Hey guys! So, I wrote this about three years ago for a literature assignment, and just found it hanging around my computer. So I thought I'd upload it. Not that good, when I read it over, but… hey, its something. I only wrote one chapter, but for the hell of it, I'm going to write more. Make it a proper story. So here we go!

Chapter 1 Spiritus

Damas rested his hands on the ledge of the balcony that overlooked the entire city. He felt empty and powerless to the forces at work, an ant to the higher ups who were driven to carefully strip away everything that mattered to him, one by one. Like it was his duty to sit there, idly allowing them to play. Perhaps this was why he existed, so the Precursors could spit on him and taunt him, pushing him to snap the thin string that tied him to sanity.

Two days since young Mar had gone missing, two days he'd gone without his child. It was difficult to keep his composure in the open, where everyone and everything could see him. Read him. But he was Damas, ruler of Haven. He was a warrior, and would not break when his people needed him most. No matter how persistent it was, worming its way into his thoughts, he'd remain the stoic leader the people of Haven needed.

Forget this, Damas. Your people need you. You are not expected to have feelings. He thought bitterly, biting his tongue in an effort to get his mind off… it.

He turned away from the city that was slowly tearing itself apart, willing his legs to carry him to the bed where his wife slept soundly. This was the only time Amala was ever peaceful, when the tears stopped flowing and the marks of stress and fear were smoothed away. But the moist tracks were still present, like tattoos, burned into her skin because he couldn't protect the very thing that mattered most to him. Maybe it was his fault, then, that Mar had gone missing? Amala had readily blamed him for all that had transpired, had beaten her fists against his chest in a wild fury with his name left unspoken on her lips. She would not outright say it, but he knew she thought it. And her actions against him were enough.

Before Damas had the chance to settle down for the night, a soft, delicate voice whispered from the far corner of the room, where the shadows were thickest. It spoke, but its words made little sense to him. He narrowed his eyes and made his way toward the corner, his hands balled tightly into deadly fists. Was it just another terrorist, here to ruin his life further? An assassin? He could come up with dozens of possibilities when the voice grew louder, and realization dawned on him. It was saying his name. Calling to him.

"Who's there?!" He called out to the voice and peered into the darkness without any idea of what he was up against. No answer was received, but the shadowy corner slowly began glowing, a sickly blue-white color, closely followed by a loud bang that startled his wife into consciousness. She stared around wildly, eyes large and confused and scared. Damas shouldn't be surprised. She'd been terrified someone might come in to get her as well. But their family was ruined enough as it was. Taking her away from him would drive him to seclusion, but not break him. He was a king.

"What's going on? Damas? What happened?" She twitched and eyed the lit corner carefully. "What is that? Damas?"

Damas shook his head slowly and stepped away from the bright glow, standing at the end of the bed with his hands shielding his eyes. His ears twitched when the voice started up again, now addressing the both of them with a darker, colder tone.

I remember you, it said quietly. I remember the days before. And after. I remember what is to come. What has. You. You are a friend. I treat my friends well. I come with an offering to strengthen that friendship. For the future. For the Coming. I am here to help. You, Damas, rightful Ruler of Haven, must accept. You must see, must know.

The blue-white glow dimmed slightly, as if taking a deep breath, before continuing with more strength and urgency than it had before. You must see. I must help. My duty. I must show you. Do you accept? Tell me you accept. I will show you what I see. What I know. You are Ruler. You must know.

Damas and his wife stared blankly, jaws slack, at the lazy blue light. Damas leaned forward expectantly, nodding slowly for the being to continue. He settled down on the bed beside his wife with his elbows upon his knees, fingers steepled.

Child. You had a child. I know of him. I knew him. I can show him to you, too. You can see. This is my offer. Know your child. You can help with knowledge. Your knowledge. Prevent the future. Stop everything. You can. You can see Mar again.

At the mention of Mar, Damas shot up from his position, body rigid and teeth grinding, a furious growl growing at the back of his throat. "My son. What do you know of him? How do you know his name?" He took a single step toward the corner, shuddering at the sudden drop in temperature. A spirit. That's what it was. But how? Who?

Yes. Your son. I knew him. Know him. Will know him. It Is a loop. Forever. You can stop this loop. You can fix it all. We can work together. You get your son back. I get my life. Do you see now? It works. You can be a hero. You can fix the mistakes you will one day make, before you make them. You will be a family. Would you not like that?

Amala sat straighter, a ferocious, violent glare in her eye when she stared at the spirit, clutching the blankets until her fingers tore holes in the fabric. "My Mar? Spirit, speak! Show me! I must see my son!" The tears in her eyes broke free once again, trickling down her cheeks to pool at the tip of her chin. "Please. I must know where he is."

The spirit remained silent for a full minute, then began to… morph. Like mixing liquids gathering what light there was in the room to create a semi-solid form. It's features were blank, its shape unsure, like a picture shifting in-and-out of focus. It was not familiar, but it was all the spirit could do.

My name is unknown to you. So you may call on me with Xadret. I am willing to show you things you may never see again. In time, things will be explained to you. Do you understand?

The spirit hovered quietly before them, legs crossed and arms folded as it awaited their reply. Amala was nodding her head with the same crazed look, clutching her arms to her chest. Would Damas agree? Of course he would. This was his son. He may never see his son again, and if given the chance to find him? Damn right he'd take it. The two watched each others reactions, then Damas gave the spirit a small nod. "We understand, spi-Xad…ret…" Perhaps the name meant something, but he would not ask.

Very well. I will show you. All things will be explained, I promise. It is my duty to help. I ask that you stand back. You must allow me to concentrate. Xadret began to glow brighter, chin tucked to its chest and hands pressed tightly together. Its form, solid as it seemed, had started to melt, spinning in a slow, lazy circle around a single, white hot center. The circle grew larger until it encompassed the entire wall, then slowed in its spinning, mixing the bright blue with the searing white, dimming both colors and showing something. A picture?

Centuries ago, there was a village. Small, with very few people. The disembodied voice began, forcing the circle to show a small seaside village. One day, a Sage appeared. Yes, a sage. And with him, was a young boy. This boys name was Mar.

Damas flinched while Amala gasped, stumbling and grasping for her husbands arm. "M-mar? My little boy? Centuries ago?"

Please, allow me to finish. No one knew where they came from, as the Sage refused to tell. He changed this boys name. He would not make it easy for those after him. As the boy was being chased. The Sage knew. He knows much. But he would not tell. He changed this boys name to Jak. The picture changed to show a young boy, no older than fourteen playing along the beach with another boy of the same age. They grew up in sunny little Sandover. It was home. Jak was safe, and no one could get him.

Damas leaned forward to get a better look at the picture, his sudden shaking taking him by surprise. His son? Way back in the past? Kept secret in a village no bigger than this one building? How? And why?

"So. You're telling me that my son, Mar, not only changed his name… but is centuries in the past?"