Author's note: There is a map of the world where this story takes place but
I cannot post it on this site, so if you want to see it, you can email me,
and ill be glad to send it to you!
Part I
The Shadow
Deep in the fiery caverns of Mount Sirus, in the land of Ilrom, there was born a legend.
Once, on a cold and gloomy night,
The owls grew silent, for not all was right.
The land on the surface began to tremble and shake,
As the cracks in the world began to tremor and quake.
The people confused and frightened, they soon took to panic,
And the lords of the darkness were more than ecstatic.
But as fast as the quaking of the earth had begun,
It suddenly stopped at the dawn of the sun.
The next day was normal and all the people worked,
For little did they know that a new evil lurked.
Something had changed in the caverns of Mount Sirus,
A change ere recorded on scrolls of papyrus.
There was a sudden presence in the mountain, of a nature
unknown,
Evil had been erupted into the caverns of stone.
Over five hundred years passed quietly in Ilrom, and no one dared to go near the caverns, for the dark, cold presence was felt in the surrounding territories, and all who so much as gazed in its direction had an instant crescendo of fear that disappeared as quick as it came. The citizens of the land stayed away from Mount Sirus, and abandoned Ilrom . . .but evil possesses a deadly patience.
-----
Far off to the west, a quarter day by horse, in the Bella Crescent, was a small village, the birthplace of Aaron Gelder. He was the son of Pyaren, a farmer, and an only child. He was a young, astute boy, and had just recently celebrated his twenty-third birthday with his father and his two closest friends.
He woke early one morning- as he did every morning- to the bright sunlight and the stabbing, itchy straw of his bed. He lived in the next largest room of the large, stone house, smaller than only his father's. He slowly stepped out of his room and continued down the dark, windowless hall, past his father's wooden door and into the dining room.
"Good morning, my boy! Have some breakfast." Pyaren was seated at the small, round table, eating, and he had already set a place for Aaron to sit. Upon the plate before the empty chair, there was steam rising from some strange dish Pyaren had prepared. Aaron sat, and apprehensively stared at the food, wondering if it was edible.
His father looked over at him, "Eat your food, son!"
"I will, but I wonder. Why is it purple?"
"I apologize. I am not the cook your mother was!"
"Indeed, but why is it purple?" He prodded, smiling.
Pyaren looked at him with eyes of malice. "Purple crops make purple food!"
"Well, if I had some help in the fields," cried Aaron, "perhaps I could harvest the crops before they turn into such!"
"I haven't had time since your mother died. You know that, Aaron."
Aaron was suddenly ashamed, and he surrendered. "I am sorry." He took one bite of the purple produce. He chewed slowly, and a look of disgust crept onto his face. He placed his fork gently onto the table. "Well, that was good! I must be getting to the fields now!"
"Oh, come now! It's not that bad. Is it?"
"Farewell, father!" Aaron insisted. Refreshed and lively, he hurried outside to begin his work in the fields. He was feeling quite well that morning, for the excitement of his birthday party still flowed in his blood, invigorating him, and he exerted his energy in the freedom of the lonely fields, meaning he raced his shadow through the endless rows of crops. After some time at this, he suddenly came to the realization that he had forgotten to work, and he promptly seized his hoe and forced himself into a mode of toil.
After lunch, he returned to the fields and continued working, though not as hard, for he always made sure to leave only light work for the afternoon. He allowed himself to act wild again, and giddily he worked until the sky grew dark.
But that evening, underneath the twilight, as he was coming in from the fields for supper, Aaron was startled suddenly by a loud, thundering roar. He turned toward the source of the sound, and discovered the steep, shadowed slopes of the dark mountain of Ilrom. A sudden stiff breeze came, blowing back his thick, dark-brown hair, and chilling him with fright. But the fear did not dissipate as it usually did; instead it intensified and spread to every limb of his body, until he could not move. And Aaron, paralyzed and traumatized, suddenly heard a soft whisper from afar. It was so subtle, he almost missed it. It uttered only one word, a word he did not understand: Seer.
