Fire in the Soul

Prologue

An old, wrinkled woman wrapped in a bundle of fur skins stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace with enchanting ice blue eyes. Silver wisps of hair framed her gentle features as she clasped her hands in front of her. A young boy entered the small hut, quickly closing the hatch behind him as a burst of ice and snow whooshed through the small opening. The woman sat still, unfazed by the sudden chill. Without looking up, she beckoned for the boy to proceed.

"What brings you here, Finn?" She inquired, taking his warm, gloved hand.

The boy smiled, the orange firelight creating different shapes on his pale face. "I just wanted to see you, Grandmother."

The woman chuckled. "I suppose that's as good a reason as any." She patted the fur rug that lay beneath her rocker. "Come, sit with me. I have a very special story for you tonight."

Finn eagerly sat, leaning against the old wood of the rocking chair as he waited for the story to begin.

His grandmother took in a shallow breath, and began, her wise gaze never lifting from the hypnotizing tongues of flame before her.

"Once upon a time, before any of the four clans came to be, there was a fierce queen. So wild and unruly yet so calculating and clever, they called her the Tigress. Her name was known far and wide; Aseara. She was mighty, and as strong as the thunder that shakes the skies. She could leap incredible distances and run faster than the wind itself. She was graceful and beautiful beyond all measures.

But that wasn't all. She possessed one ability that deemed her almost unmatched by all. The power of fire, entrusted to her by the sun itself. As long as she lived, all of Syldrin prospered...

Little did the two, who sat huddled together by the fire know that miles and miles away, across the great land, there was another kindly old man telling his granddaughter the same story.

The girl sat quietly on a sand dune below the twinkling stars, not far from her father's large red tent and caravan of camels. Beside her rested an old man, who wove her tales of the constellations that guided their nomadic tribe across the seemingly endless desert sands.

"No one dared to oppose such an incredible ruler except for one, who rivaled her strength and glory. He was blessed with power that matched Aseara's, but with one difference. The sun had not given him any gift. Instead, it was the moon who bestowed upon him power over water and ice.

His name was Jorrik.

When he rose to power over the northern lands, Aseara felt threatened. She marched her armies across the land and right into his territories, tirelessly leading her men the whole way.

For centuries, the two warred against each other in a never ending battle. Neither could win because of their matched abilities. Unfortunately, the two became so caught up in their feud that they were beginning to scar the land they swore to protect. The people begged them to stop, their children and grandchildren were growing up in fear.

In seeing what she had done to the people and their homes, Aseara despaired. Her power had scorched much of Syldrin, causing vast deserts to take over large regions of the world. Jorrik's ice had brought chill and eternal winter to the places where Aseara's rage hadn't reached. There were only a few places that remained untouched by the two monarch's fury.

The night Aseara came to her senses, she vanished, distraught over the damage she had caused in her carelessness.

Jorrik, who had never intended to injure the people or the land, also disappeared soon after the Tigress. The two haven't been seen since, and the Syldrin is in disorder and uproar without their wise counseling, as you already know, my granddaughter.

However, it is said that the two monarchs passed their power to two people, and when they come into our bitter world, they will unite us, and hope will return.