Well, this is it. This is my first fanfic, ever. And, whoa! What a surprise! This is the first chapter of my first fanfic ever.
So... just for you to know, this first chapter has two parts. Do not tell me that it would have been better if I counted them as different chapters; it was set up that way for a reason. I refused to end the chapter without introducing the character.
Warning: If you completely despise "original characters", CLOSE THIS WINDOW IMMEDIATELY and DO NOT READ THIS FIC. You have been warned.
Also, this is rated PG-13 because I have many plans of where to take this story. I have rated it like this because of what I plan to write.
Anywho, since I have not technically started my story yet, I shall include a disclaimer. This will be my one and only disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Golden Sun or any characters, places, and any other general names included in it, and I most likely never will. However, if there is some miraculous shift in the universe and I do somehow end up owning Golden Sun, I will be sure to let you know.
Okay, now that that has been said, I only have one more thing to say before I actually begin the story: many, many thanks to Rallalon for reading and commenting on my first draft. The advice was greatly appreciated.
So, this is my first fanfic. Please read, and maybe even review if you feel like it. In fact, you could just send in a review simply saying that you read it... well, whatever.
I hope you enjoy reading this.
_______________________________________________________________
Beyond Reason
Chapter One: Doubts and Dreams
The world of Weyard... it was what so many people called "home". It held so many places, so many continents; so many civilizations. It was the home to the people of all cities throughout time, all the cities that served their purpose in their time of existence. It truly was home.
Yes, Weyard, the home of countless numbers of people. Through the ages, these people led lives of entirely different kinds. Customs and rituals changed as years passed. Civilizations emerged anew, and many times died out, being overshadowed by new ideas that were expected to change the world. As these civilizations wavered in and out of existence, stories were passed down. Generation after generation, these stories were told. Family stories were common, as were tales attributed to race. But there is one concept, one set of stories that was told, no matter which race or family.
Of course, these stories were the legends of old. The legends of the eight heroes. The legends of the Golden Sun.
Ah, yes; the legends of old. All of these were undoubtedly every child's favorite bedtime stories. Every child simply loved the accounts of the eight heroes, four lighthouses, and the two dragons with a total of five heads. The awestricken looks on the listeners' faces were priceless to each storyteller. There was not a soul in all of Weyard who did not hear of these legends.
Everyone heard these stories, everyone knew them well.
But some people lived for them.
Those people researched the past, attempting to find any evidence they could, trying to prove the legends were true. Every one of those people longed for their chance, hoped that someday they would be so lucky as to get the opportunity to travel. They hoped that, one day, they would be able to see the mystical lighthouses of old, to confirm their existence. They hoped that if they were lucky enough, they might be able to walk up the same stairs that the legendary ones did so long ago.
Though there were not many people like this, there were one or two in every generation. They were few in numbers; they were unimportant and even unknown to the rest of the world.
Most people believed the legends at least until they were the age of ten. As years passed, many people abandoned their interest. The number of believers lessened as age increased; most people stopped by their late teenage years. And then there are the people who did not. There may have been a miniscule number of people in this group, but they were there all the same. They all researched and theorized to their heart's content, and they all grew old. But they were also all happy. Some may consider their lives to have been wasted away, but that is not what they thought. They followed their own dreams. They slaked their undying thirst for knowledge; that was the life for them. Sadly, for the majority of the world, the fascination and obsession died young. So many doubts had arisen as time took its course. Such a thing is expected.
The race of Adepts was lost to the world of Weyard.
Alynia sat on her bed, leaning against the wall. She clutched her pillow tightly, for she knew that if she loosened her grip, she would also be relaxing her control of her mind. Whenever she did not purposely focus herself, her mind always seemed to drift off. Dreams were common, both the daydreams and the fantasies of the unconscious mind.
