Prologue
A Dummies Guide to Eldorian History
‘Chapter 1: Part 1’
’Eldoris wasn’t always a wasteland run amok by tyrannical soulless mortals. Barren lands overrun by souls seeking to quench their thirst for what the world couldn’t offer. It wasn’t always this way, ravaged by bloodthirsty rogues and wars raging in every corner of the three kingdoms Cinderwell, Gaiadore and Duskhelm. Eldoris once was a land of life. Balanced. Kept in check. The fabric of civilization held together in a fragile intertwining of power sustained by the seven gods.
The gods were the cornerstone of peace, preventing the tipping of the scales, imbalance between the key elements of life. Each god represented one element. Seven gods, seven key elements, each working together to prevent disruption of the equilibrium. Khorak, goddess of night, Vaeris, god of the skies, Lirael, goddess of the hearth, Solen, god of the forge, Namaris, goddess of the wild, Ardun, god of life and death and Xaroth god of greed and evil. Each god played a role, representing a vital component of civilization. Too much of one god and the balance would fall.
Too much of one god and the equilibrium would crumble, civilization left scrambling from the onslaught of one power. Power was addicting. It contaminated souls, changing them from the inside out to crave what they once never wanted. That was Eldoris. A world deteriorating from the imbalance. Suffering from the bleeding power of Xaroth. The god that had broken the weave of life. Infected the world by seeking more. More power. More greed. More chaos. More evil. To be more than just another god, to be ruler of all divine entities.
He began the Divine Reckoning. He set fate on course. Waged a war between gods. They fought, the battle lasting a quinquennial, sending civilization in a downward spiral towards self destruction. One now all-powerful immortal of evil, rejuvenating himself with the drained broken order of the world, against the rest. When the gods dealt a fatal blow, six blood imbued celestial swords against one wounded celestial soul, it decapitated him in a slice that rippled across the kingdoms.
The defeat of Xaroth lifted the clouds of greed and evil that plagued the people, leaving them to melee in the despair of their own evil-heightened actions. Mortal war broke out, people seeking to gain control in a time of destruction. The end of the Divine reckoning came forth as a result of the god’s sacrifice. Their surrender of immortal presence for the sake of the human race and to heal the lands upon which they had wreaked violence. Six mortal champions chosen for their preservation of character and expertise in the essences of life, each gifted powers from their respective gods.
These six bloodlines became the pillars of the Eldorian soul, replenishing the lands again and balancing the evil stains of greed on the world that could no longer be erased. Eldoris was restored, the chaos ceasing to exist but not entirely gone. It contaminated the people too far down the line of evil, forever displayed in the character of man. Whilst Eldoris was not entirely turned back to its former glory of peace and coexistence, it was no longer a battle ground upon which gods drew bloodshed and mortal souls, driven mad by greed, destroyed the places they once called home.
From then on Eldoris was no longer dependent on the gods to keep their humanity alive and at peace. Whatever remained of their godly souls materialised into dust, immortalised again in the stars for they could never truly die. It served as a reminder to the people that the consequence of unchecked power and wanting more than what you were blessed brought forth havoc and chaos that upturned the Eldorian way of life.′
‘Chapter 1: Part 2’
’There were six lineages, each blessed with near god-like powers we cleped Echoes {Echo: The power emerging from within manifested as a reflection or resonance of the soul}. Zephyron Slater, war-hardened Command General of the Duskhelm kingdom’s legions, champion of Khorak, summoned an Echo to create barriers of darkness able to absorb attacks and confuse and disorient enemies. Draven, a spiritual hermit living in the rural outskirts of Duskhelm, champion of Vaeris, summoned an Echo that allowed him to hear distant voices carried by the wind, giving him incomparable knowledge. Seraphine, Princess of the Cinderwell kingdom, champion of Lirael, summoned an Echo giving her the power to create barriers that keep out malevolent forces and misfortune. Kaelis Ardere, Weaponsmith General of Duskhelm, champion of Solen, summoned an Echo that made her flameproof and able to create and wield fire for forging, destroying and protecting. Azrael, King of Gaiadore, champion of Namaris, summoned an Echo that allowed him to wield earth and water at any scale. Corwin Evander, King of Duskhelm, champion of Ardun, summoned an Echo that allowed him to temporarily bring living beings back to life for three days if touched within a day of their death.
The six were hosts for the power of the gods that battled the residue evil that coursed through the veins of the earth, maintaining order. Their power channeled into the world around them, preserving intangible order and the balance of the components that sustained Eldoria.′
‘Chapter 1: Part 3’
’It is rumoured that following the peace that settled like dust amongst the land, the Great six bloodlines carried out their duties as peace bringers on earth. The gods, whose souls were forever trapped in the stars, bestowed a prophecy upon the people in order to prevent the tipping of the scales amongst the champion bloodlines, a safety net to prevent the imbalance of power should the Great six’s descendants fester diminished morals. They channeled their will through Draven, the champion most connected to the natural world, in the form of a vision. This prophecy foretold that should any descendant of the Great six become corrupt and unworthy, they should be overthrown and destroyed by the next in line that is worthy.
