Prologe
THE KINGDOM OF MORIA
232 YEARS AGO
Nasa halted his horse and looked up at the vast horizon stretching out before him. Even in a world like Gaia, as ancient as time itself, Nasa’s age was something beyond normal. His life was like a living tome, on whose weathered pages the ancient stories of that world were preserved.
Gaia wasn’t like any other world. It guarded deep within its heart, like a jealous lover, the seed of magic for the entire universe — the one true force that set in motion the lives and destinies of its inhabitants. A world Nasa was willing to do anything to save from the sad fate that threatened it.
The stories he held spoke of a time when magic flourished abundantly among Gaia’s inhabitants. Like a blessing, it nourished and empowered every living soul. They spoke of an era when this unique world, nourished by that magic, pulsated with life, joy, and hope — a wonderful existence that, over time, had transformed into a struggle for survival. And magic, once a powerful fire, had dwindled into a feeble flame trembling in the face of ever more menacing currents.
Kleod, the young man riding beside Nasa, urged his horse toward a cluster of rocks that broke the vastness of the white steppes. The place was as untamed as it was captivating. As soon as they arrived, they left behind the horses and entered the circle of rocks, standing like a shield around the one in the center. That rock was bigger and wider than the others and quite steep. On its surface, one could make out different shades of the materials composing it. Suddenly, a cold wind rose, forming a cloud of dust that hit their exposed faces.
“How are you feeling?” Nasa asked, protecting his eyes with his hand. “Ready for a new beginning?”
Kleod shrugged. “Is there any other choice for me?”
“Come on, Kleod. Choosing life over death shouldn’t be so hard,” Nasa replied, stroking his disheveled white beard, which had thinned over time. Not just the beard was white; his eyes, hair, eyebrows, and even the clothes he wore were of the same hue. His long coat, as white as snow, worn over a woolen outfit, made him appear ageless.
“Sure,” said Kleod with a sad smile, “if the life offered is better than the death awaiting me.”
Kleod had always been brave, but that day, he felt the burden of having to pretend that nothing could dent his inner strength. He had suffered and lost much in his life, too much for someone his age. And if that weren’t enough, that day saw him there, in that place, facing yet another challenge.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m sorry,” Nasa said.
“I’m not seeking your pity, Nasa.”
“I know, Kleod, I know. But this world offers no other future for you. Leaving, is the only chance for your name’s legacy to survive. And with it, the future for all of us,” Nasa concluded, looking at him with a sense of helplessness.
Nasa was powerful in many ways, but there are situations where, as powerful as his magic was, he unfortunately couldn’t do anything. Descendant of a long and ancient line of mages, gifted with the ability to foresee the future among other abilities, Nasa was the last of his name on the throne of Begorat, an enchanting realm washed by the warm and crystal-clear waters of the Krora Sea.
“Jolka would want for you to keep living.”
At the mention of Jolka, Kleod shuddered. The memory of her was still too painful for him. “Leave her out of this,” he said, turning his back on Nasa, avoiding eye contact. He walked over to the horses and took his things from their saddles, then loaded them onto his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
Nasa looked at Kleod for a moment, seeing all the weight of the pain and anger he was carrying with him. Then, with a silent sigh, he followed him. “Yes, let’s go,” Nasa echoed, and both men looked up, their eyes set determinedly on their destination: a mysterious cave at the top of the rock.
Nasa took the lead, scaling the rocky wall swiftly. Though the sun had left its mark on his skin and wrinkles had claimed his face, the agility and strength of his movements suggested quite the opposite. Once he reached the top, he dusted off his hands as if it had been child’s play. Kleod, who had begun his ascent immediately after, halted halfway to regain his breath. Fatigue had set in, and his forehead glistened with droplets of perspiration. His chestnut hair, a light hue, was pulled back and secured by a black band, now clinging to his neck due to the dampness. Focused on not slipping, he didn’t notice the tense expression he wore—eyebrows furrowed and mouth tightly shut. The sorrow in his green eyes didn’t soften his look; instead, it cast a deeper shadow. He inhaled deeply, then reached out and firmly grasped the rocky ledge that separated him from the summit, where Nasa patiently waited.