She tried to refrain from being swallowed into her thoughts again, but eventually, her imagination got the better of her. She combed her fingers through her blonde hair as she slipped into yet another daydream. She was absorbed into her envisioning of the legends, of the eight heroes. Epic scenes depicting the harsh battles filled her thoughts. Alynia easily refreshed her memories of every story she had heard. Recalling what had been described to her, she remembered all the heroes; she imagined the Valeans, fighting for their parents' lives. She imagined the girl who fell from the sky, the one who was called "The Child of the Gods". She imagined the mariner who was rumored to have come from Lemuria. Of all places, Lemuria! Ah, she knew those myths well. Leaning back even farther, she continued to fantasize of all the stories she had come to love so much.
"Alynia!"
Her mother's harsh, scolding voice snapped her out of her peaceful reverie. She shook her head, wearing off the sudden shock.
"Alynia, do not tell me that you are thinking of those 'legends' again," her mother commanded, almost a little threateningly. The older woman studied her daughter's expression, which was still somewhat absentminded. "You are, aren't you?" she accused.
"Well..." Alynia replied, attempting to avoid her mother's glare.
"Hm. Just as I thought," declared her mother, shaking her head disappointedly. "I have told you countless times before: stop thinking about those 'legends'. They are nothing more than silly stories, made up by people with too much time on their hands. I am really regretting telling you those stories in the first place."
Alynia just stared at her hands, answering her mother with nothing but silence. She knew not of what to say, so she did not even dare to try to get her mother to understand.
"You are fifteen years of age," her mother continued. "You should have dismissed these long ago. These are children's stories, nothing more. So, stop thinking about it. You have plenty of other things to do. For example, all of those chores you have been neglecting around the house lately... I could go on, but I am assuming that you see my point."
Alynia's mother left the room and started down the stairs. She regretted the need for snapping at her daughter, but she knew that the unhealthy obsession with those untruths had to stop. Upon entering the kitchen, she began to chop carrots for the stew she was steaming for lunch.
"Well, I guess it is better for her to think of the legends than it is for her to keep remembering...." she mumbled to herself, trailing off towards the end of her thought.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Alynia sat like she had not even a half hour before, clutching her pillow tightly, trying to think of something else.
_______________________________________________________________
Well, that was my first chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!
So... just for you to know, this first chapter has two parts. Do not tell me that it would have been better if I counted them as different chapters; it was set up that way for a reason. I refused to end the chapter without introducing the character.
Warning: If you completely despise "original characters", CLOSE THIS WINDOW IMMEDIATELY and DO NOT READ THIS FIC. You have been warned.
Also, this is rated PG-13 because I have many plans of where to take this story. I have rated it like this because of what I plan to write.
Anywho, since I have not technically started my story yet, I shall include a disclaimer. This will be my one and only disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Golden Sun or any characters, places, and any other general names included in it, and I most likely never will. However, if there is some miraculous shift in the universe and I do somehow end up owning Golden Sun, I will be sure to let you know.
Okay, now that that has been said, I only have one more thing to say before I actually begin the story: many, many thanks to Rallalon for reading and commenting on my first draft. The advice was greatly appreciated.
So, this is my first fanfic. Please read, and maybe even review if you feel like it. In fact, you could just send in a review simply saying that you read it... well, whatever.
I hope you enjoy reading this.
_______________________________________________________________
Beyond Reason
Chapter One: Doubts and Dreams
The world of Weyard... it was what so many people called "home". It held so many places, so many continents; so many civilizations. It was the home to the people of all cities throughout time, all the cities that served their purpose in their time of existence. It truly was home.
Yes, Weyard, the home of countless numbers of people. Through the ages, these people led lives of entirely different kinds. Customs and rituals changed as years passed. Civilizations emerged anew, and many times died out, being overshadowed by new ideas that were expected to change the world. As these civilizations wavered in and out of existence, stories were passed down. Generation after generation, these stories were told. Family stories were common, as were tales attributed to race. But there is one concept, one set of stories that was told, no matter which race or family.
Of course, these stories were the legends of old. The legends of the eight heroes. The legends of the Golden Sun.
