Unraveling Stories - Chapter 1

<-Prologue 

 

Part One

Take all I know

Turn it into darkened shadows

They'll disappear in the sun

When a new story has begun

- Blackmore's Night 'Gone With The Wind'

"Trapped by my birth, I was a bird in cage."

 

(Ten years ago . . .)

Until his dying day, Liang, tutor and bodyguard to young Lord Tyrian Southerwind, would never forget his first sight of Ben, the boy who would shape Tyrian's future.

It was summer. The sun rose high and so did the heat. The small town of Teasarn sat in the middle of the desert and claimed few trees to give it shade. Buildings stayed small and unadorned. Roofs were built extra-long to provide shade around the edges of walls. It was a town for peasants, though it housed a noble family.

Riding down the middle of the street, Liang held onto Tyrian with one hand and the reins of his horse with the other. At twenty, Liang was twelve years older than Tyrian but he loved the young boy as a father would. The gods only knew that Tyrian's birth father was rarely around. Oh, Donald Southerwind certainly loved his son, but he served as the High General to the Emperor. His duties bound him to the capitol.

Tyrian didn't mind. He was mature beyond his tender years and held a bedrock seriousness that baffled everyone who met him. He could be coaxed into mischievousness by his cousin, Marian, but he could more often be found studying anything he could get his hands on.

"Liang." Tyrian looked up at his mentor. "You went away."

Liang hugged Tyrian tightly. "My apologies, Tyrian."

A smile brightened Tyrian's handsome face. "You didn't call me 'lord' Tyrian!" he noted somewhat triumphantly.

"What would be the point? A certain little terror ordered me not to." Liang's voice was equal parts affection and amusement.

Tyrian suddenly went very still. "Liang." He tugged on his mentor's tunic sleeve. "Liang! Look!"

Liang looked and promptly stopped the horse they rode. Before he could blink, Tyrian had clambered down and ran across the dusty street. Liang cursed and followed swiftly. "Don't move him!" he ordered.

Tyrian skidded to a stop next to the prone figure lying on the side of the road but didn't move him as he knelt down. He spotted a dagger sticking out of the boy's shoulder and didn't hesitate to grasp it and pull it out.

"Tyrian!" Liang rebuked.

"If it stays in," Tyrian said reasonably, "then we can't heal it." He put the dagger aside and took off his vest to fold it up and press it to the wound. It was bleeding sluggishly, and that was a good sign. It meant the boy hadn't yet died.

Did nothing shake Tyrian? Liang just sighed and looked around. They stood in the middle of a road on the outskirts of the town. There were no people around. No way to know how the boy had come to be there or even why. "We need Marian," he said firmly. "She's a fine Healer."

At thirteen, Marian had just turned old enough to wear a relic and had taken to Medicine Relics instantly. In a few short months, she had become an incredible Magician who specialized in healing magic. Tyrian nodded immediately. "Then we'll take this boy to her."

Liang didn't argue. He simply took off his cloak and wrapped up the wounded boy safely. The boy's skin looked pale and at the same time flushed with fever. He weighed almost nothing, a stark statement about his current health since he was bigger than Tyrian and should have weighed significantly more.

"You ride," Tyrian ordered Liang. "I'll lead the horse."

Again, Liang didn't argue. Tyrian was a natural born leader and issued orders with the maturity and skill of someone thrice his age. If he didn't grow up to follow in his father's footsteps, the Empire would miss out on the greatest general of all time.

Liang got onto the horse and held the boy tight as Tyrian led the horse through the town. As they went, many people stopped what they were doing and turned to watch. "Is something wrong?" a flower seller called.

"A boy was left abandoned near the edge of town," Tyrian told him. "He had been stabbed. We're taking him to Marian."

"Poor child," someone else murmured. Anger sparked in her eyes. "We'll look into where he came from and who attacked him. Teasarn is peaceful. It'll stay that way. We don't look kindly on cruelty."

"That's why Lord Donald wanted his family to live here," Liang murmured.

"Pardon?" Tyrian glanced over his shoulder.

"Nothing."

"No it's not." Tyrian frowned. "I thought the Emperor worried that Father would be distracted by me and Mother."

