We were young then, Jonas, Adner and I, young in all senses of the term. We had seen little and done less, happy in our simple lives if not completely content. The three of us were no worse off than any others on our lonely, misty continent. That is to say, unless those others lived in one of the great cities, Lindblum, Alexandria, even Burmecia with its eternal rains. It was there that the rats ruled while humans were frowned upon if they used one of their precious inns for the night; resting on the long trek to Lindblum perhaps, from Alexandria, for none but the brave, or the foolish, risked traveling through the Evil Forest.
And in the middle of these three great cities was Dali, a farmer's town. At least it had been, until recently, when a tall man riding a great eagle changed all that. Men like Adner's father, good men, had been taken away then, to serve under the Alexandrian flag not knowing why or daring to ask. Jonas's father was taken with Adner's, as was his mother, for they were both of acceptable age. My mother was spared their fate, for she was fighting the same demon that my father had been beaten by sixteen years before, as I took my first breath. In that same moment my father drew his last breath, and to my mother was passed his dark infection, a blessing and a curse, forced upon generation after generation. And I was their only son. My turn was coming, my turn to carry their demon that was no demon at all, yet was. That was when things changed in Dali, when four strangers wandered into our small town in the dead of night, exhausted and shrouded in mystery.
And in the middle of these three great cities was Dali, a farmer's town. At least it had been, until recently, when a tall man riding a great eagle changed all that. Men like Adner's father, good men, had been taken away then, to serve under the Alexandrian flag not knowing why or daring to ask. Jonas's father was taken with Adner's, as was his mother, for they were both of acceptable age. My mother was spared their fate, for she was fighting the same demon that my father had been beaten by sixteen years before, as I took my first breath. In that same moment my father drew his last breath, and to my mother was passed his dark infection, a blessing and a curse, forced upon generation after generation. And I was their only son. My turn was coming, my turn to carry their demon that was no demon at all, yet was. That was when things changed in Dali, when four strangers wandered into our small town in the dead of night, exhausted and shrouded in mystery.