Chapter One - The Wastelanders
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The last light of dawn glinted off the icy plains, casting an ethereal glow over the Frozen Wastelands. I crouched low behind a snow-covered ridge, my breath visible in the frigid air. Astra, my loyal griffin, lay beside me, her feathers blending seamlessly with the snow. We had been tracking a herd of snow elk for hours, and now, they were finally within reach.
I peered through the frost-laden branches of a nearby shrub, my gaze fixed on a magnificent stag at the edge of the herd. Its antlers were a crown of ice, and its fur blended perfectly with the snowy landscape. This was the prize I sought—the stag would provide enough meat for the entire village, and its hide would be invaluable.
Silently, I drew an arrow from my quiver and notched it to my bow. Every movement was deliberate and practiced. I had spent years honing my skills, learning to move like a shadow in this harsh, unforgiving land. Astra's eyes met mine, and she gave a slight nod, understanding my plan without a word.
I took a deep breath, steadying my aim. The world seemed to narrow to a single point—the stag's heart. I exhaled slowly, releasing the arrow. It flew true, slicing through the air with deadly precision. The stag staggered, a surprised bellow escaping its lips before it collapsed onto the snow, its life extinguishing instantly.
The rest of the herd scattered, their hooves pounding against the frozen ground. But I didn't care; my target was down. I stood up, a sense of triumph washing over me as I approached the fallen stag. Astra followed, her keen eyes still scanning for any potential threats.
As I knelt beside the stag, I whispered a prayer of thanks to the spirits of the wastelands. This hunt was not just about survival; it was a sacred ritual, a bond between predator and prey. I ran my hand over the stag's soft fur, feeling deeply grateful for its sacrifice.
“Great work, Astra! We surely got one of the bigger stags, didn’t we?!” I said happily, giving her a rustle on her feathery head. My magnificent griffin, Astra, stood beside me, her silvery-blue feathers shimmering in the early morning light. Her powerful, muscular body was a testament to her strength, and her keen, intelligent eyes reflected our bond. I reached out and rustled the feathers on her head, feeling the warmth of her trust and companionship.
She nuzzled me gently, a soft purr emanating from her throat.
Astra's broad and powerful wings unfurled slightly as she stretched, showing off the intricate patterns of her feathers that seemed to capture the essence of the frozen wastelands. Her sharp and deadly talons reminded her of her prowess as a hunter.
I could see the pride in her eyes as she glanced down at the fallen stag. She understood the significance of our hunt and the delicate balance we maintained in this harsh environment. Every successful hunt was a testament to our skills and bond; this was no different.
Astra kept a vigilant watch as I continued to run my hand over the stag's fur. Her head swiveled, alert to movement, and her keen senses tuned to the slightest sound. Danger was never far away in the wastelands, and she was always ready to protect us.
My gaze left the stag and traveled upwards. The floating islands weren’t visible today. They were hidden by the clouds that gathered over the Frozen Wastelands, indicating lots of snow soon. "Ah, of course, it’s going to snow," I murmured quietly. "Hopefully, that doesn’t keep the prey away too much."
I sighed, knowing that the impending snowstorm could make hunting even more challenging in the coming days. But for now, we had what we needed, and it was time to return.
"Come on, let's get home to Father," I said, giving Astra one last affectionate pat on her silvery-blue feathers.
She responded with a gentle nudge, urging me forward. With the stag's meat securely strapped to her back, we began our journey back to the village. The cold wind bit at our faces, but it was a familiar companion, a constant reminder of the land we called home. “Hah, I wonder what Ruvyn brought in today.”
As we began our journey back to the village, I thought about Ruvyn, my childhood friend who was like a brother to me. Ruvyn and I had grown up together, learning the ways of the wastelands under our Tribe Leader's guidance. He was always by my side, a constant source of support and camaraderie. Our bond was as strong as any family tie, and his friendship was one of the few constants in my life.
I smiled at Ruvyn’s reaction when he saw the stag. He would be impressed, no doubt, and eager to hear every detail of the hunt. Ruvyn had a way of making even the most mundane stories come alive with his enthusiasm and curiosity.
The cold wind bit at our faces as Astra and I moved harmoniously, our steps synchronized, our spirits united. As the village came into view, I felt a surge of determination. No matter the challenges, I knew I could count on Astra and Ruvyn. We were more than just friends and companions; we were family, bound by a shared destiny.
As we approached the village gates, I spotted Ruvyn waiting for us, his familiar smile lighting up his face despite the cold.
As we entered our small village, the familiar sight of smoke rising from the huts' chimneys greeted us. Nestled in a sheltered valley of the Frozen Wastelands, the town starkly contrasted with its harsh environment.
