The Anmorian Legends: Wrath of the Exiled

Chapter 1: Hopes and Dreams

Beneath his ragged blanket, Rezaaran relished the remnants of his peaceful sleep. The wind rattled the rotting doors of the dilapidated quarters he called home. It whipped at his bare feet and pierced the many holes in his tattered clothing. Despite his shivering, a distinct blue smile etched his dirty face. The rectangular electropads on the back of his hands, vestiges of his ancestors' primitive form, steadily pulsed yellow as a wonderful memory of a time before enslavement drifted through his mind. It was a time of family; and a time of freedom.

Rezaaran's eyes were transfixed upon the marvellous crimson skies before him. His mind was at ease, submerged in the enchanting fragrance of the forest below his home. Homework and school were far from his thoughts as he basked in the warm afternoon sun. Lazily he sipped from a silver goblet while he watched a small bird skip across the balcony. The bird hopped onto the outstretched finger of Rezaaran's father who softly stroked its yellow head. Zaran Valhara was the leader of a research and development empire, built on the foundation of his adventures. His empire had grown Zenor into one of the galaxy's prominent civilisations, making him one of the most powerful and respected men on Zenor. Today, he was simply a father enjoying a relaxing afternoon with his eight-year-old son. A device beeped on the table, breaking the silence and startling the small bird, which flew off towards the canopy.

"Rezaaran, would you pass me that data screen on the table?" Zaran asked the boy.

"Yes, Father," replied his son, holding his outstretched arm towards the table on the far end of the balcony. He closed his eyes, and wrinkled his brow in concentration.

"It's not going to come to you if you just sit there," said Zaran with a hearty laugh; this was abruptly replaced by a gasp of astonishment as the device flew into his son's hand. Rezaaran handed the screen to his father with a broad smile.

"Of course it will, Father," he replied, still beaming, "I just have to think about pulling it towards me."

"Incredible ..." whispered Zaran. "Absolutely incredible! Rezaaran, my son, you are going to have a destiny worthy of legend! Telekinesis at your age! Your Grandfather would be proud!"

"Thank you, Father."

"How long have you been able to do this?"

"I'm not sure really," said Rezaaran, scratching his head as he thought about it. "I once tried it to get a toy that mother put on a high shelf in my room."

"Does she know about this?"

"No," replied Rezaaran as he stared at his feet.

Zaran chuckled at this and clapped his son affectionately on his back.

"I fear that the times ahead will be very dark; but I know you will inspire our people in their time of need, to weather the storm. You will be a great leader one day, my son."

"Just like you?"

"Even better than me," replied Zaran with a proud smile. "But you should know, the path of a leader is a hard road to walk."

"What do you mean, Father?"

"It can test your faith in yourself in ways that you may not understand now. It is important to keep the hope that things will get better in time because more often than not, they do. Remember that no matter what happens, we never surrender hope. This belief ..."

A sudden explosion in the forest cut Zaran's message short. Both father and son stared out at the enormous crater surrounded by burning tree stumps. Landing in this was a fleet of hideous dropships. A battalion of soldiers spilled from each vessel as a squadron of black fighters roared overhead, after their bombing run of the city.