Year 759 Draenü Rise
Many eons ago, before the rock of the human realm was ever founded and revitalized to inhabit humankind. There were three very ancient brothers inside the expansive galaxy. Manuk, the fiery star of the three, Chemuk, the thunderous one with many elements imploding on himself, and Anukrin with his chilling presence that formed the ice asteroids around him. The three traveled the glittery starry expanse for more than a millennium with no sense of purpose or understanding of their existence. The only thing that was constant was their relationship with each other and that they must keep moving. One day, Chemuk grew weary of his travels and decided to take refuge on a lone rock that floated aimlessly like any other. Upon taking a seat on this rock, Chemuk’s elements made it grow and shape into this lifeless sphere. It amazed the other two brothers that Chemuk unintentionally created something so extraordinary in the sea of stars just because he stopped. The other two brothers halted their voyage and discarded their urge to keep moving, inspecting this new project. Manuk used his molten body to fuel the sphere, giving it life within but too hot on the surface for anything more. Unlike their third brother, Chemuk and Manuk were ecstatic about their progress. Anukrin didn’t rejoice with the two, finding this ball not worthy of it unless he planted his own touches.
His ice touch chilled the surface, making it hospitable for the rain that followed suit. Rain brought on the plants. Plants that help sustain life. This place is named Erathea and it will become the three brothers’ playground.
“It’s the reason why we exist now, if you can believe that cub.” A deep soft voice managed to pierce through the night chorus. Tonight, was a very sultry day, with the humidity thick enough to add a layer of water right above the skin. The night stringers churn their beautiful music, sharing the space of noise with a howling cry of a few nightsingers in the distance. The tall jungle trees rope around this relatively empty field, leaving a perfect opening to the star-filled sky above. The two-half crested moons were about to cross each other for what was known as the official handshake of the gods. It happens after every second birth moon of a young teenager; this is her eighth moon crossing alive and she only recalls three of them. But her father swears by it.
This young teen is a scrawny, little female with barely any assets that can prove that she was either gender, also wore leather clothing to cover herself modestly. Her leather padded top and bottom were thick enough to cover herself and to make her sweaty. She hated wearing clothes this thick during this season. It shows in her pouting expression. Short brown curly locks bounced above her head whenever the gust came through, with obvious tints of red blending within the fade of brown like embers in a campfire. Besides the unique coloration of her hair, her eyes glitter silver like the moons above their heads. Skin nearly as dark as the brown of her leather top but nowhere as dark as the shadows of the jungles that surround them.
Them...
A man stood beside her where she decided to slouch on the ground with the weight of her latest angst on her spine. Her father.
He didn’t exactly look like her, or at least she didn’t carry much of his resemblance. Bright red hair stopping just at his shoulders, dancing wild in the wind and thick despite the straightness. He is a man of skin that can stand out in the darkest of hours, with freckling along his exposed shoulders and neck from all the times his skin took in too much sunlight. Maybe around seventy-four inches in height, and his lankiness is the one thing that resembles him the most, but the many years of fighting to survive showed beneath the translucence of his skin.
Power resonated out of his muscles like a heated drum, that she could not truly pinpoint the origins of or could visibly see it. All she could tell, beneath the upward curl of his whiskered lip, was that he had enough time in this humid world to conquer even the most temperamental beast. Including one that shared a long enough moment to create this teenager a few moon crossings ago.
His sky-blue eyes never wandered from the moons, both fists were placed on his belted hips and the oversized leather shirt hung loose on his thin frame. He wasn’t very good at keeping weight on, as her mother would claim in a neutral tone, but no illness ailed him. Another trait that seems to pass on to this teenager only that she...
She can control mana. The life force that warms everybody, whirs the soul into action, and helps create new life. This mana is a heat that comes out of her in the form of destructive fire. A skill that comes out without her consent due to her latest changes in her, the changes that a young woman like her is enduring painstakingly.
Changes that only her mother can half-understand, since she was never born with mana ready at her fingertips.
This heat sprouts a fire between her fingers, moving the afflicted hand and shoving it into the dewed grass next to her. The fire sizzled out, loud enough for her father to perk his head just slightly.
