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Chapter: Beginnings


Void. Or more appropriately, “The Void”. This empty was a chasm that inspired an unknown horror to the beholder, and currently, he was terrified. It only seemed appropriate to give it such a terrifying name. He shut his eyes tight, in hopes it might be a Nightmare. It only made it worse, only intensifying the darkness that enveloped him. It was almost as if –when he closed his eyes—that he could see through their lids, and into the piercing darkness. It chilled him to the soul. And suddenly—as if answering his silent prayers—he felt some form of existence brush his arm. But as it seemed more comely of his surroundings, the touch instilled fear within him. It was not so much as it was the touch, as it was the phantom had that was the offender. Then the hand—transparent, gray, chilling—began to multiply. The hands grasped at him, as if to render him flesh from bone. He panicked, opening his mouth to scream, and struggled to escape their grasp. No sound escaped his mouth, his face twisted in unimaginable horror.

Kai started. Sweating like a peasant in a room of gold, he lay prostrate in his bed. He was relieved greatly. It was only a nightmare, he comforted himself. He moved, his limbs creaking painfully in their sockets. Promptly trouncing over the unrest in him, he slowly rose from his bed, silently putting his feet to the chill wood of the ground. He stood up, revealing his entire body. His face, long and slender—as was typical for elves—was impassive and emotionless, but nonetheless handsome. His hair was a cool silver and hung loosely down to his mid back. His hair color marked him that of the Sor’ithil House. His shoulders were broad but thin, as if made from delicate porcelain. This only enhanced his thin pale features. His chest was strong, but not bulging from muscles, and served to maintain a “noble” air about him. His leg muscles were taught, and supporting, but had the trained posture as was required of royalty. Kai was a mere two cycles old (Two hundred years in “human”. For each ten years, the elves age about one.), but had already reached his peak height of 5’11”. Having had grown faster than others of his age, he was always looked at as strange and “unnatural”.

He grabbed the nearest piece of clothing and tried it on to see if it would fit. It did. It was a one piece dark robe, lined with silver around the collar and sleeves, and was made of soft, rolling, velvet. He walked quietly towards the door, floor boards creaking softly under his light weight.

Arriving at the other end of the room, and finally outside, he stepped onto the balcony. The twilight air was chill, with a slight breeze, and wisped his hair about him. He gazed up through the canopy of the huge trees around him and into the night sky. The harvest moon—an eerie white—shined down upon the great Tree City of Tal’Isilme. “City of Moonlight.” or so it was spoken in “human”. And truly, the moons beauty was reflected into the city.

Kai sighed happily. Today was to be his Re’Coai Agar, his Life Blood Day. How life seemed to have fleeted by. Today would also be the day he started his Agarmen. He was to begin this “Blood Path” on his two hundredth cycle, in signal of his having gone from child to man. No doubt his parents would grieve much, along with the many denizens of the city. To them, he was their beloved prince. It annoyed him to no ends to only be known as “Prince”, or “Son of the Moon”, to the people, instead of having friends that actually cared for him, instead of title.

Oh, he certainly did have friends, but none he considered as friends himself. They only enjoyed his company because of the pleasures it brought. It was known to many a troublesome child that his family had no problem squandering money on his friends. Many took advantage of this, of course not around their parents, and bullied him into granting them their every whim. And because of his title, he could not strike back at them. For how would it look if their “Beloved Prince” had stricken one of his subjects?

Kai spat, muttering in an annoyed undertone tone about something to do with “Annoying peasants.” He found all these royalty shenanigans to be rather tiresome, and would be greatly heartened to be released from this hateful cage of his.

He returned to his bed, now having had forgotten about his Nightmare…

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“….” The child was quiet. Lying around her was several elf warriors. She prodded one with a foot, a look of general disgust spanning her face. In her eyes, all the elf bastards could die for all she cared.

Besides for her raggedy clothes, she was a dangerous looking girl. With shockingly bright red hair, and a quick eye, she was seen as quite the devious human. But the elves had discounted her appearance—despite the daggers on her hips—and made the mistake of underestimating her.

The elf men had tried to rape her, in the dark alley she was currently standing it, but she had quickly dispatched them. All three of them had thin crimson lines on their necks. It had taken her little effort to kill them, but she was still annoyed with the inconvenience.

She knew that she had multiple suitors, but she didn’t think that the elves would want her, in that way especially. She had thought that the damned elves considered humans inferior in all ways, and would shun the b*****d child of a human and elf. Nonetheless, she was a very attractive girl, but looked more woman than girl. She was not yet old enough—still only 17—to be considered a woman, but more of a pre-adult. Strangely enough for her though, her body seemed to have aged quicker than those about her.
“Perhaps it’s the water from all the industry……” She commented. Around her were several large apartment buildings, and surrounding them were large industrial buildings with their towers upon towers of smoke stacks.


Resa, as she was called, walked out of the alley, and into the busy streets of Havencross. Steam engines boomed around her, carrying thousands of passengers to their daily work lives. The sound of the many voices of the street rocked the earth below her. Several police wandered the streets, watching for potential crime. They would not find any, for all crime lords and mobsters would most likely be underground at this time. But that was not their true concern. “The Rebellion”, or so it was called, had begun to strike out at political officials, either physically or through media and public performances. The Rebellion had been trying to overthrow the dictatorship of Havencross for several years now. No one knew who the man behind the government was really; since he had those known as the “Mouthpieces” speak for him. They were brainwashed slaves to his will. These so called Mouthpieces had killed Resa’s parents in front of her very eyes. Thus, she joined “The Rebellion”. She wish they’d change their incredibly overused and tacky name, but that was unlikely to happen.

