Chapter 1 – Prologue: The Tale of Asher

Asher Oredan had heard tales of Rune-Midgard before our time of peace, as most have; the stories of warriors, divine beings, monstrous creatures, and their eternal war against one another. Such was the entertainment of children, as he was once (and sometimes thought himself as). They would marvel at these tales of heroes and villains, the quest for "justice" and "glory."

He feared them. The boy could not see the glory of war. Maybe it was because his storytellers were not only minstrels, but also his grandfather, who had fought during those harsh times. The wizened old man told of battles that would last days: smoke would cloud the skies, and lightning and hail made from those with magic would come down when you least expected it. He told the child of the endless clashing of swords, the arrows that seemingly materialized from the bodies of comrades who stood next to you, and the constant paranoia of having your head lopped off by sins (assassins, a word which his grandfather never mentioned without an oath before it) that drove a man to insanity if the fatigue and other terrors did not.

He never told Asher these tales without madness in his eyes, or a vacant stare that sometimes made the young boy fear he had died. And perhaps he did, inside. Asher could not see what his friends imagined what war was like because of this, but only the blood-soaked grass his grandfather would describe about the fields after battle, and the anguished cries of the wounded and for those lost. So when his grandfather died, Asher could only be happy that his grandfather no longer had to bear the nightmares of war.

However, Rune-Midgard could not. After decades of struggle, King Tristan III, preceded by his descendants, brought a time of peace upon the land; of light, and of calm. Monsters became stupid, passive, or faded into myth. The realm grew peaceful and prosperous. It was the Golden Age of New Rune-Midgard. For that reason Asher thought that he would never have to live the same horrors he grandfather did. As he grew older, however, the boy began thinking otherwise.

The peace that King Tristan had strived for now seemed strained and twisted. More and more monsters appeared in the land, and many became aggressive. People he knew, once selfless people, set out to vanquish the so-called evil with madness in their eyes, but different than that of my grandfather's: not the burning for justice, but the gleaming desire for riches, for power. By eight he had come to realize that, but it was the age of fourteen summer moons he did something about it. That year, on his birthday, he made a decision that changed his life; or, as he may argue, merely sent his Fate in motion.

That day, Asher was ready to become a man in my family, an adult of society, which all males that turned his age would be. Living in Einbroch, he was prepared to become a coal digger in the mines of his hometown, not to be bothered with what went on with the rest of Rune Midgard. What he wasn't prepared for was for a poring to appear on the family kitchen table, and least of all for it to attack him. Porings are passive creatures, but this one glowered at him with burning red eyes. It pounced on the young man, and Asher never realized until then how a gelatinous pink glob could look so evil. It tried to submerge his head in its goo, so he scrambled for a kitchen knife, trying to put as much space between the little creature and him as possible. Just as the blob came down upon him, he got hold of a fruit peeler and swiped into the air hazardly, cutting the jellopy inside in half.

The poring disappeared in a flash of light, but in its place was a shining yellow crystal which Asher had never seen the likes of before. Floating shoulder-length to Ashe, it glimmered in the dim light of the room, its smooth-cut sides flashing invitingly for him to touch it. Enchanted, Ashe unwittingly reached out to hold it.

The moment his hands brushed the gem, Ashe found himself standing in a vast, empty space of darkness. Confused, he called desperately for his parents and brothers, running forward but not touching any walls. It was an endless expanse of darkness, as if he were sucked into a different dimension. A low, chuckle sent him into a stand-still, its humorless and dark tone sending shivers down his spine. Before he had time to brace himself, a torrent of emotions overtook him. Despair, greed, lust, hatred, terror barraged his mind and body all at once. It was like a million voices calling out to him, begging to be heard, a mob that threatened to rip him apart as he screamed out in protest. The turmoil centered at his chest and mind, where he clawed desperately at, as if he could rip the pain away.

I have found another…

No sooner had he heard that dark voice did a singing pain burn on his arm. Ashe gave a final scream, and suddenly he was back in his kitchen, and the terrible feelings blissfully gone. Something inside me knew he couldn't stay. His heart once again burned as he remembered the utter despair he felt, the pain of those voices that penetrated his heart like a knife. Calling his family, he told them that he was going to go traveling and hoped that they could forgive him. His two brothers immediately rose in anger and protest.

Then, to all of their surprise, their parents gave Ashe their consent. All of them looked at the middle-aged couple: Two to object, and one to ask why; but the sadness in their eyes forced the siblings to sit down and wait as they gathered things for Ashe to take. Quietly Ashe's mother gave him a traveler's bag and cloak, containing a zeny pouch of 2k, two red potions and a half-week's worth of food, while his father handed him a sheath and dagger; a practical thing he used when he was a boy, he said. His older brother silently appealed for Ashe to give a reason Ashe could not offer, while his younger brother merely went to his room and refused to speak to him any further.

Relieved that he did not need to explain himself and miserable and guilty that he was leaving the only home he ever knew, Ashe turned to leave. His parents waved goodbye to him, telling him to "be safe." His last words to them were "I'll try."

And Ashe returned Fate's call.

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So, how was it? This is my first fic, so constructive critisicm would be nice. What was good, bad, and what did I need to improve on? Review please, since you all know that all beginning writers are review whores. )