Book of Faith

Prologue: Oddities in the Night

The night was very cold. The rain had come through the area already earlier that day and washed away the evening heat, bringing along a glacial temperature to replace it. The glistening of the sheet of water in the streets was made more dazzling by the streetlamps which made the hardened, black tar of the pavement glisten like it had hundreds of miniaturized stars trapped within.

The city itself was alive, nightclubs blaring loud music and embellishing the darker corners with neon signs. Many people were no doubt becoming faded and living the party life, no care for the struggles of the world around them. Cars zoomed along the highway as people drove to and fro from their nightly adventures. Some sat on the corners smoking and guffawing loudly, much to the displeasure of the typical folk who just stopped for gas or were walking home from a nice evening out with family.

Meanwhile, other places in the city were not quite as booming. Warehouses, junkyards, abandoned stations: these were the places you wouldn't want to find yourself at during nights like these. They were awash with the icy temperament of the city weather, chilling both to the body and the spirit. But that was only to those who paid it any mind. The homeless could be found here by lit fires in contained metal shells or nestled in some hardly comfortable space that would have to do for the night.

Other places didn't even have these poor signs of life in them. The chain-link fence of one such establishment rattled as a man was once again thrown against it, knocking the icy air clean out of his lungs which became a thick mist in the faces of his assaulters. The latter merely watched on silently, not caring whether he could get back up again or not. He did, however, stumbling to his feet while using the same fence to lean against for support. His breath was heavy from fighting back. He had already been at it for several minutes, and he was beginning to doubt he would last for much longer.

"We grow tired of asking you, David," one of the attackers spoke solemnly.

David spat blood from his mouth on the ground in front of the men before him. "And I grow tired of you asking."

"This could all end if you just tell us where the child is," they pressed venomously.

David could only laugh, even though it hurt him to do so. He would be bruised for weeks if he managed to get himself out of this one. But even he knew that wishful thinking would get him nowhere.

"You'll never find him," he seethed, resigning himself to his fate.

"Don't be so sure."

Two of the attackers grabbed David by the arms, kicking his legs out from beneath him and effectively pinning him to the ground on his knees. The man, whose face was hidden by the hood he had drawn over his head, looked on with disinterest.

"You above anyone else know I find this distasteful, David," he declared. "I don't want to harm you. You've been a faithful informant of mine for years. Your betrayal can be washed away and swept under the rug if you only give me intel on the boy."

David could feel his vision beginning to cloud, but it wasn't from exhaustion. The edges of his mind were beginning to feel fuzzy, making it difficult to concentrate. "What are you doing to me?" he demanded.

"Making you more susceptible to interrogation," the hooded man replied, not denying that this was indeed his doing.

David shook his head vigorously. "No!"

He tried to pry himself free of the other two figures, but their hold on him was strong (or was he just becoming weaker?). The more he struggled physically, the more his mind started to waver.

"You're slipping," the man said. "You can't last long. Why not make this easy and simply tell us?"

"I'm not telling you anything!" David shouted. "That boy will be safe from you now. You'll never get to him in enough time. He'll soon be out of your reach."

This had apparently been valuable information. "Ah," the man said. "So, you know where he is currently. Good. Then perhaps you will be of use to us still."

David's eyes widened in terror. "What are you going to do?"

The man slowly brought a finger to his lips and hushed David softly, sending a chill through him that was far worse than anything the night's cold sting could do. "You don't need to be afraid. This will all be over for you soon enough."

The last thing David ever felt as himself was the man's hand press against his head before he lost consciousness.

***

The fire in the mantle roared vehemently as though crackling with the very energy of the world. The flames jumped, bit, and snaked their way through the air, attempting to escape the confines of their pit in the hearth in order to spread their dangerous warning of things to come. Only two women were in attendance there to observe the blazes, the older of the two far more fixated on them than the other.

"Have they gone?" the older woman asked mistily.

"Yes, Archmagian," the younger replied. "Do you think they'll take him?"

"I do. But I sense that you have a different question on your mind."

The younger woman was quiet for a moment. "I don't understand why we must send him away... and to be raised by Genians... why is he so important?"

Taking her gaze at last away from the fire, the Archmagian walked over to a window across the room. She stared fixedly into the outside sky which was beginning to look angry as clouds fused together into a large gray overcast. Even the weather outside reflected the energies of the fire she had left thrashing in its crook.

"A storm is coming," she said as though from afar. Her associate merely watched on exasperatedly as she waited for a response. The Archmagian must have felt the eyes upon her as she - without looking - resumed speaking. "That child is more important than you realize."

"Why is that?"

With a sigh, she allowed her attention to return at last to the conversation at hand. "He is the child of Dakota and Lumina Wysor," she said shortly.

The young woman's eyes bulged, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. "But... I thought... That can't be... I thought they all were found dead by the authorities in Shinar. How can he be alive?"

Just as quickly as the question had left her lips, she realized the exact answer she was looking for.

"Tarech..." she muttered unsurprisingly. "I suppose I should have known. How did he acquire the child?"

"He was not specific," the Archmagian answered in a manner that indicated she too was displeased with such a lack of information. "But he was adamant that we protect the child from the Faith at all costs."

"Protect him? What does the Faith want from him?"

"As I've said," she continued. "Tarech did not go into detail. He only mentioned two things in his message he sent me along with the boy. 'The boy must be protected at all costs, and the Faith will stop at nothing to get to him.'"

The younger woman was in disbelief. "What does this mean?"

"I'm not all too sure of this myself," the Archmagian said grudgingly. "And the best we can hope for is that the Faith doesn't find him. That is why he must grow up away from the Hidden World. Being raised as a Genian will mask his power. Of course, it won't last. The Faith will find him. And that is why you will watch over him until that time comes."

The younger woman opened her mouth to argue, but swiftly thought better of it. "Of course, Archmagian. I will do what is necessary."

"Very good. You may go, then. Thank you."

As the door closed behind the woman, the Archmagian delved deep in thought over the events of the past week. She sighed as she thought of the Wysors, the family whose life had just been shredded apart and cast aside without a second thought. It was all so very tragic, and yet all so unbearably bromidic. The child in question would be raised away in the safety of a world in which he did not belong. A clichéd notion, to be sure, and yet the most effective in hiding him away until the time was right for his return.

Tired from the events of the day, she lowered her head as she sat down at her desk, whispering a silent prayer for the boy who was now sleeping soundlessly in his crib a few rooms away. She prayed this would be enough to keep him safe from the Faith, yet only time would yield results. And the Faith were growing bolder by the day, whatever goal they had in store coming closer yet to fruition.