Prologue
Spoiler:
Kraz the despised, the king of ruin, the great desolator, stared out from the darkness of his damp, mountain cave and out unto the rich lands of Mundi. His eyes filled with a hate-fuelled fire. It had been twenty years since the throne was reclaimed by the rightful heir. Twenty years since Kraz was dethroned and banished to the edge of the continent. Twenty years since the kingdoms were freed from poverty, freed from oppression and freed from the tyrannical grip of Kraz. Twenty years on and still he dreamed of what once was. The castle with its lavish furnishings and giant rooms. Servants tending to his every want and need. The lush gardens filled with blooms of flowers, vibrant shrubbery, streams teeming with fish and birds softly whispering their songs to the wind. But now, nothing. Only the despondency of the damp, mouldy cave in which he lived, and the valley of sand and dust below him. He cursed at the land ahead of him, and the folk who sent him into exile.
Below his cave in the stark mountains of sand and dust, was his new kingdom, Trono. It was dry, and empty. Daily storms blew in striking the ground black with lightning. The booms of thunder echoed throughout the sandy valley, and thick, red, dust carried on the wind. The air was dense; it choked the lungs and sent a dry fire down the throat of any who breathed it.
Kraz watched over his new citizens below, as they trained and practiced. The song of steel on steel carried through the valley, and Kraz allowed a momentary grin to spread across his bloodless lips. As quick as it came, it was gone, replaced by the blank grimace he normally wore.
His new minions were the Toros. They were slender, and quick beings, largely resembling a human, but with large, amber, cat-like eyes. Whiskers sprouted off of their snout-like nose, and their teeth were thin, but strong and razor sharp.
'My Liege,' a husky voice called.
Kraz turned to face his second in charge, the largest of the Toros, Quin. Quin was different to the others. His body was thick with sinewy muscle, and his eyes were like emeralds; glowing green with thick, long pupils. They stared unblinking.
'Yes Quin?' Kraz asked, turning to face his advisor.
'The scouts have heard rumours...' Quin started.
'Quin!' Kraz shouted, grabbing the Toros by the throat. 'Spit it out, before I rip out your throat.'
'The location of the ancient pendant,' Quin choked. 'They have an approximate location.'
Kraz let go of his advisors throat, and Quin sucked in the dusty air.
'Good, good!' he said with jest. 'Today marks the first step towards my reclamation. Have the rest of your kin assemble in the courtyard below. It's time we acted.'
Below his cave in the stark mountains of sand and dust, was his new kingdom, Trono. It was dry, and empty. Daily storms blew in striking the ground black with lightning. The booms of thunder echoed throughout the sandy valley, and thick, red, dust carried on the wind. The air was dense; it choked the lungs and sent a dry fire down the throat of any who breathed it.
Kraz watched over his new citizens below, as they trained and practiced. The song of steel on steel carried through the valley, and Kraz allowed a momentary grin to spread across his bloodless lips. As quick as it came, it was gone, replaced by the blank grimace he normally wore.
His new minions were the Toros. They were slender, and quick beings, largely resembling a human, but with large, amber, cat-like eyes. Whiskers sprouted off of their snout-like nose, and their teeth were thin, but strong and razor sharp.
'My Liege,' a husky voice called.
Kraz turned to face his second in charge, the largest of the Toros, Quin. Quin was different to the others. His body was thick with sinewy muscle, and his eyes were like emeralds; glowing green with thick, long pupils. They stared unblinking.
'Yes Quin?' Kraz asked, turning to face his advisor.
'The scouts have heard rumours...' Quin started.
'Quin!' Kraz shouted, grabbing the Toros by the throat. 'Spit it out, before I rip out your throat.'
'The location of the ancient pendant,' Quin choked. 'They have an approximate location.'
Kraz let go of his advisors throat, and Quin sucked in the dusty air.
'Good, good!' he said with jest. 'Today marks the first step towards my reclamation. Have the rest of your kin assemble in the courtyard below. It's time we acted.'
Chapter 1
Spoiler:
Jax woke with heavy eyes as the sun shone through the window of his tree home. Today was the day he had dreamed of his whole life. Today was the day Jax would be sent on his journey. The journey every young person must make to ascend to adulthood in the village of Omdala. Jax leapt out of bed and stretched his arms and legs, and let out a loud yawn. His blonde hair fell to his shoulders in a tangled heap, and he threw on his clothes, dyed the village colours of navy blue. He breathed in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting a soft whistle escape his lips. And with that, he walked out of the hollow tree trunk that was his home.
