?” She casually crossed her arms over her stomach, as if expecting the answer. Lucria fluttered her wings, obviously hating the words. “Merging, as in joining. That’s all I can explain and if you don’t understand that, then you are a fool.” |