Lightning cut through the blackened sky like a crack in the veil of the world. Brutal winds flung themselves at a weathered mountain with ever growing force, as though they could sense it weakening. Light glared from a precarious platform of rock at the peak of this vast monolith, a beacon against the storm. From above, the shape of an intricate, five pointed star could be seen etched deep into the rock.
222 AT. The village of Ælith at the mouth of Trade River, Solisium, Spᴂra
On the southern edge of the village outside a small log cabin, sat a young woman Helena, milking her goat. Her husband was in the forest to the north with other men from the village, collecting lumber to sell to passing trade ships. Her two year old son sat playing in the dirt about ten metres away. As he played, a bright, golden yellow bird flew right up to him and began pecking at the dirt. Named a Micojay, it is known for the small flashes of light that are usually the only sign of it's presence as it darts around in the dappled light of it's forest homes.
Blissfully unaware of the strange nature of this bird's behaviour, the boy reached out for a pet. It hopped just out of reach. Leaning forward he tried again but, once more, the small bird eluded his touch. He climbed to his feet, a tight little frown on his chubby face. As he wobble forward with his arms out it hopped, flew a couple of meters away, and resumed pecking at the dirt. For a moment the child looked to his mother, dark brown eyebrows furrowed. Ever the curious child, he turned and continued on his quest. This continued for almost fifty paces beyond the nearby tree line into a small clearing, surrounded by brush. At that point, the bird suddenly darted away, with a characteristic flash of yellow light. Little features trembling, the boy promptly sat down and began to cry.
Throughout the course of this little game of cat and mouse, or child and bird, his unfortunate mother had been staring fixedly at a streak of light on the horizon. As she watched, it grew and grew until she was sure she could reach out and touch it. A note of worry sounded in her mind, interrupting her fascination. and she turned to check on the boy. Her stool clattered to the ground, eyes whipping around an empty clearing. Her head darted back and forth, eyes wide and mouth opened soundlessly. Mute since birth, she'd rarely felt the need for a voice so strongly. The shadows around her suddenly warped and stretched. Eyes wild, she glanced up, straight into a bright, searing light. A heavy sense of premonition struck her like a blow as she heard an impact in the forest ahead of her. She charged after the sounds, blinking furiously to try and regain her vision.
Still sitting in the clearing; the boy spotted a sparkle in the trees and, tears drying on his cheeks, called out softly “heerrree birdie.” A ball of light smashed through trees and branches, it's momentum dropping rapidly until, as though perfectly choreographed, a tiny pebble rolled to a stop in the centre of the small clearing. Helena came charging behind in the wake of the impact, almost mad with panic. The boy, already clutching a the little pebbly tightly in his little fist, looked up at her. As the last of the light faded from the pebble, his eyes suddenly shone purple, light burst from every pore in his body, and he slumped to the ground.
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Helena awoke the next day to light coming through the cracks around the door of their small house. The fire in the little stone fireplace had long since gone out. Her right arm, having fallen out from under the blanket, was just beginning to feel numb. For a moment she considered huddling back under the thin blanket and returning to sleep. Feeling her young son shiver weakly, a soft sight escaped her lips and she slid out of bed. She hesitated a moment before taking out her treasured blue shawl. The dyed wool for such garments had to be imported from the highlands and had cost her husband, Jef, two months earnings. Remembering the boyish excitement in his blue eyes when he presented it to her, she smiled, transforming her tired face. Leaning over, she gently kissed Jef on the forehead. Before heading out the door she took out her favourite brooch that depicted a Micojay in flight and, unaware of the coincidence, used it to pin her shawl at the front. Heading south along the nearby cliff line, she gathered kindling from the edge of the path. Her spirits lifted as she spotted some deadfall small enough for her to drag. As she stepped forward to grab it a stray glance flicked towards the bay. That same feeling, of a heavy premonition, settled onto her shoulders. Firewood clattered to the ground as she ran back along the cliff line.
