Prologue

Hey guys. Now I know that I've got quite the record, but I decided it was time to update my blog. And with the beginnings of my story! -I want feedback. Yes Laura, you have my permission. You too Kyle. :P -All others, review it and tear it apart as you wish haha. For those who have read it before, it has been changed according to how my writing has changed since it was written.


Prologue: The First Casualty

The first thing I would like to do is to dedicate this journal to my brother and all of those who will fall in this war that, by now, must be enveloping my world. To any who find this, whether they be of Talik or of some other plane come to ours, my name is Seraface Arna. I am a descendant of a race of people called The Ancients. According to some artifacts and ruins they are believed to be the first people of Talik. They were rumored to be a people of magnificent magics, powers beyond what most of our own archmages only dream of having. It is probably because of this power that the demons which arose attacked my village. As descendants, we, my brother and I, have a chance to tap into that primal source of power. I suppose it would be had the chance in my brother's case. But I am rambling.

I am thirteen years of age and have been given this journal as a gift from my mentors of magic. They told me that I was the most promising student that they'd had since my brother came to them so many years ago. Unfortunately I will never be able to ask my brother if he was really as great as they said. Even as I write this, I know that what so many people feared for years has come. Two thousand years ago, the demon armies marched the land, planning to take it for their own. They were stopped by one man, Raclis. Raclis was also a descendant of the Ancients. He sent them back to their own realm and closed all the portals to their plane except one which he sealed with a gate. After a full two millennia, the legendary demon gate's seal has been broken. My village is to my back. It is burning because of a platoon of demons which stormed through hoping to kill all the remaining descendants by taking them by surprise.

They were able to defeat a creaj ranked sorcerer with minimal difficulty seeing as there were no demon bodies to be found but some unidentifiable black substance in various streaks around my brother's body. I can't believe that my brother was defeated without even taking one of the foul things with him. But here I am speaking as if you would know what I am on about. creaj is the name of one of the ranks that magic-users have. From the lowest to highest is tamlu, myscir, creaj, macris, and ki-macris. The words are actually the Ancients' names for their devoted sorcerers.

This isn't over. I may still only be a tamlu but I am a prodigy. I have pure magical strength which could have rivaled my brother, someone 10 years my senior. I almost feel bad for the demons who came through here because they missed someone. Someone who carries the blood of those who they fear the most. Someone who will ensure that they pay. They will pay for destroying my family and home. They will pay for the sorrow that they are no doubt causing others even now. They will pay for coming again to try and take this world for their own. They will pay for the graves which I and so many others must dig because of this war.