Overture
Light voyaged across an ocean of stars. It swam through cloudbursts and peeked through pine branches, painting the sky with blue notes and twilight harmonies. A light that dissolved into the soil where meager worms tilled dead leaves and danced through great halls where philosophers postulated the depths of existence. This light, which dazzled even the loftiest crown, warmed the auburn head of eleven-year-old Rowena Vandren, an outcast.
She sat with her best friend, Branneth Engel, determined to comfort him, regardless of what anyone else would think. The town of Buldrende’s gates closed behind imperial soldiers who led villagers, including the boy’s parents, away. The children didn’t know why, but they saw others dragged from their homes and knew it wasn’t good.
Horns blew in the distance, and the boy gripped the dirt, tears dripping onto Rowena’s arms. “I’ll be right by your side,” she promised.
Kobahld, Rowena’s adoptive father, stood behind the children and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Brann, your ma and pa will be alright. We’ll take care of you while they’re on a… special assignment for the empress.”
As the children held each other on the rocky ground, Rowena overheard two busybodies gossiping about the war and something about the end of a “dark sorcerer.” Rowena had heard the phrase before, but only in whispers.
One of the gossips leaned in close to the other and pointed to where the children sat. “That boy has traitors for parents! How could anyone let something so unclean stay in their home?”
“Well, we all know they enjoy harboring little wandering rats,” replied the other.
They cackled to each other and sauntered off down the hill. Rowena imagined herself following them and telling those old crones precisely what she thought of them. She knew what it meant to be rejected by a village, what it meant to be unwanted. She wouldn’t allow anyone to make her friend feel the same pain.
“Children, it’s time,” said Kobahld to his daughter and the weeping boy. “How about a nice meal, hm? Good food will fix almost anything.”
It was warmer in the cottage. Candles brightened the dark corners, and a roaring fire licked the hearth.
“It smells excellent,” Kobahld said to his wife, Flora.
“I hope it tastes just as fine,” Flora replied, kissing him appreciatively.
“I’m certain it will, love. Please, sit, everyone.” Kobahld clasped his hands together, glanced around the table, and the others followed suit. They all bowed their heads and closed their eyes as Kobahld began the nightly prayer. “We pray first to you, the Ancient Ones. To the Breath of Life and the Eternal Fire, we ask you to bless the world.”
Rowena and Brann caught each other peeking during the prayer but quickly shut their eyes again, holding back smiles that were trying to creep across their faces. Kobahld opened his eyes and caught them but said nothing of it, smiled a little to himself, and resumed.
“We also pray to the Aelysiar, the Divines, and ask that you bless us. We ask the goddess Myjaila to grant us mercy and love, even to our enemies. We ask the god Su’prahn to grant us hope and strength. And lastly, oh gods, we ask that you watch over us all and protect us this coming winter as the cold and the dark approaches. Many thanks.”
“Many thanks.” they all replied.
“Repairs on the boats are coming along swiftly,” Kobahld stated. “From what I hear, we will have enough supplies for the next river trade in the following days.”
Rowena disliked it when her father left for a trading trip. He loved to spin tales and always returned from his travels with harrowing stories of the river’s dangers, which only made Rowena dread the next time he had to leave. “I heard someone talking about a dark sorcerer,” she blurted, trying to change the conversation.
Kobahld nearly choked on his drink, and Flora’s eyes widened with fright.
“Who is he? Is he real?” Rowena pressed.
“Nothing more than an exaggerated story, dear,” Flora said, waving her hand.
“Is it a good story?” Brann asked, looking up from his food for the first time since they began eating. “Will you tell us?”
Kobahld looked at his wife for approval, who sighed and nodded in agreement. “Fine. After dinner.”
He walked over to the hearth, stoked the fire, and sat in a large, padded chair that creaked beneath his weight.
“Cloud!” Flora beckoned just outside. “Home, girl!” She finally stepped back inside after hearing a bark in response and resumed cleaning the dishes.
Brann watched two of the three moons rise above the mountains, casting a soft, gentle light onto the village and the thick surrounding forest. As Rowena walked over, he couldn’t help but focus on her brilliant amber eyes, her rich-hued copper skin, and her swishy auburn hair, which nearly looked ablaze in the firelight. He felt so pale and boring compared to her, especially sitting under the moonlight. Brann never cared that she was an outcast. The girl was kind and fun, so why should he shun her like the rest of the town?
