The rain pounded heavily down on the deserted streets of Ashal'Kiore.
The beautiful, almost translucent buildings shone icily in the grey light,
as raindrops tapped against their domes.
The people of Ashal'Kiore, capital of the Kryian 'Ekla Empire; were all locked away in their shining homes, projecting their spiritual selves into "The Void" searching for souls to guide. However, one was not home. He was not in the peaceful, almost drugged trance that his people often seemed to be in, nor was he searching for souls to help after the last reprimand.
Dar'Yrll Kryiashan, crown prince of the Kryian 'Ekla Empire; had violated The Code of the Dream Sanctum. Instead of pretending to be part of the conscience of one of the souls he was trying to guide, he had let the soul know about himself. He had explained his world, his peoples and rules. A minor infraction, but done by a member of the royal family?! Daryl's parents had given him a humiliating speech about his responsibilities in front of the council, even daring to criticise his choice of status! A warrior-dreamer was an honourable status for a future king! But his parents wanted him to be a seer-dreamer! Ersha's Teeth!
Daryl skulked around the deserted streets of Ashal'Kiore, angrily splashing through the puddles in the street. He was getting his clothes dirty, but he could always conjure up a new set of clothes if he wanted to. Besides, he rather liked getting wet; and these earth clothes were quite comfortable. He was always being fussed over in the palace. At least he didn't have a million guards crowded around him like in those other strange worlds, no one on Kryian 'Ekla was particularly keen on killing him.
Daryl stared at the purple stone cobbles in the street, and spat. Unseemly behaviour for crown prince, but then he was the only one strong enough to inherit the throne of the Kryiashan house. Scowling, he entered the palace gates, and walked past the meditating guards. They may have appeared to be in a deep trance, but red jewels in the middle of their foreheads monitored the comings and goings of the Royal Family. Anyone whom was strange, or approaching with dark intent on their being, no matter how slight; would be stopped by the jewels, which were imbued with the will of Daryl's maternal ancestor, Ik'la Kryia.
The Kryiashan House was established over more than a millenium before Daryl was born. The planet of Kryia had originally been nameless, and had been darkened by tyrannical jinnu, the naturally telepathic people enslaved to become it's dream-gazers.
Then, a rebellious Ik'la Kryia had been born. His father's name had been Ik'la, and his mother's Kryia; so his parents combined their names in hopes that it would make him proud of his heritage from their respective nomadic clans (whom stylized names differently, his father's clan adding 'la to the end; his mother's, putting Kr first).
Ik'la Keyia, attacked the tyrant; and slew him; creating a new republic, under which there was a monarchy whom would be advised by a council of representatives from each Kyrian city.
Each new monarch had to be of sound mind, of the royal Kryian bloodline if possible, and they must have a strong mental prowess. The most powerful of astral projectors were found in the Kryianshan bloodlines, and Daryl was the most powerful since the time of his great-great-great- grandmother Iyrae Ershannah Kryianshan; whom was rumored to have been more powerful than Ik'la Kryia himself.
Daryl was getting bored of recounting history to himself. Royal history was interesting when he wanted to hear tales of quests, dragons, warrior maidens and men, etc... But he was too angry to be soothed by his favorite tales at the moment.
Instead, he deliberatley climbed the sparkling blue, ushyana crystal staircase, and entered his dreaming room.
The room had been used by all the crown princes and princesses before him. Each one left their mark before they were coronated. Each created a mental gem, one of the hardest tasks to perform; and fitted it into a small alcove that was decorated according to their tastes. All four walls were fitted with shelves and shelves of these tiny alcoves. Soon, the dreaming room would be expanded to leave room for Daryl's children, and his children's children.
The room was painted in powdered paints of deep blue from crushed, semi-precious stones. Golden filigree adorned the tops of the walls, and the cieling was actually the night sky, created by a magical spell in the waters of the room... Because the room was actually also partially filled with water.
A pedestal rose out of the water, steps leading to a cushioned seat where one could meditate, staring into the "night" sky. Stairs fron the doorway led into the crystalline waters, where one could bathe after a hard session of astral projection.
Daryl stepped gracefully into the water, and with minimum effort, he reimagined his clothing into the loose, white robes often worn by his people. He moved through the cool waters, savouring the feeling against his skin. He stepped up on the stairs to the pedestal, and imagined himself dry, smirking to himself.
He seated himself on the seat, and let himself fall into a trace. He was going to find a soul to help. And he would help it, his way.
He felt himself falling away from his body, and he was spun in a dizzying spiral around the universe. He stopped the spiral, grimacing at a sense of vertigo which was quickly discarded. He searched for the spirits of earth, and he passed into their minds.
Many of the minds his people comforted were people with problems that would not be viewed as overly terrible in their world. But, Daryl searched specifically to help extremely troubled souls, that his parent's thought were a bad influences on him. The reigning empress (his mother) had tried to get her consort, Prince K'La Shram (his father) to reason with Daryl, but Daryl was stubborn. A trait inherited from his mother he supposed.
Suddenly, a soul caught his mind.... It was a male soul, approximately his age, at least fifteen. And it was a troubled soul.. extremely troubled.
The boy's name was Greg Ryoushin. He was in a foster home, and no one believed that his mother was innocent of a crime that his step-father had comitted.... Greg's sister had been a beautiful girl... She'd been the only one other than his mother who'd loved him, and she had died... Her name had been Sachi, for happiness.
Daryl felt sorrowful for this poor boy, and he decided that this was the one he should help.
Little did Daryl know, that both he and Greg were bound in ways higher than this. Both were important in a new fight, a fight of those destined to make a choice; a choice that could doom the shards of worlds, or one that would bring them to salvation....
