The first of Demmor, 318. A ship docked at Hyhil port, one of four ports at the south of Sallestre. On it was Prince Thornwell Drogan. He stepped down from the very ship, ever so gracefully. His beautifully patterned ivory eyes and black hair as silky as ever. No one knew who he was. He walked pass by many and none greeted him as a prince. He finally arrived at Sallestre from Hercia by the break of dawn. Behind him was his consort, Bergarious Frompt.

“Vei so rii vamyen tu fud so fe fron, riikir thraemud?” asked Bergarious.

“Where do you want the bag to be put, your highness?”

“So man laar ne tus. Tei uu ted tus omsudsumyel odkir sob. Ae so man mool ime usimgum un tu nenumyen,” commented Thornwell.

“Do not call me that. There are those that understand our tongue. I needn’t any attention at the moment,”

A man approached the prince swiftly. He looked like a common merchant. “Welcome to Sallestre. You seemed like you’ve been in a long journey, sir.”

“Yes it was quite a long one. Took me three days,” answered Thornwell with a smile.

“Should a young Thre’adil such as yourself be in need of a hover to rent, I am the man you seek. I do presume you have no transportation of any sort at the moment,” continued the man.

“But I do, good sir,” Thornwell replied. Then, came a couple of brown and silver unicorns with the most majestic horns down the dock. “There are our rides.”

The man looked in awe as Thornwell and Bergarious climbed on the unicorns and rode off. They exited the town of Hyhil from the dock and followed along the huge Serrumpt River up north. Thornwell was heading back to his kingdom, his home, Drainrock, in the state of Farbos. It had been five years since the last time he saw home. He was surprised when his father, King Mirill Drogan, King of the Peak, pulled back his banishment.

“It will be a long journey from here to Drainrock,” said Bergarious.

“True. One day ride to Lubric Line City and another towards Joycelm City if we ride fast. It will be tiring that is for sure,” added Thornwell.

----- ----- ----- -----

Back in Joycelm, many was making a last minute preparation for school that was suddenly delayed until the third of Demmor. Whil was an exception though. He was in the forest outside of Joycelm. He was up early and went straight for the forest with the bracelet in his right wrist.

“Darreos,” he called upon the feremear’s name and swung his right arm with his palm wide open. Out came a burst of glowing blue smoke and a dragon materialised in front of him. It was a beautiful sight to see. He smiled ever so widely as it happened.

“So, what is it that you need?” asked Darreos.

“I don’t really know. This is the first time I have ever had a Creature,” replied Whil.

“Why don’t you ask help from Sheila?”

“Wait. You know Sheila?” he asked in surprise.

“Of course I do. Here is the first lesson about us; you have heard people said that the Wielder shapes the Creature, yes?” Darreos asked.

“Yeah. Common knowledge.”

“But do you know how?”

“No. Not really.”

“Right. I’ll make it easy and simple. When we break from our eggs and materialised into this world for the first time, the Wielder will name us. The moment they gave us a name, a bargain is struck and a bracelet of bond or commonly called the Wielder’s bracelet marks our connection with our master. By connection, I mean every knowledge and memories that the master have from the past till the present will be shared. Thus, the master moulds the Creature.”

“So that means that you and I are the same.”

“Somewhat the same. We share the same knowledge and memories, but not personality, likes, dislikes or even flaws.”

“What does the Wielder get from the Creature? From you I mean.”

“I possess the ability to master the Sigils of Fire, Mind and Light. Which means you do as well. But, to master these Sigils will take time.”

“Let’s start with Fire then.”

“Very well. First, you must know the Fire Sigil. How it looks like and draw it on the palm of your hand. That will be the base for the fire that you will conjure the magic. I’ll draw it first and you follow on your palm.” Darreos explained. Then, he planted his claw into the ground and drew a flame like shape onto the ground. “There. The Fire Sigil.”

Whil dipped his finger in a mud and drew the same shape on his palm. “Is this OK?”

“Yes. That’ll do. Now, concentrate your energy towards your palm. This normally takes a very long time to master. Meditate if you must. Feel the energy flow inside you.”

Whil closed his eyes and started to imagine fire. He imagined fire flowing inside of him and went towards his marked palm. He imagined the energy that flows inside. The harder he imagined the tighter he closed his eyes. As he opened it, he straight away looked at his palm. There was nothing there. No flame. No smoke. Nothing.

“It didn’t work?” he asked Darreos.

“Like I said. Difficult to master. Meditate. It will take a very long time. It will take a longer time to conjure the Sigil yourself than to master creating fire though. But, one lesson per day. We’ll move on to conjuring the Sigils tomorrow mayhap.”