Liang hesitated. Very slowly, he said, "That is part of it. But it is also true that Lord Donald wanted you to grow up in a place that would love you for you and not because you were a general's son."

"I see. I suppose that almost makes up for him never being home."

The words were said without bitterness. As far as Liang could tell, Tyrian held no grudges and no resentment for anyone or anything. He was a rare, rare child. His green eyes burned with an indomitable spirit and iron will that could not be bent or broken. He would lead millions one day. Of that, Liang felt sure.

The door to the house where Tyrian lived suddenly flew open and a pixie-sized female wearing a Healer's jacket and leggings stormed out, her rusty colored pigtails bouncing merrily. "Alright," she said briskly, "who was hurt?"

"We don't know him," Tyrian apologized. "But you'll heal him."

It wasn't a question, but Marian answered anyway. "Of course!" She pointed at the house. "In! It's too hot out here anyway."

Tyrian linked his hands behind his back as he followed Liang into the house. Another servant took the horse to the stable, and Marian shut the front door to keep the heat out. That she took orders from her younger cousin surprised none. She was nearly as protective of Tyrian as Liang.

Annareal Southerwind came rushing down the stairs, and her dark green eyes held concern. "Tyrian! I saw the commotion from the window! What is going on?"

Tyrian sighed and pointed toward the guestroom that Liang had entered. "We found a wounded boy. He had been stabbed. And abandoned." When his mother hugged him tightly, he found a smile for her. "I'm fine, Mother. I'm more worried about the boy."

Annareal was used to her son. "As we ought to be. I'm going to send a message to your father. He will want to come home to hear about this."

Tyrian waited until she had hurried down the hall before going to the guestroom. He peeked inside and saw Marian busy using her relic to heal the boy. Liang stood near, and his face looked carved in stone. When Tyrian walked over to join him, he saw why. The boy's back had been liberally covered with scars from beatings. Without any hesitation, Tyrian said, "He's not going back to where he came from."

"That is for Uncle Donald to decide," Marian reminded him.

Tyrian arched a black brow ever so slightly as if to disagree. He didn't say anything further though, his mind already gathering his arguments if his father disagreed.

It was night by the time they all heard the thunder of hooves outside that meant Donald had returned. Tyrian had been sitting with the boy just in case he woke, but when he heard his father, he brightened and hurried out of the room and the house.

He got to his father just as Annareal did. Donald Southerwind just smiled and caught both of them close. He had missed them madly every minute. "If that was all I was called home for, then I call it a successful trip," he teased. Despite the tone, his blue eyes looked serious. "What's going on? Your message said it was urgent."

"Tyrian and Liang found a wounded boy," Annareal explained as she led her husband into the house. "He had been stabbed and abandoned. When Marian was healing him, she noticed that he had been brutally abused. He rests now, and hasn't woken yet. The wounds that could be healed are gone. He has a cracked rib that should mend soon enough."

Magic could only heal so much, unfortunately, Donald thought. Any anger remained carefully hidden as he went to the guestroom and looked inside. Something sparked inside his eyes as he saw the boy's thin face. "He has to be at least thirteen," he said succinctly. "And he's thinner than Tyrian."

"That isn't saying much," Marian noted. "Tyrian doesn't look eight."

"Fair enough, but it's still evidence that he's been long neglected." He walked over to the bed and looked down at the boy. There was a deep wellspring of magic capacity inside the boy, so he had to be at least thirteen. Magic capacity was what allowed people to wear and use relics. The deeper the capacity, the more output potential you had. It only started to manifest after thirteen years of life, though there were occasional exceptions for early bloomers.

The boy began to stir, his brow wrinkled by a fretful frown. Donald instantly reached out to cover his hand. "You're safe," he said calmly. "You rest in the home of High General Southerwind, right-hand to Emperor Albanion. No harm will befall you here."

The boy's lashes lifted slightly. His brown eyes seemed slightly disoriented, yet nonetheless alert as they met Donald's gaze. "You won't send me back?"

Donald pulled up a chair and sat down. "Why don't you tell me where 'back' is? And your name as well, lad."

The boy hesitated. Tyrian promptly walked over and looked down at him. "You don't have to trust us," he said calmly. "But you could at least give some courtesy to the person who took the dagger out of your back."