The huts were constructed from sturdy timber and stones, their roofs insulated with thick layers of snow and ice to keep out the biting cold. Each dwelling was built close to the next, forming a tight-knit circle around a central communal fire pit that blazed brightly, providing warmth and light.
The ground was covered in a thick blanket of snow, which crunched underfoot as we walked. Paths had been worn into the snow from frequent use, leading from hut to hut and to the central fire pit. The smoke from the chimneys and the central fire mingled in the air, creating a hazy, comforting aroma of burning wood and cooked meals.
Surrounding the village were tall, ancient trees with frost-covered branches, their silhouettes stark against the gray sky. These trees provided some shelter from the relentless winds and were a source of wood for the village's needs.
Despite the cold, the village was a hub of activity. Children bundled in furs played near the huts, their laughter ringing in the crisp air. Elders gathered around the fire pit, sharing stories and wisdom, their faces lined with the marks of many winters.
"Just a single stag? Tch looks pretty little," Ruvyn said, a yawn escaping him as he ran a hand through his light-brown hair. A grin peaked at the tip of his lips. "Hey, but get this," he said, elbowing me gently, "Sylvain has some interesting news for the entire tribe."
"What could Father possibly want?" I groaned as we made our way through the village. The familiar smoke from the huts surrounded us, mixing with the faint scent of pine and the perpetual chill of the Frozen Wastelands.
"Ah, I don’t really know. He said it had something to do with the Vreselari." Ruvyn said, shrugging as he helped me dismount the dead stag off Astra’s back to be cooked shortly.
Another sigh escaped me as I heard that name. The Vreselari, the people of Vreselon. They were something else, the unique "sky-elves" that thought they were better than anyone else because they lived on fancy floating isles.
Our village, with its humble huts and communal fire pit, stood in stark contrast to the opulence of Vreselon. The floating isles were rarely seen from the ground, often hidden by clouds or the distance of the sky. The Vreselari were known for their advanced magic and technology, which allowed their cities to float above the earth, untouched by the harsh conditions we endured daily.
Despite the grandeur of their floating islands, the Vreselari had a reputation for arrogance. They believed their elevated position, literally and figuratively, made them superior to those of us who lived on the ground. This sentiment has caused tension and resentment between our people for generations.
Our village, surrounded by the towering, frost-covered trees of the Frozen Wastelands, was a place of simplicity and survival. We relied on each other and the land, facing the challenges of the harsh climate with grit and determination. The Vreselari, with its sky-bound cities and seemingly endless resources, was a world apart from our day-to-day struggles.
"What could Father possibly want with the Vreselari?" I mumbled, more to myself than to Ruvyn. The idea of dealing with the sky-elves filled me with a sense of unease. Their motives were often inscrutable, and their presence typically heralded complications.
"Guess we'll find out soon enough," Ruvyn replied with a shrug, his easygoing nature untroubled by the news. "Let's just get this stag to the communal fire. We've got a feast to prepare."
As we moved through the village, the warmth of the central fire beckoned, a beacon of light and comfort amidst the cold. Whatever news Sylvain had about the Vreselari, we would face it together, as we always did. Our village might be small and humble, but it was our home, and we were its unwavering heart.
With the stag across our shoulders, we went to the central fire pit, where the rest of the village had already started gathering. The fire crackled and danced, casting flickering shadows on the faces of those assembled. The air was filled with the mingling scents of roasting meat and herbal brews, a welcome reprieve from the icy chill that permeated the Frozen Wastelands.
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As we approached, Sylvain, our tribe leader, and my father stood by the fire, his tall frame silhouetted against the flames. His eyes, a piercing green that seemed to see through the soul, turned to us as we arrived. He gave me a huge smile that would stick with me forever. He was such an innocent soul.
"Father!" I greeted him with a happy cheer.
"Ah, there you are," Sylvain replied, bringing me in for a tight hug. "I’m glad to have you back safely! Come, come, sit!"
I felt the warmth and comfort in his embrace, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh world outside. As I settled beside him, the rest of the villagers gathered around the fire, their curiosity piqued by the unusual urgency in Sylvain's voice.
"I have something important to share with all of you," Sylvain began, his voice carrying the weight of his years of leadership. "Earlier today, I received a message from Vreselari."
Anticipation swam through me as I heard him begin to speak. Sitting on one of the nearby logs next to Ruvyn, I felt rather giddy about the situation. It’s not often they reach out to and communicate with us. Typically, the Vreselari are very high-up, and unfortunately… They tend to look down on us. So this was interesting!
“They’ve demanded our assistance,” Sylvain continued, looking over everyone. “From the brief message, their floating islands are facing a threat of some sort. A dark force, ancient and powerful, is rising from the depths of the earth. They believe it is connected to our land and fear it could spread to their isles if not contained. They think we are somehow responsible.”
