A brief word from the author:

Greetings folks. This is quite literally my first post here as well as my first shot at literature of any kind at all. As such, feel free to be honest in your opinions and comments, you needn't temper criticism, though I would ask that it at least be somewhat constructive.

Now before we dive into the prologue let me speak a bit about some of my bad habits, as unless you are blind you will notice them pretty quickly anyway. First off, I am no English major. Though I believe myself to have a reasonable command of the language I am certainly no expert. Also, I tend to write how I think. That is to say, I can get a bit wordy sometimes, and tend to over use punctuation. I also enjoy having incredibly long run on sentences. This can lead to some frustrating reading, so if anything comes across poorly or requires brevity or better sentence structure please feel free to call me out on it with a comment.

To wrap it up thanks for reading.

Prologue -

"Brrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnng!"

A ringing loud enough to make him wince announced the arrival of the new day. Another step in the endless cycle of monotony that had quickly become this man's reality. Everyday, at this time Gray would be startled awake by this same tone. Every day he would extricate himself from bed, and with plodding steps trudge through another day until he collapsed back in this same place to rest and repeat the cycle again anew.

Not a single days rest had he had in recent memory. There were no weekends; his peers dreaded Monday, and revered Friday - but to Gray everyday was Monday; there was little difference in the name of a day when they all had the same boring content.

With a grunt he lifted himself out of bed and began to ready himself. This hour was his only release, and if he wasted it in rest he would regret it later. Drawing on a pair of charcoal grey nylon pants and a lighter grey sweatshirt he began hunting for his phone, grabbing it and silencing the alarm that had continued to ring loudly the whole time he dressed himself.

Leaving his bedroom he headed toward the kitchen not bothering to be quiet despite the early hour of the day. After all, no one but Ronnie would notice. As if on queue a pudgy cat with long black hair with a shock of white over its right eye and a collar with the name "Ronnie" stitched into it lifted its head from its perch on the couch and sent him an annoyed look with its half closed eyes.

"Mornin' Cat" he quipped as he stepped into his shoes and stuffed his keys into the pocket in his sweatshirt. The cat had already closed its eyes again intent on returning to its nap.

With one hand covering a yawn and the other closing the door he stepped outside into the cold morning air. His breath clouded around his head as he began to silently jog through the neighborhood. For the next hour he could simply run. When he pushed himself harder he felt warm, when he relaxed and ran leisurely he cooled off pleasantly. In his current routine this was his favorite time, and one of the few things that kept him sane.

Regrettably though it ends all too quickly. Five miles pass by in a blur and his watch vibrates harshly on his wrist, alerting him that the time to return was now. At least he had the return trip to enjoy.

With a sigh he headed back to his home, showering, shaving, brushing his teeth. Doing the things that must be done before heading into the office.

The office.

He hated this place, though his peers would never know this. To them Gray appeared as a quietly excellent colleague. The type of man others wanted to work with. Capable, but not overbearing and without a desire to monopolize the fruits of the teams labor. To them Gray seemed almost noble. But the truth was different, Gray simply didn't care about the bonuses, the acclaim, and the favor currying with management. These things had been amusing at first, but now they were stale, boring. Anyone who bothered to work even slightly harder than average could easily attain those things. So he saw little need for them, and instead conceded them to the others who coveted them.

His work had earned him more than enough, a good wage, fine working conditions, good subordinates, reasonable clients. But it was simple, tedious, monotonous. But that wasn't what made him hate this place.

There was nothing ahead of this. Work harder and gain more money? A television? A car? A house? He had these things already and they bored him. So what then? A nicer car? A larger house? A bigger TV? What nonsense, these things couldn't possibly motivate him. And that was why he hated this place, there was no future here. Well no future Gray found interesting anyway.

Feeling like a millstone was grinding away at his mind he endured the day. Smiling hollowly at his peers, and nodding politely to his clients he left for his hour long lunch break. Gray always left the office for lunch, though he never actually ate. As luck would have it the office was located near a fairly large community park. It was here that his lunch was usually spent. Wandering along the trails or relaxing under a tree. Sometimes chatting aimlessly with other visitors about whatever struck his fancy.