A rapid blink was his response. Then, hesitantly, the boy asked, "How old are you?"

Donald muffled a laugh. "This is my son. Tyrian is eight years old. I'm afraid that he is far advanced for his age. He issues orders without question." He sighed. "Takes after his old man."

The boy suddenly smiled at Tyrian. "I don't know why, but I feel safe with you. So I'll trust your father as well." He let out a breath. "My name is Ben. No family name."

Donald nodded. That wasn't unusual. Last names were a luxury. Some people had them, some didn't. If a couple married, they often took entirely new last names for their new family. His last name from birth had been Phiriead. "Alright, Ben. Now what happened?"

"I lived in an orphanage in a small town in the woods far from here." Ben's eyes closed. "It was . . . okay. But we were attacked by an army from Foresalia and everything was burned. I was taken prisoner."

Tyrian looked at Donald. "We're under attack from Foresalia?"

His father shook his head. "Not exactly. They periodically try to take towns just as we try to take theirs. We've been enemies since before even I was born."

"So how did you get away?" Tyrian asked Ben.

"Ran. Someone tried to catch me but I lost him. I really don't remember much after he tried to kill me." His eyes opened slightly. "I'm thirteen. Even if I get independence, I can't make it on my own. Are you going to send me to another orphanage?"

It was a justified question. Independence could be petitioned for by anyone of any age under adulthood, but no younger than eleven for combatants and thirteen for civilians, and the one making the petition had to be able to prove they could support and provide for themselves. Ben, lacking any practical or combatant skills, was required to either gain a legal guardian or return to an orphanage until he reached adulthood at eighteen.

Tyrian narrowed his eyes at Donald. The general sat back, thinking quickly, and then said absently, "To my memory, there is no law against adopting homeless children escaping capture. And since there's no law against it, then I can't be doing anything wrong by keeping you, can I?" He got to his feet and gently ruffled Ben's hair. "You've got a home here. You won't go anywhere."

The door shut behind him as he left, and Ben looked at Tyrian in consternation. "You did that," he accused.

"I didn't do anything," Tyrian defended himself. "I would have, if needed." He crossed his arms on a scowl. "And I don't like that we've been at casual war for more than thirty years. It's wrong."

Ben studied Tyrian's face intently. In particular, he studied his eyes. He could see it, let alone feel it. The fierce, burning determination to protect others and the powerful iron will that would make him a force to be reckoned with. Nothing would break Tyrian. He would fight to his last breath . . . and win.

Ben closed his eyes on a sigh. Finally, at last, he had found the person he needed. "Can I ask for a favor?"

"Of course. We're brothers now." Tyrian smiled as he said it. "I've always wanted a brother."

A smile touched Ben's lips. "Then repeat after me. Askandi repulsin Devourer."

Tyrian didn't hesitate; he recognized the language of magic. "Askandi repulsin Devourer." He tilted his head as he felt a curious sensation inside his soul, almost a tingling as if something had awakened or taken root. "What did I say?"

"It broke a curse on me, that's all."

Curses were as common as magic, and easily repelled in many instances. They existed as two sides of the same coin. "Oh. Well, are you hungry?"

"A little."

"Okay." Tyrian got to his feet. "Then I'll get something." He paused at the door and looked back, and his dark green eyes burned fiercely. "I won't let anyone hurt you, okay, Ben?" That said, he headed out of the room and let the door swing shut behind him. Ben was family now, and Tyrian protected his family.

It was that simple.

 

©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.

Chapter 2->

Unraveling Stories - Prologue

<-Table of Contents

"The light is in the night where the songs will never end; Come with me and tell our tale"

 

Amid the millions of stars in the universe, and hidden beyond the ends of the Milky Way, was a galaxy ruled by three absolute forces.

Destiny.

Time.

Nature.

Destiny was an absolute force no different from gravity, and the goddess of it commanded all lives on the world of Oriku. She preordained events and people, set every important moment into stone. Her power encompassed all that lived, yet it was only visible by reading the stars. The stars served as the messengers of Destiny. They were the children of the gods. They watched over civilian and warrior, helpless and hero alike.

