The Great War: Chapter 1
Preserve those with magic by whatever means necessary
6 years later…
…night falls on the port of San Ovila as the bitter winter wind sweeps the island. Even with the shutters closed, Isaac’s room is still dark and cold. He sits at his desk, book laying open before him, wrapped in the single blanket he has for his bed sheet. It does little to combat the chill of the night.
By candlelight he scans the pages of the book. In the room beside his sleep his parents, and with walls thin enough to break with one breath he is careful to keep noise to a minimum. Over the years he has learned how to tell when they stir and when they sleep, due in part to how fast their thoughts flow. When they rouse, it’s like a small glow slowly growing. And as they sleep, it’s a gentle pulse feeling at the back of his own mind.
He has also been able to figure out how to shut out outside thoughts for a short time, but it requires a fair bit of concentration if he isn’t already distracted by, say, reading. But the presence of the mind doesn’t ever disappear. It’s annoying, but strangely comforting at the same time.
Slowly, quietly, he turns the page of the book. Before the page can even finish its fall, he tenses, drawing a sharp breath of surprise. Five new presences appear, large and demanding attention. Isaac turns his eyes away from the book and attempts to hear their thoughts.
Chaotic noise fills his ears, attempting to overload his own mind. Hundreds of thousands of voices all communicating at once, male and female alike, amplified five-fold for each mysterious being.
He covers his ears in a hopeless attempt to shut out the noise. It’s a group of Guardians. Why are the Guardians outside his front door at night?
The front door…
He stands from his stool rather quickly, careful not to make it slide. Why is he being quiet? Shouldn’t he do something to wake his parents?
But there’s something else that’s working against his rational thoughts. Something he didn’t know he had hiding within now springing forward inexplicably. His heart thumps loudly as he tears the bed sheet off of him. He abandons his book and candlestick, bed sheet laying on the dirty wooden floor, and runs for his closed window. It’s just the five Guardians at the front door. There is no other being around that he can sense.
Bang!
That was not a knock.
He throws his shutters open, letting the full force of the cold night sweep against his bare arms and legs, stinging his face and making his nose run.
And he jumps.
There’s a small bush outside his window which he falls into. It’s a soft landing, and quiet, too, save for a gentle rustle of the leaves.
No! Go! Run!
He feels his parents rouse from slumber as the front door crashes in. Heavy boots storm the front of the house, quickly moving to the back.
What’s going on? both his parents wonder at once, their minds sharpening almost instantly. His mother’s next thought is of him, a changing picture of what he may be up to at this time of night. The boots pass his bedroom, heading straight for his parents.
Run, Isaac! his own thoughts urge in panic as he lays in the bush. If he stays here, he’ll get caught.
This isn’t normal. None of this is normal. The Guardians have never bothered his family before. Why now? Why tonight of all nights? What do they want from them?
His mother screams, a shrill cry that is suddenly cut short.
He has no time to listen to their thoughts now. Isaac rolls out of the bush and scrambles away, disappearing into the shadows between the homes around him. Other beings closest to his home are waking, he feels, as he puts as much distance between himself and his family home.
He can’t go back, he knows. It’s too dangerous to go back. And the Guardians surely weren’t there for anything less than nefarious reasons.
Maybe that’s why he ran, not drawing too much attention to himself. Because somewhere inside of him he knew that if he had made noise or attempted to wake his parents, he’d be with them right now. And something tells him that he doesn’t want to be with his parents right now.
He reaches the end of the small alley and stops, staring out at the main street of San Ovila. It’s a wide street that led straight from the port below all the way up to the Guardian’s headquarters at the top, which white brick building rings the large tree on high. He can see the Guardians out on night watch, their white armor and weapons glowing like small lanterns. They never need to hold a torch or candle for they are their own light.
He decides to not run out into the street. If Guardians came to his home, they’ll surely be looking for him for whatever reason they have in store for him and his parents.
And now he desperately wishes he could unravel the mind of a Guardian.
Marching draws closer, causing his muscles to tense. He takes a few steps away from the street and crouches.
Please don’t see me, please don’t see me…
Five Guardians, two other beings. His parents. He’s too scared about getting caught to hear their thoughts, but he knows that they’re there. Before his very eyes, he watches the five Guardians march his mother and father up the street. His father is bloodied, his nose apparently broken and both his eyes blackened. His mother only has a thin line of blood running from her forehead. Both are gagged with yellow cloth taken from his own house.
And then they’re gone, disappearing up the street. The light slowly fades away the farther the group gets. And then their presence disappears completely, leaving Isaac all alone in the dark.
He stays still, holding his breath, for stars-know-how-long. Time passes agonizingly slow as he watches Guardians pass the alley by, unaware of his presence as he remains hyper-aware of theirs.
He can’t hear anything. He can’t feel anything. He can only watch on from the shadows as the Guardians, stoic as ever, continue about their patrol without a care.
He can’t stay in San Ovila.
Isaac finally turns away from the main street and works his way back to his house. With any luck, there’s no being there anymore.
The night is deathly quiet. Even the beings he can sense are once again resting. Nothing happened. Everything is okay.
His room is dark, the shutters broken off their hinges and are now resting in the bush where he once lay. The area is empty of presences. He decides it’s safe to approach.
He climbs back through his window, plopping onto his bed. His books are scattered, pages torn and dirtied. His only bed sheet is ripped, sprawled across the floor like a rug. His desk is upturned, candle blown out. It’s almost as if a storm had come through, not Guardians.
His bedroom door is broken, revealing a dark hallway with the floor covered with dark drops of blood smeared across it with boot marks.
