Darkness unfolded in the midst of light. Screams echoed down the alleys as a deep impenetrable fog settled over the castle and its surrounding cities. A man of about twenty-seven years old stood on a balcony of the castle. Looking out trying to see through the fog, he placed his hand on his sword and the other on his dirk.

His face was etched with a grim sadness as his people screamed in terror while the beasts of the fog took their first kills. A look of determination took hold of his features as he ran forward leaping up stepping on the balconies edge and then leaping out into thin air. Unsheathing his sword in the process he aimed it down holding it with both hands. His body flattened out like a parachute as he held his sword straight out. A dark form appeared under him moving quickly.

He saw the beast swoop again under him. It seemed as though it was toying with him making him think it had not sensed it. Knowing better Sindain acted as though he were a falling shadow. He thought to himself, I am a ghost amongst the fog, unknown dangers await all who defy me.







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The creature then flew over him reaching out with a sharp talon. Spinning over he swiped with his sword and the creature screeched loudly as its claw fell to the ground. His fall became uncontrolled. Fear took over as he realized the danger he was in. He knew the creature would fly under him again so he calmed himself down and stayed backwards waiting for the right time.

A loud screech echoed under him as he spun around stabbing the creature in its back. The sword sliced through its back as it flew beneath him. His arms jarred as the sword stopped abruptly. The creature screamed in pain as it lost altitude. Then he realized how close to the ground he had been. Less than two seconds had separated him from death before the creature flew under him. Slamming into the ground he slammed into the creature as it cried out in pain. He was thrown from the creature and landed on the grounded skidding to a stop.
Fighting to stay conscience he sat up, his head spinning he dragged himself to his sword and yanked it out. Listening for more screeches he stood silent like a sentinel. Then he heard it. A roar of a fire close by made him worried. A strong wind blew and the fog around him began to blow away. The torrent of wind seemed like a large tornado that engulfed the area. A dark form emerged from the fog.
Dressed in dark red robes with black, he stood their a dark glow seemed to emit from him. Lifting his palm he uttered words in a strange language. A ball
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of fire erupted from his palm and flew towards Sindain. Sensing the man using magic he waiting till he saw the fire burst from his hand then leapt forward towards the fire. The wind changed, and blew straight for the fireball changing its course and hitting a house setting it aflame. It was soon blown out.

More wind entered the arena and the Warlock’s robes flapped wildly about making them seem alive. As he pushed forward towards the Warlock mage another blast of wind pushed its way to the warlock pushing him back. Charging at the man, he slashed high hoping to catch him by surprise. The Warlock seemed calm enough though as a shield of fire erupted around him seeming to push his blade away.
Yelling in rage he pushed through, the wind beat upon the flames opening a gap for the man to get through. Pushing through it he sliced again but only nicked the warlocks armor. Then a piercing eruption went off in Sindain’s head. Realizing the warlock was trying to knock him out he fought through the mind blast and tried to block him out. The warlock seemed to mock him for the blasts grew stronger and stronger until Sindain was forced to give up. When he looked up as darkness enveloped him he saw the warlock smirking, then laugh a hideous laugh showing his pointed teeth. Then it was blackness


The lights came on, there was yelling from downstairs. A little boy was hiding in his closet while his drunk king of a father was yelling and screaming at his wife telling
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her how stupid she was. Then he heard it, a different scream, more of a cry, a cry of agony. The boy with dusty blonde hair flowing to the middle of his forehead, and the sharpest green eyes, which had just dilated in fear and anger as realization came to him. He stood up, legs quivering under him, He opened the closet door quietly and snuck to his room grabbing an old hunting dirk given to him by his mother. She had said it was a gift from his real father whom disappeared when he was very young. Grabbing it, he mustered up some small sliver of courage, crept down the stairs and looked over the balcony, there he saw his mother with stab wounds on her chest. A tear escaped him and he stifled a sob and then Telling himself that he would be able to see her after he was done he pushed her from his mind and crept to where he heard his stepfather mumbling about how stupid the guards were. Sneaking behind his chair he held the dagger to his side so the blade wasn’t visible. The big brute of a man saw him and yelled, “WHY ARE YOU IN HERE BOY! I TOLD YOU TO GO TO YOUR ROOM AND STAY THERE.” He began to rise off his chair, and the boy said in a very grave voice “you, you’re a dead man Dorgan, a dead man.” The man stepped forward and began to laugh at the pathetic words of the ten year old boy. “You think you can kill me? BAHAHAHAH-“ he stopped suddenly, as a jolt of pain erupted in his chest. He looked down slowly and frowned as he saw the dirk where his heart was. He laughed a maniacal laugh of denial as he died. Then it was quiet, nothing could be heard, the boy no longer held back his sobs and he ran down to his mother holding her, weeping out his soul to her.


