Before his class began, Professor Lickel kept his head down and listened to the commotion brought upon by his students. With their chatter as joyful as ever, his lips curled up into a smile.

But that chatter came to an abrupt stop as he stood up to face his students. All were staring at him, yet their eyes did not meet his own. Rather, they trailed a bit farther up, to the mark on his forehead. There laid an eye, painted with three lashes on each lid.

“I hope you had a good weekend. Though I can see there are some questions written on your faces,” he began as a few hands rose up. He waved them down. “Apologies, but they’ll have to wait. We still have a class to get to, after all.” The students groaned together. “Now, I believe that we left off on our recent war efforts. Most recently General Akbar made the initiative to invade Fort Perseus.”

A hand shot up. “Professor, is your, uh, tattoo supposed to glow?”

Lickel rubbed his forehead and took a look at his fingers. No dust or ink carried over. His students continued to stare at the eye drawn above his others. “No, I don’t believe so.” Unbothered, he clasped his hands behind his back. “Anyway, General Akbar ordered the conquest of the fort. Historically, the small castle has been one of many deciding factors in the war. Can anyone tell me why? Yes, Timothy.”

“The fort is at the end of a valley?”

“That is one part of it. Can anyone else add to that? Ulysses.”

“It’s the place where the Everhart Treaty was signed.”

“Indeed. Quite the historic place.” No other hands were raised. “However, it is also a place heavily fortified by the Vali. Taking it out would also take out their leaders closer to the frontline, especially Commander Voltskin. Without him, the enemy would be demoralized and lacking a strong player.” A shaky hand raised. “Yes, Jessica?”

“Sir, who is Commander Voltskin?”

“I,” he closed his mouth. Rubbing his chin, his eye mark grew brighter, making his vision hazy for a moment. When it faded, he looked back at Jessica. “He, well, he was recently promoted among the Vali. His newfound powers pushed it through a couple of days ago.”

“But the newspapers haven’t shared any of that.”

“No, no they haven’t,” his voice wavered, “But it has to be true. Something’s telling me it has to.” His students looked at each other. “I need a minute.” The eye pulsed with another glow. “Actually, class dismissed. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Lickel plopped down into his desk chair, rubbing his forehead as it continued to pulse every few seconds. His students padded out of the room, but not without a glance back at their professor.

He didn’t notice their concern. Instead, new images flashed behind his eyelids and names burned themselves into his brain. People, places, and spells were stamped into his mind over and over. He could only count a few that he even recognized by name, but it kept going and going.

General Yolvin of the Doling. Commander Voltskin of the Vali. Pollock Black of the Vampír. Fort Grant. Valley of Storms. Swamp of Bewitchment. Guardian Beasts. Sunlight Hammer. Terror Tornado. Ill Rain.

And then the surge stopped.

He heaved in air, relishing in every fresh flow. He was still in his classroom. Still in his chair. Nowhere near the Valley of Storms or the war. He was safe. He was safe in his classroom. There were no spells aimed to kill. There were no blades tearing through soldiers. Just him in his class. Alone. He was safe.

The eye finally dimmed down to an inky black.

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Commander Voltskin surged forward, his arms basking in the glow of his newfound power. Behind him, a squad of soldiers charged the fort with weapons at the ready.

It was a bloodbath. Carnage waged upon the unsuspecting soldiers stationed at the rally point. A single squad wiped out dozens of men and women. Trainees and captains. None could withstand a strike from Voltskin.

But it seems his arms couldn’t stand so many strikes being thrown around. His forearms were riddled with burns, charring through his tan skin and into the layers beneath it.

“Yo, Volt!” A short man jogged up to him, a pair of swords strapped to his back. “That was amazing—Woah! You alright? Should I go get a healer?”

He nodded. His arms had never been worse for wear. Cradled as they were, even the slightest breeze sent a jolt up the rest of his arm. So he sat down against one of the fort’s walls. That stifled the breeze for a while, but the weight of his scorched muscles made his breath heavy.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The pain was only reinforced when a healer wrapped up his wounds. Healing salves only went so far for his level of injuries. Though his skin and muscles would be tender for a few days, his nerves would be numb for weeks. Well, if he let himself heal properly.