Four small black ships were gliding into the bay. The bay provided the only trading access for ships from Lacuna so that alone would not have been odd. However, since the beginning of the calendar every vessel that attempted to sail the Grey Sea had passed over the horizon and, together with all its crew, apparently ceased to exist. Just over a century ago the previously unknown Grey People had appeared, offering their services for the purpose of trade between the continents. Since then the Grey People, and the placid Morphwales they rode, had been towing broad bottom cargo vessels between continents while the crew remained blindfolded.
This small fleet, in defiance of history, sailed in precise formation with none of the vividly coloured Morphwales to be seen. Their sleek hulls were painted black and up close you could see crimson patterns swirling along the bow and sides. Elaborate figureheads sprouted from the fore of each one. On the lead ship, the carver had created a face of nightmares. Black hair swept down past a regal ivory profile and, in an odd contrast to this beauty, a gaping mouth with wicked curved fangs protruding at all angles. The eyes, most frightening of all, were living. As they moved, either to the left or the right, the ship glided with them. Each of the figureheads had a similarly disturbing visage. Behind each morbid sculpture sat a figure, fingers splayed across the skull of their ghastly mounts. Like the rest of the passengers, their faces were completely covered by close fitting black masks with no eye slits. But unlike them, their eyes were black and sightless beneath the masks and incessant chanting rolled from their lips. As the strange fleet glided to shore, tentative cries of alarm were heard from the village above. The chanting ceased and the eyes that directed the ships blinked once more then froze. As one, the eighty soldiers on board removed their masks.
On the lead ship, a man named Captain Garth stepped forward. One hand reached up to his neck, grasping a strange black crystal that hung there. The crystal, known as a Darkshard, held light from the dark red sun of Spᴂra’s southern continent, Lacuna. His other hand reached out, fingers curved like talons and the light in the village turned to red in a wave of crimson rolling from the shore. Alarmed villagers fell, as if struck, into a deathlike sleep. Helena was almost home when she noticed the change behind her, the crimson light throwing a ghastly shadow as she ran. Feeling the malevolence in that wave of light she lunged through the doorway, darkness pressing at her eyes. Time slowed as she spotted her son, still sleeping peacefully next to his father. As her vision faded she saw the red light touch his foot. In that moment, his now white-blonde hair stood on end, and a brilliant yellow light drove away the final vestiges of her consciousness.
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Back on the ship Captain Garth staggered, nearly falling. High above him, the flash of yellow light had driven back the red and a bell began to clamour. The sound snapped his blurred vision back into focus. Looking down, he saw the raiding party formed up on the shore. A red anger filled him as he realised they had seen his moment of weakness. “Commander Xera, why has the attack not yet commenced” he growled. “But Captain...” She stammered “...we were to wait for your command.” “So it’s my fault you missed a clear tactical advantage?” Garth shot back. “So it’s my fault that your spell failed to do what you claimed it could?” She snapped. A strange smile spread across Garth’s face, red light flashing behind his eyes. Xera’s eyes widened. Garth simply pointed and she began to lift off the ground flailing wildly. “I find you guilty of the crime of insubordination during battle, the punishment for which is half of your Lifelight”. Her flailing slowed as crimson light began to flow directly from the core of her abdomen. In mere seconds she was completely still and Garth released her. Having found an outlet for his anger he calmed visibly. “As Commander Xera is no longer capable of leading the attack, I will take on the responsibility myself. Sub-Commander Raeth, you will bring five men with me to investigate the source of that counter spell. The rest of you will follow Sub-Commander Lyra and stick to the primary task; obtain as much life force as possible and store it in your Darkshards. Anyone seen claiming life force for themselves will receive the same treatment as commander Xera.” Eyes once again flashing red, he raised his hands and levitated to the front of the invading party before marching into the village.
