For the longest time Nadine Hunt was dormant. The mage’s grip throttled of her senses into submission, so in her fragmented thoughts she slept. In darkness. In that total void where one’s inner self goes during the deepest sleeps, she felt at peace. Suddenly there came a faint awareness which only told her where she was. There was still emptiness and herself. And another. A distant, violet light broke through the outer walls of this place high above her. Like a star it shone out there, growing ever larger with its approach. Her heart sank when she realized she was dead, especially considering how. “Oh, Nadine, you’re far from dead!” The voice emanating from the light was female, soothing and pure.

       “A dream?” She wondered, her thoughts projected throughout the realm.

       “Of sorts.” The presence replied, “And do not despair. Despite what you may recall of your moments before this, you are safe. Let your mind and soul be at ease as much as your body.”

       “I suppose I may as well,” She yielded, letting some of that awareness die,

       “Good.” The light grew brighter, enveloping her in whole, “Let me tell you a story.”

       The vivid dream brought by the total submission of her being opened at a point in history that had long been lost to the world. Nadine had seen the scars of cataclysm only in photographs, their source pined for since this gap in civilization’s memory. That which was gnarled and jagged was smooth, pristine plains and woodlands untouched even by primitive man. Thousands of years before the first pollutant, the air too seemed off from what she knew, renewing all which drew it in breath. The world looked alien, with colors far more vibrant than what she would ever see. That this natural beauty had been forever lost bothered Nadine just as deeply as it did the one who showed it to her.

       In this pivotal era magic was in its infancy and it would be millennia still before the Kingdoms’ inception took place. Its pioneers played an integral role in shaping this swatch of time with feats of unparalleled magnitude through ritual and incantation. Unlike those leading up to and proceeding it, this golden age saw ideal weather, abundant crops and reprieve from cruel diseases due to the efforts of those who were claimed to channel the Gods.

       Witches and warlocks, or Coven as a whole, were revered the world over for the balance they sustained. These were the humans who had mastered the artes and walked as equal with the Nephilim and sprites in a time when both ends of the spectrum were one. Before long these adepts had so saturated themselves with enchantments and hexes that their offspring blindly inherited the might of their forefathers. Soon this new breed of man would be known as ‘mages’, and while their powers paled in comparison to those they were born of, their spells could be cast at the speed of thought. Their kind, however, were restricted to a specific element of magic and thus most chose to complement their natural skills with their own roster of spells too powerful for silent whim.

       Empires rose at a rate that if left unabated by the tides of change, the present world wouldn’t remotely resemble its current state. What ultimately triggered this great cataclysm would be the arrogance of the kings through which the Coven earned their keep. Why, the monarchs wondered, should the land and people suffer when war truly boiled down to which kingdom boasted the greatest proxy? Many found glory in these epic duels whose proximities were breached only by the scribes assigned to document the bout and the few who gambled their lives to watch. The great war would end when champions from rival factions, lovers at that, were forced to test their loyalties. One a mage, the other a coven, together decided to start their own crusade.

       The devastation they reaped on their respective homelands grew exponentially as more of their kind joined the revolt. Empires toppled with ease as these forces gathered to dominate their mortal kin. Soon they ruled the civilized world with an iron fist, banishing those who refused to conform to the afterlife. The remaining powers that be, led by a coalition of the good-willed conspired in tandem to fell their worldwide oppressors. What resulted was perhaps the most elaborate ritual ever conceived, one which would restore balance in favour of the meek.

       What came of this would be a being whose might and constitution nature either could or would not replicate. Unlike magic, which tapped into the mind, its powers were drawn directly from its flawless spirit, giving it the ability to control aspects untouchable by conventional magic. Without effort, it could take control of nature’s design, or that of any mortal touched by its violet light. Even life and death bent to its infallible will, making the prototype messiah a being which could restore the recently deceased and would only die of its own accord. It would possess phenomenal physical strength, endurance and reflexes since its presence told the womb hosting it how to build the ultimate body. His was a mind which saw through the material and paid it little heed. His logic was impenetrable, like that of a God. He was Seithos, the first Earthborn.

