"Cyrus..." A soft soothing male voice with hinted tones of age and wisdom echo in darkness. "Cyrus..." The voice echoed again as a small figure warily crept into sight, vaguely veiled in a pillar of light.
The small figure was but a boy. A boy with sapphire blue hair long enough to trail behind him, stood in the pale light dressed in a rather large green cloth spun tunic with sleeves that swallowed his arms. His large, pointed ears twitching here and there trying to zone in on the voice. His face was small and round, full of wonder, as his emerald eyes swept about. He nervously pushed forward, the pillar of light following him with each footstep.
"Cyrus...my dear child..." The comforting voice echoed again. "Hello??" The boy answered. Cyrus called again picking up his gait, the voice seeming to ignore him and continue to echo. His feet moved swifter as his arms started to sway with his motion. "My...look how you have grown. I was barely able to hold you when you were born." The voice continued to speak despite Cyrus's cries. "I had arrived a tad early and your mother had grip nigh god could rend."
"Who are you and what did you do to me? I was counting down the minutes till my birthday, and I know this shirt fit just fine an hour ago!" Cyrus shouted, cupping small hands around his mouth, till his face nearly rivaled his hair. He choked feeling the back of his throat sting as he sucked in the air. Cyrus listened for the voice but didn't hear anything. Suddenly he felt a warmth press into his small back.
Cyrus spun in anticipation to find nothing, yet the warm presence remained. He spun again, still nothing, yet the presence lingered. "You've grown a great deal...how old are you now boy?" Cyrus felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder as the voice mused. "My my, a dashing young man of twenty it would seem. I bet the ladies don't give you a moment’s breath." it chortled while the weight seemed to move about his body examining him.
Cyrus looked down following the weight noticing he was back to normal. He stood firm at nearly seven feet tall, his blue hair now tapering off just below the belt line falling between broad shoulders. His tunic now fit him perfectly with the cuffs of his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He then looked down hoping he was wearing pants and to his relief he was indeed strapped with a pair of leather breeches and dirty boots. The weight had finally lifted, and the voice grew quiet once more.
"Don't just ignore me!" Cyrus roared in an angry baritone. "Alright boy, but first you must do something for me." The voice responded as an orb of light appeared in front of him. The orb hovered and pulsated with energy as it grew larger and oblong until it formed the pale silhouette of a man Cyrus had never seen before, a man who looked quite a bit like he did.
"Dad??" Cyrus's voice wavered as he stretched forth a quivering hand. "Find this man, find him Cyrus and you will have the answers you seek." The voice spoke through the illusion as its appearance smoothed out into a man who looked like Cyrus thought he would when he was older. Cyrus dropped his hand steadying himself while the shape retracted back into the orb. Cyrus reached again for the orb, this time placing just the tip of his index finger to it.
Suddenly the orb detonated, filling the empty void with a wash of colors as Cyrus shielded his eyes. The concussive blast would have knocked your average man down, yet Cyrus pressed hard into something cold and wet below him. The blood red sunlight melted into view as his sight slowly returned to him. Cyrus swept his gaze around him, taking as much in as quickly as he could. It was later in the afternoon, the bloody sun making its way behind mountains dragging the night sky behind it. Light remained however, as the moon rose from its slumber at his back. He looked down at his feet to see his boots mired in a foul muddy plod of grass or bog he thought wafting his hand at a low hanging mist. As he parted the mist, he hooked a finger into the eye socket of a human skull glistening red with tacky blood. "Blech!!" Cyrus spat in disgust as he tossed the skull franticly away. A gust of wind slams into him forcing his feet to inch forward. The mist starts to rise confirming that he was indeed standing in a bog filled with weapons and bodies of all shapes and sizes.
"What happened here?" Cyrus murmured as his eyes took in all the carnage. A cold chill slithered down his back as he came upon a kneeling warrior in armor barely holding himself upright leaning on a katana. The warriors armor reminded Cyrus of something pure as it seemed to radiate with a soft brilliance. Cyrus reached forward calling the warrior but as he placed his hand on the warrior’s shoulder the world quaked around him. The world seemed to melt around Cyrus and the warrior as it poured into the warrior and his sword. The world was black again aside from the warrior’s armor shining bright in a cascade of colors as the sword clutched in its hand erupted into a beckoning blaze. The warrior reminded Cyrus of a soldier in Winter swearing his loyalty to the campfire in exchange for its warmth.
Cyrus walked closer his eyes fixated on the warrior’s armor. As he looked down upon it, he felt it tug at his heart drawing him closer. Images of people he had never met, tears that had never been shed, passionate love, death and dismay washed over him like a crashing wave. Cyrus takes a step back rubbing his eyes trying to process what he had seen. He wouldn't get the moment’s chance as the warrior resurrected in an ear-splitting roar. It clambered to its feet wrenching the flame wreathed katana from the ground in an upward slice, the blade extending past Cyrus's face tearing a searing white chasm into the ground even further than that. The tear in space vortexed as it pulled Cyrus off his feet dragging him down into its depths forcing him to roll out of bed screaming in the middle of the night.