Jax walked out into the fresh air and sunshine. The village was bustling and humming with activity as people busied themselves with the everyday activities. Laughter carried on the sweet summer wind, water splashed as fish were hooked on the fisherman's line, and the soft sound of singing set an easing chill down the body. Jax showed his pearly white teeth with a toothy grin, and his heart fluttered with excitement. He glanced up at the clock tower, and his heart stopped dead. No fluttering. No thumping. Happiness faded from his face, and a grim dread replaced it. He had five minutes to get to the elders hut on the other side of the village. He shook his head and began to run.
Jax reached the river puffing and panting heavily with a raspy breathlessness. On a stone next to the river, the village elder Kori sat peacefully. Kori's hair was thick, giving him a youthful look. What was once jet black, was beginning to fade to grey. As far as Jax knew, Kori had never shaved his beard, or cut his hair. Instead, he let it grow as sign to his endless knowledge and wisdom.
Jax cautiously crept up on Kori, careful not to disturb his meditative state. When he held his breath, he could hear the soft sound of Kori's own breathing; in and out slowly through his nose. Jax went to speak, but Kori beat him to it.
'Slept late Jax?' Kori said as he opened his eyes and gave Jax a wide smile.
‘Elder Kori,’ Jax said and paused to give himself time to think of an excuse. Nothing came to mind. ‘Yes Elder, I overslept. I’m sorry.’
Kori looked at Jax with a keen eye, surveying him. He looked down at his toes, then back to his eyes.
‘Are you sure you are ready?’ Kori asked. ‘There has never been an easy journey in our village. They’ve all had their challenges, and they've all certainly had their dangers. Do you know how many people have not returned from their journey?’
‘No, Elder.’
‘Over one hundred and fifty, that have been recorded. More than the population of our village currently.’
Jax’ expression remained stony and hard. But behind this, his teeth chattered.
‘I’ll ask you again, Jax. Are you sure you are ready?’
‘I’m sure,’ he said, hiding the quiver in his voice.
Kori stood up and motioned over towards the water. Jax fell in behind, and stared at the rippling pool below. His reflection danced and swayed and began to fade, as the water changed from clear blue, to the metallic colour of steel and iron.
'Place your hand in the pool,' Kori said.
Jax nodded, and slipped his hand into the metallic water. It was thick and soupy; the liquid was lukewarm.
'From this, you will receive one of the many ancestral weapons our village has from the Great War,'
Kori said. 'All of them have a story; all of them are special in their own way. Some are said to contain special powers, and some have not been drawn from the pool for centuries.'
The water began to stir. Jax's upper arm began to shake and he winced at the dull pain in his wrist. His shoulder slowly began to dip towards the water. The wind began to howl and stir around the pool, and the ripples grew into small, metallic waves, lapping gently at the grass bank.
'Now pull!' Kori shouted above the wind's cries.
Jax went to pull his arm out. Something icy cold touched his hand, and he was sucked into the water.
'Jax!' Kori cried.
Under the water, Jax opened his eyes. The water flowed back and forth and he could see the multitude of weapons below him. Swords, daggers, axes, hatchets. One in particular caught his eye. It was long, and sharp, and curved like the quarter moon. It glowed a dull blue, like the predawn sky. It's hilt was a faded golden colour, woven with a bright crimson fabric. Jax stretched his arm as far as he could, his fingers brushed the hilt. Again, the icy cold feel spread through his hand and up his arm. His throat began to constrict and his lungs burned deeply, crying for the fresh air. His shirt tightened around his neck, and he let out a muffled yelp. Thick, silver bubbles rose from his mouth. Something pulled at him, and he was hoisted out of the water. Before he knew it, he was on his back on the grassy bank, gasping for air. The sun shone brightly down on his red face; his hand raised to shield his eyes from the midday rays. Kori stood over him, blocking out the sun; his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed at the sight of Jax's panting.
'Never in my years as Elder, have I seen such an incident,' Kori said, shaking his head.
Jax grinned widely. He clenched his hand around the cool golden hilt of his new sword.
'At least I got my weapon, Elder,' Jax said with the large grin still painted on his face. He continued to pant through his teeth.
'Yes, that is something,' Kori sighed, still eyeing Jax closely. He shifted his gaze towards the sword. 'Let's see?'
