Buried within another time, world, dimension, or perhaps simply your mind, there lies a fantastical land of discovery. Welcome to a country filled with empirical magic, infection, and a dying hope. A plane of existence where fantasy and reality entwine. A compilation of unlikely characters bound by insurmountable odds. Welcome to Oderria.

Who am I? No one special. Simply a guide with the key to this land. A key not earned by intelligence or mastery of speech, but graced to me by the first light of Oderria. Venture on, dear reader, for when the gates of wonder are opened, we will, as friends and historians, journey through the mystery, action, and magic. And we just might learn a few things along the way.

…

I direct you to a moonlit town at the edge of poison’s stronghold. In the confusion of a clamorous skirmish, a dark-haired boy ran, his pretentious face held high. Tonight was the last stand, the last plea that would bring restoration from the ashes.

“In order to bring the true hero into this magical nation,

Journey next to the capital of those with evil derivation.

Gather twenty White Jewels at the Pedestal of Light.

The wizard’s apprentice will find a hero that night.”

The boy reached for these words, weakly repeating them in a raspy melody. They were his only source of encouragement as he fled in a desperate attempt to reach the opening between worlds. His lungs burned, his heart raced, and his legs throbbed. He fled through a crumbling grainery, surrounded by a maelstrom of clashing weapons. Flails sent shattered armor sailing through the air, axes hued through shields and men, and warhammers beat down with ruthless force. The armored, hooded silhouettes fought with brutal tenacity and warriors bellowed the cries of war. When outside, the boy witnessed an old mill crumbling as an unnatural amalgam of flames and electricity winded about it. He knew who had done this, those deadened souls that show no mercy.

A sudden noise gripped his senses. Shambling, skulking, dragging footsteps. The boy stole a quick glance over his shoulder. To his horror, he saw a savage, sable figure trailing after him, shrouded by the undulating mass of a cloak.

A Dark Sage.

Sprinting with relentless speed and shaking with silent hatred, the fiend tore through the falling debris of bricks and planks and split the crowd in two. There would be no stopping him, not even from a self-proclaimed master of intellect.

Fear and haste escalating, the boy dashed through the disparaged remains of smithies and masonry shops, up the jutting terrain, and to the center of town. He darted into a violent throng of heroic knights and evil hooded beings with weapons of glowing purple.

Shoving his way through the thick cluster of combatants, the child glanced back. The shadowed man had changed. He was now a beast. Glaring at the boy with glowing orange eyes, this monster shoveled people out of its way with its crinite arms and horned face, heading toward him rapidly.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Choked with dread, the boy’s pace quickened. He scaled a tall hill laden with obtrusive stones and thorns, reaching in his leather bag for the one thing that could save him. It was the red gem marked with the symbol of fire, bestowed might from the light of knowledge. It was his Erythro. The monster’s shadow loomed over him, and he pointed the Erythro over his shoulder. From the jewel, mounds of boiling lava burst forth onto the monster.

It gripped the dirt in agony, giving an ear-splitting screech. It struggled, shriveled, diminished, devolved to black liquid and dust, and then it stopped.

Filled with self-admiration, the boy sneered at the beast.

The viscid form made an odd clicking noise. It twitched. It grew and its shape began to alter into an otherworldly entity.

The animal quickly grew bigger and bigger as its skin turned into rough black scales, some of which were extending out from its back. Swiftly, the creature’s two back extensions formed into umbrella-like wings while the rest of its body turned into a massive serpentine shadow. Keen talons formed, and inside its gigantuous mouth, foaming fangs protruded.

The boy swallowed hard. He had not won but unleashed something far worse.

When he attempted to escape, the beast’s outline blackened the world around him. From the boy’s jewel, glassy shards formed, emanating light and forming a barrier.

The dragon pounced down on it, clawing relentlessly, slowly fragmenting the barrier.

Heart racing and breath hollow, the boy struggled to keep the shielding wall of light standing.

“You are failing them,” his thoughts rang out. “You are failing yourself.”

The barrier was fading. A darkness passed over the boy, and he closed his eyes expectantly.

Death did not come to him. A wind formed and a shredding noise rang out as his eyes opened. Incredibly, he saw an immense mass fly above him and ram into the black beast. Next he knew, the earth churned by the weight of the plunging black animal. The child looked up and saw the thing that had done this was another dragon. It was orange, with pillars for limbs and smooth scales for armor. The boy’s eyes were wide with astonishment. He was saved.

The orange creature said in a distinct low-pitched voice, “Hurry, boy, get to the portal!”

“Chadwick!” the boy exclaimed, immediately recognizing the comforting voice of an age-old friend.

The boy smiled fervently as he and the orange dragon’s eyes met. Those eyes were an amber blaze, warm, comforting, but sparking with fierce tenacity.

The twilight dragon was back on its feet. In fatherly protection, the creature lunged, swiped, and charged through the other dragon’s breath of flames, the boy’s safety of higher concern than his own. The hill began to crumble, but the child stood his ground.

“Dear boy, this could be our last goodbye. Find the kid, get the gem, and don’t trust anybody, or else they’ll get you!” stated the shape-shifted man, holding back the adversary. Though he had said this in his more casual tongue, he still sounded unnaturally stoic, as if the message carried the weight of the world. “Now, hurry to the Ingress! Go!”

The earth was quaking, dirt and stones were flying, dragon blood was dripping, and the boy was right in the middle of it. He stumbled between shifting legs and wings, dove down the hill, and bolted, tears forming in his eyes.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

The boy ventured over fallen forms and through flashes of light. Finally, he stood beside the pedestal. The blinding light of the Ingress opened before him.

The boy took one final look at his world. His mentor may very well have breathed his last, and with the dragons dead, the boy would soon inherit a tremendous responsibility. He was at a crossroads between worlds, and from now on, nothing would ever be the same. His hands were trembling. He clenched his fists, turned to the portal, and jumped in.