The Five Realms

Prologue

Prologue: The Family Home (2009)

The wind howled through the dense forest, carrying with it the scent of earth and pine, as well as a deeper, more foreboding undertone. Beneath the moonlit canopy, a man sprinted through the underbrush, his every step a testament to his desperation. His breaths came in ragged gasps, the cold night air slicing through his lungs like knives. Blood oozed from a deep wound in his side, staining the fabric of his clothes and leaving a trail behind him—a beacon for the one who pursued him. Each step sent sharp jolts of pain radiating through his body, but he could not afford to slow down. Not now.

Clutched tightly in his arms were two tiny, fragile forms, swaddled in soft blankets. The infants—twins, a boy and a girl—seemed to sense the urgency of their situation. Their soft, rhythmic cries pierced the quiet of the night, mingling with the distant sounds of the forest, a haunting counterpoint to the man's desperate flight. The trees themselves seemed to close in around him, the thick vegetation clawing at his clothes, as if trying to ensnare him, to pull him back into the shadows.

"Almost there," he whispered, his voice hoarse with effort and fear. His words were not meant for the children in his arms, nor for himself, but for the darkness that pressed in from all sides. He was close now—so close—but the sound of his pursuer's footsteps, heavy and relentless, echoed ominously through the trees, a grim reminder that he was not alone. The forest, usually so full of life, now seemed to hold its breath, as if sensing the danger that loomed.

Branches snapped underfoot, and the man winced with each noise, knowing it would only guide his pursuer closer. The night air was filled with the rustle of leaves and the distant call of nocturnal creatures, but beneath it all was the steady, pounding rhythm of his heart, a drumbeat that matched the terror in his mind. He pushed forward, his muscles burning, his vision swimming as exhaustion threatened to overtake him.

And then, through the dense foliage, he saw it—a break in the trees, a glimpse of something other than the oppressive darkness of the forest. He burst through the edge of the woods, stumbling into a clearing where the soft, golden glow of his home awaited. Relief washed over him in a wave, momentarily easing the pain that gripped his body.

The small, charming cottage stood nestled among swaying palm trees, its stone walls bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the festive decorations that adorned the eaves. Twinkling lights, strung up in anticipation of the holiday season, cast a cheerful sparkle against the dark backdrop of the forest, their colors bright and joyful—a stark contrast to the urgency that gripped him. The sight of the home, so full of life and warmth, brought tears to his eyes. But there was no time to dwell on the comfort it offered.

With a final, desperate burst of energy, he surged forward, his steps faltering but determined. The wooden door creaked as he threw it open, and he staggered inside, slamming it shut behind him with a resounding thud. The interior of the cottage was warm, cozy, and filled with the scents of pine and cinnamon, the telltale signs of the holiday season in full swing. A brightly decorated tree stood in the corner, its ornaments glinting in the soft light. But the man barely registered any of it.

"Skoliro Nosu un Breoal Thornessa!" he shouted, his voice filled with both command and desperation. The ancient incantation rolled off his tongue, the words tinged with a power that was both old and formidable. In response, a warm, amber light began to seep through the windows, enveloping the cozy interior in a reassuring glow. The barrier was in place—no evil could cross it now.

He gently placed the twins onto a plush couch, their tiny forms bathed in the protective light. The boy's eyes fluttered open for a moment, curious and wide, before closing again as he drifted back into the peaceful oblivion of sleep. The girl stirred slightly, her small hand clutching the edge of the blanket. For a brief moment, the man allowed himself to breathe, to take in the sight of the children safe and unharmed.