The crowd erupted in murmurs of disbelief and indignation. It was one thing for the Vreselari to look down on us, but to accuse us of endangering their precious floating islands was another matter entirely.
“How dare they accuse us without proof!” someone shouted from the back.
I frowned. Of course, they thought of us that way. They were complete idiots - honestly. Tightening my grip on the log below me, I could feel my fingernails chipping away at some of the bark.
“Relax, Zarola,” I heard Ruvyn whisper to me.
I glanced at him, blue eyes cold as ever.
Sylvain sighed, putting a hand to calm the crowd. “I understand the anger,” He started with a frown. “But we must stay composed. Despite their accusations, we should still consider this threat, whatever it may be, can affect us.” He explained.
“We shouldn’t help them! They have never cared about us!” Another voice shouted.
I bit my tongue, keeping quiet to not disrupt my father and his accusations from the Vreselari. Even Astra sensed my agitation as she came up and rested her feathery head between Ruvyn and me. I leaned against her for comfort, keeping my calm.
Sylvain nodded, his expression serious. “It’s true that the Vreselari have always been distant and condescending. But if this dark force is as dangerous as they claim, it’s in our best interest to address it. We must gather more information and decide our course of action together.”
“What do they even want us to do?” I asked, trying to understand what their intentions were. “I mean, should we even consider helping them?”
“Zarola, my daughter,” Sylvain sighed, coming up to me and holding his hand out with a gentle smile. “I understand your hesitation. The Vreselari have not been kind to us, and it's natural to question their motives. But sometimes, we must look beyond our grievances and see the bigger picture.”
I took his hand, feeling the warmth and reassurance in his touch. “But can we trust them, Father?”
Sylvain's eyes softened. “Trust is earned, not given. We will approach this with caution and wisdom. We will not blindly follow their lead but listen and discern the truth. If this threat is real, it affects all of us, and we must be prepared.”
Ruvyn, who had been quietly listening beside me, finally spoke up. “We should at least hear them out. Ignoring the dark force could be worse if it is as dangerous as they say.”
The crowd murmured in agreement, the initial outrage slowly giving way to a more practical outlook. Despite our reservations, we knew facing the unknown together was better than doing so alone.
Sylvain squeezed my hand gently. “We will proceed with caution and strength. We will protect our people and our land. And if working with the Vreselari is necessary, we will do it on our terms.”
With that, the meeting began to break up, each person returning to their tasks with a renewed sense of purpose. Sylvain's words had given us direction, and the uncertainty of the situation felt a little less daunting.
He gazed down at me, cupped my cheek, and studied me. “Zarola, do you remember what your mother used to say?”
I looked up at him, the memory of my mother’s voice filling my mind as I recited her familiar rhyme:
“When shadows grow long and the night seems near, Courage and wisdom will conquer your fear.”
Sylvain smiled softly, his eyes reflecting the gentle light of the setting sun. “Your mother was a wise woman, Zarola. We must approach this situation with both courage and wisdom. Trust in yourself and in our people. We will find a way through this. I’m unsure of the exact details, but we can get through this. The Wastelanders have seen much worse! Now, you should go get some rest, as I am.” With that, Father turned away and returned to his own hut toward the back of the village.
Watching him leave, I sighed and turned back to Astra, gently putting my hand on her muzzle as I did so. The audacity that the Vreselari had to even think about asking us for help! After all that they’ve put us through!
“Zar, I know that look,” Ruvyn’s voice chimed beside me, pulling me from my thoughts.
I glanced at him and climbed onto Astra’s back, feeling the familiar comfort of my griffin beneath me. “I’ll be back, don’t worry. Maybe I can find another hunt,” I murmured to him, my mind still uncertain.
Right before I clicked on her, Ruvyn’s hand reached for mine. “Hey,” he said with a smile, his touch grounding me momentarily. “Everything will be okay, don’t worry about it. You’ve got some great warriors here to protect you,” His voice was light and gentle, starkly contrasting with my mind's heavy thoughts. “You also have a giant-ass griffin; look at her! She’s huge! No offense, Astra. You’re a beautiful creature,” Ruvyn chuckled, his golden-yellow eyes lighting up with a spark.
A small smile tugged at my lips despite my worries. Ruvyn had always had a way of making the darkest situations seem a little brighter. “Thank you, Ruvyn. I just… I needed some air. To clear my head.”
He nodded, understanding. “I know. Just be careful, okay? We need you here, Zarola. You’re not just any warrior; you’re our leader’s daughter and, more importantly, my friend. I’ll be back at my hut if you need anything, okay?”
His words warmed my heart, and I squeezed his hand before letting go. “I will. Don’t worry about me too much.”
With a final nod to Ruvyn, I clicked to Astra, and she spread her mighty wings, lifting us into the sky. The wind whipped through my hair, and the world below grew smaller. Up here, away from the weight of responsibility and fear, I could almost believe that everything would be alright.