Helena awoke to another pulse of red light coming through the door, accompanied by a strange, fading scream. What followed was an eerie silence, punctuated softly by the deep breaths of her son, still asleep. The only signs of that flare of light were the bright spots she could see behind her eyelids. She turned to see Jef at the door. His mouth opened to speak but froze unnaturally, as if gripped by something. He only managed to choke out “Run...”. Helena watched him move, like a statue being pushed, into the cabin and away from the door. Behind him stood a group of men dressed entirely in black. The man in the lead had his arm extended. His dark green eyes flickered with red. His square profile had a strange expression of excitement and, most distinctively, his dark black hair was held in a by a band crafted in the likeness of a Blood Cobra. This particular band, granted only to full Sanguine Magi, depicts the deadly snake found in the jungle to the west of the Darkshard mines. “My name is Commander Garth,” He said “tell me where to find the Luxor and you may live.”
Helena’s obvious confusion seemed to only make him angry. “Tell me, or your husband dies, I have little time and even less patience” growled Garth, hand still extended towards Jef. Helena’s heart began to beat rapidly as she remembered the huge flash of light that emanated from her son and her eyes darted towards him. Garth followed her eyes to the bed, noticing the small boy lying there with the little pebble still clasped in his fingers. Turning away from Jef he pointed to the boy saying “perhaps this will be a better motivator.” Once again, the boy’s eyes snapped open. This time, Helena was ready for it, setting her feet as another burst of light almost knocked her off her feet. Her heart sank as she turned back to see Garth still standing, blinking furiously and shaking his head. Jef, momentarily free, lunged past him to grab his son. Garth simply lifted his hand and froze him mid lunge. “Well it appears that both of my questions have been answered,” he mused. “I will be taking the boy.” Immediately, a protective rage filled Helena, white light flashed in her eyes as she threw a ball of power. Surprised by the ferocity of her response, Garth was forced to release Jef to defend himself. Extending his hand, palm up, a shield of red light sprung up around him. The force of her attack blasted through it and knocked him out the doorway. He strode back through in a heartbeat, hand outstretched. A casual gesture in her direction and Helena slammed headfirst against the wall with devastating force. In that moment Jef looked up and grinned fiercely. A blazing ball of liquid Lifelight blinked out of his chest, cocooning the child mid-air. Garth hesitated, wary of another trick, and the light winked out of existence, taking the boy with it. The raiders still in the village looked up, confused by an inarticulate scream of rage from the south.
The other side of Spᴂra, almost 1000 marks away, on Mt Thyros; easternmost mountain of the Thy’gath mountain range, Solisium.
A man called Cutter stood knee deep in the mountain stream, shaving his square jaw with a wickedly sharp knife. His dark hair was cropped short and scattered with grey. He had a strong aquiline nose and brown, chiselled features; but it was his gold-flecked amber coloured eyes that were the most distinctive. Just as he moved to make the final stroke, a light flashed into existence on the bank to his left. His response was instantaneous, his whole body flicking straight backwards. Feet kicked up and over as a free hand splashed to the ground. He landed solidly facing the direction of the presumed threat. His expression was rigid, knife poised for a throw. Seeing the yellow orb of light simply floating there, his face wrinkled slightly. As the orb faded and revealed its little charge a brief look of regret played across his features. It disappeared almost immediately and, with sudden resolve, he picked up the boy and climbed ashore. Placing him on the animal hide he used for a mat he began packing up the rest of the camp. After a full two hours the boy stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Guess you must be Jef’s boy, though I can’t figure where you got that blonde hair from.” rasped Cutter, his voice thick with disuse. The boy’s eyes opened, revealing irises like shards of amethyst, flecked with a strange brilliant blue. “And where on earth you got eyes like that,” he stammered after a moment of surprise. The boy only looked at him with a blank expression. “Well I guess you aren’t likely to remember much after a trip like that.” He picked up the boy, placing him to the side. All his belongings went onto the hide before folding into a large bundle that was tied to his back with thick leather straps. He took one look at the boys stubby legs before grunting, his muscled jaw clamping even tighter. Lifting the boy easily, he placed him on his shoulders and began striding firmly to the east. “Bad idea to stick around after a flash like that, never know what comes looking.”