Prologue: You Will Remember
A midwife hears the faint sounds of a crying baby just behind a large wooden door. When she throws the door open, there lies a baby that isn’t but a few moments old. An exhausted mother just a foot away lay tired on her bed, every ounce of her strength sapped and her breathing shallow.
Several midwives, scattered around the room, are trying to organize themselves amid the chaos happening just outside. The sounds of trees cracking and boulders splitting against one another ricochet through the room like shrapnel.
“We need to stabilize her before she loses any more blood!”
Another midwife beckons,
“I’ll wrap the boy while you apply pressure. Someone grab some mageroot for mom before we lose h..”
“N..No!”
The mother interjects.
“That stuff will dull me. I need to see my baby if these moments are to be my last.”
Hearing this, the midwife wrapping the child, urgently places him into his mothers arms.
“We’re doing everything we can Deyma, I promise.” The midwife said frantically.
“You’re gonna make it after we stabilize you..” Her voice shaking as she tries to convince herself.
“No, I will not make it off this table. I can feel my aether returning to the well. I need you to do this last thing for me, my love. Take my son with you.” Deyma begins to fade, then returns to consciousness.
Margaretha’s heart sank when those words reached her ears, filling her with sorrow.
“Are you sure? I could never hope to replace you as the boy’s mother. He needs you…”.
“Do this for me Margaretha. You know the escape route.
….
It must be you. You are like a sister to me.
…
You’re the only one I trust. There is no other choice.”
Her breath begins to fail her.
…
“Take my bag on … table. I have … elixir prepared for … escape.
…
You know what to do.”
…
Deyma looks down at her small baby wrapped in knitted sheep’s wool.
“Oh … my sweet Lioren. I’m so sorry. This will be the only … gift I can give you. When you are old enough,
you… will … remember.”
And with those final words, a blue aura poured from Deyma. Her eyes glow a brilliant diamond blue and her aether erupts from her like a flame born to a blacksmith’s forge. Jetting blue aether forms into a single woven string of powerful magic that’s focused into a single point on the boy’s head, writing into existence a memory shrouded in blue fog. Once the spell is complete, Deyma’s eyes dim and her aether extinguishes. With her arms wrapped around her baby, she draws her last breath.
———
Outside of the stronghold, the chaos and destruction continues. Whips of flame and ice crash into the neighboring structures. There are muffled cries and sounds of clashing metal throughout the cobblestone streets. A mass of dark blue figures shrouded in hoods march on the village, crushing anyone opposing their progress.
Militia Captain Darr and his small team of men do everything they can to buy time.
Looking down at his defensive plans, Captain Darr processes his thoughts aloud.
“Conventional means of battle prove effective against most combatants, but fighting against magic is pure chaos. True bloody chaos.
Darr thinks to himself,
“Our initial scouting reports indicated that the usurper himself was going to be here at this battle. If that is true, our front line stands no chance. We may lose our lives tonight, but I will not forfeit to that false arbiter.”
Captain Darr booms his voice to the neighboring soldiers.
“Alright men! We have one goal. We must hold this position with our lives. Lady Deyma must deliver her heir and escape. Our future depends on their survival. Stand strong and remember why you’re here!”
The battle-stained soldiers chant in response,
“Yes Captain!”
Captain Darr knows that they stand no chance against the corrupted druids in prolonged combat, but are left with no other option. A final wave of elite druids swiftly incapacitate the remaining soldiers. The brave knights are tossed aside at great speeds, whipping into the brush and trees, their bodies breaking and deforming against the terrifying and savage magic.
One by one, each of Darr’s squadrons fell to the march of blue. Throughout the vicious engagement, the city burned. No mercy was given, and there was no compassion for those there that night. In just the span of a few minutes, all but Captain Darr and his last squad were left.
Darr and three of his men held out while the rest of the woodland village crumbled. The druid forces finally closing in on them, just seconds away.