“Your parents are good people,” Rowena said, noticing his bowed head and longing eyes. “They’ll return sooner than you think, and you’ll be out of this house!” Brann looked offended. “Not that I don’t enjoy you being here!” she quickly reassured him, giving him that same big smile. “I just mean you’ll be able to see them again.”
Brann nodded, returned a small smile, and slid to the floor beneath the window.
Rowena stared through the windowpanes as Brann had. She let out a tiny gasp as a warm lofty light streaked across the inky black of night. For the briefest of moments, Rowena saw the image of a bird within the meteoric object. She pressed her nose to the cold window in hopes of further gazing upon the anomaly, but her mother called.
“Children, come sit by the fire,” said Flora.
Rowena and Brann sat on the warm stone hearth in front of Kobahld, waiting patiently. Radiant heat from the burning wood spread across Rowena’s back and she bounced in anticipation. Kobahld gazed into the flames, took a deep pensive breath in through his nose and let it out slowly.
“It all began before the war, many years before you were born. High Queen Lilith Fyrstrum thought people shouldn’t believe in such things as the Ancient Ones. She created Lilith’s Law and demanded that everyone worship only the Aelysiar, the Eight Divines in the Pantheon. No Torlysi, and certainly none of the Unhallowed Nyxos. This made so many people angry, that they revolted against the High Queen. A group called the Ryggrad’n Alliance fought persistently in the revolution, and during one of the battles, a fighter in their ranks slew High Queen Lilith. Her daughter, Resilia II, was so struck with grief that she declared war on all who defied the Crown.
“Battles were fought in every corner of the realm. Everyone was involved in the beginning, even magical beasts. Some have been calling it the War of Horrors… I don’t blame them. For nearly twenty years, the war raged with no end in sight until a powerful sorcerer took a stand. He said he was a leader of compassion. He was able to unify a great following under a banner of liberty for the people. But this was a lie. He was a mad prophet who fancied himself a god. Some still believe he is one.”
“Who was he?” whispered Rowena, captivated by her father’s rumbling voice.
“People called him many names: Great Tormentor, King of the Neverwere. We, in the empire, called him the False Light. I don’t know if anyone alive knows of his true birth name. The name he took for himself, the one name that still to this day invites fear whenever spoken, was Aldrivar, Lord of the Abyss.”
The children gazed up at him with eyes wide as saucers.
“Aldrivar gathered followers quickly, persuading them to give him their undying allegiance. And they did. Anyone who tried defying his rule was slain horribly. For ten long and terrifying years, his reach spread across the lands. One by one, armies and kingdoms fell to Lord Aldrivar and his oppressive worshippers.”
Brann covered his face with his hands, and Rowena held on to him tightly.
“All except…” continued Kobahld. “…the ancient order of the Lion Riders. The fellowship of fierce warrior women, riding great cats bigger than horses! The Lion Riders pleaded with the realm leaders. ‘Come together!’ they said. ‘Bring down the False Light and his tyranny!’ The rulers of the nations and the rebel alliances all agreed. In the far north, among the Torpor Wastes, we fought the False Light’s army, with the Lion Riders leading the attack. It was Leonora Ferocine, high commander of the Lion Riders, who fought with the False Light on the peak of Lys Toarnav, the highest mountain in the world. She defeated the sorcerer, but at the cost of her life.
“Finally, after thirty years, all the nations came together again. They decided to end the war and never force the realm into such a terrible conflict again. The worship of the Ancient Ones in these lands were permitted once more, and now High Queen Resilia II is leading the effort to rebuild the Empire. In her wisdom, she banned the practice of sorcery to protect the realm from any darker evils looking to destroy our way of life.”
The cottage was silent, save for the logs cracking in the low flames.
“Will he ever come back?” Brann asked timidly.
“The False Light?” Kobahld responded. The children nodded and Kobahld shrugged. “He was defeated. The memory of him will drift away into myth and legend.”
“But you didn’t say he died,” Rowena urged.
Kobahld paused then slowly nodded. “True, but nearly ten years have passed. Were he a god, he would have returned long ago…”
Rowena stared dreamily into the fire, her imagination racing with images of queens, magic, and roaring lions.
