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Some choose to believe this story and others do not. Belief however, is a matter of perspective. Some wish to believe that Fraisia had always been a barren wasteland of tears and despair. However, in truth, it was not always so.
Three-hundred years ago, in the Golden Age of Fraisia, there was naught but life and prosperity teeming throughout the realm. The cause of such a time of wealth was from the rulers and regents of the kingdom. These regents lived in the sacred capital city of Idunia and, were of a magical race called the Geitin. Each Geitin was unnaturally strong, quick and possessed command over Golan, a magic of energy and nature. As well as being immortal, Geitins ceased to age after their twenty-third year of existence. However, a Geitin could very well be killed, for if stabbed through the heart, the body will die leaving behind a mute, intangible, invisible spirit.
During this time of abundance, ruled a queen who was fervent and headstrong in nature. The queen’s name was Asailia and she was not only two-hundred years old, making her the youngest queen Fraisia had seen but she was also, the most radiant. Her cocoa skin contained a soft red undertone that gave the appearance of a constant glow emanating from her skin. Her graceful frame was strong and decorated with an intricate pattern of delicate ruby markings on her arms shoulders and legs. Her raven colored hair had the texture and shine like that of a calm stream. Her most captivating feature was her unworldly emerald green eyes that sparkled with a ferocity that struck the hearts of many. Therefore, it was no surprise that they captured the heart of Kenyon, a Geitin soldier.
It was as if the stars had aligned the moment the two met. They completed one another in a way beyond any science or magic could imitate. It was love: sure and true. Alas, it is in this romance that the destruction of Fraisia resided.
For a man named Naussair, this love was the one fault in the queen’s armor that he had been searching for. Naussair had once been the assistant to a humble magician. Until, mad with power lust, he used a dark spell to turn himself into a Gancanich, an evil magician with power over Limak, a magic of shadows and death. He now wished to end Asailia’s reign, and her love for Kenyon was the perfect weapon to use against her.
Naussair seized the opportunity by creating his minions, shadows and sending them to attack the city of Idunia. Asailia, the strongest of all the Geitins, struggled to keep the shadows at bay. She knew that there were too many for her people to last much longer. Before another thought could enter her head, she heard Kenyon yell from the ceremonial hall. Without thinking, she left her subjects to their doom and raced to find Kenyon.
When Asialia arrived, Naussair was waiting for her with a preposition. If she would rebuke her powers for one year, he would spare Kenyon. Blinded by her love she agreed, and the moment that she did Naussiar killed Kenyon and took Asailia prisoner. After executing the rest of the Geitins, he imprisoned her for the next three-hundred years in a spellbound prison city named Wolcan, hidden, ironically in the Geitin’s most revered forest Zelvuric.
Naussair then proclaimed himself king over Fraisia and used Limak to make him everything except immortal. Allowing him to rule with an iron fist, oppressing the subjects within the domain. Though, not for much longer. For, Asailia has just escaped and now aches to exact her revenge and regain her throne. How could I possibly know all of this well… I am Asailia, and my story begins here.
I ran faster than their inferior eyes could ever follow, covering at least twenty mile in a flash of color and wind. I felt the unrelenting need to stop, not for breath, but to reconnect with the world around me. After three-hundred years in Woclan, sunlight and nature had all been made strangers to me. I found a clearing in the woods and lowered myself onto the soft carpet of grass and meditated on the symphony of bird calls, the rich jade green hues cascading down from the leaves and the shade created by them. I felt everything down to the infinitesimal ants scurrying along the bark of the trees. I was content and at home in the forest that had once been my friend.
The unmistakable whistle of a shot arrow shattered my pensive silence. “Guards” I muttered under my breath. “How could they have found me?” I thought. In that instant a man clad in silver armor exploded out of the trees. The anger that I had been forced to contain for three-hundred years, urged me to acquiesce my needs for revenge on this warrior who had foolishly challenged me. He charged at me sword raised above his head. Instantaneously, I unsheathed my own weapon and easily blocked the attack. Knowing that I had the upper hand in this quarrel, I decided to have fun fighting before I was forced to kill the guard.
