As my eyes slowly open and sight is re-established, I find myself in a gigantic room, covered by blankets made of the finest wool. The decoration is meticulous and every small component in the environment is beautifully adorned. Despite the cloth and all the torches, it still feels a little bit cold. Not far from the bed where I lay there is a window, and the sunset right in front of it reveals a majestic shade. A very large figure indeed, probably the biggest lion I’ve ever laid eyes upon. He is facing the sun and his red cloak along with shoulder pads and armor would make any enemy think twice before striking at him, even considering that the years have not been kind to him. His fur and the little mane he has left are completely white. Albano! The king!
Month: July 2018
I leave Spellenrune for the first time. When my absence is finally felt I will be far away. All I carry is a map, a pouch of emeralds and supplies for a 4-day walk along with a dagger that is said to have belonged to Malthus himself. There is an encryption on it, still undeciphered. Ancient rune language. The knowledge of the meaning of these symbols was washed away centuries ago. That is the only inheritage I have. As I come closer to the border I start small talk with a group of farmers and hear King Albano is concerned beyond belief about the recent events. He fears Mithaurian will be the last standing country in Myridian, but stilll destined to fall. He is looking for answers from his high council but they are as desperate as he is.
My incursion into suburbs was quite rewarding. Not only did I learn it is not nearly half as dangerous a place as it was supposed to be, but I also discovered that many facts regarding the war have been kept from us.
Apparently the devastation has not been caused by Myrids alone. Myrids have only recurred to war because they felt threatened by waves of attacks coming from unknown sources. Declaring war on other territories was an act of self preservation, since no civilization would claim to have commanded such strikes.
Today I start looking for others like myself. It is only sure that some of them have awaken. Descendants of the Verge. My mind is now constantly invaded by feelings of anguish, confusion and fear. At the same time distant voices mumble words I still can’t hear with clarity, but I sense an urge for gathering. They try to approach me while I try to understand them. Though, once I start focusing on the message, it seems to vanish because focus now makes my inner energy circulate faster. My hands burn as if they were made of pure electricity. My thoughts disperse and my brain becomes a blank canvas ready to bring form to these new powers I barely begin to understand.
Another night filled with revelations. The misty sights become brighter. I can now see him clearly. The Golden Blaze. But he is not alone. Others gather around him. All I see are shades. Different in size and shape but all alike in bravery. Diversely skilled, some master short range weapons while others could shoot an arrow through a token from a mile away. Shields, Suits of Armor, Magical Spells, nearly supernatural powers. Tactically accurate but still passionate in combat! An army never seen before. A small bunch of those heroes could easily defeat all of Mithaurian’s Militia.
If any of the Legends spoken about by peasants could ever be true, that is what they must look like! But where to find and how to summon them remains a mystery… Magic is gone. All my life I have tried to cast a spell. Any spell. Thousands of those are thoroughly described in our scrolls, and no matter how perfectly I perform them, nothing happens. Something is missing. And this increase of awareness I’ve felt over the past few days tells me we are getting closer to whatever that is. If only I could get stronger, maybe wiser… or… if I could find some like me, should there be any… we could cooperate and join forces to find the answers…
Before we go any further I feel it is time to introduce myself. I am Nettor, descendant of Maltus, whatever that means. I belong to the Verge bloodline, and the name of Maltus seems to be rather revered amongst them. Those of my kind are nowadays rare and utterly disregarded by society as a whole. It is quite hard for a technologically developed society to absorb what the Verge have to offer.
We are seen as the mystical ones. The ones who believe in Magic, scrolls, herbs, potions, charms and the like. The Verge were the first settlers of Spellenrune, the most important of all kingdoms in a distant past. Apparently our ancestors were the “scientists” of their time and helped the world develop through magic. That was up to a certain point we don’t have many records of… We suppose some kind of cataclysm happened back then and since that, Magic somewhat disappeared.
We can only assume the strongest Verge were vanquished while trying to fight it. People call this event “The End”. A mark that has only lived through tradition in peoples’ legends.
Thankfully, our planet Myridian was able to fully recover due to the technological advances achieved by Technokrest. They are now the core of our entire world. And a potential place for answers to be found.
“- You’ve been dreaming about Mithaurian’s King, Albano, the Golden Mane!”
“- Enough with these reveries!”
Albano… Mithaurian‘s bravest. A strong king indeed for a time of peace, which is not the case anymore. Even decades ago, at his prime, would he be no match for the creature in my dreams.
Once again I dreamed about him. There was some sort of cave, a mysterious glow covered in mist, and that is where he was after his goal. It seems there is something to be gathered from that place but inimaginable dangers encircle those who chase within. It feels so real.
This must have been. Or will be. Or something in between.
Even though I’ve read through most of the tomes in this library nothing was found about this creature and these places in the pages. Living and working here for more years than I can account for, the truth lies elsewhere. It is as if all I envision never existed. Or there must have been great reason for such power to be kept hidden from the world…