Prologue
He stared at the words on the page, nothing seemed right, nothing seemed to fit. He scratched out the paragraph and started again. He wrote furiously for a few minutes, and in those minutes seven pages of ideas were on paper, in practice. Then... then he committed his first mistake. He reread what he had written. “Garbage, Rubbish” He thought, and he threw the papers away and started anew. This is how the next few years would continue, the idea haunted him but he had no good way to put it on paper. He finished a few chapters but then would drop the project for something else, something that didn’t matter as much. His fascination with this storyline, the idea behind it... the very concept, was so engrained into his subconscious, he dreamed of it in his sleep, dreamed of it when he put his head down in class; even though, he never remembered the dreams afterwards. After years of barely remembering, years of wondering what these dreams meant... that was when the world he was writing about became one of its own. Or, what he had thought as a fictional world was revealed to be exactly the opposite.
BOOK 1:
THE BEGINNING
Chapter One
The swirling vortex, a pink purplish void, stood out in the impenetrable darkness that was his dream. It always started out like this, the vortex, the darkness.
“Creator, it is time” A voice called, reverberating around the room. It wasn’t commanding, but it wasn’t pleasant either. “Either save what you have created, or send it to its doom.” He walked forward, towards the tear in space and time, towards the vortex. “You have chosen” The voice said, and then fell quiet. He reached out towards the portal...
“Jonathan!” A voice called from downstairs, “Jonathan get up, you will be late for school!” Jonathan got up groggily, the dream fresh in his mind, the sleep still in his eyes. He slowly put on his clothes and went downstairs. His mom was waiting in the kitchen
“It’s about time you got up, your going to be late, make yourself something to eat.” He grabbed a banana and slowly peeled and ate it. He glanced at the clock, six thirty-five... Minutes to spare before his bus arrived. He grabbed his stuff, a small black backpack and a composition book, and headed towards his Bus Stop. He sat down, and put his back on this brick wall that separated the main road from a house. He opened his composition book and turned past many pages of writing, and many scratched out pages too, and finally rested on the last page of writing. The top of the page said, “Children of Light??” and underneath this, character bios and plot maps. He read what he wrote and ripped the page out and threw it over his shoulder and pulled out a pen. He put the pen tip on the top of the next fresh sheet of paper, and began writing. This was his regular morning routine, read what he had written, and then, rewrite it. Totally absorbed in writing, he didn’t hear the screech of the busses brakes until it was already stopped. He put the notebook away and climbed onboard the bus. The bus driver gave a friendly nod as Jonathan moved to the middle seats of the bus, where his friends were. He looked out the window, thinking about the best way to add interest into the first chapter.
"Jonathan, what’s up?" Jonathan looked around and saw one of his friends in the seat across from him. The kid was tall and skinny for his age. He had spiked up hair, and one of those novelty t-shirts on with the odd sayings like "Silence is golden but duct tape is silver."
"Nothing much Freshie, nothing much." His friend nodded, and looked out the window. The kid really wasn’t a freshman at his school, but ever since his freshman year, Jonathans Sophomore year, he was christened with the name Freshie. At first he didn’t like it, but it eventually stuck. The bus finally made it to school in one piece, bolts creaking under the pressure of the anorexic cheerleaders exiting. Jonathan exited last, Freshie following close behind.
"What I don’t understand, is why don’t you just give up on it? I mean you have been trying for two years." Freshie said as Jonathan walked ahead, barely listening to Freshie, new thoughts and ideas whirling through his mind.
"It’s not that easy Freshie, when you have something that is great, you don’t want to let go." Jonathan said, taking out his locker key. He turned into a hallway and found his locker among the hundreds along the wall, and unlocked it, "You should know that, remember Devon?" Freshie looked away when he mentioned Devon’s name. "Yeah, the same way you couldn’t let go of her, that’s why I can’t let go of this story." He took out a binder and put it into his bag, and locked it again.
"But what happened between me and Devon, that’s totally different...” Freshie began before Jonathan looked at him with an evil glare,
"No, it really isn’t that different. Just like you loved Devon, I love this story, I can’t leave it unfinished." Freshie was quiet. He looked up for a moment as if he was going to say something, but he kept his mouth closed. As Jonathan finished zipping up his bag, the bell rang for first period.