“Rhea. Do you understand why I am telling you this story?”
“Papa...this story does not change every time you tell me.” I am done hearing it. Rhea couldn’t control the groan that escaped the depths of her chest.
Her father had many stories, and a few she cared less for. The creation of their Erathea is the most foolish one of all and yet her father is obsessed with reminding her about it in all different languages.
Today, he decided to speak to her purely in Kreovin. The words always seem to dance off their tongues like an ancient song, even more ancient than the night singers out there. “Until you can cite this before I do, then I will never stop.”
“Fine!” Rhea let out another groan, she allowed herself to lay on the wet grass and her hotter body sizzled up the rain dew. Her aggravation burns up her body. “The godly brothers bind their contracts in the crossing of the moons. Contracts are never one of the same, but the first is always unbreakable. The contract of continual protection, one fails the other two will support them....I do not understand how THAT can answer my question.”
“Clearly, I have to tell it again.” Her retort made her father laugh, one filled with much joy despite how he was being dealt with by a rather tyrannical young lady.
He now peered away from the cosmic phenomenon, moving to hover over her and displaying his big grin underneath all that face scruff. His beard was always kept cut close to his chin line. Always felt like a big tigrou mane when he nuzzled her too aggressively and every time, she didn’t brace for it. Her father didn’t know how to not dote after her at any point of the day. “Fire cub, look in your mind.”
“Again. How does this-” She swung her arms out forward, showing the mist that evaporated from her arms. It was always strange that she could dry herself while her mother couldn’t. “Have anything to do with the creation of Erathea? I just asked you why I can do this, and you went on about- ”
He pulled her up with her arms, which jolted her out of her rants. He hid the strength somewhere in his lanky frame, not even her sixty-two-inch burning body slowed him. He had her on her feet and ignored the obvious burns from touching her, even patting the crown of curls on her head.
He never showed pain when he touched her during these episodes. Strangely, his skin healed in mere breaths when he scalded from the sun alone without any rhyme or reason. While her mother prepared the stone sticks to get Rhea’s attention, her father could easily deal with her bouts of powers as if she was just dealing with her time of the season.
Another question he loves to answer in random philosophical stories. He didn’t miss a step, pointing his finger to his temple. “Everything goes back to the birth of Erathea. There have been over a million crossings and contracts since then. One involves your powers, fire cub.”
“I am too old to accept that answer...” Rhea didn’t let her annoyance go, glaring at her father with all of it. Her hot arms crossed over her leather-covered chest, burning a large spot wherever her skin touched the fabric. Fire sprouted on her right shoulder to prove that her current clothes were next to perish before her rather avoidant father.
“That...you certainly are. Time has not slowed once, and yet I remember when you bellowed so loud in your mother’s arms like yesterday. You rocked the very walls of the cave-”
“Enough Papa-“She really couldn’t take another retelling of her birth story. Just like the birth of Erathea, he couldn’t seem to find a limit to vomiting the phrases. There are only two people to listen to it, her mother and herself. Neither are ever thrilled to hear about his fanatical retellings.
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“Oh. Fine.” His eyes smiled with his lips, his hand reaching to pinch her cheek as a form of aggressive endearment they shared. She flinched, buckling under the action like a mere child. Even her fire dissipated.
It was the perfect cure all for an angsty teenager. Though her father didn’t keep pinching her, petting her head again. It always followed suit with a head pat. What is going to happen when Rhea becomes too old even for that?
“My dear Rhea. Your mother and I need a little more time to explain everything.” His expression suddenly darkens, a very strange expression. He wasn’t very open to being negative around Rhea and even less so his rage. Her parents seldom argued, keeping their disagreements either hushed conversations or looks that only they can decipher. They had to be creative when the three of them had to share a small stone hide-out together with little to no sound proof.
“Then at least tell me this...why did you leave the world out there?” Rhea wanted some truth at least to rest easier tonight. Her emotions are out of control, even pushing this question onto her mother, who answered simply that the world isn’t ready for people like them.