Whil sat there looking at his palm. He was eager to master the wonders of magic but quite impatient. He closed his eyes once more. Instead of thinking about fire, this time he was thinking of meditation. He saw the word in his head. He saw himself sitting on the ground, legs crossed. He saw flames forming a circle. Then, nothing.

He was in complete peace. His head was empty at that moment. He could feel the energy inside him. He felt it. The tingling sensation as the energy moved from one limb to the other. He did not want to control it. Instead, he just wanted to feel it. At that point, slowly the energy moved to his right hand. From there, it moved slowly to his palm, where the Sigil was drawn. In the end, a burst of flame blew from his palm. It surprised him and raised his adrenaline.

“Oh my! Praise the One of All. A fire on my palm,” he yelled in happiness. “It’s not even hot.”

“Of course it’s not for you. It is for others. Come, it’s getting dark. We should head back.”

When Darreos said that it snapped Whil’s attention on his burning palm. He looked around and it was darker than just now. The flame on his palm became smaller and smaller. Alas, it was gone.

“How long was I meditating?”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but, eleven hours or so.”

“What?” he was shocked. He held his arm and Darreos went back into the bracelet. After that, he ran straight back to Joycelm and home.

----- ----- ----- -----

“That was a fine dinner,” said Thornwell sitting in a tavern at Lubric Line, a city built in the Lubric mountain range.

“To bed your high…sir?” asked Bergarious.

“No. Straight to Joycelm now.”

“But we just got here. There are a lot of fine Inns that we can stay in Lubric Line.”

“No. I will sleep when I reach Joycelm.” Thornwell claimed.

“Pardon me asking, Sir, but what is there in Joycelm that we are in such a hurry?”

“An old friend. Come.” They left the tavern and climbed back onto their unicorns. They rode off into the night straight for Joycelm.

They rode and rode as the night fell deeper. It was hours of ride through hills and trees. Then suddenly Bergarious yelled for Thornwell and blew a blast of wind from his palm towards Thornwell. The prince was thrown off his unicorn and fell to the ground. His unicorn kept on running and the ground below it exploded, killing it. Thornwell was shocked at the sight of it. Bergarious stopped by Thornwell and climbed down his unicorn.

“Are you alright, Sir?”

“I'm fine. What happened?”

“Orcs’ and Goblins’ cave upfront. Gabinoth Cave.”

“Leekil! We’re in their territory now.”

“Curses!”

Then, from the north, there were movements. Coming towards Thornwell and his consort.

“Here they come,” said Bergarious.

From under his robe, Thornwell pulled out a twin sabre. He readied himself for an upcoming attack. “Berg! Sword, now!” he commanded.

Bergarious pulled a sword that was dangling in its sheath on the unicorn. The swarm of Orcs and Goblins sounded louder as they get closer. The louder they get the faster their hearts pumped. The thumps. The grunts. The growls. The rush. The rumble. And in the end, the silence. It was all suddenly silence. They could hear nothing else but their own breaths.

Out came a scream and an Orc jumped from a thick bush. Thornwell blocked the Orc’s blow and swung his other sabre, gutting the Orc. Out came another two ambushing Thornwell and Bergarious. A swing and a hack. A stab and a slash. Rings of swords clashing flew across the trees. Thornwell jumped over a Goblin that charged his way and cut down an Orc that was behind him. Then, he made a swift spin and slashed the Goblin’s throat.

Bergarious was throwing blasts of wind here and there. At every Orc that came and every Goblin that attacked, he deflected with his sword and gave a shot of wind with the other hand sending them flying away across the bushes. He was quick with the sword. He spun it around blocking every attack like a master swordsman. One came and he blocked. Another came and he shot wind to its face. Bergarious and Thornwell defeated each enemy that came charging easily.

Then came the last Goblin from the darkness. It was faster than the rest. Not as fast as Thornwell though. It charged towards Thornwell and swung its curved sword but blocked. Thornwell returned the favour with his other sabre but the Goblin avoided. They both were swift and fast. Giving and returning blows. Thornwell slashed and disarmed the Goblin. He gave a quick stab and Bergarious swung his sword beheading the Goblin. That was the end of it.

“That was uncalled for,” commented Thornwell.

“Well, foul beast attacked my Prince. I was…angered.”

“We have to be on our way now. Back on the unicorn. More might be coming.”

“No, Sir. I insist that you ride on the unicorn.”

“No. Bergarious. On the unicorn now.”

“Sir, I insist.”

“And I command,” ended Thornwell.

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