Jax sat up and presented the weapon to Kori. The Elder grasped the hilt of the sword. Sweat broke out on his forehead, his brow tensed and his lips pursed. Kori's arm shook violently, and he let a quiet cry of pain escape his throat as smoke billowed off of his hand in thin grey wisps. The sword landed next to Jax with a thud. The light blue blade shimmered as it lay in the grass.
'My my,' Kori said, staring at his smoking hand. 'It felt like I was gripping hot coals.'
Jax stood, after finally regaining his breath. He clutched the hilt of the sword, and lifted it up to his eyes to examine it.
'It's not hot at all, Elder,' Jax said. 'In fact, it's rather cold. Like the stream water during winter-spring.'
'Jax, let me see the sword once more.'
Jax held the sword in front of Kori's eyes. The old man studied it carefully, hovering over the woven crimson fabric in the golden hilt. His eyes widened and lips tightened. Kori turned his back to Jax and began to run towards his hut.
'Elder, where are you going?' Jax said, chasing after him. But Kori continued to run without looking back.
Jax walked out into the fresh air and sunshine. The village was bustling and humming with activity as people busied themselves with the everyday activities. Laughter carried on the sweet summer wind, water splashed as fish were hooked on the fisherman's line, and the soft sound of singing set an easing chill down the body. Jax showed his pearly white teeth with a toothy grin, and his heart fluttered with excitement. He glanced up at the clock tower, and his heart stopped dead. No fluttering. No thumping. Happiness faded from his face, and a grim dread replaced it. He had five minutes to get to the elders hut on the other side of the village. He shook his head and began to run.
Jax reached the river puffing and panting heavily with a raspy breathlessness. On a stone next to the river, the village elder Kori sat peacefully. Kori's hair was thick, giving him a youthful look. What was once jet black, was beginning to fade to grey. As far as Jax knew, Kori had never shaved his beard, or cut his hair. Instead, he let it grow as sign to his endless knowledge and wisdom.
Jax cautiously crept up on Kori, careful not to disturb his meditative state. When he held his breath, he could hear the soft sound of Kori's own breathing; in and out slowly through his nose. Jax went to speak, but Kori beat him to it.
'Slept late Jax?' Kori said as he opened his eyes and gave Jax a wide smile.
‘Elder Kori,’ Jax said and paused to give himself time to think of an excuse. Nothing came to mind. ‘Yes Elder, I overslept. I’m sorry.’
Kori looked at Jax with a keen eye, surveying him. He looked down at his toes, then back to his eyes.
‘Are you sure you are ready?’ Kori asked. ‘There has never been an easy journey in our village. They’ve all had their challenges, and they've all certainly had their dangers. Do you know how many people have not returned from their journey?’
‘No, Elder.’
‘Over one hundred and fifty, that have been recorded. More than the population of our village currently.’
Jax’ expression remained stony and hard. But behind this, his teeth chattered.
‘I’ll ask you again, Jax. Are you sure you are ready?’
‘I’m sure,’ he said, hiding the quiver in his voice.
Kori stood up and motioned over towards the water. Jax fell in behind, and stared at the rippling pool below. His reflection danced and swayed and began to fade, as the water changed from clear blue, to the metallic colour of steel and iron.
'Place your hand in the pool,' Kori said.
Jax nodded, and slipped his hand into the metallic water. It was thick and soupy; the liquid was lukewarm.
'From this, you will receive one of the many ancestral weapons our village has from the Great War,'
Kori said. 'All of them have a story; all of them are special in their own way. Some are said to contain special powers, and some have not been drawn from the pool for centuries.'
The water began to stir. Jax's upper arm began to shake and he winced at the dull pain in his wrist. His shoulder slowly began to dip towards the water. The wind began to howl and stir around the pool, and the ripples grew into small, metallic waves, lapping gently at the grass bank.
'Now pull!' Kori shouted above the wind's cries.
Jax went to pull his arm out. Something icy cold touched his hand, and he was sucked into the water.
'Jax!' Kori cried.
