《Soul of Honor》Prologue

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Flyte Tenner stared out into a rain soaked land plauged with shadow. It was cold and dark in the jail cell tower and he was tired of wondering what the strange spirit-like thing meant when It muttered something about "if he used his magic he would lose himself." It

Flyte was a young farmer boy who was slightly skilled in magic, as far as he could tell. The king had created a law that banned magic's use the same year Flyte had been born. What placed him in this cell happened three days ago in a shed.

Flyte wasn't really sure in his father's stories about his heritage. His mother was gone before Flyte could remember anything, and his father wasn't Flyte's source of longer, sharper ears, so it had to be his mother. He wanted to know just a little more about his mom before he really stuck with being a farmer like his father, so the only thing that he could think of was to find out a little bit of what he could do with his innate magic.

"Brimish, no that's not it, flasgor, no no that's not it" Flyte was saying. He had forgotten the word for magic fire. It was an almost impossible task for someone who forgot their own proffesion most of the time. "Oh I know, Forslo." The use of magic drained his energy as fast as his fire spread.

His fire leaped onto his father's hay for the slow, dirt-old horse they had. The fire then started burning the shed wall until finally the shed fell. This caught the attention of a group of soldiers, the king's thugs, they walked up to Flyte and said things like "we know what you did" or "we're taking you away." Which they did. They put him in a cart headed for the nearest prison.

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Why couldn't he use magic. It made no sense. If not for the king's law he wouldn't be in this mess. Only a one gathering had the right to use magic, and that was the dark circle.

"The dark circle have it all" Flyte mumbled to himself. He looked toward Ander Pelanus, his only cellmate.

Ander Pelanus was unlike Flyte, he was an old used-to-be soldier. His nickname was adder because he could strike quicker than a snake, and killed more often. He was pretty good company though. Pondering seemingly forever Flyte failed to notice the softly drawn runes on the wall and decided to use magic. He was going to do that fire that always does so much for him. "Forslo" he shouted, but just then he felt a burning sensation. They had used the runes to turn his own magic against him. Guards walked into the room to collect him.

The last thing Flyte saw before he passed out was Ander grabbing his secret stone sword and fighting off the guards.

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