Today was no different and he decided to wander one of the hiking trails for lunch. It was during this wandering he happened across a old man resting under a large maple just off the trail. This in itself was not unusual, as the park attracted many people and it was Sunday. Probably the most popular day for a walk in the park.

As Gray strode by the man he couldn't help but observe some details on this particular old man. He had been thinking 'old man' but this guy was not just old, he appeared to be very old at least 90 years of age. Deep lines and leathery tanned skin covered his face, both his hair and eyebrows were long and pure white. He had a thin frame, but something told Gray that the man was not frail despite his advanced age.

The mans eyes though nearly cause Gray to trip over his own feet. They were a color that did not naturally occur, dark crimson irises and white pupils returned Gray's gaze without flinching.

"What are you doing? Don't stop in the middle of the path ya damn fool." Another man jogging the path cursed at Gray from behind as he had come to a complete stop and nearly caused a collision.

"Ah, Sorry." Grey muttered in apology, "That guy startled me." he said nodding toward the old man.

The jogger looked around with a shrug, not bothering to stop or even look back at Gray. He saw no old man, just some weird guy blocking the trail.

An amused grin appeared on the old mans weathered face, revealing yellowed teeth and single gap where one of his lower canines had disappeared. With an exaggerated wave the old man gestured for Gray to join him.

Gray opened his mouth to decline, as currently he had no desire to chat, especially with an old man that wore such weird contact lenses. But no sound left his mouth. It was a strange feeling, he was absolutely certain he spoke, but no sound was made not even in his own ears.

"Cat got your tongue boy?" Said the old man, his grin widening further. He waves even more exaggerated this time with both skinny arms. "Come, join this old man for a few minutes. You are not permitted to decline."

Gray's mouth snaps shut with an audible clack, causing him to wince. And to his horror his left leg extends and he begins walking stiffly toward the old man. Beads of sweat run down Gray's face as his complexion reddens from the mad effort to flee from this old man's presence. But the effort is wasted, his body stiffly walks to the tree and sits in front of and facing the old man.

Anger and fear war for supremacy on Gray's face as he stares at the old man. He tries to scream, to stand, to run. But there is no reaction, its as though his nerves have been completely severed.

The old man leans harder against the tree; the grin on his face still present as he observes Gray at war with his own body.

But a new emotion spreads across Gray's face, resignation. If resistance is truly impossible then he will simply do what he could when he could.

"You accepted this quite quickly Gray" The old man's grin and voice now carried a playful tone, but also condescension. "Most I impose upon struggle a great deal more."

The old man leans forward this time, close enough for Gray to smell his breath "I am a messenger, of sorts..." The old man pauses, his grin fading into a thoughtful look.

"and I have come to make you an offer. This world has long been tamed, its fangs torn out. Its people domesticated." The old man turns his head slightly and spits. "Your world's people are like cattle with dumb eyes as they fatten themselves for slaughter."

The eyes of the old man shine, and a cruel smile flashes back to his lips.

"But you, I have watched you toil. I have seen your contempt for this place, this world. You could be so much more. So I come with an offer, no; a trade."

"My world is like a blade. Vicious and terrible, there is great cruelty but also great beauty. And there is power for those with the will to seize it. For those that wield it the rewards are infinite. You could even become a messenger yourself someday, with your own world your own creation if you choose."

Confusion flashes across Gray's face as the old man begins to speak again. "Cast away this world, give up this life you have made here. Those are the conditions of the trade."

The light in the old man's eyes reaches a fever pitch, but the grin has returned. So the question was asked of Gray, "Will you throw away your life, your world, your very self and begin again in this, my world of Crucible?"

Suddenly his body relaxed completely, giving him the feeling of waking up from a long nap and Gray answered the old man's question with a grin; the first honest and real smile he had worn in at least a decade, "When do we depart?"

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