In the meantime, Nasa, with his hands clasped behind his back, was engrossed in gazing past a cluster of rocks towards the setting sun on the horizon. He was captivated by this place, by its jagged peaks that seemed to stand guard over the endless steppe. Far ahead, he could discern the distant silhouette of the Lonely Mountains, while to his right, the ancient Forest of the White Trees resembled a narrow gray strip. Not far from this mound of rocks, where a dried-up riverbed snaked its way, lay the remnants of an abandoned camp. The earth, bathed in the rays of the setting sun, seemed ablaze, and wherever he looked, dry stubble lay flattened, quivering as though yearning for a final embrace. The cry of a lone bird drew Nasa’s gaze to the sky, where he watched its circular flight above them.
“Surely looking for one last prey,” he thought, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He raised his hand toward the sky, and a magically-created air current wrapped around the bird’s wings, steering it toward the Forest of the White Trees.
“Don’t waste time on us,” he whispered, his eyes still fixed on the bird as it dwindled further with each passing second.
Moments later, Kleod joined him.
“I will miss this place,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he followed the horizon that stretched out until it disappeared into the point where the earth kissed the sky.
Nasa furrowed his brow.
“What?” Kleod turned to Nasa, laughing. “Didn’t think I was the sentimental type?”
“There are many things you aren’t, but being sentimental isn’t one of them. How are you faring?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.
“Mmhh,” Kleod murmured, lips pressed together. “I wish I could claim that I feel well most of the time, but that would be far from the truth.”
“Show me your arm,” Nasa inquired.
Kleod rolled up his shirt sleeve above the elbow and extended his arm, presenting it for Nasa’s scrutiny.
“Good,” Nasa muttered as he inspected the arm from different angles. “My magic, as I hoped, has restrained the spread of the poison. In the new world you’re destined for, the conditions there will provide you with an opportunity to live a few more years.”
“How many years do you think?”
“If my estimations hold, perhaps around ten years. Give or take a year, but still significantly more than what you could expect to live here in this world.”
Kleod withdrew his arm, his fingers thick and calloused, tracing the network of dark lines resembling a spider’s web beneath his skin. These lines sprawled across nearly half his body—a macabre map of affliction. Most times, even the gentlest brush of air against them proved unbearable, let alone his own touch now. They smoldered and throbbed, as if a river of molten lava surged within their confines. And with every passing day, the agony grew fiercer, more intolerable, and increasingly deadly.
“I feel the poison advancing inside me like an evil parasite, slowly sucking away my life energy,” his resonant voice, deep and laden, saturated the space between them. “Damn it!” A sardonic smile tugged at his lips, his eyes shadowed by the ferocity of the anger that consumed him—an inferno in human form. “That accursed Makhena surely knows how to deliver a bite!”
Whenever Kleod’s thoughts brushed against the pain Makhena had inflicted upon him, an inferno of rage seized him, threatening to consume everything.
He had woefully underestimated the treacherous depths Princess Makhena could reach, especially following her marriage to King Silo—the reigning monarch of Moria, the most powerful realm among the six realms outside the Circle of Fire. A realm, created thousands of years ago by the fusion of two smaller domains—Danarat and Kaligat—bound by a magical pact sealed with the blood of both parties. This binding pact ordained that the heir of Kaliga would be wed to the heir of Danara, a matrimonial union meant to sustain Moria’s exalted name, preserving its preeminence and distinction among its fellow realms.
Yet, that miscalculation, that grievous oversight, had exacted a heavy toll on Kleod. It had cost him the life of his cherished wife and the unborn child she carried, depriving him of the opportunity to give Danarat an heir and Moria a queen.
“I should never have allowed that woman to cross the gates of Moria, casting her claws on the throne,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “It was my duty, as a scion of Danara, to secure an heir, a queen, for the throne of Moria. It was my solemn duty to safeguard the sanctity of the accord between Kaliga and Danara. Yet, King Silo...” he said the name with disdain, “made a queen for my people out of someone who doesn’t have a drop of my blood. Someone who dishonors and overshadows all of Danarat! Someone who dishonors and overshadows me.”