The stars had not always watched the world directly, however. Destiny had not always taken command. Legend stated that a million years before had found the sky filled with a mirror that reflected the land of the gods. As the people had become selfish and cruel, the gods had filled with grief. When grief had become anger, they had shattered the mirror. All lives had been thus bared to Destiny and her messengers and would forever be under her control.

The shattered mirror had broken into twenty-five pieces. Each had fallen to the land and become known as Pure Relics. They gave their bearer great magic and immortality, but at a very high price. Lesser normal relics spawned from the Pure Relics, and it was only magic that they imparted. No price had to be paid.

Even after a million years, most Pure Relics stayed little more than rumor or mystery. Most hid away, some had been claimed, and a select few others slept peacefully as they waited for their role to fill in history. They had been chosen by Destiny herself to be worn by three different 'heroes' who would be born under the star known as Kaiten.

The Kaiten was the star that shined the brightest in the sky and radiated a light that drew other stars to it. Only six times would it shine. It would shine once on each birth of a hero, and then it would shine again on each hero as they stepped onto their destined path.

It was foretold many millennia before that there would be three wars on Oriku and there would be three Kaiten Stars to lead other destined friends into battle. A battle for freedom. A battle for sanity. And a battle to end all battles: a battle that would be for peace itself.

This story is the story of the first Kaiten Star, and the amazing journey he did not know lay ahead of him . . .

 

©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.

Chapter 1->

The Final Kingdom - Bonus Content - Updated Glossary

<-Epilogue

Because the universe of the Kingdoms' series is complex and detailed, here's a quick reference for some of the terms used frequently within the story.

 

Activated – A term referencing a Cultivator who is in full possession of their magic and skills.

 

Arcanery – The proper term for the infinite power inside the Apexes of Light and Dark because they have far more than just magic inside them. Technically both do possess infinite magic but Shanae's actual magic use/capacity is very limited to little more than what her own daughter has a Dual Cultivator (other than Shanae having both offense/defense as a Lead). Sayena, conversely, can use her magic in ways that no other being alive (other than Tasia) can do. Therefore, when Shanae is using arcanery as an Apex, it is easier to see than if Sayena is doing it (because there is the expectation that Sayena's magic can do anything). There IS a significant difference between magic and arcanery, particularly since arcanery—as the name implies—draws on the literal Light and Dark and Hope forces of the universe to make things happen. Therefore, when either Apex is using their magic, the term 'magic' is used, but when they start doing things outside the scope, then 'arcanery' is used.

 

Arcanistry – The proper term for the infinite power inside Tasia as the Apex of Chaos, since she possesses both magic and majik as well as more arcane forces. It acts exactly like arcanery does by drawing on the literal Chaos and Hope forces of the universe to make things happen, which means she can do everything the other Apexes can do and then some. This blend of majik/magic is exceptionally detrimental to evil because it invokes the raw power of Judgment. (Yes, she really is Karma!) Because arcanistry encompasses both a blend of magic/majik as well as what lays outside that scope, the terms 'magic' and 'majik' are still used when Tasia is accessing only those particular powers.

 

Caretaker – The term used for the soul mate of a Cultivator. Caretakers are specially chosen to have unique traits and qualities that enhance their Cultivator, and they are usually given one magical gift from either the Ruler or the Defender category depending on the need of their mate. Caretakers to Defenders are particularly special since they inevitably have the ability to enter battle at their Defender's side, and have the strength of will to hold their heart and souls together.

 

Color – Not a term, per se, but worth explaining in more detail in its own section. See Magic and Majik for more color-based information. Shanae, Sayena, and Tasia stand apart from others where color is concerned thanks to the blend inside them. Shanae's black-pink gradient magic/arcanery directly relates to her being the first and only Protea Cultivator to use and harmonize both elements of her world. Likewise, Sayena's white-gold represents the same for her with Delphinium and its two elements. Their color does not change whether they use magic only or their arcanery—but Tasia's does. Tasia will have either a purple and yellow or black and magenta combination—not gradient—depending on whether she uses Ice or True Shadow magic because both Iris and Aria only have one element each. Her majik alone is a silver-gold gradient due to her importance to both her Goddess and God. Her arcanistry, however, is a rainbow-gray gradient that echoes to her possession of every Flower Element, including Chaos.