There it was again, that damn Purple Swirling Vortex... In the middle of the empty classroom just floating there like it had always been there, was meant to be there. Today is the day. Jonathan looked around, looking for where the voice came from... but then he realized he hadn’t heard anything out loud, nothing was said aloud. Do not be afraid, I mean no harm. The voice wasn’t coming from the vortex; it was coming from his own mind... Today is...
“...Monday, and we all know that Monday is reading day, so take out your books and silently read.” the Computer teacher said, and just as quickly as he had spoken up, he disappeared. After a few minutes of reading one of the most confusing books he had ever read, he put it down and took out his writers notebook. He started to write on a blank piece of paper but in mid sentence, before his mind could process what he wanted the ending of the sentence to be, Jonathan got the urge to draw. He put his pen to the paper, and his hand flew, gliding over the paper, ink trailing behind it like an extension of his hand. Jonathan moved smoothly but determined each twist of the wrist and flick of the hand meant something. Now, you must understand, Jonathan isn’t an artist. Well, not in the traditional sense. His idea of good drawing is the stick figure characters that he made up in 3rd grade. But this was different. It seemed like his hand knew exactly where it was meant to go, even if the hands owner had no idea. Soon the paper was covered in ink. In the span of 5 minutes the paper which was barren was now full of design. It was an aerial view of a meadow, the shadow of a castle in the distance. Around the edges weeds crept up, but most seemed benign. But in the center of the drawing was the oddest assortment of people. There were 5 of them, each one seeming to be from a different walk of life. Each one unfamiliar and different... except one, Jonathan himself. Some may think it narcissistic to include himself in a drawing, but he had no control over that, no control as to what he did during those 5 minutes. It was then that Jonathan realized... today was going to be different. And that’s when all hell broke loose.
The classroom was silent, everyone reading a book. There wasn’t a sound to be heard except for the turn of the page and the odd scratch of a pen on paper every now and then. But the silence was broken by a very small and light whining noise. Very few people noticed it, and those who did ignored it or just thought their ears were tricking them or something. But that whining noise increased, pulsating around the room. It was hard not to notice it immediately and even harder to concentrate on something other than the noise. After a minute or so, the whining noise continued to increase in volume, and every few seconds or so a crack that sounded like small forms of lighting could be heard. The class looked around, not sure what to think, what to expect. Jonathan was the first to spot it.
In the center of the classroom, a small dot of light hovered in the air, the whining noise the only indication that it was there. As the whining noise steadily increased, the size of the pinpoint of light increased as well, becoming more defined, more real. People began noticing it, this ball of light hovering in the classroom. Jonathan closed his eyes before looking at it, hoping to god it wasn’t what he thought it was. As most people turned away from the bright light, Jonathan looked directly into it... directly into the harsh purple light that comprised the swirling vortex. Today is the day...
Oh it definitely is.... it definitely is.
Jonathan stared at the light, hardly daring to breathe, hardly daring to think. There in front of him was the object of his fascination, the item that haunted his dreams. Everyone else in the room backed up, squinting in the light.
Thinker of Worlds and drawer of Maps. The beginner and the ender, we call upon you to answer. Send us the child; send us the one who will become. Send us Jonathan.
Jonathan looked around, stunned to hear his name being called from the swirling light.
Come child, and face the history that was written long ago. Come child, and become a man.
Jonathan gulped, feeling the urge to get up, to run at the light. He slowly stood from his chair, the drawing floating towards the floor. He put one foot out, and stepped forward. The closer he got to the vortex, the harder it was to move forward. Foot by foot he went, closer and closer. His classmates called out to him, but none could move, none could stop him. He reached the light, and slowly reached out to the vortex. His fingers lightly brushed up against the light. He felt the world around him stretch and skew, he saw everything turn around and melting before his eyes. In reality this was not happening, this was just how he perceived it. The world did not change, his perception of the world did. He slowly lost focus, the world around him a blur now... and then darkness. Jonathan was once again floating in the nothingness. But he was moving, flying rather, gliding down on an unseen string, one that led him to an undisclosed location, and guiding him towards it. And the nothingness gave way to the world. He saw flashes of green and golden hills, and then hard stone, he passed through it, through the mortar and the holes, through the armory and kitchen. Then he stopped. It took him a moment to find himself, to become re accustomed to normalcy. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a large cloister, balconies surrounding him. In front of him was a grand chair, and on it sat an older man. He wore blue robes that covered most of his body. His hair was dead white, pulled back in a pony tail. The old man stood, using a jewel encrusted staff to steady himself, and looked at Jonathan.