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Waking up from the horrible dream, he was about to open his eyes until he remembered the fight before. He thought maybe it would be safer to act as though he was still asleep. Then a female voice washed away all of his thoughts, a voice so soothing and beautiful it seemed as though he were already dead and in heaven. The voice seemed to coax him from his nightmares and almost begging him to open his eyes.

His hand slowly slid to the dagger as he cracked his eyes open to see his surroundings. He was lying on a small cot in a room with a cozy fireplace on the one end. The walls were a light tan, He examined what he could see without moving and then he noticed how close the voice was, it was right next to him. He tried not to open his eyes to look at the captor but, his curiosity defeated him and he looked. A woman of extraordinary beauty was there sitting by the bed singing softly to herself. She had dark brown eyes and hair as black as midnight itself. She was slim with delicate features, hardened by the work needed to survive.

She saw him awake, rushed from the room, and left him to wonder where he was. He saw a window on the wall at the foot of the bed, and thinking he could maybe get in idea of where he was he weakly got to his knees and crawled to the end of the bed. Putting one hand on the windowsill he leaned over and looked out. His castle? He was still in his own town? Then his hand slipped and he fell to the ground with a loud thud. Groaning in pain he tried to sit up.

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An old woman came into the room a second later and started mumbling about how stupid people can be. She grabbed his arm and slowly eased him up. “Now what did you think you were doing? You’re in no shape at all to be walking yet!” she said. A voice that sounded much like the girls except older. He studied her face and felt that she meant him no harm and figured he should answer truthfully. “I was just trying to see where I was, is all” he gasped out finding it hard to breath.

Patting his shoulder she smiled and sat him on the bed, “let me go get your breakfast and maybe that will help you get some of your strength back before you go and try to get yourself killed walking around.” She walked out and closed the door giving him time to think about all that had happened.




A short while later she came in and delivered his breakfast, he thanked her and began to eat the food, egg’s and bread, basic but extremely delicious. She studied him for a while and said “ you look a lot like a traveler who came through here once. Don’t get me wrong he was a bit older but, had the same eyes and face.” His fork halfway to his mouth he stopped and looked at her. His mother had said his father had traveled a lot, could this woman know about him? “Do you know a lot about this traveler?” he asked hesitantly. “Why of course, we hosted him almost every visit he made, guess he had a lot of business
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or something going on.” She shrugged “nice enough man, he was a strange one though, always locked in the room unless he was out in the streets.” Sandain looked at her carefully, “did he say anything about having a family?” She looked at him and gave him a knowing smile. “Now I didn’t tell you the whole story yet.” Sitting down she sighed “your father, I doubt you knew much of him, wasn’t an ordinary man. He was unique, but not in a bad way. You could say he wasn’t a man at all. He was a God.” She stopped and waited for his reaction. “a god? Your kidding right? I mean sure I have some mage powers but, those are just “normal”. “ She laughed slightly and then put a serious tone on “you are no ordinary mage, you can do magic, but not only that but you can control elements, and show a most wonderful talent for wind. Though I am sure you could do greatly in any, your father was the God of Wind, Wyndliar.”

Not knowing what to say he set his fork down on the plate and stared at the old woman trying to find out why and how she knew all this, and most importantly, if she was lying. As if on cue a large gust of wind rushed through the window, swirled about in the shape of a man and then solidified into the image of a thin man with crystal blue eyes and a face much like that of Sandain’s. The man’s eyes suddenly changed color so they too were green. Amazed Sandain stood up and looked at the man, or god, and wondered, how could this man, have been my father.

