An ocean away, toward the east where the sky met the sea, in the kingdom of Ledora, Prince Dominic wiped the sweat from his forehead using a white handkerchief trimmed with golden thread.

“Again,” a voice called out as he stuffed the handkerchief back into the pocket of his trousers. The command came from the great wizard, Alemayehu, as he evaluated the prince’s every move. Dominic rolled his wrist in a circle and inside his mind, he recited the incantation; 'mpira wa moto'. A ball of fire appeared in his hand, hovering only an inch from his skin. He stared at the fireball he'd produced with pride, and in his excitement, Dominic forgot to hurl the flame at the target until the heat began to redden his palm.

“Ow!” Dominic flicked his hand in reaction to the burn and sent the fireball soaring into the anti-magic field surrounding the training yard. As soon as the flame hit the invisible barrier, it fizzled as if it entered the ocean and evaporated into the air around them.

“Again,” Alemayehu commanded.

“Are you crazy? My skin is still burning from the last one, can’t we practice something else?” Dominic asked. The wizard gave him a stern look.

“How will you ever claim your ancestral powers and rule this land, if you can’t take a little heat? Again.” The wizard’s tone was condescending and short of patience. Dominic turned back to the training target set up one hundred and fifty feet from where he stood. He repeated the spell, producing the ball of flame again. This time, he threw it as quickly and as far as he could. It landed forty feet short of the target and spread out from the area where it hit in a bright flame. Alemayehu waved his hand and the flames disappeared.

“Better, but tomorrow we will continue to work on your range and silent casting. You're throwing from your shoulder when you should be using your arcane energy to propel the fireball.” The wizard glanced at the four guards waiting outside the training yard. “We are finished with today’s lesson,” he said, turning to walk away. His figure became transparent and then disappeared completely after a single step. When is he going to teach me that trick? Dominic wondered. The guards surrounded him and moved as a unit, protecting the prince from all sides.

“So, someday, you’re going to talk to me right?” Dominic asked, looking back and forth between the men. The guards kept their eyes forward and didn't glance his way.

“Yeah, I thought not.” Dominic followed them to his next destination; sword fighting. The weapon's training area was much smaller than the casting yard and tall pillars lined the room on both sides, providing many opportunities to dodge attacks, gain position, or even hide if you needed to. Dominic crossed the room to the weapons rack where his instructor, Master Shujaa stood.

“Why do I have to learn to use a sword when I could just sling fire at our enemies?” he joked, picking up the heavy greatsword Master Shujaa made him practice with. It was made from the heaviest material known to man and then enchanted to add twenty pounds. When Dominic first picked up a sword at the age of five, it was a shortsword weighing only three pounds. As he grew and became stronger, his weapons became heavier, pushing his muscles to their limit with every session.

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Dominic was thankful he only had sword training once every two days, it gave his muscles time to recover. On the days he didn’t train with a sword, he trained his mind with studies of the ancient dragon texts written hundreds of years before he was born.

This was his life; schedules, classes, training, appointments, and the only people who talked to him were either barking orders or giving instructions. The residents of the kingdom; both noble and base born, spoke of the prince as if he led a wonderous life, always whispering about how lucky he was, and wishing they were in his place. Sometimes, Dominic wished they were too.

Being the heir to the Ledoran throne was a lonely job. Dominic had no friends, only royal advisors and of course his father, King Haki. These days, the king busied himself with the search for a betrothal for his son. As king, Dominic would need to eventually produce an heir of his own to carry on the royal line, but if Dominic had any say at all, it would be a long time before he had to worry about children.

“Are you ready?” Master Shujaa asked, as he held his sword in front of him with one hand, and his other arm folded politely behind his back. Dominic raised his heavy greatsword with two hands and Master Shujaa quickly stepped forward, motioning for Dominic to drop one of his hands.

“One hand only,” Master Shujaa told him.

Dominic dropped his left hand, gripping the heavy sword tightly in his right. It already made his bicep sting to hold it at the ready. Master Shujaa circled him, and Dominic countered his steps, paying close attention to the position of his feet.

“Focus only on blocking,” the swordmaster instructed as he shuffled in for a strike on Dominic’s left side. The Prince swung his sword to meet the opposing steel with a loud clang. He blocked again when a strike came from above, and then from below, once more from the left. A fake to the left again made Dominic react, leaving his right shoulder unprotected. Master Shujaa smacked Dominic’s arm with the flat of his blade.

“Always expect your opponent to try and trick you. Don’t leave yourself open. Switch hands, let's try it the other way now.” Dominic obeyed, gripping the sword with his left hand, which was not his dominant, but he had trained to use it just as much in case his right were ever incapacitated.

They circled around, repeating the dance again and again, switching hands after each set until Dominic was no longer able to hold the sword up.

That night, Dominic tossed and turned, fighting with the covers on his bed as he desperately tried to sleep, his usual dreamless rest was invaded by visions of an island across the sea with four tall mountains, and a vast continent nearby. He saw a girl with strange-colored hair and another with hair as red as fire. The orb of dragon magic his kingdom protected whispered to him in a language he recognized as draconic, but he was not fluent enough to decipher what it was saying. It pulsed with energy and lightning as it swelled. It looked and sounded like it was about to burst. His dream continued in painful flashes of light searing into his mind with the same images repeating over and over; the girls, the mountains, the orb, and the dream ended with a green dragon rising from the mountain. The last thing he saw was the gaping maw of the great green beast as it swallowed him whole.

When he woke up, he was drenched in sweat. The memory of the dragon still haunted him, but he could not stop thinking about the girls he saw at the beginning of his dream. He knew they must be important to the prophecy of the orb, but only the Oracle could tell him where he needed to go and what he needed to do.