“Welcome Child. Welcome to Asgar.” The old man stepped down from the area with his throne and walked towards Jonathan, “Welcome to a place where wonderful things happen, Welcome to a world where evil does exist.” He stopped in front of Jonathan, leaning heavily on the staff “I am the High Lord of this City. You may call me Celac. And you, you are Jonathan. Much is known about you from the historic texts. It was written long ago that you would come. That you and four others would come and save us.” Jonathan still stood silently, still trying to comprehend what he was hearing. There was an awkward silence, before Jonathan finally spoke up.
“Wh-where am I?”
“Why child, you are in Celest, Capitol of Asgar.”
“Why...why am I here?”
“You are special. You are the hero spoken of in legend” Jonathan looked over into Celacs calm face,
“I’m no hero. I’m just a kid.”
“You are a hero, and you will save us all. It was written long ago.” Celac rapped the staff on the floor. It created a low hollow sound that reverberated around the room. On each of the balconies people came in, all of them wearing white robes. “Are all the Lords present?” Celac said loudly.
“Everyone is accounted for, everyone except ...except Charlie.”
“Where is Charlie?” Celac asked. Jonathan stood still, just taking in information.
“Charlie was sent to the Ramen-Va for advice. He has not reported to us through the talking stone yet. We expect a report some time later today.”
Celac sighed, closing his eyes. “The Ramen-Va cannot be trusted. They betrayed us in the first war, and they only came back because they saw Malic’s forces destroyed. They are mercenaries, helping the winning team. We cannot trust that kind of mentality. When you have gotten a hold of Charlie through the stone, tell him to return.”
“Yes my lord.” The lord who was speaking sat down
“I have called this emergency meeting of the Lords to discuss the Legend of the Newcoming.”
“High Lord, if I may,” One of the Lords on the lower balconies stood, “I do not think this Council has time to waste on false fairy tales.”
“Fairy tales they may be, but false they are not. The beginning of the prophecy has already been completed.”
“Which part?”
“The coming of a Child not born of this world.” The council muttered to each other, discussing the matter.
“What do you mean Celac? Are you telling us that you actually have a child who is not of this world? Have you gone mad??” Celac smiled at this comment.
“Yes, I do. I have a Child, not born of this world. And according to the prophecy, it will not be the only one. I sense more on the way.” The Lord who had spoken laughed, a dark laugh, a chuckle really.
“You have grown foolish, old man. You have let the old tales get to your head, and now you believe the unbelievable. Malic will always be a problem to the land. He cannot be defeated.”
“You speak boldly. You speak of me as the foolish one, yet it is you who are foolish. The child that stands behind me, this young Child, barely a man, is the one spoken of in legend.” The lords stood up to get a better look. Jonathan made that look, you know, the look you get when hundreds of people are staring directly at you. “Now that you have had a good look, I have a mission for you. I want you to read the prophecy again, I want you to analyze and scrutinize every line. In the coming days, it might be crucial. Now, if you will excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to.” Celac grabbed Jonathans shoulder and led him out of the room. They entered a long hallway, carpets adorned with fantastical designs; the walls made from pure marble and shaped in such a way that made the light reflect all the colors of the rainbow. Celac took Jonathan down this long hallway and into a new room. Celac led him into the library. This library was not like anything that Jonathan had ever seen. It stretched up into the sky, the walls melting into one another the higher it got. It made the room seem infinite and grand. The bookshelves on the wall stretched up, and up. Light danced around, dust swirling like golden spheres. Celac lead him deeper into the library, past the bookshelves, past the tables covered in mountains of scrolls. He led him past the musty book smell, past the normal feeling of oppression that is felt in a library. Celac led him to a small golden pedestal in the center of the room. On the pedestal sat a book, the cover worn with age, the spine cracked with usage. The words “The History of Asgar” could faintly be read, the golden letters peeling off the cover. “You cannot understand why you are here without a history lesson.” Celac said, putting his hand on the cover of the book.