The breeze halted, feeling returned to Aaron's body, and he turned toward his house and went in for supper. He did not say a word of what happened to his father.
-----
Part I
The Shadow
Deep in the fiery caverns of Mount Sirus, in the land of Ilrom, there was born a legend.
Once, on a cold and gloomy night,
The owls grew silent, for not all was right.
The land on the surface began to tremble and shake,
As the cracks in the world began to tremor and quake.
The people confused and frightened, they soon took to panic,
And the lords of the darkness were more than ecstatic.
But as fast as the quaking of the earth had begun,
It suddenly stopped at the dawn of the sun.
The next day was normal and all the people worked,
For little did they know that a new evil lurked.
Something had changed in the caverns of Mount Sirus,
A change ere recorded on scrolls of papyrus.
There was a sudden presence in the mountain, of a nature
unknown,
Evil had been erupted into the caverns of stone.
Over five hundred years passed quietly in Ilrom, and no one dared to go near the caverns, for the dark, cold presence was felt in the surrounding territories, and all who so much as gazed in its direction had an instant crescendo of fear that disappeared as quick as it came. The citizens of the land stayed away from Mount Sirus, and abandoned Ilrom . . .but evil possesses a deadly patience.
-----
Far off to the west, a quarter day by horse, in the Bella Crescent, was a small village, the birthplace of Aaron Gelder. He was the son of Pyaren, a farmer, and an only child. He was a young, astute boy, and had just recently celebrated his twenty-third birthday with his father and his two closest friends.
He woke early one morning- as he did every morning- to the bright sunlight and the stabbing, itchy straw of his bed. He lived in the next largest room of the large, stone house, smaller than only his father's. He slowly stepped out of his room and continued down the dark, windowless hall, past his father's wooden door and into the dining room.
"Good morning, my boy! Have some breakfast." Pyaren was seated at the small, round table, eating, and he had already set a place for Aaron to sit. Upon the plate before the empty chair, there was steam rising from some strange dish Pyaren had prepared. Aaron sat, and apprehensively stared at the food, wondering if it was edible.
His father looked over at him, "Eat your food, son!"
"I will, but I wonder. Why is it purple?"
"I apologize. I am not the cook your mother was!"
"Indeed, but why is it purple?" He prodded, smiling.
Pyaren looked at him with eyes of malice. "Purple crops make purple food!"
"Well, if I had some help in the fields," cried Aaron, "perhaps I could harvest the crops before they turn into such!"
"I haven't had time since your mother died. You know that, Aaron."
Aaron was suddenly ashamed, and he surrendered. "I am sorry." He took one bite of the purple produce. He chewed slowly, and a look of disgust crept onto his face. He placed his fork gently onto the table. "Well, that was good! I must be getting to the fields now!"
"Oh, come now! It's not that bad. Is it?"
"Farewell, father!" Aaron insisted. Refreshed and lively, he hurried outside to begin his work in the fields. He was feeling quite well that morning, for the excitement of his birthday party still flowed in his blood, invigorating him, and he exerted his energy in the freedom of the lonely fields, meaning he raced his shadow through the endless rows of crops. After some time at this, he suddenly came to the realization that he had forgotten to work, and he promptly seized his hoe and forced himself into a mode of toil.
After lunch, he returned to the fields and continued working, though not as hard, for he always made sure to leave only light work for the afternoon. He allowed himself to act wild again, and giddily he worked until the sky grew dark.
But that evening, underneath the twilight, as he was coming in from the fields for supper, Aaron was startled suddenly by a loud, thundering roar. He turned toward the source of the sound, and discovered the steep, shadowed slopes of the dark mountain of Ilrom. A sudden stiff breeze came, blowing back his thick, dark-brown hair, and chilling him with fright. But the fear did not dissipate as it usually did; instead it intensified and spread to every limb of his body, until he could not move. And Aaron, paralyzed and traumatized, suddenly heard a soft whisper from afar. It was so subtle, he almost missed it. It uttered only one word, a word he did not understand: Seer.
The breeze halted, feeling returned to Aaron's body, and he turned toward his house and went in for supper. He did not say a word of what happened to his father.
-----
