Sacrifices of a Hero
Prologue
Rain. I had come to know rain as the sign of evil - not that it possessed evil itself, but it was a foreboding symbol of evil and darkness that was yet to come.
It was raining on that day, three years ago. Mt. Aleph had slightly awoken from its slumber of decorum - something was wrong, something that we could not see. Sentries from the Sanctum had spotted a large boulder making its way towards Vale. Ones with the most psynergy were sent out to stop the boulder in its tracks, while the rest were evacuated to the plaza, far from its reach.
Of course, none of us could be that lucky. It was raining.
As my family and I crossed our small dock that hugged the river, wood gave way, and I tumbled into the rapids below. Desperately clutching a small log like a birthday present, I shielded my eyes from the unrelenting rain and cried out for help. My parents and my sister, Jenna, stared in awe. At that time, Kyle and Dora, the parents of my friend Isaac, arrived at the scene shocked at my predicament. Soon after, their son Isaac and his friend, Garet, made their way to our house. Dora decided it would be wise to attain help for me, since everyone's available psynergy was drained. Dora went north, while Jenna tagged along with Isaac and Garet, who headed to the plaza. They found help, in the form of a burly man who was fully charged with psynergy, but just as they approached me, and all seemed well, the proponents of the Sanctum lost control of the boulder.
It was at that time that they lost control of fate itself; that one boulder would be the spark of events that would involve the whole world of Weyard and last longer than three years. I saw the boulder coming, but what was I to do? Kyle, Isaac's father, and my own parents were oblivious to their impending doom - a touch of irony that would haunt my ensuing pilgrimage down the river. Just as I prepared to breathe my last, two pairs of hands pulled me out of the riverbed, along with three other bodies. No, they weren't bodies, as I could see they were still alive. Their identities, however, were masked to me; my head was heavy and my view fogged. I gently closed my eyes as my head was released onto the moist grass beneath me. My last memories of that day were small pricks on my face and along my arms and legs.
My last memory was that it was raining.
Prologue
Rain. I had come to know rain as the sign of evil - not that it possessed evil itself, but it was a foreboding symbol of evil and darkness that was yet to come.
It was raining on that day, three years ago. Mt. Aleph had slightly awoken from its slumber of decorum - something was wrong, something that we could not see. Sentries from the Sanctum had spotted a large boulder making its way towards Vale. Ones with the most psynergy were sent out to stop the boulder in its tracks, while the rest were evacuated to the plaza, far from its reach.
Of course, none of us could be that lucky. It was raining.
As my family and I crossed our small dock that hugged the river, wood gave way, and I tumbled into the rapids below. Desperately clutching a small log like a birthday present, I shielded my eyes from the unrelenting rain and cried out for help. My parents and my sister, Jenna, stared in awe. At that time, Kyle and Dora, the parents of my friend Isaac, arrived at the scene shocked at my predicament. Soon after, their son Isaac and his friend, Garet, made their way to our house. Dora decided it would be wise to attain help for me, since everyone's available psynergy was drained. Dora went north, while Jenna tagged along with Isaac and Garet, who headed to the plaza. They found help, in the form of a burly man who was fully charged with psynergy, but just as they approached me, and all seemed well, the proponents of the Sanctum lost control of the boulder.
It was at that time that they lost control of fate itself; that one boulder would be the spark of events that would involve the whole world of Weyard and last longer than three years. I saw the boulder coming, but what was I to do? Kyle, Isaac's father, and my own parents were oblivious to their impending doom - a touch of irony that would haunt my ensuing pilgrimage down the river. Just as I prepared to breathe my last, two pairs of hands pulled me out of the riverbed, along with three other bodies. No, they weren't bodies, as I could see they were still alive. Their identities, however, were masked to me; my head was heavy and my view fogged. I gently closed my eyes as my head was released onto the moist grass beneath me. My last memories of that day were small pricks on my face and along my arms and legs.
My last memory was that it was raining.