“But why am I here... this can’t be real, this cant be true... I gotta be dreaming.” Jonathan said. Celac chuckled, smiling kindly towards him.
“You are not dreaming. What you see around you is real. It is real to me, and it is real to you. You traveled here through what your world would call a Temporal Fluctuation of Time and Space, but here it is simply called a world gateway. Your world and ours are connected, connected in many different ways. But let us leave that for another day. Let me show you something, let me show you why you must fight.” Jonathan was about to say, “Fight?”, but was interrupted by Celac placing his hand on Jonathan’s forehead. In a flash of insight, he understood. In a matter of seconds, the History of Asgar flooded his subconscious, filling it to the brim of understanding. He wasn’t in the library any more. He was surrounded by darkness, nothingness really. He could faintly see the outline of someone working diligently, tirelessly, hidden in the shadows. Jonathan strained to see this being, when the nothing suddenly gave way to something. All the empty space around him became something. Stars twinkled into existence, and below him an entire world faded into creation. Trees and Forests covered most of the land. Green and Pristine, Innocent. He couldn’t help but grin at the sheer goodness that radiated from the land. He saw days turn into night, into day into night in fractions of a second. He saw the forests grow and grow. Then he saw something that made him cringe. A sore appeared on the world to the south of the main continent, and from that sore the good was tainted. The forests that once covered the southern continent, that made the world so green, began to die. They became skeletons of their former glory. He felt the evil that radiated from the sore; he felt it strike him in his very soul. He saw things pour out of the sore, mockeries of the original inhabitants of the land. He saw these malformed creatures form ranks and into an army. And at its head was a being of pure Malice. Every one of these creatures was a wrong in the land. They didn’t belong; they were not supposed to exist. Just looking at them made ones eyes hurt. This army of wrong moved forth from the sore, traveling across the great sea. The path they took boiled and swirled, creating whirlpools. They reached the northern continent and began traveling towards the heart of the land, killing all who stood in their way. He saw the plight of the land, he saw what had happened. And he couldn’t help but have tears form in his eyes. And suddenly, he was in the library again. Jonathan wiped the tears away.
“That is why, do you see now? Do you see why we need you?”
“How...how did you survive?”
“That is a tale for another day. Come along Jonathan, the others should be arriving soon. Then I can explain the reasons for you being here.”
Celac led Jonathan out of the library and back into the hallway. Celac moved with a spring in his step, even though he was using a staff.
“Why do you have that staff? You don’t seem to need it.” Jonathan said. Now that the shock had worn off, he was managing to think, to notice.
“Well, most Staffs in Celest are not made for recreation. In fact, from the first day you are four years old you decide your weapon profession. From that day forward you would train to kill with that weapon. I happened to have chosen the staff. Now as High Lord, we are given one of the Four Sacred weapons, said to hold power beyond belief. So that is why I carry this staff with me.” Celac smiled, “What weapon do you think belongs to you.”
Jonathan thought for a moment, “What weapons are there?”
“Well there are four main weapons, but there are subdivisions that branch from the original four. They are; Bladed Weapons, Blunt Weapons, Throwing Weapons and Torture Weapons. Under those there are; Swords, Staffs, Throwing knives, Whips, Daggers, Axes, Clubs, and Bows.”
“I always enjoyed fencing as a kid... I guess Swords?” Jonathan said. Celac smiled, nodding.
“I’ll have the armory bring something up.”
“If you don’t mind me asking...Why would I need a sword?” Jonathan said.
“How else will you survive? We are at war Jonathan. Every able bodied person needs to be ready.” Celac answered.
“At war? What do you want me to do? I’m not a fighter.”
“By the end of this... you will be.” Celac said, “But more of that later. I sense the others on their way.” He opened the door to the cloister. It was empty again, the lords off researching the legend of the Newcoming. “Any moment now.” Jonathan felt and odd tingling sensation prickling at his skin. He felt it crawl up his spine, Goosebumps rising all over him. Then he heard it again, the high pitched whining noise. Then in a flash of bright light, a young boy materialized. He was younger than Jonathan and had short wavy blonde hair. He looked around shocked, and then his shocked face gave way to a scared one.
