Scions of the Fabled Kingdom - Prologue

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As the radiant glow of Ludur’s nightly canopy enters into the southern window of my chamber, I timorously bask in its overwhelming yet soft radiance.

The colourful tapestry unveiled above tells many a tale, and fortunate are those who can read the stories entwined within:

Sailors who let myths and legends guide them on the proper path, scholars who gaze in search of knowledge and understanding, or bards who use silvery words in honeyed coating to craft imitations of the wondrous pieces their shining muses sing in their silent melody.

Fortunate are those who can read those stories; blessed are those who can live them.

And all who possess The Gift are blessed beyond imagination.

I would find it poetic to call the day on which I received The Gift: “The day on which I was born a second time”, but that sentence rings hollow, for I was not born only a second time, but a third and fourth as well, and with each new night–with each new tale–I am born anew.

And so I stand before the unending sea of astra like a child amidst a mountain of unwrapped presents beckoning to be opened.

Do I explore the swirling nebula of red stars that shine fiercely and vigorously like the warriors of old whose names they bear.

Or do I enter the alluring depths of the azure orb that hangs alone in its solace, and houses dreams of a more peaceful time.

But in this amazing chaos an old heavenly friend catches my attention, for it was my companion in many a woeful moment, one that I harbour deep in my heart.

Even when I could not see, I knew it was there, resolute, unchanging, and filled with heroic determination. It’s unbound golden resplendence comforting me when I looked at it for guidance.

Yet now its defiantly fixed nature was interwoven with threads of purple hue that enveloped its light and form.

This revelation nearly broke my blissful descent into somnolence that serves as the gateway to my yearnings for astral rebirth. But my mind quickly became clouded again in a dreamy haze as it needed to find out the meaning behind this strange resewn tear in the tapestry, clad in a purple thread.

But as I was about to be formed anew in the river of dreams and legends, a hook caught my floating body, covered in the rejuvenating primordial ooze of creation, and pulled.

My eyes opened, yet they saw only the mundane reality of being, housed under the perfection above.

My nose smelled the waning scent of mind clouding incense the effects of which faded with the fire that consumed it.

My skin felt the shivering touch of a cold winter breeze that sadly numbed only the body, but kept the senses even more awake.

And my ears heard the painful rage inducing sound from which the hook had been cast.

“Young sir, your mother wants to see you.”

I was something beyond furious. Like a lover whose soul-mate was taken away at the cusp of their infatuation, I was left sweaty, unsated and with rancorous disposition towards the one that had kept me away from my desire.

“Tell her I will make sure to pay her a visit as soon as I am able!”

I said this with a tone indicating finality, and without once looking at the intruder I fixed my gaze at the stars, and their light guiding me on my path towards their secrets.

“She insisted that she needs to see you now young sir, and I’d hate to be forced to drag you... again.”

I didn’t need to use The Gift to see Olathoën’s mischievous grin before I turned towards him. Illuminated by the starlight, his visage reminded me of the hero of the golden star, and my cold indignation slightly diminished, his long straight hair, ever-changing in its colour as the star canvas above, and as the seasons that have passed innumerably under them. His armour of silvery leafs and the complexion and tone of a marble statue under it.

“You could have waited at least a couple of minutes, I would come happily then.  Are you sure you don’t have The Gift? I find your ability to disturb me in the worst possible moments too uncanny to be coincidental”

Olathoën’s grin widened to an almost scary grimace that almost gave him the appearance of a cunning trickster god rather than the majestic looking, yet fundamentally ordinary fey elven warrior that he was.

“You have uncovered my ruse I’m afraid, my secret technique to spite you is revealed, It is now my solemn duty to find a new way how to garner your ire.”

Behind each lie and story lies at least a grain of truth, and it wouldn’t surprise me if more than a few grains pass through the hourglass of time when this statement is measured.

But before I retorted, Olathoën came closer to me and said with comforting smile:

“But don’t worry young sir, the stars won’t be going anywhere, they will be here when you return, and they will be here the night after, same as they always were.”

As I was leaving my chamber, I glanced once again at the once bright golden star and the purple hue that was now emanating from it.

“But what if they won’t?”