Ah, yes; the legends of old. All of these were undoubtedly every child's favorite bedtime stories. Every child simply loved the accounts of the eight heroes, four lighthouses, and the two dragons with a total of five heads. The awestricken looks on the listeners' faces were priceless to each storyteller. There was not a soul in all of Weyard who did not hear of these legends.
Everyone heard these stories, everyone knew them well.
But some people lived for them.
Those people researched the past, attempting to find any evidence they could, trying to prove the legends were true. Every one of those people longed for their chance, hoped that someday they would be so lucky as to get the opportunity to travel. They hoped that, one day, they would be able to see the mystical lighthouses of old, to confirm their existence. They hoped that if they were lucky enough, they might be able to walk up the same stairs that the legendary ones did so long ago.
Though there were not many people like this, there were one or two in every generation. They were few in numbers; they were unimportant and even unknown to the rest of the world.
Most people believed the legends at least until they were the age of ten. As years passed, many people abandoned their interest. The number of believers lessened as age increased; most people stopped by their late teenage years. And then there are the people who did not. There may have been a miniscule number of people in this group, but they were there all the same. They all researched and theorized to their heart's content, and they all grew old. But they were also all happy. Some may consider their lives to have been wasted away, but that is not what they thought. They followed their own dreams. They slaked their undying thirst for knowledge; that was the life for them. Sadly, for the majority of the world, the fascination and obsession died young. So many doubts had arisen as time took its course. Such a thing is expected.
The race of Adepts was lost to the world of Weyard.
Alynia sat on her bed, leaning against the wall. She clutched her pillow tightly, for she knew that if she loosened her grip, she would also be relaxing her control of her mind. Whenever she did not purposely focus herself, her mind always seemed to drift off. Dreams were common, both the daydreams and the fantasies of the unconscious mind.
She tried to refrain from being swallowed into her thoughts again, but eventually, her imagination got the better of her. She combed her fingers through her blonde hair as she slipped into yet another daydream. She was absorbed into her envisioning of the legends, of the eight heroes. Epic scenes depicting the harsh battles filled her thoughts. Alynia easily refreshed her memories of every story she had heard. Recalling what had been described to her, she remembered all the heroes; she imagined the Valeans, fighting for their parents' lives. She imagined the girl who fell from the sky, the one who was called "The Child of the Gods". She imagined the mariner who was rumored to have come from Lemuria. Of all places, Lemuria! Ah, she knew those myths well. Leaning back even farther, she continued to fantasize of all the stories she had come to love so much.
"Alynia!"
Her mother's harsh, scolding voice snapped her out of her peaceful reverie. She shook her head, wearing off the sudden shock.
"Alynia, do not tell me that you are thinking of those 'legends' again," her mother commanded, almost a little threateningly. The older woman studied her daughter's expression, which was still somewhat absentminded. "You are, aren't you?" she accused.
"Well..." Alynia replied, attempting to avoid her mother's glare.
"Hm. Just as I thought," declared her mother, shaking her head disappointedly. "I have told you countless times before: stop thinking about those 'legends'. They are nothing more than silly stories, made up by people with too much time on their hands. I am really regretting telling you those stories in the first place."
Alynia just stared at her hands, answering her mother with nothing but silence. She knew not of what to say, so she did not even dare to try to get her mother to understand.
"You are fifteen years of age," her mother continued. "You should have dismissed these long ago. These are children's stories, nothing more. So, stop thinking about it. You have plenty of other things to do. For example, all of those chores you have been neglecting around the house lately... I could go on, but I am assuming that you see my point."
Alynia's mother left the room and started down the stairs. She regretted the need for snapping at her daughter, but she knew that the unhealthy obsession with those untruths had to stop. Upon entering the kitchen, she began to chop carrots for the stew she was steaming for lunch.
"Well, I guess it is better for her to think of the legends than it is for her to keep remembering...." she mumbled to herself, trailing off towards the end of her thought.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Alynia sat like she had not even a half hour before, clutching her pillow tightly, trying to think of something else.
_______________________________________________________________
Well, that was my first chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!