Prologue

The Elder had seen much during his time. Through those venerable eyes were hard memories ingrained into his mind, gifting him foresight and intellect at the expense of sanity. Now he was a broken man waiting to pass into Purity. He could still stand up and hold a staff, yet he had forgotten most of his spells. They were lost to the depths of his memory; once spoken, gone without recollection. He had started many a conquest, bringing an end to countless lives in his immovable quest for justice. But to him, the result made little difference.

The haired wrinkles that curved his forehead were a testament to his age, along with his hunched back that explained he was a learned man - spending many an hour gathering knowledge at his desk through tomes and grimoires in between his bloodthirsty adventures. Spells to bind a man, drown a man, burn a man. To save, the wise master chose a path of destruction and a litter of corpses in his wake. Each life he took, he carried with him - causing his back to arch forward until he was hunched.

But alongside roaring thunder and the ends of the earth, he still wore a smile.

The thrashing waves contained creatures of the deep. Dark krakens thirsty for blood, giant squids; whales so large they could dent a mountain. The seas were furious; The One Lord did not tolerate sin and injustice. As the water crashed against rock, the land became wet with saltwater, and the creatures encroached further and further inland, hungry, longing. The world was breaking.

Fire rained from the sky, and molten Giants climbed up through cracks in the earth; flaming humanoids that burned with an inextinguishable flame. Lightning bolts shot the ground like fast jabs from The One Lord - punishment for the sins of man. Wolves and Night Hounds howled in fear.

“Down this path, there is no hope for humankind, young Jereas. My adventures through the Earthen Realm and voyages through the Fifteen Seas have taught me that the end dictates the beginning. You cannot save humankind from its destruction if you only choose to destroy.”

Jereas was just a young boy of eighteen, little of knowledge and character. His shoulder-length hair blazed in the fiery wind as he attempted to fight against fate. His donned fine armour from the First Sea: a knight’s steel plate mail, gloves and greaves. His sword was in its sheath, a refined blade with a hilt of emblazoned silver.

“Jereas.” The wise master put his wrinkled hand on his pupil’s shoulder, as if a father speaking to his son for the last time. “You must strive to create, not destroy. I realise in my final moments that brute force and the mentality of the fierce are only stabs in the dark. You must become the Light of the World. Shine brightly, find the center of your existence and humankind’s redemption. In my foolishness and anger I have only sped up the wheel of fate. But you. You can stop it.

“I see in your eyes a light that shines brightly. This timeline cannot be saved. But you can find another way; if anything, I can pass my knowledge onto you. For in an abundance of darkness there must be a glimmer of light; a beacon of hope which burns like fire.”

The Elder’s staff, Clei, was fashioned from the trees of the Great Forest; those of which had been growing since the beginning of time. Since the One Lord spread his seed over the world to flourish the first inklings of life itself.

“I cannot do it, Master,” he sobbed. For how could he? A boy of eighteen had no such knowledge; no such wisdom or clarity to read between lines and see the details of a clouded picture. Jereas had not learned enough; it had only been a month of tireless and gruelling training, insufficient to carry the weight of humankind on his shoulders. He felt sickness and anxiety at the direness of the situation, but the imminent apocalypse had left the both of them with no choice.

The ground shook. The magical barrier of Alantiele would disappear soon, leaving them exposed to the natural disasters of the world - and death. The roaring infernal Giants used their destructive fists to try and breach the barrier, explosions of flame bouncing off the shield, but their efforts were powerless against the Elder’s sorcery. The krakens of the sea screamed; a volume of sound that drowned out all life and seemed to sever the soul from the body. Jereas gasped, clenching his ears.

“Do not think too much, young one. I will speak to you from Purity. My staff, Clei, will be a symbol of my presence, the last remaining relic of this universe. I will always be with you, so long as you wield it.” Jereas continued to sob.

He thought of his family he had never farewelled, the villages and towns blasted away like dust in the wind. The roaring weight of The One Lord’s judgement which rendered humankind as nothing more than a cheap commodity, a thing to be taken away at will. Homes, towns, the world, gone: as quickly as a man deciding to wipe the dirt off his shoes. Beyond the white noise of destruction, there was something unsettling about the simplicity and efficiency of destruction, that crushed all human will.

“There, there. The lamb of the One Lord will protect you as a shepherd protects his flock. Do not be filled with sorrow or envy, but rather, joy. The chance to live; to thrive and protect others. Life comes with balance: to love and be loved; for what is happiness without sadness?”

The wise master whispered a spell under his tongue. The words had weight behind them; a smooth crackle which whistled through the air. Jereas deduced it must have been Eida, one of the languages of the Fifteen Seas. Before their eyes, a portal was opening: a circular dark shadow to another universe, crafted open at great expense. The Elder, after having opened the portal, looked worn and defeated, as if he had fought a hundred foes.

“Go,” he said, exhaling his last breath. “The fate of humankind rests on your young shoulders, Jereas.”

“No, master!” Jereas extended his hand, but he found himself being forced into the portal, being pushed by an invisible force. He screamed until he could scream no more.