To the West of Aishaya, and across the Sullen Plains, lies a small village. Too small to be charted on maps and papers, but too heard of to be completely ignored. Few live to see it, but many dream of it. Covered in mists and fog, and surrounded by shimmering water and sacred forests; the men and women that live there dwell in peace and prosperity, untouched by the evils growing outside their borders. Powerful and mystical guardians defend and protect the people there, magic itself safeguards them. It is the home of mystery and vague supremacy. It is the founding place of magic and the home to the bearers of this special gift. It is called Eithinail, which translates to “The Immortal”. It was made for the Sorcerers of the West and will stand for eternity.1501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAiqiFZvUSH
Or that is how it was. How it was before the Scourge.
It was a cool spring day, robins and bluebirds started returning to their homes, and white oak trees started growing their leaves back from when the bitter cold of winter stole them away. But the most stunning view was the lake that surrounded Eithinail. As the sun rose above the high peaks and cliffs, the waters turned green and flashed a brilliant light that looked of stars, or little jewels and pearls that reflected the sunrise’s light. Each man, woman, and child would sit on a port overlooking the gleaming waters, and wait for the first spring sun to come over the mountain, and cast a purple light for miles.
Even though the event was nothing short of magical, no unnatural work went into the quadrennial early spring sunrise.
A man and his wife stood, looking over the bay with tearful eyes. The woman held a small infant girl in her arms and smiled. The baby was born only two hours before the ceremony, and the mother woke from her rest to witness this mystical sight. The father’s smile shone as brightly as the river, this was the happiest moment of his life. He grabbed the baby girl and held her high. “You will once witness this with your own eyes in four years,” He said. “It is what we named you after, Darya. The great sea.”
They knew that Darya would grow with them, live with them in Eithinail, and one day learn the art of magic as a healer. They knew that Darya would see the early spring sunrise in four years, and four years after that until she was too old to see it anymore. They knew that their daughter would be destined for great things, and make them proud beyond imagination. They knew that they would live happily as a family for the rest of their days.
Or that is what was thought. What was thought before the Scourge.
That night, after the ceremonial dances and feasts finished, everyone had gone to sleep with heart. They had no cares in the world, and that was their mistake. Everything was quiet and peaceful. The birds all left to their nests, and night predators prowled eagerly in search of anything unwise enough that dared to leave their homes. But the predators were not the only thing waiting out in the dark, silently watching, and preparing to strike. Their blades would come swift and soundless. The Sorcerers in Eithinail were unaware of the terrors to come. The world was waiting for the Scourge.
In a small, delightful house, a man and his wife slept peacefully. Their names were Arthur and Alina Theil. Names soon to be forgotten. Arthur’s eyes fluttered open as he heard the sound of a muffled scream.
“Get the baby out,” He said, shaking her awake. “They’re here.” She understood immediately. The devils, led by the queen of Aishaya, had come, and they would stop at nothing to destroy magic from the face of the earth. The Scourge had begun. They both feared and knew that the art of magic would be lost forever.
“You have to go,” Arthur said. Alina opened her mouth to object, but Arthur silenced her, saying, “No time for that!” He shook his head, sadly. He knew that Eithinail would be destroyed and that there were no means that would change the course of the battle. He knew that magic would be lost forever. The Sorcerers of the West would die.
“I have to help them.” Alina pleaded.
“No, go and get Darya to safety. It is not your place to die on Eithinail’s behalf. It is mine, as a sorcerer, and as the grandson of the founder. I will gladly die for what my blood has built. It is an honor to die for the city of the Immortal.” And with that, he charged out of the small house that they had built with their own hands in the hope of raising a family.
Alina ran and did not look back until she reached the sacred white oaks. She looked at the half-burnt village and heard her husband screaming and cursing at the soldiers that took their home.
She laid Darya on the ground by the tallest tree and ran back to Eithinail. Not to help the fight, but to preserve but one memory of magic. She ran into the remains of where the ancient writings were kept and grabbed what was left of them. One day, she would teach her daughter how to fight back. One day, she would teach her daughter of the land of the Immortal. One day, she would teach Darya the lost art of magic.
Hello all, so what'd ya think of the Prologue? I'd love to hear your thoughts on how I can improve my writing and storytelling! Was this confusing?
Should I continue this series?
Hope ya'll have a good week.
-Joey B. Roberts
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