Prologue: The Fire from Hell
The home of the Samuels’ family, along with every other house in Parva Terra Sancta, in the kingdom of Ancora, was silent in the dead of night. This small village was home to only 512 residents in a tight-knit community, so almost everyone seemed to be on a perfect routine. The sky was a pitch-black void, like staring into an obsidian glass ball, with only the blemishes of glistening stars staining the midnight sky. Just like the perfect glass it resembled, the sky’s serenity could be shattered in an instant.
The sky glowed orange as if a second sun had decided to rain its wrath across the innocent village. A group of winged beasts soared from the centre of the hell ring, making the sky shine even brighter as they scorched every building in the area. The last building standing was the church, which all of the demonic creatures gathered at to tear apart chunk by chunk. Not a single building or person survived; no homes nor shops, not even the animals or the farms they grazed on were left standing. The flames of this disaster burned for a full week, the first week of 1403.
Once the smoke had settled, only one thing was left to remember this cataclysm first-hand. A single orphaned child lay down in a cot, wrapped in a blanket that glowed with a holy light. He woke up perfectly calm, seemingly unbothered by his situation. However, this moment of hope was cut short as a demon war general revisited the site.
“Well, you’re quite the curiosity, aren’t you?” the demon cackled with a horrifying voice.
The demon tried to grab the blanket, but it burned his hand, causing him to wail in agony.
“Dada. Dada,” the baby who was only a year old, repeatedly cried out.
“I’m no father of a mortal. However, I can leave you a gift,” the demon laughed with a mocking, toothy grin.
It drew a peculiar symbol on the child’s forehead with its finger; the blanket that had once protected the child dissolved into the air, and the baby cried for the first time in months.
The day after the demon’s arrival, a member of the Holy Knights in his 30s came across the village remains while out practising horse riding. There was an unnatural sensation that drew the man in, causing him to investigate further. The man took the child back before training had ended to see if Lord Baysend, the lord of his county, could find the baby’s parents.
“Good evening, Lord,” the man greeted with a bow.
“You may rise,” the lord offered. “I believe this boy is the origin of an ominous aura that engulfed the area just before you arrived. Would I be correct in assuming so?”
“I am not sure, however, I did feel drawn towards him. I simply found him at the site of the week-long fire in Parva Terra Sancta. Do you have any idea of who the parents may be?”
“I do not recognise the child, nor should he have any distinct features to identify him by,” the lord concluded after examining the baby. “Are you able to raise him as your own?”
“Of course, my lord. I shall name him Agnar, as he survived the fiery attack on his region.”
“Perhaps he was protected by God personally. Shall the boy take your surname, Sir Henry?”
With that, the journey of Agnar Riverson began.