 

Core (capitalized) – The soul and life of a planet that gives it will and holds its Flower Element power. Like living beings, a planet's Core is either Light or Dark (or for two, Gray being both). Light Core planets rely on Delphinium to keep them alive while Dark Core planets rely on Protea. This is true for the entire universe, and not just Blossom Field. The two Gray Core worlds of Iris and Aria depend on both.

 

Core (lower case) – The most basic component of all living beings that helps determine much of their personality. They are also Light or Dark, or in the case of two, Gray. Some cores in people can have speckles or aspects of the other, but never in a perfect blend except for the two Gray.

 

Cultivator – People with a Seed inside who possess Flower Element magic based on their world's flower/Core. Cultivators are divided into Rulers (who literally rule their worlds), and Defenders (who literally defend their worlds). Both Rulers and Defenders possess very different sorts of magic even when sharing an element/world. Dual Cultivators—as the name implies—fill both roles and therefore possess both types of magic.

 

Deactivated – A term referencing a Cultivator who does not have access to magic or skills though the potential for such exists inside them. A Deactivated Cultivator is all but completely powerless, including lacking immortality, unless they happen to be a Caretaker for another Cultivator.

 

Era – The term for a section of time marked by the flow of power within it. Eras change when power levels reach an absolute peak for that era. Typically, power will climb across Eras, plateau, drop, and then climb again higher. The shift of an Era can be tangibly felt by those with magic, especially High Rulers and very specifically those with the Memory Flower Element. Eras can vary in length from a few decades to thousands of years. For the sake of continuity, Era shifts are not 'officially' begun until January of the following year. Typically, the birth of a generation of Cultivators will cause the change of an Era, or at the least, will mark the 'real' start of it. Other times, it will be marked by the first marriage of a Ruler Cultivator of the first generation.

 

Flower Element – The literal elemental forces that shape all of existence. The Flower Elements determine what sort of climate/landscape a world will have as well as the individual magic or majik inside Cultivators and witches. Nine Flower Elements are considered common as they can land in just about any hands: Nature, Illusion, Ice, Fire, Thunder, Air, Water, Metal, and Glass. The Memory Flower Element is restricted solely to those who are involved with or critical to the Hall of Records. Even more limited are the Dark and Light Flower Elements as they cannot be controlled by anyone except someone with arcanery or arcanistry—because both Light and Dark are technically arcane forces that support the universe. Rarer still is the Chaos Flower Element, which is actually as critical an arcane force as Light and Dark to all existence and can only be controlled by Tasia. There exist two 'sub-elements' of Time and Shadow, which derive from Memory and Chaos respectfully. The subs have some similar properties but work in vastly different ways, making them less dangerous to be owned—though no less rare in their own way.

 

Flower Mark – The mark on a Cultivator that denotes which world birthed their Seed. A Ruler has their Mark on their chest over their heart; a Defender on their upper left arm (Duals of course have both). A Deactivated Cultivator only has an empty outline of their Mark, where an Activated one has full color. A starting Mark will have a single blossom of their world's flower. Rulers cannot evolve, but Defenders can, and each evolution known as a 'tier' adds another blossom. When the Defender reaches their peak, their blossoms open into full bloom. Evolution is a necessity for most Defenders to increase the strength of their magic while fighting against evil. Additionally, if a Cultivator is the only one of their world, their Mark will have sparkling edges. Only the Apexes have a crown wrapped around their Marks, and the crowns sparkle upon their full evolution to Apex, which is separate of their being fully bloomed (though Shana reaches both at the same time).

 

Flower Mark (additional): Touching a Flower Mark belonging to a Cultivator is a very personal thing under any circumstance, but has specific meanings depending on who/how is doing it. A Defender who places a Ruler's hand on their Mark is outright offering respect and protection for that person. A Defender placing their Caretaker's hand on their Mark is asking for love and support from their lover. Likewise, a Caretaker touching their Defender's Mark is showing respect and love and of course support for the role they fill; this is also applicable to Rulers, but more poignant with a Defender given the danger they face. Between non-mated Cultivators, touching Flower Marks is all but casual, and is seen not unlike holding hands or hugging. Suffice to say, a non-Cultivator/Caretaker who dares touch a Flower Mark without permission has effectively violated the Cultivator in question, and has earned a powerful slap in the face—or worse.