Under the water, Jax opened his eyes. The water flowed back and forth and he could see the multitude of weapons below him. Swords, daggers, axes, hatchets. One in particular caught his eye. It was long, and sharp, and curved like the quarter moon. It glowed a dull blue, like the predawn sky. It's hilt was a faded golden colour, woven with a bright crimson fabric. Jax stretched his arm as far as he could, his fingers brushed the hilt. Again, the icy cold feel spread through his hand and up his arm. His throat began to constrict and his lungs burned deeply, crying for the fresh air. His shirt tightened around his neck, and he let out a muffled yelp. Thick, silver bubbles rose from his mouth. Something pulled at him, and he was hoisted out of the water. Before he knew it, he was on his back on the grassy bank, gasping for air. The sun shone brightly down on his red face; his hand raised to shield his eyes from the midday rays. Kori stood over him, blocking out the sun; his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed at the sight of Jax's panting.
'Never in my years as Elder, have I seen such an incident,' Kori said, shaking his head.
Jax grinned widely. He clenched his hand around the cool golden hilt of his new sword.
'At least I got my weapon, Elder,' Jax said with the large grin still painted on his face. He continued to pant through his teeth.
'Yes, that is something,' Kori sighed, still eyeing Jax closely. He shifted his gaze towards the sword. 'Let's see?'
Jax sat up and presented the weapon to Kori. The Elder grasped the hilt of the sword. Sweat broke out on his forehead, his brow tensed and his lips pursed. Kori's arm shook violently, and he let a quiet cry of pain escape his throat as smoke billowed off of his hand in thin grey wisps. The sword landed next to Jax with a thud. The light blue blade shimmered as it lay in the grass.
'My my,' Kori said, staring at his smoking hand. 'It felt like I was gripping hot coals.'
Jax stood, after finally regaining his breath. He clutched the hilt of the sword, and lifted it up to his eyes to examine it.
'It's not hot at all, Elder,' Jax said. 'In fact, it's rather cold. Like the stream water during winter-spring.'
'Jax, let me see the sword once more.'
Jax held the sword in front of Kori's eyes. The old man studied it carefully, hovering over the woven crimson fabric in the golden hilt. His eyes widened and lips tightened. Kori turned his back to Jax and began to run towards his hut.
'Elder, where are you going?' Jax said, chasing after him. But Kori continued to run without looking back.
Chapter 2
Spoiler:
Jax rapped his knuckles on the wooden door of Kori's hut.
'Elder Kori?' he whispered as he creaked open the door.
The room was dark, lit only by a small candle whose flame flickered and danced in the wind. Their shadows warped and grew to an enormous size and quickly shrank to miniscule black spots on the wall. Jax closed the door and the fire settled and the room was still; bursting with the sound of rustling paper and incoherent mutterings. Kori stood over a wooden crate filled with countless tomes and ledgers and loose sheets of paper. His shoulders were hunched and his head dropped and sunk low. Papers flew in the air and gracefully flopped to the ground.
'Elder, is there something wrong?'
Kori stopped and glared at the single piece of wrinkled paper. His hands quivered and the rustling of the paper in his hands kept the silence at bay. Kori brushed past Jax as though he wasn't there. He laid the crinkled, yellow paper on the table and smoothed it over with the palm of his hand. He traced the words with the tip of his finger.
'The prophet's sword,' Kori said softly. 'Pale blue and hilted with treasure. Crimson fire webs sewn into the gold.'
Jax crept over to Kori and peered over his shoulder. Kori ignored him and examined the paper.
'Jax!' He yelled.
Jax's heart jumped, and the hairs on his neck stood on end. A muffled, startled, yelp escaped his throat.
'Y-yes Elder?'
'Place the sword on the table,' Kori said, clearing the table. 'Quickly Jax.'
Jax placed the sword tentatively on the table. Kori pressed his face close to the hilt, stroking the crimson fabric. He snatched his hand back and sucked his fingers.
'And the hilt will burn the hands of those not worthy...' Kori breathed. 'The sword of Numen. The great sword of our village. The sword of the prophets.'
Jax scratched his head, and reached for the paper. Kori swatted his hand away.
'Jax, you must leave my hut. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss this journey of yours. But first, I must meditate. I feel a great calamity is beginning to unfold.'
'But Elder, what does it mean?'
'The texts state that the sword of Numen only shows itself when the time is of the utmost importance. When a member of our village is worthy enough to wield it to see to the task it showed itself for.'
'But what is my task?'
'Jax,' Kori stopped and thought. 'I know you must have thousands of questions; questions that you deserve answers to. But I don't have the answers yet. I'm afraid I may never have the answers. But I will search. Give me time and I will seek you out.'
