Prologue
There was a time when the fierce and beautiful land of Zenia flourished without cruelty or fear. And in this time, the Raidā were formed.
To protect and serve was their mission, and for thousands of years they ruled from atop their mighty dragons. They were immortal, unless pierced by sword or poison. Under their command, tall towers and cities were built, whose foundations never faltered.
Peace was made with all the races of the land. The elves were our allies, the dwarves our friends.
And, truly, a golden age was made. But it could not last…
Soaring majestically in the warm currents of air, the mighty eagle flexed her mighty wings in a demonstration of power and agility. She enjoyed these early evening flights as the sun began to set and the earth cooled to the loss of its rays. The air was fresh and clear up here in the canopy of the trees.
As she swooped and swirled idly, she spotted a flicker of movement among the trees below. Folding her wings, she dived down, gathering a speed unmatched by any other creature on this mountain. As she neared the swift approaching ground, she stretched and turned, talons extended. Only to get shot down by a wooden arrow, buried in her heart,
"Look Mini, I got one, we'll eat good tonight"
It was a strange night, as there seemed to be a chill in the air, Yasha, a ten year old boy crouched behind a fern, his prey, a small doe, was nibbling some grass just ahead of him. He was amazed that the doe had gotten this far without the wolves or bears roaming the forest outskirt catching her.
The evening was clear with only a few gray clouds in the sky drifting over him. The sun was setting and with each second, the forest darkened with the tree's shadows growing. Soon the doe would bed for the night and that would give him his chance.
He had been tracking this doe for almost three days and his food was almost half gone, he had to fell this doe tonight or he would have to return to the training grounds empty handed and with more than thirty mouths to feed, this was not an option.
Yasha quietly stood and shakily notched an arrow, trying to aim carefully, holding another ready just as a precaution. He knew that he wasn't the best for the job and he was still very young, but with the more experienced archers had been called away to another village to exterminate a yokai that had been terrorising them for a couple of months now and there was no one better to send in his place, everyone else was either too young or were sick, so it fell on him to catch some meat for everyone in the dojo.
He took a steadying breath and released it, piercing the doe in the neck. He cheered quietly and crept forward to retrieve it when suddenly smoke filled his vision. When the smoke vanished, Yasha saw that someone had stolen his catch from him before something bashed him on the head, leaving him knocked out.
When he came to it was pitch black around him. Fumbling for a match, he was relieved to find that his bag was still there. Only when he managed to start a fire did he realise what had been taken. When he had started out on the trip, he had a bow, a quiver full of arrows and Tessaiga, the sword given to him just recently for his tenth birthday. Now only Tessaiga remained, still sheathed in the sword sheathe around his waist.
"Someone stole my bow" he muttered, slipping back into the cover of the tree, feeling the glen was too exposed to make a safe camp. He knew that whoever had stolen his bow was probably long gone by now and he also knew that it was madness to look in the dark forest. After a cold dinner of bread and cheese, he wrapped himself up in a warm blanket and fell asleep, still thing of the strange event.
The sun rose the next morning with a glorious pink and yellow colour. The chilly air was cool and fresh. Dew drops glistened in the sun while various streams could be heard. After a small breakfast of bread and cheese, Yasha started for home.
He soon left the shady trees of the Shinrin forest and it was mid-morning before Hayashi, the forest edge town came into view. The sky was starting to darken before he was able to acquire a room for the night in the town's inn.
As he lay in bed, he looked out the window and could vaguely see his home, Sutō in the distance, the lights from the homes just vaguely over the horizon. He soon turned to face the wall tough and thought about what had happened in the forest the night before and about the forest in general.
The Shinrin forest was one of the few places which King Jōgi could not call his own. Stories were told in his village where the king had sent two hundred soldiers into the leafy glade. None had come back out. The villagers had gone searching day's afterward but couldn't find one piece of armour.
Shrugging his shoulders, Yasha turned over and soon fell asleep, not noticing the light from the village or the flames that appeared soon after.
The next day, Yasha set out at around noon after replenishing his supplies at the local market. It grew colder as he walked along the path. Yasha travelled quickly and saw little of the cautious wildlife. It was evening before he saw the village, but what he saw made him want to puke. Instead of a lively village, there was smoking ash. Instead in children playing in the fields, there were skeletons among charred earth. As he walked among the ruined houses he wondered how all this could have happened within a few days of him being gone.
Suddenly he reached the centre of the village to come across a smouldering stone. The stone was a deep purple shade with sky-blue scroll like patterns decorated it.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, kneeling in front of the rock but he was soon aware of someone standing behind him.
Turning around, Yasha saw the village leader of Hayashi. He was a large man with a short beard and short black hair. He was wearing a cotton wool shirt and some cotton wool pants.
He put his hands on Yasha's shoulders, and together, they wept for all the dead villagers.