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Smiling the god came over and hugged his son, and his son did likewise. Then the father stopped smiling and looked at his son and told him the greatest secret of all. “your mother, who died when you were little, was no helpless young woman, she was one of the most powerful mages that ever were here. But to keep you safe, she had to hide it. And that my son, is how you have become so powerful.” He smiled again and said “you have great potential, all you must do is learn to control the wind, and fate will be yours too, to control.” Then as quickly as he came he vanished.

Sandain fell back onto the bed and his eyes too, changed from green, to the icy blue of his fathers. A voice on the wind told him, your name, never was Sandain, but was and is truly Arityn. The boy marveled of how deep the secrets went but the name, Arityn felt right some how, and he felt whole, once more.



Three years later the Elementalist stood guard over his city. He focused his powers to the elements listening for signs of danger. Rumors of a siege disturbed him greatly, especially when no enemies were in sight. Sensing a burst of magic from the east gates he leapt from the balcony. The wind caught him and carried him to his destination. As he arrived he saw a variety of demons and undead preparing o siege the gates. Behind them all stood a large number of dark robed warlock mages.
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He knew he had to protect the city, and not let them get to the palace at all costs. For in the palace, is the most powerful magical item, ever created. The Heart of the Gods. If the Warlocks got their hands on it, they could control the powers of the elemental gods, including his father.

Drawing his sword he warded himself with the elements. His skin turned hard as stones as fire and water enveloped his body to defend him from attacks and hurt the enemies. He descended towards the warlocks preparing his powers for attack. The earth rumbled under his feet as he landed. The warlocks didn’t seem surprised as he landed. “Leave now, and no one dies” Arityn said in a bold voice.

The warlock stared at him and said simply “No”. He smiled and began chanting a spell. Arityn’s elemental magic strengthened his defenses from mind and physical damage. The earth rumbled again and earth shot from the ground around the warlocks encasing them and disrupting the chanters casting focus. Then the undead and demonic minions went from docile, to aggressive in a split second.

The elementalist formed a wall of wind around him as he began to cast a more powerful spell. As he finished a roar ripped the air as a tornado of fire erupted in the middle of the horde and began ripping through their ranks. Behind him he heard a crack as a mage escaped the rock tomb and began to cast a counter to the tornado. The chanting ended and the tornado diminished and
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the hordes fell upon Arityn. Sword and flame flashing he worked fast taking enemy after enemy out. All the while more warlock mages escaped their tombs. He jumped up clearing the range of the undead but getting into fights with the demons, which could fly. Feeling a presence he grinned as his fathers form appeared before him.

“Son, the others are coming, hold strong, and we will push them back to the depths they came from” his father said.

“Thank you father, I will hold as best I can” Arityn replied.

Diving back into the fight he went for the warlock mages. They put up their flaming shields. His sword gleamed blue and he struck. The fire hissed and retreated as the sword sliced through imbued with the power of water. The blade sliced at the shoulder of the warlock. He winced as he began casting a desperate spell. Arityn’s sword was back in long before he could finish casting and he slumped to the ground dead. A portion of the undead army collapsed to bone as he turned to dust on the ground.

Five warlock mages remained. Leaping forward he met the next. The mages had learned though and two of the others came from behind the warlock. All three began to cast the same spell. Fear erupted in Arityns mind as he realized it would be three times as powerful. Lunging at the first he caught him under the breastplate and the blade slipped through his gut. Spinning around he sliced the arm of the second hoping to disrupt his concentration. It didn’t work
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and the casting finished. The blast blew the elementalist off his feet and into the midst of the horde of dead. The warlocks grinned as they knew they had won.

Four beings appeared before the four remaining warlocks. The four elemental gods stood and spoke “You should not be here. Though now that you are, you shall not leave.” Their voices grave.

All four unleashed their unrestricted wrath on the warlock mages until nothing was left. The undead army vanished to dust leaving the lone body of Arityn lying alone on the battlefield. Wyndliar walked up to his son’s body and looked upon it with sad eyes. Lifting the body he carried it into town and brought it to the old ladies house. “Bury my son please? And honor his memory well” he said before he vanished leaving the body with her.