Orange Shadow Magic: Awaken. Book 1

Prologue: The Boy with no Name

A scrawny boy hung his head while dragging his feet, expecting his daily dose of injustice. The villagers insisted that he should never interrupt anyone for any reason whatsoever, even if they were insulting him. They complained about his etiquette and nagged at his insufferable disobedience. He always had been ordered to do as told, and he never was able to make his own choices. The boy angrily muttered under his breath, "My plan is set, I only need a bit of luck. Then I will right all of the wrongs they have committed against my glorious self. How dare they!" As the boy thought over his plan, he realized that he was perfect beyond imagination. "It doesn't matter. Luck is useless anyway! I am too brilliant to mess up. Besides, my plan is beyond perfection. Confound those commoners for causing me anguish! They will pay for their horrible deeds," he cursed them all. He named all the curses that he knew, yet it didn't make up for what revenge could hold in his life. Then why not use revenge? He had no one to talk to anyway. No one but filthy peasants who wouldn't listen to a word he said. Forget them. They didn't deserve his presence.

As he turned the corner, he approached his neighbor's rusty stable. Cautiously, he stepped inside, only to meet his archenemy, Robin Steven. "Haha, whatcha doing, ugly freak!" Robin spat. The boy frowned at the fiend and thrust his nose in the air not wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say. Skidding past Robin, the boy slipped past the bully's reach. He briskly covered Robin's mouth with a handkerchief to muffle his furious yelps. Forcing Robin down to the ground, the boy tied his own homemade wheat ropes around Robin's hands and ankles.

The boy sneered, "Ha! Now, we're even!" Robin stared frantically at the boy, full of sorrow and resentment and coughed, which sounded to the boy like a laugh. "Hey, you think that's funny? Well, do you think I'm going to forgive you for all you've done, rascal? You should be grateful that I haven't released my unstoppable wrath!" The only reply from Robin was a sigh as if he had abandoned all hope. Robin probably would have made a snarky comment if it weren't for the gag that wouldn't let him speak. The boy with no name easily walked around Robin and into the shady stables; which was where the horses were.

The boy led an easily tamable, chestnut brown horse out of the stable triumphantly. Abandoning the other young man, the younger boy scrambled onto the horse after strolling a good distance away from the Stevens' property. The ruckus in the barn had made the young-early-rising children come out of the cottages and watch him leave. "Oh, my stars." The children whispered as they realized it was the boy with no name walking across the field.

"What are you doing maniacs? Get the boy! He stole my father's prized mustang. Get him! I don't care if he is dead or alive!" Suddenly Robin Stevens burst from the barn, eyes fiercely burning. All the children ran at the boy with no name, and the young boy knew it was now or never. Jumping on top of the stallion, the boy galloped into the woods, never to be seen again by the village.

"Ye ha!" The boy hollered, his heels digging into the sides of his steed. The horse tore through the spruce trees and he left his village behind, tiny dots that finally disappeared over the course of minutes. After feeling in his pocket to check for his switchblade, he continued forward, only stopping to eat and to relieve himself. He left his sullen mind and soothed his foal, pausing so that his horse could take a break and munch on some grass. Saddling up his horse again, he started riding through the trees toward Shrewlick Beren. That was the whole reason why he came. Forcing his stag to go to a full sprint, they bounded over jagged hills, only walking forward once he had trampled over their tracks. At dawn he arrived to the Kingdom of Shrewlick Beren. Mute fairies waited at the enormous gate, holding spears which they pushed threateningly toward him. They had enormous round irises, completely milky white, no black whatsoever. Their almost translucent wings held dark violet strands of veins, covered with a foggy layer of blue scales. Mangy, fly-bitten warts covered their faces, rotten toenails dangling off their feet. Teeth bared, muddy fangs raised for a warning, they raised a gong and clanged it fearsomely.