“What’s going on, who are you, Where am I, wha...wha...” the young boy said in one breath. He backed away from Jonathan and Celac.
“Do not be afraid Samuel.” Celac said, offering him his hand. The young boy, Samuel, shrunk away from Celac.
“What is this?” Samuel said.
“Welcome to Asgar, Samuel. I am High Lord Celac.” Celac said. He moved forward, trying to calm Samuel down.
“H-...how do you know my name??” Samuel said. “What..where...”
“Please, Samuel, calm yourself. It is ok. Do not be afraid. I know of your name through the Legend of Newcoming. It was told long ago that five children would come, five young ones from a world that is not this one, and they would hold the key to defeating Malic. You are one of the five.” Samuel calmed down a bit.
“This has to be a dream, it’s got to be.” Samuel said, shaking his head. “It’s a dream, only a dream.”
“Well, if this is a dream Samuel, as you so adamantly defend, the fastest way to wake up would be to follow the dream through. So if you really believe this is a dream, get a hold of yourself and see this through to the end.” Celac said. Samuel stopped shaking his head. He just stood there for what seemed like hours, before he finally spoke up.
“Ok... I’ll do it. I might not believe this is real, but I guess I have to go through with whatever it is. I mean, what else is there to do.”
“That’s the spirit. Now wait over here with Jonathan. I will explain to you your task when the others arrive.” Samuel walked over to Jonathan and stood next to him. “Any moment now the others will arrive and everything will be made clear.” They stood silent, waiting for something. Jonathan felt it again, the tingling sensation. He recognized it right away and was not surprised to see a girl appear in a flash of bright light. She appeared to be about the same age as Jonathan. She looked around, her long brunette hair swaying side to side. Her eyes rested upon Jonathan. Her eyes shone a bright blue, and she made a face as if she was struggling to remember something. Celac stepped forward, and addressed the girl. “Hello Lauren.” She turned her gaze from Jonathan and turned to Celac. She wasn’t as shocked as Samuel had looked, but she still looked wary and uncertain. “I am Celac, High Lord of Celest. It has been awhile since I have seen the likes of you.”
“Do I know you?? Where am I?” Lauren said, stepping back.
“The necklace you wear, it was given to you by your mother was it not?” Lauren started to play with the necklace, holding it. It was made of a dark metal. It was a circle and in the circle was an odd wavy symbol.
“How did you know that?” She asked, out of curiosity more than anything.
“Well, I gave it to your mothers’ mother many, many years ago.” Celac said, smiling, remembering the days of old. “Back when she lived here.” Lauren looked at Celac incredulous.
“My grandmother lived here?” She asked, moving forward a bit, caution thrown to the wind.
“I will tell you everything soon. Right now we need to wait. Come over here and join us.” She walked over to the small group. Celac motioned to Jonathan, “This is Jonathan and he is Samuel.” Lauren gave Jonathan and Samuel a small smile and nod of her head. Less than a minute later, in another brilliant flash yet another person stood in the center of the room. It was an older boy. He had long hair that went every which way. He had hard worn hands and wore khaki shorts. He looked around, not out of shock but of fascination. He was grinning when Celac stepped forward. “Welcome Martin to Asgar. I am Celac, High Lord of the city of Celest.” Martin smiled and stepped forward.
“Hello High Lord, it’s an honor to meet you. I... I always knew I was different.”
“And Different you are. You all are. Only one more remains to appear before I can explain.” Celac said. “Join the rest of us, all will be explained later.” Martin walked over, acknowledging the others. As Martin turned around there was another bright flash of light. In the center of the room stood what can only be described as a dark skinned beauty. She was deeply tanned and wore a shell necklace. She had wavy brown hair that was pulled back behind her ears. “Rory, welcome to the land of your ancestors. Welcome to Asgar.” Rory turned at the sound of Celacs voice.
“Who are you? How did I get here?” Rory asked.