Bloodied and concussed, Captain Darr looks back on the remaining stronghold and sees a blue light burst through the doors and windows. Then it fades away. He cracks a smile, blood in his teeth, and looks at his men.
He reassures to himself in a whisper,
“It’s done.”
As waves of druids finally surround the remaining soldiers, the conflict comes to an end. Dozens of blue glowing eyes look upon the captain.
Darr takes a deep breath.
“Where are you Usurper!? I know you can hear me!
You’ve already won.
“Come out of the shadows you pathetic coward! What do they call you? The Well-Lord? What a jo..hmff...”
The word muffles as Captain Darr writhes in pain. He looks down at a conjured purple talon closing his wind pipe.
When he looks back up, he sees that the battlefield had died down to a piercing silence. The only thing making sound at this moment were the raging fires throughout the village. The large crowd of druids part slowly, revealing a slender figure in the center.
A purple hue is seen long before his physical features reveal themselves. As the figure takes each step closer, his aura spreads to each of the beaming blue eyes looking towards Darr. One after another like a wave of violet ocean, their eyes change color.
Ultimately, the figure fully steps forward, revealing an elegant white cloak, overlaying a battle-suit of black fabric holding tightly to the body. Tubes of pulsing violet twist around the figure.
Darr looks up until his eyes meet with the figure.
He struggles to force a single word out.
“A..a..Azeros”
It was all Darr could muster before nearly passing out. He kneeled there on the ground, almost losing consciousness before feeling his breath return to him.
“The Lord of the Wellborn stands before you, lowlife!” A nearby druid cursed towards Darr.
Captain Darr collects what’s left of this remaining strength.
“How many people were killed tonight because of your assault on The Order?
You stole their minds from them. How many people did I kill today that I had been friends with mere days ago? You will not go beyond me without killing me.”
Darr could hear The Well-Lords voice, yet did not see his mouth moving. What Darr heard was an unnerving and monotone echo that drove far into his mind.
“You will show me what you know about the alchemist’s child.
“Before I kill you.”
“You’re in my head Azeros. Tell me, what am I about to do?
At that moment, The Well-Lord looked down at Captain Darr’s left hand. He had been concealing a small glass bottle with a metal spring loaded trigger attached to the top. Before the usurper could distance himself from the captain, Darr pulled the trigger.
———
When the spell was complete and Deyma’s spirit was felt no more, the room fell silent. Even time stood still for a brief moment. Margaretha looked down at that small child, who no longer had a mother, and shed a tear for her lost friend.
“Lioren… little baby Lioren…
I will look after you, I promise.”
Margaretha lifted baby Lioren into her arms and faced the remaining midwives in the room.
“Everyone, remember the plan.” The midwives give an affirming look to Margaretha. She grabs the bag on the table and darts for the far side of the room. There, an old bookshelf had been moved to reveal a carved tunnel, which led to a small hole in the back of the stronghold wall. There, several horses concealed with magic are tied with rope to a nearby tree.
The chaos from the attack had stirred the horses, but luck had it that they remained, allowing Margaretha and the other midwives to flee. She scales the horse, Lioren in hand, and cuts the rope with a hip-mounted dagger. She steers the horse southbound and digs her heel, urging the horse forward at a great speed. She takes one last look behind her while the steed gallops, and at that moment she witnesses an immense explosion.
The air inhaled and wind rippled through the trees, bending them to its will. A burst of raw aether painted everything in white, then gold, and finally the deepest blue of pure magical energy. It was like serpents of fire and stardust dancing circles into the grass as the light fully bloomed. A resonant hum reigned as the air exhaled and sound returned.
Margaretha knows the gift she was just given. She reaches into the bag and removes a small glass bottle. She removes the top, freeing the arcana held within.
Blue mist swirls and erupts, surrounding the galloping horse. The horse is swallowed by the newly freed magical essence and in a blink of an eye, she and the baby were gone.
———
In a field of flames, eviscerated terrain, and demolished buildings, several charred bodies are uncovered by the lifting smoke. Only one shows movement as a violet hue rises from the ashes.