“How reckless can you be?” asked his healer. Voltskin hummed. “Oh, don’t you “Hm” me! If you keep this up, your arms’ll be useless.”

He turned to the side, averting his eyes.

The healer sighed. “We can’t lose you, Volt. You know that.”

It should have been a question, but to the commander, it was a daunting statement. He stood up. “I need some fresh air.”

“Just don’t try to lift anything,” warned his healer.

He nodded and made his way out of the fort. With everyone busy, he expected to take an unnoticed leave, but it seemed his departure was something the guards were panicked about. He assured them he would be back and pushed his way out of the battlefield.

Then it was just the plains. All their smokey and ashen beauty. Fresh from the furious flame that his people carried with every siege. His eyes lingered on the craters. Small, but deep. Jagged marks scorched into the very earth.

He did this. He had brought so much destruction to the fortress. He had led these people to their death. All for what?

Land? Money? Resources?

“Ladies, I hope you’ve given me life for a reason,” he mumbled. A wish and a doubt wrapped in one. His hands caressed the layers of bandages wrapped upon his arms. “May I have a glorious purpose set out for me,” he began, “May my people know brighter days, free from war. Please, Holy Maidens, please. Allow my people to know peace for once.”

His gaze rose to the skies. The clouds held no answer to his prayer. Back slumping, he began his trek back to the fortress.

However, under his bandages, his veins bulged and marked themselves with the mark of lightning, carrying from his knuckles to his elbow. Down the entire length of his forearm, lightning branded itself upon his skin. If only his bandages hadn’t covered up the spectacle.

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The last of the champions donned a white gown and held herself with a staff larger than her. Its wooden shaft was carved with the visage of flames and was topped off by the head of a bird. A brilliant design that may have been the masterpiece of any number of craftsmen.

However, the champion used it as a walking stick. She didn’t quite need a walking stick, but when hiking up a mountain, it was tremendously helpful. Indeed, the peak of Mount Ryusei was a journey not many took for a reason. Both for the length of the trip and for its legacy.

Today, Spirit’s champion was guiding a young boy up the mountain. Said boy had no walking stick, just a bag of supplies strapped to his back.

“How long is this trip anyway?” the boy asked as he looked up at the snowy peak.

“We should be there in a week,” she replied in a gentle voice, “But you must have patience, David. The Guardian Ceremony takes time.”

“Oh, well, how long did it take you?” She stopped her trek. “Huh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” She shook her head, rattling a few feathers and beads interwoven in her hair. “My ceremony took two years.”

“Two years!” He echoed.

She nodded. “Mind you, back in my day, we had no guide. I had to visit each guardian until one would accept me.”

David looked back up to the peak. It seemed to have grown much higher in the past few minutes. “Am I going to take that long?” He gulped when he looked back at her.

A smile adorned her lips. “No. With me as your guide, this trip is the only one we shall make.”

“Oh, okay! Let’s go!” David ran ahead of her, following the dirt path.

Velvela couldn’t resist the smile on her face. He was a bundle of excitement, just as every other child she had led up the mountains and through the jungles. It was truly a wonder how children had so much energy. But she wouldn’t let him get far without her. It was her duty as a guide to lead him, not be led.

“Uh, Miss Valentia?" The boy had stopped on a rock, looking back down at the forest. She followed his gaze, glancing over the trees. "Are those outsiders?" He pointed to a small strip. Along the way, a small troop marched toward the center of the forest.

"They are," her voice became low, almost a whisper in the wind. She planted her staff in the ground, its head pointing toward the center of the forest. Their home village.

"Is something happening?"

Is the village in trouble?

Her arm wrapped around her belly, caressing it in circles. "The village needs me. We will have to postpone your journey."

"Oh."

"Don't worry. I feel that Joseph will be making the trek with you next time." She pulled her staff from the ground.

"Really?"

He's going to be a dragon too?

"Not a dragon. You two will be blessed by dragons." She spun around. "But we have to go now."

"Okay!"

And thus begins the tale of three champions. Each marked and gifted by the Ladies that watched over the land.