A boy cursed with Serpentblood. An exiled young dwarf in pursuit of his destiny. A she-elf guided by a religious prophecy.
Together, they must rise to find the coveted Light of the World, a saviour who promises to tip the scale of waging Spiritual...
The twin moons of Aphora illuminated the cloudless indigo sky above Port Haradem. The hull of The Lillycove, a humble sloop, broke through their mirrored illusion on the water's surface, the ship slowly distancing itself from the pirate shores towards a new frontier.
Heran watched the white sails batter in the delicate wind above him, his tussled black hair collapsing forward to hide his beastly amber eye.
The orange iris represented a dangerous fire combusting inside him, a permanent reminder that he carried the essence of the same evil that had destroyed his home.
Thump. Thump.
The boots of a stranger interrupted the silence.
"Do you want something?" Heran asked, craning his neck to greet the figure next to him.
"Just answers," said Ackie, wrapping a blue blanket around her torso and holding a green shawl towards him. "Take this. The air only gets colder the further we sail. Miles of open ocean lies ahead of us now."
"Thank you," said Heran, shaking a shiver from his spine as he slipped the shawl over his head. "We are clear of the port. There are no more serpent spies behind closed doors listening to our conversations. Where are we going?"
"Thivascola, the enchanted garden, and the birthplace of life itself."
Heran shook his head in disbelief. "Scribes wrote that the earth consumed Thivascola after the end of the First Great Spiritual War. It is the tomb of the great Guardians of Justice after they sacrificed their bodies to send Tysceras to the Underworld. It is impossible to find."
"For many mortals, yes," said Ackie, "but Oracles have been gifted its precise location. We make landfall on the continent of Balis Ignis, then venture to the summit of Mount Zion, where we descend into the Yakura Crevasse to the ruins of the Golden City. There, the light of the world awaits."
"Balis Ignis is a primitive land. The three of us are not enough to survive the threats infesting its jungles. Even if we find it, Thivascola is guarded by deadly creatures only described in legend. We need allies."
"Which we will obtain," Ackie informed. "Heran, El Olam has laid this quest before us. He will provide!" she exclaimed with excitement. "All he asks for in return is faith that this voyage will succeed. The Isles will experience liberation, and the noose around our necks will be lifted."
Heran inhaled a long, salty breath. "What does He see in me? The world will not accept salvation from someone they despise."
Heran had meant for their interaction to conclude after that statement, but Ackie remained quietly at his side, desiring more from the conversation.
"Alright," he said. "Ask your questions."
"As half-dragons, the Isles now call you Serpentbloods, emissaries of darkness, but before the Dragoness enslaved Roxundam, your kind was called something else," Ackie spoke. "For years, I have judged you and tolerated the brutal injustices against your people. Help me understand what you were, your purpose before evil corrupted your legacy."
"Why?" Heran wondered. "Damage is done. One elf will not resurrect our reputation."
"Give me a chance to try."
Heran examined the she-elf's eyes. He could sense many thoughts behind her forbearing gaze, but lies were not among them. He bent over the ship's edge, cupped a handful of water and, with a sigh, watched it slip through his fingers.
"Before the hateful term Serpentblood, my kind was known as Talons. In the Golden Age, when the kingdoms of man and dragon edged towards turmoil and war, El Olam created us from the essences of both species as a reminder that we could live in harmony. The Dragoness's serpents are aberrations created from abused magic and the dangerous assumption that anyone can be a god. They are monsters birthed from ill intent."
"Yet I sense your fear of becoming like them," said Ackie. "That is not a fate you carry, Heran."
"How would you know that?" Heran argued. "Oracles are blessed with abilities to find the light of the world, not foresight to see an individual's future."
Heran looked back at the vibrant outline of Port Haradem, the city's silhouette fading behind a veil of mist that had begun to materialize.
Ackie closed her eyes and turned to face the wind's full, cold embrace. She walked towards the sloop's bow, her hair dancing in the draft like a kite.
"El Olam chose you, Heran, to complete this quest," she said. "You may falter before our journey's end, but you must not let your fears devour you."
Ackie turned around, and Heran met her sympathetic eyes.
"You were born for this purpose," Ackie said. "The fire that brews inside you is not darkness but hope. You are a child of the Creator. It does not matter who or what you are. His love is there for you. Embrace it, and you shall fulfill your destiny. We all shall."
Heran remained transfixed on the she-elf in silence, then opened his mouth to speak.
"Ackie-"
Bang!
Heran and Ackie's bodies were thrown flat against the deck as the sloop jerked unexpectedly to the left with a low groan and dull vibration.
"I long for a hero's destiny," said Zonis from the top deck. He wrestled with the captain's wheel, fighting its natural roll to the left. "However, can the two of you finish this enlightening conversation after helping me regain control of my ship?"
A sudden, strong gust of wind surged into the white sails and tossed the sloop back and forth, the hull struggling to balance on the choppy waves.
Heran gripped the handrails of the steps leading to the captain's perch.
"Zonis! What happened?"
"The ocean," the dwarf grunted, using the full strength of his arms to twist the wheel in the opposite direction. His feet briefly lifted off the floor. "It always wants to kill you."
"No," Ackie said, her arms secured around the single mast in the center of the deck. "Something is coming."
Heran followed her eyes to the sky, where thick grey clouds consumed the indigo heavens.
Deep growls echoed across the water.
Heran gasped. Dragons.
Seven creatures broke through the cloudscape, black smoke trailing from their gaping jaws. Their triangular formation resembled a sinister arrow flying over The Lillycove to pierce its destination.
"What are they?" asked Zonis, who stood with his back pressed against the captain's wheel, eyes large.
Heran's stomach quenched as the dragons opened their mouths and unleashed balls of fire. They rained down onto Port Haradem like deadly shooting stars.
"Death," Ackie said, her voice breathless.
Heran's heart skipped a beat after the first explosive impact. Flames devoured the entire Deja Vu Tavern before igniting the surrounding buildings.
The crew of The Lillycove watched in horror as the pirate sanctuary was set ablaze, and the distant screams of the hundreds of residents being burned alive rang in their ears as the twin moons were framed in tendrils of fire.
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