He doesn’t want to go into his parents’ room.
The kitchen and living room is not much better than his bedroom. The furniture is broken and storage spaces ransacked.
Everything he knew and grew up with, gone in an instant.
A fire ignites inside his chest, growing the longer he stares. Tears burn in his eyes, but he refuses for them to fall. He can’t do anything now but salvage what he can. He is but one wizard surrounded by Guardians, a governing body that every being loves and trusts. Every being but him.
Vengeance must come later. For now, he has to gather his strength.
Samuel always knows when something significant has happened. The air of the throne room becomes electric, a buzzing sensation against his skin.
Cero, his father, sits atop his throne as he read a letter in his hand. His scowl is dark and troubled. Devin’s father, Killian, reads from behind, also appearing troubled.
“Father?” Samuel asks, his voice filling the grand space. Cero doesn’t react to his son’s voice. Killian, however, looks up. “What’s going on?”
“Young prince,” Killian speaks, “why are you here?”
“I sensed trouble,” Samuel simply replies, holding his head high. As the son of the king, he deserves to know what is going on as well, does he not?
“Come,” Cero orders, finally peeling his eyes away from the letter. Samuel glances over his shoulder, just to check on Devin. His friend stands silently behind him, and gives him a short nod of encouragement despite his expression remaining emotionless.
So Samuel approaches the throne quietly, keeping his composure in the face of his father. Cero simply holds the letter out to him, which he takes with caution.
Report of Astria-wide incidences involving wizards and Korodon citizens Drafted upon the request of King Cero Current missing within the last 7 cycles: - 223 families reported, 54 further estimated - 665 individuals reported, 143 further estimated Contact has been lost with Ambassador Yir Darkthorn and entourage (Port San Ovila) Niger and entourage (Fort Asandra) Jamal Hart and Advisor Ulin (Port Blackwater)
The document continues to list losses of territory, ships, and supplies, while also providing a couple of numbers for immigration. It’s a lot to read on one page.
Samuel is silent, unsure what to make of the report. He’s seen others like this on occasion, but they were all rather short compared to the report he now holds.
Cycle by cycle, their nation is loosing its foothold in Astria.
“Ah…” he mutters aloud, looking up. “I… see.” Slowly, he hands the report back to his father.
Is this the nation he is going to inherit?
“The number of those missing has only risen in recent years,” Killian speaks from beside the throne. “Compared with the amount of wizards seeing refuge on Korodon these last few cycles-”
“We will need to take drastic measure,” Cero cuts his advisor off.
“Like… what?” Samuel asks hesitantly.
The king is silent, and so is the advisor. He turns to look at Devin, who’s stony expression seems to already know what the adults are thinking. Samuel doesn’t wish to admit it, but he has a sinking feeling as to what his father is proposing.
“War,” Cero replies flatly.
“Is it worth it?” Samuel blurts. “We are a shrinking nation and the Guardians-”
“I will not sit idly by and watch our citizens simply disappear,” Cero growls back, leaning forward in his chair. “And you-” He jabs a finger at his son, “-will one cycle become king. It has already become clear that the Guardians are unwilling to deal with us through diplomatic means, and wizards are fleeing their homes to come here for safety. War will be to preserve our nation’s future here on Astria.”
Samuel clenches his jaw and bows his head in shame, his father’s words striking true. What royal is he to not protect his citizens to the bitter end?
“Sam,” Devin mutters, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I will let you make plans, then,” Samuel says flatly, turning away from the throne. His father doesn’t protest. Instead, he can feel his gaze burning into the back of his head, disapproving as ever. He motions for Devin to follow him, and the two make their wordless exit.
“I hate to think that we have exhausted all other forms of peaceful resolution,” Devin eventually comments once the two of them loose themselves within the maze of castle corridors.
Samuel lets out a hopeless sigh. “Peace doesn’t last forever, Devin.”
“Don’t let him get to you,” Devin replies. “You were right to question him. Wizards don’t have much fighting experience, and for many their magical talent is severely underdeveloped, especially for those who live on islands away from Korodon. I’m afraid that we’d lose more beings than we’d save.”
Leave it to Devin to rationalize Samuel’s words.
“Are you saying this because of me, or because you feel the same way?”
Devin stares back coldly. “Both.”
Samuel just shakes his head. “What else do we have left at our disposal, then?”
“A formal dinner with the Champion?”
“Will that stop them?”
Devin is quiet, without answer.
Maybe. Probably. No.
Samuel runs a hand through his hair, electricity sparking off his skin. There truly is no other option besides war to put an end to all these disappearances and needless fear that will lead to a definite result. And it all hinges on who wins and who loses.
“Thank you, Devin,” he says, straightening himself to regain some sense of composure. “However, I think father is right. War really is all we have left.”
He doesn’t like the prospect of war in the slightest, but he must come to accept it all the same. He isn’t in charge of ruling over Korodon just yet, but he will certainly be expected to help with planning and strategy. Maybe he’ll even go out to the battlefront, though being the prince he doubts that’ll happen on his father’s watch. He is probably one of the most skilled Storm wizards in Astria, and Devin will be by his side wherever he goes. He just doesn’t know yet.
A sudden surge of lightheadedness knocks Samuel off balance without warning. As he pitches, Devin steps forward to catch him. His friend holds him steady on his feet, slowly lowering him to the floor. He asks no questions, just stares on with a flat expression and concern in his eyes.
“Thank you,” Samuel breathes, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Do you need a healer?” Devin asks.
“No, no, it’ll pass…”
The two friends sit quietly in the corridor as plans for war are prepared.