“Now that you are here, I can answer all of your questions. My tale begins eons ago, when the world was first created. Before our Universe existed, there were only two beings. We have come to call them the immortals. Both of the immortals were crafty and cunning and extremely intelligent. Now since they didn’t have a beginning we can not say for sure, but it is assumed that they were brothers. It can be said that siblings will fight, this was no exception. One of the two, who became known as the creator, gave birth to the universe. He crafted each world with love and care. The creator devised a way that all beings could live in peace and did not need to worry about aging, death or chaos. His Brother, who now is called Malic, saw what his brother had created and decided to create something that would come to be an integral part of our universe. He created death. He created chaos and pain. He created every wrong in the universe. The Creator saw what Malic had done and became furious. He attacked his brother and threw him into our universe and locked him in and threw away the key. When the creator had calmed down enough to realize exactly what he had done, it was too late. The creator saw that he had released an evil which could resist time onto the world the he himself had created. And in his infinite wisdom and compassion, the creator cried. His tears fell and became trapped in the web of time he had spun. His tears shown bright and still shine as stars in the sky. Now with the creator separated from that which he had created, Malic began to wreak havoc. He went world to world, destroying its inhabitants and making mockeries of them to do his biddings. His sight eventually fell upon our world, Asgar. We felt the evil that resided outside our world long before he appeared. When he did, we were somewhat prepared. He landed on an island to the south... what is now known as the Sore of Malice. Evil began to radiate from the Sore, tainting the soil, the sea... even living beings. He began to form an army from beings he corrupted.” Celac paused a moment, sweat dripping from his brow.
“But didn’t he already have an army? From the other worlds?” Jonathan asked.
“Very perceptive you are. Yes, he did indeed have armies on other worlds, but no means to move them. So he was left to create them himself. And create them he did. In 4 short years he had a might of 10,000 creatures. Malic lead his army across the ocean. The water boiled and frothed at every step the creatures took. Malic’s power made it so that they needed no boats, they could walk above the water. They invaded the land south of Quibbon Harbor. We sent our own army to meet theirs. It was the beginning of a war that is still talked about in whispers. Our army was...to put it lightly, slaughtered. What was left of our people abandoned the city and ran north. Malic’s army overran what was left of our city and demolished it. The High Lord at the time, Joline, instructed the five elemental sages to craft a weapon that could defeat Malic and any wrong that was in the world. The sages worked tirelessly for several days, combining all of the elements in new and curious ways. At the end of the third day, they were done. It was a sword that encompassed all five of the elements. It could slay any wrong in the world, and its power could match Malic’s. It was named the Sword of Light. The high sage, the sage of spirit, wielded the sword as his own. He and the other four went to meet Malic’s army head on. They fought mercilessly, slaughtering every one of Malic’s underlings that stood in their way. All five stood in front of the ruins of the city, covered in blood and sweat, and waited for Malic. They didn’t need to wait long. Malic attacked from the west. They sage of Spirit was barely able to defend, but he did. He fought back and each of his swings became more and more powerful. The last swing connected with Malic’s chest plate. The power behind that swing knocked Malic onto his back. That was where he lay when the Sage plunged the sword through his heart. But being an immortal, he did not die. Weakened as he was, he could not die. So the five sages built a spell which could trap Malic in a pinch of time. They basically pinched off a part of the time web, and created a small universe that was filled with nothing. What they did not know at the time was that a Universe that was not fully connected to the Web of time could not sustain itself forever. With Malic trapped for the time being, the people began the long process of reconstruction. With the old city still on corrupted lands, they built a new city, in the heart of the land. When the city was completed, the five sages left. They returned sixty years later, powerless and swordless but unaged. When asked what happened, they replied shortly “We did what needed to be done.”
“What did they do?” Martin interrupted.
“There are many different versions of the story, but they all have the basic premise. The five sages took the sword and hid it in a sacred spot. They took the power and split it into five parts and hid the power across the land. When they returned to Celest, they told me, the new High Lord, that it was dangerous for them to be there. One day, they or their ancestors would not be safe. So I permitted their dismissal from the lands duties. I gave them each a symbol of the lands gratification. And with that, they began to work. They crafted a spell that would eventually take them from our world, and put them on yours. Before they left they gave me a note. It said, One day Malic will return. One day when we are not here, the land will be in peril. But do not be afraid or tremble in fear. Children not born of this world will come and these children can and will save you. They will be named after the old sacred names taken from the texts found in the metal ruins; Lauren, Jonathan, Aurora, Martin and Samuel. This note is now called the legend of Newcoming. That is why you are here. To save us all.”