A simplified excuse. Typical of a mother with the mind and heart of a chieftain.
“Huh...looks like my hot headedness moved into my daughter’s brain. I was looking for tha-” Her father did this nose wrinkle and the simple jest whenever he wanted to change the subject. She wasn’t so easily fooled, trying to elbow him but he blocked it with a hand weathered from a life of hardship. He was never caught off-guard by her. Maybe when she was younger, he might have let things slide. But now she had to deal with her father as an adult with a mysterious set of skills and battle borne from the moment. She could raise her fists. “I did not mean to strike a nerve, sorry my cub.”
“Tell me papa...” The smoke billowed out of her button nose and between her clenched teeth. A common side effect of mages.
“Put that away and I will.” Her father still had a lot of authority over her. Flames or not, he will easily put her in her place. He proved that to her just two days ago, if it wasn’t for her impeccable healing, the bruise would still be there from the training.
“Understood.” She sat right on the grass, cross-legged, and thought about how her mana is nothing more than a stream that flows and never stays in one place. The warmth that concentrated on her hands and face moved evenly through her like a steady web of streams. It is a lot harder with general grievances hanging onto her swell of power.
She took a long time to improve this practice, a fact that her father points out as a regular. Her eyes remained shut, and she could hear him crunch the grass next to her to sit. He wasn’t fearful of her struggles. “Think of mana as simply the flow of water. Although Chemuk rules the water, being Manuk’s brother gives the element and mana very similar viscosity.”
“Shush...you are ruining my focus.” She griped, but no matter what her current feelings are, his teachings always helped. Even here, her mana felt more in control.
“Heh, ready?” He asked, not really waiting for her to answer. Just starting his next tale, “Long ago there were sages...”
“Not this about world sages!” Rhea snapped, opening her eyelids to shoot him a very pointed stare.
“Rhea...” He locked onto her intense glare, just as unwavering if not there was a hidden shimmer of outrage in the sparkle of his blue eyes. Even though his infectious grin vanished, there was no proof that he would tell her the full truth. But just the way he corrected her outcry meant that he wasn’t fooling around. This time...what he is going to relay will hold weight.
She shrinks underneath the fierceness, even moving her face away. It wasn’t often he would reprimand her unless it had something to do with her form in their last sparring. Rarely does he get offended over her being slightly disrespectful towards his retelling. She thought there was never a time that he would be strict, her mother was always the one who had reeled them away from trouble.
He cleared his throat, decreasing his level of fierceness and replacing it with this neutral expression that she can’t wholeheartedly recognize. This is eating him alive, whatever it was, or he wouldn’t be keeping his smile away. “The World Sages were a group that kept the cycle of life safe from deviation. The responsibility will always be chosen by the skill that a sage would be born in this life. You had mana mages becoming the next sages of Manuk. Alchemist becoming the next sages of Chemuk. And finally, the witch or wizard that takes up the mantle of Anukrin’s sage. Each sage’s responsibility is to oversees their sector, and never interrupt each other’s work unless the balance is dependent on it. One foolish mana sage saw differently.”
This is a new story, the last one involved the crushing consequences of two immortal lovers. This one started differently, and just as she claimed earlier on. Her father was not the type to deviate from the details, no matter how silly he may get. Her whole body moved enough to face him, just like when she was just a small child, she still beamed at him expectantly. Excited like many times over.
It’s a rather dull and simple life in the jungle. With just the three of them keeping each other company, there really isn’t a lot going on. A life that is very sheltered is a rather boring and restrictive life.
Anything that seems new will always bring this behavior from her. “What happened?”
“The fire-sage thought it wise to reignite the punishment long overdue. The arcane sage has some involvement in the death of the fire sage’s family, so...he takes it upon himself to confront the other sage and a war ensues soon after. Mortal-kind were already at odds ends over the legitimacy of families. You had families fighting to exist only to perish in the cracks of the earth. Others took his chance to create the Chimeric Empire of today. The war devastated all mage kinds, the sages and even the land itself. The All-Mage War.”
“Then what happened to the sage after the war, papa?” She leaned in close, all attention on her father. Her excited features did not match any of his energy, he sank into the story like it truly belonged to him.
