Prologue
The fire crackled, the shadows it produced danced against the walls of the cave. The glow of the flames reflected in the eyes of the young that surrounded it.
They had asked, as they always did.
Why do we hide? Why do the others not come? And why does the world feel sick?
The elder did not answer at first. Instead, he drew in the ashes with his long, slender finger. His eyes glazed, clearly reliving a time long past.
When he finally spoke, his voice wavered once.
“Before you or I were ever born, the world did not feel like this. It was not fractured into pieces, or afraid.” He paused, watching the shadows against the cave wall.
“The five peoples lived then, as we do now – but not apart. We were never united, make no mistake. Never sharing one voice, one idea or way of living.” A faint smile crossed his lips.
“We argued, disagreed. But we were aware of the gift of one-another”. He cast his hand towards the shadows, bending them to his will.
They transformed into moving images of the five peoples, each dancing to a beat of their own.
“The oceans moved because the deep-ones guided them. The mountains held because the Umberlings supported their weight. The forest grew because the small ones whisper to every root and seed. The night turned because we watched it. And controlling the unimaginable…”
He sighed.
“… that belonged to the Mages”
The children’s eyes grew wide as they watched the shadows cast the tides, encourage trees to sprout from nothing. Finally, a hooded figure carrying a staff stepped forward and with a wave of their staff lightening seemed to erupt above them. It was breathtaking magic, the kind only Elders had mastered.
“There was balance amongst us. Not peace, nor harmony. Balance.”
“And the humans?” one of them asked.
The Elders hand stilled and the illusion he cast fell away, leaving ordinary shadows. The fire had burnt down to embers, they glowed against the rocky floor of the cave.
“That is a story for when you are older. It does not end well for any of us.”
“Elder, will it ever be like it was? Can the world be healed again?” a small voice spoke up, it was the child who had been exceptionally still and remained unmoved by his story.
His eyes studied her for a fraction too long.
“No.” he announced, with no malice, just certainty.
“But that does not mean it cannot become something else. Something that learns from its past and transforms into something better.” He announced.
He watched her for a moment longer. She was different to the other children. Her large silver eyes were smaller, her skin less reflective and her hair darker than most. She grew increasingly different with each passing moon. Soon he would need to go before the other Elders and confess her lineage. He hoped they would see what he had many moons ago.
The wind whipped through the trees outside, creating a whistle through the cave. For just a moment he could almost feel the world listening.