Jax crossed his arms, uncertain and disappointed. Without a word he turned to leave.
'Jax, your sword,' Kori said. 'Do not lose it. Together, you and the sword are the only hope for quelling the crisis that is set to be unleashed on our world. Go rest, Jax. The drawing of the sword will have taken its toll on you.'
Jax nodded, grabbed the sword and exited the hut. His mind raced and buzzed and flipped with questions and answers and thoughts. Night had come over the village and the nocturnal animals sang their twilight tunes. The moon was bright and bold and full; illuminating the path home for Jax. His sword swung back and forth, hanging off of his hip in a polished leather scabbard. Jax leaned slightly to the right; still not used to the abnormal weight at his side. He drew the sword and held it in front of his eyes while he walked. The moon bounced off the blade with a dull sheen. Jax rubbed his hand over the smooth, curved surface. A satisfied smile parted his lips.
The village was quiet, with the soft hush of the wind the only audible noise. The tree house's glowed as fireflies buzzed around the windows and door frames. The occasional head of a villager popped through a window and looked down at Jax, but pulled back when they spotted the sword in his hands. Jax paid no attention. His eyes still cast on his sword, his mind still raced with what had happened.
Jax sat on his bed, and laid the sword to the side. His head hit the pillow and his eyes drooped closed. As he felt sleep gently taking him from reality, his head still swam with the events of the day.
A few days past and Jax walked through the village center. Voices hushed and whispered and fingers pointed at Jax, and at the weapon at his side. Most villagers eyes tightened to suspicious glares.
'He's not normal,' he heard one man say.
'He'll bring chaos to our village,' a woman cried.
'Freak,' said another. 'Leave our village in peace!'
Jax kept his head down, and tried to ignore the taunts of the people he once considered family. His eyes traced his footsteps, and almost instinctively now, his hand hovered over the hilt of Numen. His cheeks burned red, and the stares of the people felt like burning pincers in the back of his skull.
Jax made his way to the pond, and sat on the same rock Kori had been sitting on, on the day he pulled the sword of Numen from the depths of the metallic pool. He laid the sword out on the rock, with his knees tucked into his chest, resting his head on his arms, keeping his head down.
'Kori, where are you?' he whispered. 'You told me you'd find me. It's been days.'
Jax glanced up and looked out across the metallic pond.
'Where are you?' he said louder.
Over the pond, the shrubbery shook and rustled. Jax stared into the bushes, cautiousness painted his face. He stood slowly, and snatched at the sword. But there was nothing. No icy cold feeling of the hilt in his hands. No heavy weight of the thick metal. Nothing but thin air.
'Where is it?' Jax cried. 'Where is it? Where did it go?'
He jumped up off the rock and circled around, looking for Numen.
'How can it disappear?' he thumped himself in the leg. 'How could you lose it?' he yelled at himself.
The bushes rustled across the pond once more. Standing on the edge of the shrubbery half emerged in the foliage was a girl. Her hair draped her shoulders with a thick, black blanket. Her hand was covered by a cloth, whilst holding the sword of Numen. The sword of the Prophets. Jax's sword.
'Hey!' he yelled. 'Get back here, that's mine!'
She turned, and retreated into the thickness of the forest. Jax chased after her, his eyes wept as his golden hair trailed behind him in the wind.
'Elder Kori?' he whispered as he creaked open the door.
The room was dark, lit only by a small candle whose flame flickered and danced in the wind. Their shadows warped and grew to an enormous size and quickly shrank to miniscule black spots on the wall. Jax closed the door and the fire settled and the room was still; bursting with the sound of rustling paper and incoherent mutterings. Kori stood over a wooden crate filled with countless tomes and ledgers and loose sheets of paper. His shoulders were hunched and his head dropped and sunk low. Papers flew in the air and gracefully flopped to the ground.
'Elder, is there something wrong?'
Kori stopped and glared at the single piece of wrinkled paper. His hands quivered and the rustling of the paper in his hands kept the silence at bay. Kori brushed past Jax as though he wasn't there. He laid the crinkled, yellow paper on the table and smoothed it over with the palm of his hand. He traced the words with the tip of his finger.
'The prophet's sword,' Kori said softly. 'Pale blue and hilted with treasure. Crimson fire webs sewn into the gold.'
Jax crept over to Kori and peered over his shoulder. Kori ignored him and examined the paper.
'Jax!' He yelled.
