The Drifter

Prologue

"Could you tell me a story before I sleep?"

The cloaked figure turned to face the child. "My stories are not for bedtime."

The child squirmed in his little bed which was merely a stack of hay meant to feed the horses in the farmer's stable at dawn. They would be long gone before then. The hot summer air warmed the night, so the child had no need for a blanket. Not that he had one to begin with. No, she would have to steal one for when winter arrived.

"I don't mind," he whispered, his large, intelligent eyes focused intently on the woman before him. "I just want to hear a story so I can dream."

He was met with silence and a cold, unblinking stare. An eternity seemed to have passed twice before the cloaked woman settled against a beam. Her voice carried the ancient song of time as she said "Once, a long time before you were born, there was a land called Reance, ruled and inhabited by the magic wielders of the continent. Their land was swathed in temples and sacred gardens dedicated to worship their gods. They were a very religious people, ruled by High Priests and Priestess whom were the most powerful magic wielders in Reance. Majority of the people lived within the city's core, close to their Priests and Priestess and very, very few lived off on their own. The people of Reance lived in peace, using their magic strictly for rituals and traditions to serve and worship the gods. They were happy.

Until one day, the people of Reance were invaded. Slaughtered. Burned. Massacred. And... enslaved. The people of Dramond, the invaders, took their land, destroyed and sold their temples and treasures to the neighbouring countries and took the surviving people, all non magic wielders, back to their homeland. They say the last member of the High Priestess cursed Dramondians, cursed them all to die at the hands of one of Reance's last children. Before they took off her head anyway. But alas, Reance was forgotten and the curse forgotten, it's name only whispered from slave mothers to their children in a vain attempt to keep their heritage alive. However, it became nothing more than a story and no one really knows if it had once been real or if it had always been simply a story..."

"How do you know it isn't a story?" The child asked, his soft voice carrying across the silent stable and the horses huffed in response to the sweet innocence of it.

The cloaked woman's eyes flashed dangerously. "Do not interrupt me," she snarled, her lips curling back. 

The child looked down at his hands, fiddling his thumbs as he tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling that had suddenly washed over him. Another few eternities passed before the woman continued "Reance is real, it's people still speak to us in our dreams. When my mother told me this story the first time, I dreamed of them. I heard their screams, I felt their pain, I watched them burn and bleed. Reance is real and you will dream of them tonight, most likely." She paused, drumming her finger against her chin. "And I do wonder what they will have to say to the last living son of the people of Dramond."