Mystic: Sword of Kragnor

Prologue, Part 1. Vision

For readability, this chapter has been split into two parts, though it is my recommendation you read both parts in one sitting if possible. If you enjoy this, a vote would be really encouraging to me. Happy reading :)

And here it begins, my last work, a chronicle of the events, the stories, and the people that brought an end to the second age of Kronos. Where shall I begin this monumental task? Shall I start with the legendary King Thallan and his epic tale of leading the mystics from earth and founding the great empire? Shall I begin with the end of the first age when Alinar founded the high council, bringing an end to the reign of sorcerers? Or maybe I should tell of the forging of the blue stone that Asagorath would use to make his return? No, I believe our story begins on one fateful morning in the year 562 of the second age, with one called Katrina.

Our story begins when Katrina was walking along the great halls of Uthulyr, the city of mystics and seat of the high council. Katrina admired the massive pillars on either side of the halls, gracefully flowing up into high arches above her head, she admired the magnificent view of the valley below the mountain city of Uthulyr, shown off by tall thin windows along the hall.

This was Katrina's thinking place, and she would often walk up and down these halls in the morning times as the birds sang their songs. She meditated on many things in these halls, often contemplating the recent news that had come to Uthulyr. On this particular morning, she was deep in thought, musing over the assassination of Evodur, one of the nine on the high council.

All of Uthulyr was in dismay when Evodur was found dead three days prior, and the eight remaining of the high council spent practically all day in the citadel discussing his death, and other evil tidings of late. For Evodur's assassination was not the only foul thing to happen recently.

Three weeks from this time two mystics of Uthulyr were sent on a diplomatic mission to Zarathar, the country of the steppes, only for them never to return. Their corpses were found not far off the great highway to Zarathar, pierced with many arrows. One month before that, the High Ruler of the Empire, Thallan's heir, was nearly assassinated by a Nhang, terrifying shape-shifting creatures long thought to have been extinct by the second age. In addition to all of this, the armies of the veil of Kragnor were marching again, and recently conquered the fortress city of Gurhor from the Empire.

It was a dark time, and although the council did not know what to make of these events yet, Katrina could not help but fear the worst. She feared the enemy may be moving again, killing those who could stand against him before he sets his vile plot in motion. Such a fear was unfounded of course, mostly that is, for the council and Uthulyr had many enemies; Kragnor and the warlords of Cyrril being chief among them. Although these enemies could be behind this, the sighting of a Nhang cast doubt that these deaths are merely by the assassins of Kragnor.

Katrina stopped pacing, simply staring through one of the windows as the sun rose up the valley, lost in thought. Some fifteen, maybe thirty minutes past when her train of thought was interrupted by something most unusual. She immediately snapped out of her deep contemplation only to find herself not in the halls of Uthulyr, but in a village. The noise of buying and selling in the markets, the chickens and sheep walking along the streets, the cozy houses with their roofs of thatched straw; it all brought back so many memories, for this was Katrina's home village, the village of Westmill. Katrina realized she had dozed off during meditation.

"I hope no one wakes me from this," she muttered, looking around at the Goose Inn, and the old mill, the field of farmer Aaron she used to play around in, admiring her old home.

She walked down the dirty streets some ways until she saw her house and ran up to it, eager to get in and see the place where she grew up. She opened the door and was greeted by a familiar sight. The fireplace along the left wall with a cozy chair across from it; the pots of oil and flour along the right wall, the great big bed she and her family all would sleep in at the back. In the cozy chair sat Katherine, Katrina's sister, cradling her daughter Alex. Although Katrina knew of Alex's birth she had never seen the child before. Katrina desired to hold her niece, to pinch her little cheeks, she was an adorable baby.