The Aielind Chronicles: Journey

Chapter One: Pyk

SPLASH!

The liquid struck like a whip, cold and rancid, dragging Pyk from unconsciousness. He sputtered, gagging as the acrid taste hit his tongue. Not water-something far worse. A laugh, bitter and quiet, escaped him as he ran his fingers through the damp strands of his blue hair. "Still not the worst," he muttered, though the reek of urine stung his nose and eyes.

Shadows loomed around him, the dimness of the cell swallowing all detail. He staggered upright, his hands trailing along the rough walls, powdery residue clinging to his fingertips. Chalky stone. His fingers hit cold metal, and he traced the edge of a bar embedded in the door. Through the small, grated window, a face emerged-a guard, his grin a cruel crescent in the dim light.

"Get up!" the man barked. "The Chief and Princess are on their way."

Pyk leaned against the bars, his head pounding as memories tried to claw their way back. The cell reeked of filth-feces smeared on walls, rodents darting through the grime-covered floor. His stomach churned. He pressed a hand to the back of his head, wincing as his fingers brushed a tender lump.

The world blurred, and then sharpened.

***

He had been standing in the bazaar, his cowl drawn low to shield his face. The bustling streets of Islagroth swarmed with life, MoonStones beginning to glow faintly as twilight crept in. Vendors called out, their voices a chorus of temptation. Pyk had lingered near a shop window, his reflection distorted in the warped glass.

Ash-grey skin. Scarlet markings winding across his arms like rivers of fire. He tugged his sleeve down, hiding the strange sigils. He'd had them as long as he could remember-longer than the fragmented memories of waking alone on an empty road.

The streets were alive with the scents of fresh bread and spiced meats. Hunger gnawed at him, sharper than the chill in the evening air. He slipped into the crowd, his fingers quick and practiced as he snatched a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a few apples. He was retreating into the shadows when he saw her.

Golden hair cascaded like sunlight, her kaleidoscope eyes shimmering even in the fading light. She glided through the chaos of the bazaar, her presence commanding as merchants clamored for her attention.

The ring on her finger caught his eye-a delicate band, its gemstone flickering with iridescent fire. Pyk moved closer, bumping into her with feigned clumsiness. "Apologies," he murmured, his hand slipping away with the ring before disappearing into the crowd.

***

The shout of "THIEF!" echoed behind him, the guards' armor glinting as they shoved through the throng. Pyk's heart pounded as he sprinted, leaping onto a vendor's cart and vaulting onto the rooftops. Tiles cracked underfoot as he ran, the city stretching out below him like a labyrinth of stone and light.

He thought he'd lost them until he rounded a corner and felt the cold bite of steel against his throat. A ring of guards closed in, their faces tense. Then, the air grew warmer.

Pyk glanced at his hands, horror dawning as flames licked at his fingertips. Fire coiled around his wrists, an inferno igniting beneath his feet. "Stay back!" he shouted, his voice trembling. "I don't want to hurt anyone!"

Footsteps approached from behind. He barely had time to turn before something struck the back of his head, and darkness claimed him.

***

Groggily, Pyk opened his eyes to the dim confines of the cell. The scent of damp earth and despair hung thick in the air. A tall figure stood over him, dressed in robes so white they seemed to glow. The man's angular face was framed by a golden wreath, his green eyes piercing.