Havencross was a very busy, and constantly moving, city. It was the last remaining city on the planet that was safe for humans. Anything outside of the city walls was considered the Wild, and was instantly deemed dangerous. The Wild was exactly that. It changed constantly, from snow-covered tundra, to deadly jungle, to barren and death-laden desert. The world itself, so it was told in legend, had grown angry with the ever so ambitious humans. It took back what was rightfully its own, leaving only a tiny cramped city untouched. No one knew why it had left the city unscathed, but it was largely thought that the Portals in the center of the city might be the reason.

The Portals were certainly items of great interest, as they were swirling vortexes of space and magic. In a myriad of colors, it transported the user to distant worlds, such as the Elf or Dwarf worlds. A legend, even older than that of the Wild’s, was also told of these portals. The first human Alchemist, one who blends science and magic, had created the Portals a millennia ago. The portal was contained by two dragons wrought from gold, each biting the others tail. The dragons had been turned to gold from lead by the Alchemist, but the skill of element Transmutation had been lost through the ages.

The other worlds had Portals also, but not nearly as stationery as theirs. The elves had to open their “Rifts”, as they called them, using powerful magic, and would utterly drain the caster. The Dwarves, and their close relatives, the Gnomes, created portals using mathematical genius. They had mechanical portals that would open upon having electricity pumped through them. Though much less costly than the Elf way, theirs still required vast pools of energy. Luckily for the humans, their Portals were completely self-sufficient.

Resa had been walking towards a large building, while remembering her History classes, but was soon caught between two of the police she had spied earlier. She had been to lost in her thoughts to notice them walking towards her before, but now that they were in front of her, she was rudely jolted from her thinking. The grabbed her by each arm.
“You are under arrest for interaction with the Rebellion and a multitude of murders.” The constructs said in unison. They were not human, but alchemical creations called “Golems”. Taking stone and mud, an Alchemist could fashion a Golem body and place a dead soul into it.

Resa shivered at the thought. It had been rumored that the Alchemical Guild simply killed servants and slaves when souls were needed. She snapped her attention back to the pair of golems. So they decided to bring out the big guns….. She muttered in her head. She kicked at the golems’ arm joints—their weakest and easiest place to break—which crunched slightly under her mail boots. The arms did not fall off, but they loosened their grip because of the magical energy streaming from their “wounds”. She took the chance to wriggle from their grasp, and began to sprint off. The golems lumbered after her, occasionally tossing or trampling the random stander by. She saw ahead of her a sewer hole. She dove for it, and flew down into its murky depths.

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The Great Thanes were gathered in the halls of Nordistra, the great Dwarf city. Among these Thanes were the Gnomish Engineers, drawing diagrams for their latest invention as usual, who piped in their squeaky and mouse-like voices. The thunderous roar of the mass was deafening, and gave Morrik a painful headache. He rose from his chamber, and shook his head from side to side. It helped slightly to move around, especially since he had been sitting for hours in his cramped chair, which had been designed for a gnome.

When he had walked into the room, he had only been concentrated on the matters at hand. He had not taken the time to look at the hall properly, which was so highly renowned by all dwarves. He pulled on his ash-gray beard in wonder at the spectacle. The hall had been carved into solid white marble, and was only one stone. It must have taken decades to complete the infamous halls. Giant pillars rose from the ground and touched the ceiling, the ends covered in swirling black shadows. Morrik looked over the side of his chamber to get a better view of the bottom of the hall. All he saw was pitch-black. He tossed an iron piece down into the black, but heard no sound. He gave a low whistle. Looking then below his chamber, he saw more pillars, but none that actually touched the chamber itself. The chamber seemed to be suspended in mid-air by a sort of levitation device.

“Most likely gnome-made….” Morrik mused.

Each of the chambers was like this, each tiny box holding Thanes and gnomes alike in the air.

The reason for the calling of the first Council in years, was due to the fact that The Forge had given out. It supplied power for many of the gnomish inventions, and its heat was used for the dwarven metal crafts. It was told by the bards that the god “Kibil” the Silver Artisan had brought it to them as a gift for their timeless homage. The Forge had been the backbone of many cities, and perhaps of all gnome and dwarf society. All energy was branched off The Forge and into the smaller cities, and people would begin to die. The Forge had supplied the power for the air ducts that filtered the poisonous air from the surface. And now that they were shut off, the ash, smoke, and other harmful gases would fall upon the heads of the citizens of the cities. As if to make matters worse, their “Auroboros” was no longer functioning due to the failure of power from The Forge. It was their only escape.

Morrik had sat back down, and had his head in the palms of both his hands. He felt rather depressed. It may come down to them funneling all their remaining power—which could potentially doom them all—into one last ditch attempt to open the Auroboros. From there, they would invade the human city “Havencross”, and would take over. They had no other choice, and the chances of them capturing the city with ease were zero to none. He sighed, a musical note mixed with an odd hint of depression and despair.