As if this was a life that was his to relive, but just like a lot of her old man’s stories, they were never clear enough for her to suspect anything.
He wasn’t going to make sure that she understood this time, the smile on his face riddled with the guilt that weighed it down. Those blue eyes lost the luster of a man with a carefree spirit. “The fire sage renounced mana from his enemies, couldn’t live with the guilt of all the death and destruction. He went into hiding and the world righted on its own eventually.”
Rhea didn’t catch at the significant hints. Not even the slouch of his shoulders or the clenching of his fists proved to her anything. To her, he was just avoiding giving her a straight answer.
Her pout returned, too dense to understand this new story too. “Papa! How does that have anything to do with you?”
“Rhea. Nolan.”
In the outline of the jungle trees and thick green vines, hid a very peculiar house that was made of dark cooled magma and stone. It stood on stilts, high to keep it from drowning in the mud during the monsoon season. The only way to enter it is through a ladder that descends the center of its belly, no window in sight. Though Rhea knew that it was very capable to have one. It is where they live, it is where her mother came out from and marched right over to have just the right amount of distance to call for them.
Her mother is this beautiful, dark, ′wild′ woman even though her wildness only goes as far as the leather wrapped around her body like a dress and the red tigrou fur that decorates her shoulders. Her skin is darker than Rhea by two shades and glistened underneath the moonlight, shaping the prominent definition of muscles toned from the life of a tree climbing native. The brown hair was curly to the point it hugged her scalp, which was adorned with a loosely gemmed head band, kept short for her daily excursion. She is taller than Rhea, just about two inches shorter than her life partner. Her eyes are these deep hazel that match perfectly with the leaves of the trees, she is a beauty that can be mistaken for the same as the maidens of Nolan’s silliest of stories.
And the high strong personality that keeps two very free-spirited individuals in their place. She was already sporting her best scowl that pushed out her plump bottom lip, “What are you both trying to do? Go home before the bugs eat your fluids dry.”
“Ah! My fiesty beautiful Lindiwe! The moon crossing is out again...come sit with us” Nolan’s earlier expression vanished as soon as this woman came into view. Exchanging it with the mask of a cheerful man, only this time the skin around his cheeks pinked.
This was always the outcome of a hopeless romantic. Her mother would never be swayed when she was this perturbed and his charms barely pierced the prickliness. Tonight, it was no different whether it had significance or not and her mother would make sure to remind her father without hesitation.
“You can watch it from the window just like the last few times.” She rolled her eyes, stomping her way back to their house. “Come. The bugs be damned. I want my child and mate to stay fat.”
“Understood...Your mother is right, Rhea...I will tell you more tomorrow” He patted her on the head and rolled onto his heavily abused slippers made of vines and dried leaves. Rhea grumbled as she followed his lead, his no answer really did irk her. She would love to shake it out of him someday.
But he didn’t leave her with absolutely nothing. When her mother was far enough to be out of earshot, he said this as plain as day. “You are more powerful than any sage, my dear fire cub...”
Rhea picked her head up from all the moping, watching the straightness of his back as he hobbled on after her annoyed mother. They exchanged a small verbal back and forth, with a few notable hand waves from her mother to her father trying to appease her with a little shoulder to shoulder bump. That shoulder bump led to his hand being ′misplaced′ just on the center of her back, which from the looks of it, was not rejected by her mother. As her mother mentioned once, love is not something you get to control or choose. Neither is it something a person should reject when it is so fragile and fleeting once you do. Rhea’s parents loved each other so much and openly, with enough love left over to share with their daughter. To show her a world lacking hate.
Rhea had only ever known a world of love for most of her life, and she may have playfully dismissed it as a naïve child. However, there was nothing she would rather have to replace it.
She took everything of this world for granted. Her father with an infinite amount of knowledge and his unexplained back story. Her mother’s beautiful singing voice and her strange upbringing as the chieftain’s youngest daughter.
All that was taken from Rhea.... with a few simple poison-tipped arrows and the hatred of a disgruntled chieftain.chieftain.