       Nadine came to when she beheld the face of this saviour. Apart from the clothing and times, this young man matched Willem’s physical identity down to the very pore. From his apparent presence millennia ago to the origin of the enemy, her conscious self would have written this off to mage trickery. She had been trained to sense their influence and felt neither the itch in her thoughts nor the barely detectable vibration in the flesh. Dream as it may be, she was still shaken by the so-called revelations cooked up by her subconscious.

       Seithos would spend much of his adult life scouring the globe for those who tarnished what he claimed as his domain. He hunted down the oppressors, destroying their spell books and purging their most coveted incantations from their minds. One by one they fell, their powers sealed by this artificial demi-God who left them with nothing of what they gained. The world breathed a sigh of relief, but after many years, Seithos grew tired of the mortal coil. As he prepared to ascend to the beyond, he formed an organization that would carry on his work. They were the Masks. From then on, only the most elite of scholars were given the right to study and become a witch or warlock. Their purposes consisted of sustaining ancient enchantments, and in case of another gross abuse of power, invoke his return.

       Like everyone else, the Masks had to adapt when the walls went up and were divided accordingly. Contact between branches was reserved only for the highest levels and just as tradition held, those tiers were made of Coven. Among the wicked was one who shone with more black intensity than any other who came just for the power and his name was Irwin Anson. He was young and brilliant. His shining blond hair cut short, his piercing green eyes veiled by the tinted lens of his wire-frame glasses. He was dashing and young, unassuming to the naked eye, yet still his image sent a chill through Nadine’s exposed being. His perfect posture and eloquent tongue did well to hide the beast within.

       Recognized as a brilliant prodigy, he tore through ranks in half the time it took for those with twice his experience. His emotional disconnect was noted early in his career and by twenty-two he was well into warlock training. He specialized in disease-inducing incantations which proved ever useful in the off-the-record operations he either led or went on alone. He crossed the borders frequently and had many contacts within the Kingdoms reaped through his work. But still despite all the ‘good’ he was doing, Irwin’s drive was his lust for power.  It was only a matter of time before word of the Earthborn ritual reached his ears and set those twisted gears in motion. Although it would still be sometime until he saw flesh and blood, Willem Tarrant was officially born.

       Somehow Irwin managed to breach every level of security and gained access to the original copy of the ritual. Not only were the precious scrolls a priceless treasure, it was the instructions for the most devastating weapon created on this Earth. While the Masks and Kingdoms were thrown into utter chaos, Irwin deciphered the scripture with his runic genius. Of age, the child would be able to share the incantations of its epic self, making him absolutely unstoppable. Tracked all the way back to Undel, Irwin sent his newlywed wife to parts unknown with his creation in tow. He put up quite the fight in the name of buying them time, but his hopes of catching up later would be dashed by his own demise. When the scrolls were returned they realized that Irwin had ‘amended’ the spell and what was to come would look like an earthborn, but may in fact not be one. Or perhaps the spell resulted in failure – until they knew for sure, those who needed to know always had it on their minds.

       And so the world would be judged by its merit. “Willem was not born with the same instincts as a human or mage and thus, came unequipped with a fundamental discretion between right and wrong.” The voice narrated as a young Willem stared into empty space long after he should have been asleep, “His first years must have spent in utter confusion digesting the interactions of everyday life. Without guidance or someone to explain his nature, his immaculate senses noted many flaws in the system grinding around him. His initial plans were to take Albrooke by force the day he reached full maturity. But these plans would be postponed indefinitely, for Willem found himself in the company of a paradox.”

       Fate had ushered what he could only describe as a shining soul to his side. For Nadine it was only represented as a figure cast in the purest light. He was baffled by this spirit tempered by convictions and the unyielding strength of its compassion. Its presence forced him to re-evaluate his stance on the beings fighting to best one another in a game no one could win. This person, whose name he never once spoke, imprinted its values on his developing psyche but still, he was not convinced. With the divine patience, Willem would wait years for his idol to falter. While he never admitted what had driven him to leave Albrooke, he clearly described the bitter taste it left him with.