As Astra soared above the trees, I took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs. I needed this moment of peace to remind myself of the strength and courage that my mother had always believed in. My gaze scanned the clearing below me as I watched for any movement.
Being the Tribe Leader’s Daughter and one of the best Hunters in our tribe, things were difficult to process, and I had a lot of weight to carry. Between my mother being dead, my Father getting older and older, and me being the only heir, it was a lot. I had to ensure I brought my fair share of food back, made sure the politics within our tribe were fair, and also had to keep patrols up.
A sigh escaped me as I shifted my weight on Astra - now balancing myself on her back with my own. I lay down, my gaze now connecting with the clouds above us. “Take us to the spot, Astra,” I murmured, giving her a gentle scratch on one of her wings.
As Astra glided gracefully, my mind wandered to the responsibilities that weighed me down. I thought about the recent disputes within the tribe and the never-ending arguments. I had to meditate, to be the voice of reason, just like my mother had taught me. But it wasn’t easy. The elders often resisted change, and the younger members were impatient for progress.
My thoughts drifted to my mother's memories, her wisdom and strength. She had always known the right words to say and the right actions to take. I wondered if I could ever live up to her legacy. The burden of leadership was heavy; sometimes, it felt crushing me.
Then there was the fear of the unknown. With my father's health declining, I worried about the future of our tribe. Could I lead them as effectively as he had? Could I protect them from the dangers that lurked in the shadows, both within and outside our borders?
Amidst all this, there was a personal longing for a moment of normalcy, a fleeting desire to be just another member of the tribe, not defined by my titles and responsibilities. I missed the carefree days of my youth, hunting with friends and laughing around the campfire.
The feathery griffin stopped near one of the mountaintops of the wastelands, surrounded by nothing by frozen trees and wind. The cold typically didn’t bother me. With the correct clothing and just being born as a Wastelander, the cold from the mountains was nothing.
Dismounting, I gently rested my head against Astra’s. I thanked her, allowing her to sleep as I gazed over the wastelands below us. It has one of the best views, and it was absolutely breathtaking. It was one of my favorite spots and an accessible area to observe anything around the wastelands. It was peaceful at the top of the mountains, with nothing but trees.
Except tonight.
Tonight was different.
When I heard the rustling behind me, my hand instantly connected with the bow that lay equipped on my back and an arrow in the strings. Heart racing, I slowly turned, every muscle in my body tensed and ready. The serene beauty of the mountains now felt like a deceptive calm before a storm.
The rustling grew louder, and my mind raced through the possibilities. A wild animal? An enemy scout? Or something far worse? The shadows seemed to move with their lives, and the usually comforting darkness now felt oppressive and threatening.
I took a steadying breath, drawing the bowstring back as I focused my senses. My eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of movement. "Stay calm," I reminded myself. "Trust your instincts."
Sensing the tension, Astra shifted slightly but remained still, her presence a reminder that I was not alone. The rustling then stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence that made the hairs on my neck stand up.
Seconds felt like hours as I waited, poised and ready to release the arrow immediately. The silence was finally broken by a figure emerging from the shadows. My grip tightened, but I held my fire, waiting to identify the intruder.
Then, a creature like nothing I had ever seen emerged from the shadows. It was majestic yet otherworldly, with scales that shimmered like obsidian under the moonlight. Its antlers were intricate, branching like the finest crystal, and its eyes were deep pools of midnight sky. I realized with awe and disbelief that this was a Kirin, a creature I had only heard about in stories. But this one was different; it was a Dark Kirin.
The legends spoke of Kirins as noble creatures, harbingers of prosperity and peace. But a Dark Kirin in the Frozen Wastelands was unheard of, contradicting its nature. My grip on the bow slackened slightly, curiosity mingling with caution.
The Kirin approached slowly, its movements graceful yet urgent. It stopped a few paces away, lowering its head slightly as if acknowledging me. There was an intelligence in its eyes, a plea that transcended words.
I lowered my bow, sensing no threat from the creature. Instead, there was a sense of desperation, of a need for help. "What do you need?" I whispered, more to myself than the Kirin.
The Dark Kirin pawed at the ground, its gaze intense and imploring. I could feel its urgency, a silent cry for assistance. It was searching for someone, for aid, and the weight of its plea tugged at my heart.
Understanding the gravity of the situation, I stepped forward cautiously, extending a hand. "Show me," I said softly, willing to follow and uncover the mystery that had brought this legendary creature to the wastelands.
This encounter was unlike anything I had imagined. As the Kirin turned to lead me into the unknown, I knew that tonight would change everything.
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image [https://cdn.midjourney.com/2fff634f-fe8f-4639-9180-bf4da22a41a9/0_1.png]