 

Magic – The force of Flower Element power inside all Cultivators (and most Caretakers). Each Flower Element works in very different ways, though there is some overlap, and it can have as much effect on someone's personality as their core. The color of someone's magic directly relates to their world's personal flower rather than any assigned color to the element itself. This is why perverted/evil magic always looks off or putrid in color. A Caretaker's magic—if they do not have their own Seed—will have the color of their Cultivator's flower. All magic, if it is strong enough—usually once reaching full fruition as a skill inside at least a Caretaker—can be used to hold select items like weapons. Nearly all Caretakers and Defenders alike carry their weapons inside their magic. It is far more convenient and secure than any other option.

 

Majik – The force of Flower Element power inside all witches. It is alike to magic but very different and so called slightly different. It can also have as strong an impact on someone's personality as their core. The color of someone's majik directly relates to whether or not the witch is closer to the Goddess or the God, and this applies even to those not actually in the Faith or following the Path. Closer to the Goddess will make the majik silver in color, and closer to the God will make the majik gold. A subtle under color of either white or black will follow the gold or silver depending on the witch's core, but it is rarely ever noticed by the average person unless something is wrong with it. Majik works exactly like magic in only one way: the ability to carry select objects. In the case of witches, they usually carry their wands or other majikal objects for convenience. In the case of the Resurrection Cultivators, they selectively store items in both their magic and their majik.

 

Magikry – The term applied to the Resurrection Cultivators (other than Tasia) in possession of magic and majik both, used to imply when they are applying both in conjunction. They do not have arcanistry because they don't in any way or form have access to the arcane forces. Magikry only appears when both types of magic as well as majik are present, therefore it will only appear in the hands of the Resurrection Cultivators—none of their children, nor Caretakers, have or will have all three needed components.

 

Mask – The item used by a Defender to summon their armor. A Mask is a condensation and manifestation of the Flower Element magic of each world, and donning it will both shield a Defender's identity as well as give them magical armor for protection. A Defender does not need to wear their Mask in order to access their magic or weapon, but it is usually safer to put on a Mask before pissing off evil things. All Defenders of a world have the same Mask, and armor is identical on males as well as identical on females (which is determined by the Defender's identity).

 

Paradoxal Pivot – An incident where the future effects past events and not the other way around. This nearly always involves time travel, and specifically includes events 'not set in stone' where Destiny will give a Cultivator the choice of how they want their future to go. Related to this, the Memory Lag Delay is a safety function by Time herself that crosses between Eras so that people of the future don't remember the past events happening until after the events conclude in the future. In this way, they don't accidentally stop the event from happening by knowing it will happen.

 

Power – A catch-all term that can apply to magic/majik/et al as well as the various smaller levels of gifts and skills inside people. Power can either be manifested wholly as a properly named item, or simply exist to make people feel/act/respond differently to stimuli. Typically used to describe someone who either does not yet know what sort of gift(s) they have, or someone who doesn't have gifts strong enough to be named at all. This term is especially used where the planets, gods, goddesses, and demi-god(dess)s are concerned since they don't really fit into any of the categories and not unlike the Apexes use gifts/skills outside normal defined scope. If someone references Shanae's 'Dark power', for example, they are implying a combination of all she possesses, otherwise they would name them specifically. Power is also the term used to apply to musical gifts since those particular gifts are not Flower Element-based. However, Tasia, as a Mystic, could arguably classify her musical gift as being under her arcanistry because of her ability to bend existence. (Note: Holy power specifically refers to god/goddesses/demis, divine power specifically refers to Destiny, and arcane power is Light/Dark/Hope forces wielded by the Apexes.)

 

Seed – The item inside a Cultivator's soul that makes them a Cultivator. Their entire soul comes from their Seed, which is why ripping out a Cultivator's Seed will kill them. A Cultivator can choose to willingly sacrifice or burn out their Seed to release greater and stronger magic/power, but it will kill them. This applies even to the Apexes.

 

©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.

Kingdom Series Table of Contents->