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The crash came sooner than he realized as he pulled his sticky cheek off his bedroom floor. Cyrus looked around his room rubbing his sore face, puzzled. “Another dream…” Cyrus heaved in sweat glazed panic as his eyes adjusted to the level of light. He pulled himself off the floor, finally calm enough to stand reaching into the air to stretch. As he continued to limber up a panging urge struck him, and he meandered his way to the outhouse. Cyrus’s room was at the far end of the small cottage his mother had built years ago before Cyrus was even born.
He entered the living area approaching the crackling fireplace that kept the house warm throughout some of the harshest winters seen. Feeling the warmth surge into him felt great until his body reminded him of his urgent matter at hand. Quickly he snatched up a small length of wood wrapping linen around it and dipped it into an urn filled with an oily mixture. As Cyrus got the torch lit, he dashed out the front door covering the short distance to the outhouse in a matter of seconds.
Relieved and awake, Cyrus felt like it would be a waste of time to try and go back to sleep and decided to get an early start on his chores. In stark contrast to their home the land Cyrus's mother owned was massive in scale. Fields of vegetables and revenue crops, a pasture of sleeping cattle complete with a pig pen and chicken coop, and even a small pond which would be a challenge for any adult to swim across.
As Cyrus opened the gate to the pasture the cattle raised their sleepy heads, acknowledged his presence and returned to their lazy slumber. Suddenly Cyrus feels a strong thump against his hip followed by a happy bleat. Cyrus looked down to see their queen of the herd, their Goat Brunhilda. Cyrus leaned down scratching her head, “good morning to you too,” Cyrus chuckled hazily. “Looks like we’re starting early girl, come on let’s get this done so I can start training sooner.” Cyrus beckoned Brunhilda entering the gate and shutting it behind him. The cows continued to ignore him as he went about his daily chores. Check the fence for damage, sling slop to the pigs, collect eggs from the hen house and clean out the horse stalls.
Wiping the sweat from his brow Cyrus’s gaze trails over to the east to see a sliver of orange creeping over the mountain tops. Brunhilda continued to follow Cyrus around the farm bleating here and there seemingly carrying on a conversation with him. “Cyrus!” a woman’s voice echoes from the distance.
Cyrus turned to see his mother standing at the front door of their home with a warm smile on her face. She was dressed nicer than she usually would, meaning she was expecting company or going on a trip. Her shoulder length purple hair was neatly pulled back by a band making her sapphire eyes seem larger. Her usual tunic and leather breeches were replaced by an elegant red dress which she seemed to be poured in. Lastly the heels she had chosen were both fashionable and deadly with the blade of a dagger replacing the heel. As Cyrus approached her, she placed a fist to her hip and shook a gold bangle from her other arm down to her wrist.
“You’re up earlier than usual dear, is everything alright?” She asked checking him over for any visible trauma. “I’m fine Ma’.” Cyrus grumbled trying to avoid the topic. Her face fell into disbelief which showed her age as her laugh lines and brow wrinkled. Knowing the tenacity of his mother Cyrus gave in and recanted his dream to his mother.
Cyrus's mother listened to him intently, to every detail, just as she always did which was his favorite thing about her. Despite not wanting to originally talk about what was bothering him, Cyrus knew in his heart of hearts that she would always listen.
She began pacing as she wrapped her mind around what had transpired. “Have you had this dream often?” She asked stopping to look Cyrus in the eye. “It’s been happening every year the night before my birthday since I was ten. At first it was just a simple ball of light that would play with me until I turned seventeen when things started changing. The light would show me places I’ve never been to and people I’ve never seen. Then finally tonight I saw a man who looked like me…” Cyrus fell silent as his mother placed a finger against his lips. “Ease yourself my child, t’was but a dream. Now if you have finished your chores, I need you to take the shipment into town I’m headed to the Capitol soon.”
Cyrus shook his head in disbelief. “But mom I think this is serious! I want to know what it all means! Who’s this man I am seeing?” Cyrus threw his hands in the air with a hot flash of fury. His mother paused, biting her lip as if holding back her words. “Cyrus…now is not the time nor place…but soon...If you can wait till, I return we can talk all about it.” Before Cyrus had the chance to respond the sudden clod of smithed hooves come galloping to a halt between Cyrus and his mother knocking Cyrus on his rear. “Hey watch it!!” Cyrus snapped jumping to his feet. He dusted himself off while watching a gnome climb down a rather elegant horse drawn carriage complete with a booster seat.
“Sorry bout that lad once these fillies get goin’ the don’t want to stop.” The gnome spoke in a rougher deeper voice than Cyrus imagined could come from one so small. “It’s fine seeing as no one was hurt. Cyrus please don’t forget to deliver the goods.” Cyrus’s mother snatched the little man up by the scruff of his neck dropping him into his booster seat atop the carriage with a plop. “Mam’ beautiful you may be but no sense in being rough Ms. Tessa.” The gnome snarled through his thick white beard as Tessa slammed the carriage door behind her. “Go dammit!!” Tessa yelled punching a hole through the cabin. With that the gnome gathered the reigns snapping them with a fierce pop causing the horses to charge. Although small the gnome handled the horses like he was created for that sole purpose as the carriage made a near perfect circle racing off the property at full speed. With a heavy sigh Cyrus walked off the property and headed towards town pulling behind him a cart loaded down with goods.