Jax's heart jumped, and the hairs on his neck stood on end. A muffled, startled, yelp escaped his throat.
'Y-yes Elder?'
'Place the sword on the table,' Kori said, clearing the table. 'Quickly Jax.'
Jax placed the sword tentatively on the table. Kori pressed his face close to the hilt, stroking the crimson fabric. He snatched his hand back and sucked his fingers.
'And the hilt will burn the hands of those not worthy...' Kori breathed. 'The sword of Numen. The great sword of our village. The sword of the prophets.'
Jax scratched his head, and reached for the paper. Kori swatted his hand away.
'Jax, you must leave my hut. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss this journey of yours. But first, I must meditate. I feel a great calamity is beginning to unfold.'
'But Elder, what does it mean?'
'The texts state that the sword of Numen only shows itself when the time is of the utmost importance. When a member of our village is worthy enough to wield it to see to the task it showed itself for.'
'But what is my task?'
'Jax,' Kori stopped and thought. 'I know you must have thousands of questions; questions that you deserve answers to. But I don't have the answers yet. I'm afraid I may never have the answers. But I will search. Give me time and I will seek you out.'
Jax crossed his arms, uncertain and disappointed. Without a word he turned to leave.
'Jax, your sword,' Kori said. 'Do not lose it. Together, you and the sword are the only hope for quelling the crisis that is set to be unleashed on our world. Go rest, Jax. The drawing of the sword will have taken its toll on you.'
Jax nodded, grabbed the sword and exited the hut. His mind raced and buzzed and flipped with questions and answers and thoughts. Night had come over the village and the nocturnal animals sang their twilight tunes. The moon was bright and bold and full; illuminating the path home for Jax. His sword swung back and forth, hanging off of his hip in a polished leather scabbard. Jax leaned slightly to the right; still not used to the abnormal weight at his side. He drew the sword and held it in front of his eyes while he walked. The moon bounced off the blade with a dull sheen. Jax rubbed his hand over the smooth, curved surface. A satisfied smile parted his lips.
The village was quiet, with the soft hush of the wind the only audible noise. The tree house's glowed as fireflies buzzed around the windows and door frames. The occasional head of a villager popped through a window and looked down at Jax, but pulled back when they spotted the sword in his hands. Jax paid no attention. His eyes still cast on his sword, his mind still raced with what had happened.
Jax sat on his bed, and laid the sword to the side. His head hit the pillow and his eyes drooped closed. As he felt sleep gently taking him from reality, his head still swam with the events of the day.
A few days past and Jax walked through the village center. Voices hushed and whispered and fingers pointed at Jax, and at the weapon at his side. Most villagers eyes tightened to suspicious glares.
'He's not normal,' he heard one man say.
'He'll bring chaos to our village,' a woman cried.
'Freak,' said another. 'Leave our village in peace!'
Jax kept his head down, and tried to ignore the taunts of the people he once considered family. His eyes traced his footsteps, and almost instinctively now, his hand hovered over the hilt of Numen. His cheeks burned red, and the stares of the people felt like burning pincers in the back of his skull.
Jax made his way to the pond, and sat on the same rock Kori had been sitting on, on the day he pulled the sword of Numen from the depths of the metallic pool. He laid the sword out on the rock, with his knees tucked into his chest, resting his head on his arms, keeping his head down.
'Kori, where are you?' he whispered. 'You told me you'd find me. It's been days.'
Jax glanced up and looked out across the metallic pond.
'Where are you?' he said louder.
Over the pond, the shrubbery shook and rustled. Jax stared into the bushes, cautiousness painted his face. He stood slowly, and snatched at the sword. But there was nothing. No icy cold feeling of the hilt in his hands. No heavy weight of the thick metal. Nothing but thin air.
'Where is it?' Jax cried. 'Where is it? Where did it go?'
He jumped up off the rock and circled around, looking for Numen.
'How can it disappear?' he thumped himself in the leg. 'How could you lose it?' he yelled at himself.
The bushes rustled across the pond once more. Standing on the edge of the shrubbery half emerged in the foliage was a girl. Her hair draped her shoulders with a thick, black blanket. Her hand was covered by a cloth, whilst holding the sword of Numen. The sword of the Prophets. Jax's sword.
'Hey!' he yelled. 'Get back here, that's mine!'
She turned, and retreated into the thickness of the forest. Jax chased after her, his eyes wept as his golden hair trailed behind him in the wind.