The people of Ashal'Kiore, capital of the Kryian 'Ekla Empire; were all locked away in their shining homes, projecting their spiritual selves into "The Void" searching for souls to guide. However, one was not home. He was not in the peaceful, almost drugged trance that his people often seemed to be in, nor was he searching for souls to help after the last reprimand.
Dar'Yrll Kryiashan, crown prince of the Kryian 'Ekla Empire; had violated The Code of the Dream Sanctum. Instead of pretending to be part of the conscience of one of the souls he was trying to guide, he had let the soul know about himself. He had explained his world, his peoples and rules. A minor infraction, but done by a member of the royal family?! Daryl's parents had given him a humiliating speech about his responsibilities in front of the council, even daring to criticise his choice of status! A warrior-dreamer was an honourable status for a future king! But his parents wanted him to be a seer-dreamer! Ersha's Teeth!
Daryl skulked around the deserted streets of Ashal'Kiore, angrily splashing through the puddles in the street. He was getting his clothes dirty, but he could always conjure up a new set of clothes if he wanted to. Besides, he rather liked getting wet; and these earth clothes were quite comfortable. He was always being fussed over in the palace. At least he didn't have a million guards crowded around him like in those other strange worlds, no one on Kryian 'Ekla was particularly keen on killing him.
Daryl stared at the purple stone cobbles in the street, and spat. Unseemly behaviour for crown prince, but then he was the only one strong enough to inherit the throne of the Kryiashan house. Scowling, he entered the palace gates, and walked past the meditating guards. They may have appeared to be in a deep trance, but red jewels in the middle of their foreheads monitored the comings and goings of the Royal Family. Anyone whom was strange, or approaching with dark intent on their being, no matter how slight; would be stopped by the jewels, which were imbued with the will of Daryl's maternal ancestor, Ik'la Kryia.
The Kryiashan House was established over more than a millenium before Daryl was born. The planet of Kryia had originally been nameless, and had been darkened by tyrannical jinnu, the naturally telepathic people enslaved to become it's dream-gazers.
Then, a rebellious Ik'la Kryia had been born. His father's name had been Ik'la, and his mother's Kryia; so his parents combined their names in hopes that it would make him proud of his heritage from their respective nomadic clans (whom stylized names differently, his father's clan adding 'la to the end; his mother's, putting Kr first).
Ik'la Keyia, attacked the tyrant; and slew him; creating a new republic, under which there was a monarchy whom would be advised by a council of representatives from each Kyrian city.
Each new monarch had to be of sound mind, of the royal Kryian bloodline if possible, and they must have a strong mental prowess. The most powerful of astral projectors were found in the Kryianshan bloodlines, and Daryl was the most powerful since the time of his great-great-great- grandmother Iyrae Ershannah Kryianshan; whom was rumored to have been more powerful than Ik'la Kryia himself.
Daryl was getting bored of recounting history to himself. Royal history was interesting when he wanted to hear tales of quests, dragons, warrior maidens and men, etc... But he was too angry to be soothed by his favorite tales at the moment.
Instead, he deliberatley climbed the sparkling blue, ushyana crystal staircase, and entered his dreaming room.
The room had been used by all the crown princes and princesses before him. Each one left their mark before they were coronated. Each created a mental gem, one of the hardest tasks to perform; and fitted it into a small alcove that was decorated according to their tastes. All four walls were fitted with shelves and shelves of these tiny alcoves. Soon, the dreaming room would be expanded to leave room for Daryl's children, and his children's children.
The room was painted in powdered paints of deep blue from crushed, semi-precious stones. Golden filigree adorned the tops of the walls, and the cieling was actually the night sky, created by a magical spell in the waters of the room... Because the room was actually also partially filled with water.
A pedestal rose out of the water, steps leading to a cushioned seat where one could meditate, staring into the "night" sky. Stairs fron the doorway led into the crystalline waters, where one could bathe after a hard session of astral projection.
Daryl stepped gracefully into the water, and with minimum effort, he reimagined his clothing into the loose, white robes often worn by his people. He moved through the cool waters, savouring the feeling against his skin. He stepped up on the stairs to the pedestal, and imagined himself dry, smirking to himself.
He seated himself on the seat, and let himself fall into a trace. He was going to find a soul to help. And he would help it, his way.
He felt himself falling away from his body, and he was spun in a dizzying spiral around the universe. He stopped the spiral, grimacing at a sense of vertigo which was quickly discarded. He searched for the spirits of earth, and he passed into their minds.
Many of the minds his people comforted were people with problems that would not be viewed as overly terrible in their world. But, Daryl searched specifically to help extremely troubled souls, that his parent's thought were a bad influences on him. The reigning empress (his mother) had tried to get her consort, Prince K'La Shram (his father) to reason with Daryl, but Daryl was stubborn. A trait inherited from his mother he supposed.
Suddenly, a soul caught his mind.... It was a male soul, approximately his age, at least fifteen. And it was a troubled soul.. extremely troubled.
The boy's name was Greg Ryoushin. He was in a foster home, and no one believed that his mother was innocent of a crime that his step-father had comitted.... Greg's sister had been a beautiful girl... She'd been the only one other than his mother who'd loved him, and she had died... Her name had been Sachi, for happiness.
Daryl felt sorrowful for this poor boy, and he decided that this was the one he should help.
Little did Daryl know, that both he and Greg were bound in ways higher than this. Both were important in a new fight, a fight of those destined to make a choice; a choice that could doom the shards of worlds, or one that would bring them to salvation....