Kleod fell into a hushed pause. The poison wasn’t solely corrupting his body; it was tainting his very spirit.
“Come, my friend,” Nasa said, patting his back. “Don’t be so harsh on yourself. Certain events are preordained, whether we find solace in them or not.”
“And do you believe that sentiment brings me solace?” He retorted with bitter cynicism.
“What if I were to reveal that Makhena’s ascent to the throne was fated? What if all that befalls you is ordained to grant an opening for another being, one who, in an ideal world, might never have existed, to mend the equilibrium Gaia has forfeited?” Nasa declared, flames of determination flickering in his eyes.
“Yet, can you be certain that my journey to this realm, this... Earth, is ordained to guarantee that individual’s existence?”
“Yes! I hold an unshakable belief in it!”
“I’ve always trusted you,” Kleod said, casting a sad look at the old man. “But I never imagined I’d be forced to leave my homeland and rest far from my loved ones, in a place that’s unfamiliar to me. I pictured growing old surrounded by my children and grandchildren,”
“We all make sacrifices, my friend. Some more than others, and you’re one of them,” Nasa replied, placing his hand on Kleod’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring pat.
“Promise me you’ll watch over her,” Kleod implored, his gaze unwavering as the crimson hues painted the horizon. “In both joy and hardship. No matter what unfolds, you must stand by her side, shielding and guiding her.” Kleod turned his attention to Nasa’s countenance, searching for affirmation not just in his words but also within his eyes.
“You shouldn’t have asked something like this of me. I could never abandon her, and not just because she will be the key to our survival!” Nasa’s eyes, white with a streak of silver, glinted as if a fire burned within them.
Nasa felt it was necessary for Kleod to believe in him, not just to offer him the security and hope he needed, but for himself as well. Kleod nodded in a gesture of approval, a smile brimming with optimism forming on his lips. Nasa, too, returned the smile, swept up in the positive energies that enveloped the young man like a radiant crown.
“I’m glad I can at least serve that future,” Kleod responded, a newfound tranquility in his voice. The awareness that he had done everything within his power granted him a fresh sense of inner peace. “And when the time comes, let them know how much I loved them and how much I will miss them. Tell them that everything I’m doing is for the future, and if I had any other option, I would have never abandoned them.”
He was courageous, yet even courage had its moments of vulnerability.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with the scents of the land—sweet and bitter, like a final memory to take with him. “I’m ready now... I think,” he smiled and then entered the cave.
“Kleod, the medallion!” Nasa’s voice called out behind him. Kleod paused, looking back over his shoulder at Nasa’s outstretched hand, which held the medallion—a tangible piece of his old world, a final link to the land and people he was leaving behind. His fingers trembled as they closed around the cold metal, and for a brief moment, a torrent of emotions washed over him.
“This medallion bears the essence of your homeland, a part of Danarat and Kaligat’s eternal pact. While you wear it, a piece of Moria will always be with you, and likewise, a part of you will forever remain in Moria,” Nasa explained, his voice tinged with an emotion he rarely showed.
Kleod nodded, slipping the chain over his head. The medallion settled against his chest, as if it had found its rightful place. “Thank you, Nasa,” he whispered.
“You owe me no thanks,” Nasa responded, his eyes misty. “I’ve merely guided you on the path that was already yours to walk.”
Nasa looked deeply into Kleod’s eyes, as if trying to etch this last moment into his memory. “Very well. It’s time,” he said. Then, with one hand, he touched Kleod’s arm and with the other touched the black stone in the middle of the cave.
Kleod felt a sudden rush of magical energy envelop him. The landscape of Moria—the towering mountains, the vast plains, and the crimson hues of the setting sun—began to blur, as if painted with strokes of a quivering brush.
“Remember, you are not alone, even in that faraway world.” Nasa’s voice echoed in his mind as the magic took hold.
Just before everything turned to darkness, Kleod managed to utter, “I won’t forget, old friend.” And then he was gone, his form dissolving into motes of light that scattered across the fabric of worlds.
Nasa stood alone, watching as the last traces of Kleod disappeared.
“I will keep my promise,” he whispered.