       “Is… this supposed to be me?” She asked, recognizing many of the instances through which he watched her. These were times she hadn’t thought of in years but did so much to shape her life. For a moment she forgot about the infallible being she had seen last. Deep down she’d felt the same of him – that he too was special, almost shining in the reflection of what he saw.

       “We know so little about Willem before we found him.” The voice told her, “And it looks as though we found you without a moment to spare.”

       “Who is ‘we’?” The blank slate opened beneath her feet and she found herself looking down on the world from the stratosphere. While she retained little of her geography lessons, she could tell she was looking down on the most barren, wintry wasteland this earth had to offer. Bereft of any worthy resource and cursed with an unbearable glare, it was ignored by much of the world. As the perspective descended, she began to see that in the heart of this nowhere there was more than cruel, raw element. In this place Nadine beheld a small city preserved within its own borders showing signs of late spring.

       “It’s called the Sanctuary.” The voice said. Nadine could see a stadium, an observatory as well as a few other buildings spread out among rich woodland and connected to each other by walkways. A lake shimmered underneath the canopy of a section where the flora was free to run rampant. The centrepiece was a large, white tower that if set out on its own in the white zone would be completely invisible. “Fifteen thousand souls call it home as they have for centuries. The Sanctuary gave these people all benefits a society could reap through the coupling of magic and technology. Collective effort yielded more than enough innovation to make living so far off the grid a breeze. Their crown jewel was the ancient artefact that generated the barrier which on the inside kept the elements at bay. On the outside, it was coated in an elaborate illusion depicting more of the same.

       “We found Willem almost a year after he left Albrooke.” The voice told her. Nadine could see him standing before a series of paintings hung before him in a gallery whose décor testified to their relevance. There were ten of them in total, each depicting him in a distant time and place, in some cases rendered as a member of the fairer sex. There he was, so out of context yet unaffected, looking on with that familiar couldn’t-care-less expression.

       Willem was apparently underwhelmed by what he saw and was clear in stating he had matters to attend to in Undel. An errant Earthborn was the last thing the administration wanted roaming through civilization or elsewhere but there was little they could do. What would sway his decision would be the very sight of another of his kind, one created through the sanction and unity of the Kingdoms. Her name was Jodie Korend.

       Her birth was revered by all who were unanimously optimistic about the prosperity accompanying an Earthborn legacy. Jodie was the epitome of mage beauty. She stood two inches shy of Willem’s impressive height and her body was shaped in proportion to the goddess she was built to emulate. Her green eyes shone with a luster that gave away her title to anyone in the know. Her flawless skin was minutely darker than Willem’s due to her home’s tropical climate, but she was otherwise his twin. The serenity in her eyes dispelled the assumptions many would have drawn by her striking resemblance to Willem. Hers was a presence dictated by years of grooming that focused on exploiting the natural grace of her model. Suddenly she realized who spoke to her during her waking lapse.

       “Yes, that would be me.” The voice confirmed before Nadine could even ask,

       “So why are you showing me all of this?” She asked instead,

       “The moment I saw your imprint in the far reaches of Willem’s glare I knew you needed to be told the truth about him, which only in turn led to what you’ve seen and learned in this vision.” Jodie replied, “Your spirit is rare, Nadine, one of those fitted for people who will do this world good. Things are beginning to spin out of control and we need all the help we can get.”

       If even half of this ordeal was true, her convictions would never let her refuse. The light of Jodie’s presence warmed her to the core and Nadine’s senses returned. With them came another, a ‘second pulse’ which made her thoughts come clearer, faster. Jodie was gone, and for a brief moment before total darkness washed over her, Nadine saw herself being carried away from Willem’s compound by that mage. Finally, peace.

Continue to Chapter 6