The prophecy was written, forever immortalised in golden ink, deep in the pages of Draven’s first journal. The journal, lost overtime, became a rumour, a whisper in the wind, a simple bedtime story to put children to sleep amongst today’s people. There are few believers, those who see the downfall of Duskhelm as retribution for the massacre of Ardun’s chosen ones. It has been twenty five years since Vaelric’s Crowning. Twenty five years of long silence, that the people are starting to believe that punishment shall never come. That this tyrannical rule shall last forever.′
-19 years before the present day-
Kai wasn’t entirely sure what was happening at the moment. One moment he lay in bed, the warmth of the blanket around him seeping into his bones, and the next he was in his closet, cuddling tight the pink stuffed bunny in his arms as the sound of yelling soldiers and wails of agony rang outside his door. He couldn’t see much through the closet door but he knew it was still dark outside. Kai had always feared the dark. Especially in his room. The ceiling was so very tall and the room so full of intricately carved furniture that it was practically a shadows playground. The way the darkness dampened his senses and promised things he couldn’t see made his throat tighten and his lungs feel weak. To be huddled in this closet alone would have to be the worst thing that had happened to him in all his five years of life.
His breathing was ragged as he tightened his small arm around the bunny’s neck and stepped out of the closet, his eyes squeezing shut as he made his way unseeing to the door of his room. The commotion had died down now, the sound of footsteps barely there. Kai reached up, grabbing the cold metal handle, twisting and pushing the door open with what little strength he had. He peaked his head into the General’s wing corridor. Empty but fully lit, just how he liked it. Taking a tentative step out he shivered, the cold of the night air tickling the skin under his pajamas.
He began to walk, slowly at first but fastening his pace the closer he got to his mothers chambers. Normally he would be terrified to be here alone at night, but there was something comforting about the way the portraits on the wall accompanied him down the corridor, flushed bright with light emanating from the candelabras on the walls. He admired the many Command Generals hung up on the stone walls, revelling in the way they all looked much like his own father. He often wondered if he looked like his father. If he would look as brave and honourable as he did when came of age. Kai had dreamed of making his father proud, doing something so great that he would smile at him the way he smiled at his younger brother. He wasn’t sure why his father didn’t smile at him much, wondered why he seemed to reserve his happy face for everyone but him. He thought of the scars littering his back as he watched his own feet trod forward.
He hadn’t meant to upset his father. He’d walked into the general’s study the night of his birthday, card in hand, and watched his father drunkenly mutter as he lay splayed across the bolstered leather couch. He’d been a little afraid to give his father the card, but he was proud of his drawing. His father stood in the middle scrawled in black crayon, his eyes an icy blue. Kai stood next to him, marginally shorter and with one silvery grey eye ringed with black and one icy blue eye speckled with pale green flecks. His father had snatched the paper out of his hand, eyes scanning over the carefully drawn lines, mouth pursed and brows furrowed. He looked down at Kai, eyes full of something he couldn’t describe with a word other than disgust. Kai had stared at him, the silence becoming unbearable as he fidgeted waiting for his father to say something. Anything. He loved his father and hated to disappoint him.“Happy Birthday dad”he’d said, his voice but a meek whisper as he shifted from one foot to the other, eyes glued to the floor in front of him. He’d felt the hand before he saw it. Right across the face. He’d looked up in shock, taken aback by the blazing fury in his fathers eyes. Lifting a pudgy hand up to his face, he’d touched the tender skin of his cheek, eyes stinging with tears. This time he saw it, the foot coming down to push him to the floor. He’d fallen back, stunned and speechless. His father had never hit him before. Scolded him, but never hit. He scrambled to get back up, twisting to push himself up by the palms of his hands. Searing pain. In his back. His eyes widened in fear. Disoriented, he pushed up to his feet, the pain making his head swim, glass cutting into his palms. He turned to look at his father, zeroing in on the now broken bottle of chiro Liquor clutched in his hand. He’d run out the door, not daring to look back. Ran to his mothers room, chubby face streaked wet with tears.
His thoughts were brushed aside as his mothers door came into view. Crashing through the already ajar door, he looked around for his mother. She wasn’t here. Her blankets were astray and papers littered the floor but his mother was nowhere to be found. A seed of wariness planted itself in his mind. It wasn’t like his mother to not be in bed at night. Kai truly did love his mother even if she wasn’t around very often. Her smile made him happy and she smiled whenever she was with him. A cry in the distance made him freeze. He turned, making his way back out the door, running towards the sound knowing it was the unwise thing to do, but with his mother missing he ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He turned corners and ran down hallways, almost crashing into Calix’s long legs as he hobbled the opposite way, cradling a bundle of pink cloth tucked in his arms. A wail almost made him stop.
Cassian. Kai would know his best friend’s voice anywhere. He may have been a year older than Kai but he loved him like a brother. He’d lived in the castle with Cassian ever since he was born. His breaths came short and uneven as he slammed through the doors of the palace dining room, eyes widening in shock as he took in his surroundings. Bodies littered the floors, dead soldiers in pools of their own blood. The ones that weren’t dead stood in the corners of the room, their uniforms splattered in blood weapons in hand. His mother stood in the doorless entryway on the other side of the room, clutching Cassian against her front with a hand covering his face. Her frantic grey eyes caught his before she shuffled herself out of the room, a blinded cassian in tow. He blinked watching the centre of the room as his father stood up from his position crouched on the floor. He held something in his hands, but he couldn’t see what. His father lifted the object in his hands and he saw the glint of gold in the ambient light of the room. A gold ring with seven pointed spears. The King’s crown. His father stepped away from the centre of the room and that’s when he saw it. Two crumpled bodies on the floor draped in red and gold and blue fabric. The king and queen he realised. The king with his fathers sword sticking up out of his deathly still body. He whimpered and his father whipped around before he could clamp a hand around his mouth.
His father had killed the Monarchs he realised.
Killed the Royals of Duskhelm.
And yet nobody did a thing about it.