We exchanged blow after blowing in a deathly and rapid dance. I threw many lethal hits that did barely more that stop him for a few seconds. “He should not last this long” I thought. “He should not be standing.” A ferocity gleamed in his eyes, that both challenged and alluered me, which was a frightening prospect. Nevertheless, I grew weary of the idle game, and was prepared to end it with a spell, when I realized that this stranger’s armor was not that of a Woclan guard. Glad to not have to kill this man whose endurance and speed intrigued me. I laid down my sword and held my hands up in a gestuer of pace. Still cautious, he halted his attack and walked forward as if the grass was of fragile eggshells.
“Who are you and what is you business in the Zelvuric Forest?” he asked breathlessly. “ So, he does tire” I thought “Just, not as a mortal should.”
“So, I’m in the Zelvuric Forest? That’s interesting… One would think that my sacred forest would be the first thing that he would destroy.” I said ignoring his question.
“Who do you speak of?” he asked, the puzzlement in his eyes growing to wonder, as I stood, revealing my full regal air. Waves of anger pulsed through my body at the though of the ruthless brute that had destroyed my world. Causing my tattoos and eyes to glow inhumanly bright.
“I speak of Naussair, the Gancanich ruler of Fraisia.” The entire forest reverberated with my every word, stirring pure terror into the poor mortal. A reaction that I, guiltily enjoyed.
“Who…what are you?” he managed.
“I am Asailia, the Geitin ruler of the sacred city of Idunia and true ruler over Fraisia” I then let my anger fall just as quickly as it had risen, and once again resumed my placid appearance. I smiled and gave him a moment to regain his composure, before I asked my own inquiries of him.
“So, who and what are you?” I asked. I was still enticed by the eyes of this mysterious warrior when, he removed his silver helmet and replied:
“I am Aden” I heard his name but momentarily lost my concentration, as I was lost in the beauty of his face. An unmistakable work of art, full of soft angles that only heightened the intensity of his eyes which were a smoldering rich brown. His dark russet hair was short and the perfect contrast to his caramel complexion that seemed to flawless to belong to a mortal. In that short time span, I felt something in me change, in a way that I had only felt once before, a long time ago with…No. I refused to allow myself to think about that. After the initial shock of his beauty passed I asked:
“What kind of creature are you Aden? For your speed and endurance do not suggest that you are human.
“I…I am…”he paused. Obviously attempting to gauge how much he could trust me. After all, we had just met and it would not be surprising if Naussair had spies so near a prison city that should not exist. Finally, he responded: “I am a Dursen Zieta”
“Ahhh… a dragon warrior. That would explain much. But, what is a Dursen Zieta doing in the Zelvuric forest?”
Before Aden could answer my question, I heard numerous footsteps coming through the forest accompanied by an the mighty roar of what could only be Aden‘s dragon. In a matter of seconds a group of young warriors surrounded us but, I felt no threat. A fearsome electric blue dragon landed lightly despite its weight, and once again, there was the same absence of fear.
“Who are these people? I asked.
“They call themselves the Dursa. These are my only other allies in the struggle against Naussair. They are the ones who are not too afraid to stand against the tyrant.” he explained. Then he asked a question that was both shocking and completely expected. “Asailia, fight with us. That is if it is in your interest. With your power and our numbers, Naussair’s forces will not be able to stand against us.”
In my heart, I needed no persuasion. I already knew what my answer would be. I had met them not even an hour ago but I knew that we were meant to work together. I looked into the solitary faces of each stranger as I stated: “We are foreigners to each other, and we share no common features except, the dream that we all have of seeing the end of the dark King that strangles the country that we cherish. I herby pledge, that as long as the Dursa strive to end the terminal night caused by Naussair, I shall stand by you and fight with you, until the end of time.” With that statement, thus began my journey towards revenge, forgiveness, and redemption.