From Sea to Sky

p r o l o g u e

p r o l o g u e

FROM A DISTANCE they can't be seen, but the three men don't have stealth in mind as they run through the forest. The only thought on their minds is a single question: Are we too late?

   Leaves, branches, and roots reach out from the undergrowth, grabbing at their ankles and arms. It takes immense effort not to trip; falling to the ground would lose them precious time that they can't afford to waste.

   "I see it," the man in the lead yells, relief evident in his voice, his breathing labored from their rigorous speed, and the other two straighten, running with renewed vigor as the end becomes clear. All of them forget how long they have been running, but none of them forget why. That is too important.

   From the darkness of the jungle, a glowing light can be seen in front of the three men, illuminating the pitch black night. At the very sight of it, the men increase their speed, rushing forward in nervous anticipation towards the bright beacon. Once they reach the edge of the clearing, however, they all stop, looking about them cautiously as if expecting an immediate ambush.

   All is silent.

   The youngest of the three, only about 18 years of age, steps forward and looks about them curiously, his wide boyish eyes scanning their surroundings with a palpable nervous energy. His companions watch him in a surprisingly calm fashion, experience giving them a confidence their youthful companion lacks as he hurries to the center of the clearing, where a dying fire lies in an untended pit. He stares into the depths of the flames, before turning back to his two companions.

   "Are we too late?" he asks softly, eyes wide with horror at the implication of his words, and the other two exchange a glance.

   The other two men are visibly older than him, both around 25, and don't let their facial expression betray any sort of misgivings they may be feeling. They both know that panicking during a mission could get them killed. Despite their best efforts to conceal it, however, they still seem quite uneasy, and flinch at their companion's words.

   "If we were, Arlo, the whole forest would be burning by now," the eldest companion says and steps forward with an air of superiority about him, "there has to be another explanation."

   The youngest companion, Arlo, doesn't seem to be put at ease by his words, and their third companion seems just as unconvinced as he asks quietly. "And what if they're lying in wait for us, Atol? This is the perfect trap."

"We would know if they are here, Darius. We're alone for now." Atol says firmly and puts a steadying hand on Arlo's shoulder, looking into his eyes confidently. "Trust me, brother."

Arlo gazes back into the flames hopelessly, already jumping to the conclusion that they were indeed too late, despite his brother's words. He wonders if they could have gotten here quicker. Because of this mistake, the world as they know it could be doomed.

    A sudden gust of wind sweeps through the clearing, buffeting against the trees with an unnatural force, causing the dead leaves to shake free from their branches, cascading towards the ground eerily. As the wind reaches downwards, blowing past the trunks of the jungle trees, the fire blows out abruptly, dissipating into smoke. Their only source of light in the darkness is snuffed out, leaving the three men to reluctantly rely on the dim moonlight.

Arlo quickly moves back from the absence of light, panic sending adrenaline surging through his veins, and forcing his heart to beat at unnatural speeds. He retreats until he can sense his elder brother and Darius, by his side. They all instinctively reach for their weapons as a sudden magical chill sets over the clearing, and a heavy humid air falls over them as electricity charges the air and lightning threatens to strike. Darius and Atol draw their swords while Arlo wields a set of matching daggers, all their weapons gleaming dangerously in the moonlight.