Prologue

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Two men stood in front of a portal that swirled and shimmered with every color on the spectrum. One man had his back to the other, about to go through the portal.

"You can't go after them, Hark- they're children!"

Hark turns to face the man he once called his brother with a sneer. "And you can? HA! You never were better at magic than me, especially elemental. I can train these 'children' better than you can; give them a real fighting chance against the forces coming their way!"

His brother's charms tingled and sent another wave of magic through his body as he shook his head. "You are overcome with emotion, Hark. Grief, resentment, hatred, fear-"

"I fear NO ONE!" Hark screamed. "I fear nothing! It is you who is the coward, calling these adults children and wanting to pamper them; hide them until the end of the war- if there even is any!

"You, Locke, are the coward."

Hark turned and walked through the portal, leaving Locke alone.

◇ ◇ ◇

The library was a mess as Locke sifted through paper after paper, book after book; he even looked through the old scrolls kept in the back room. Anything on the war was stacked on the desk and everything else was tossed to the side to join a significantly larger pile.

"Come on," he muttered to himself. "Come on, come on..."

A small form cast a shadow in the doorframe before making its way toward the man. Stepping into the dim light, it revealed itself to be a shabti, a clay lifeform from Egyptian mythology made to do menial tasks.

It held out a small, leather-bound book, catching Locke's attention. It handed the item to him before shuffling off to who-knows-where.

Locke took a close look at the book he was handed, very quickly overcome with relief. At last, he'd know how to prepare The Chosen for the war.

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