became
ingrained inside their heads, like an annoying, yet frightening
song.
The
Star-caster made them all invisible once more until they were out
of sight of their enemies, just in case. Although a horse riding
alone (with its saddle and gear on) and without anybody on it,
would have been suspicious for anyone to see.
They soon
fixated on the star, trying not to worry so much now, and moved
closer to its presence. Although they knew they would never reach
it, it did begin to look bigger in a suspicious way. Which they all
agreed was strange for a star.
Among one
of those needed things they packed in Silvarian, was a small map of
where they believed they would be travelling, if they were to
follow the star. It showed their journey, and even all of Eleanor
and Christian’s journey from what was once their home village.
Whilst
Eleanor talked about how much her life had drastically changed in
just a couple of days to Ematay, Christian drew on the map. Yet he
didn’t deface it too much.
He just
drew things children would. Things with a not so steady hand: Like
swords, stick men, resembling the three of them. A shield with the
symbol of Astora on: A swan. He drew a fire too. All of this was
drawn with a magickal quill, one with never ending ink; created by
the Adalasians on their own world, Adalas.
They
spent many hours riding and tried to keep to having food and rest
once or twice at the most each day.
Thoughts
plagued them all as they rode in silence of the Shadows already
having taken on the Silver Cathedral, which means their world would
no longer be as before—nor their people. All they had now was the
mere word of ‘hope’ to keep referring to. And hoped that it was on
their side in these dark, changing times. Because if they thought
on the truth of all that moved and was happening, it would disturb
even the minds of the gods right now. Let alone themselves, as mere
humanoids.
A History Told. A History Seen
As Eleanor
walked on she daydreamed too of something that seemed to have
lingered inside and felt necessary to worry about about people, but
there was still little that could be done about it on her own.
She
remembered this especially because this was the last thing she
could remember of her father. Him talking to her, telling her of
their world when it was all very new to her young eyes. He spoke of
Amaranth, and the truth behind their degrading system they passed
on to Astora, their home world. Though she didn’t understand much
of it then, she understood it all now. Maybe too well.
“It is
still caught in its medieval ways, not just with weapons and such,
but with brutality. There is a very unfair democracy; and it has
always taken place since anyone could remember on Amaranth. The
council members on this planet were always wealthy bureaucrats that
cared only about their own wealth and profit; that was all. All of
them came from a business life and background. An industry of
farming, tailoring, stable keeping, Inns, blacksmiths, protectors
and guards, amongst others. The ones that always had a sky high
profit from the many thousands of people in the one and only city.
Everything our own world is against.
Amaranth is
also the world where Spell-casters originated from, and from them
they passed on the knowledge to the other two worlds.
But Adalas
refused to use their magick; sticking with their own corrupt-less
system few know about to this day. Although it has been speculated
it is a power that was given as a gift before any were alive.
The most
well known people on Amaranth—their Edeolon warriors, are the only
power to arise from their system that gives our united Starao
nation hope for progress and betterment.
The Edeolon
Warriors will always be the strongest of all warriors; being the
first six born into every millennium, there was so little of them
to go around, which makes them all the more important to
protect.
But with
these extraordinary beings, a talent emerges when they hit the
double
ingrained inside their heads, like an annoying, yet frightening
song.
The
Star-caster made them all invisible once more until they were out
of sight of their enemies, just in case. Although a horse riding
alone (with its saddle and gear on) and without anybody on it,
would have been suspicious for anyone to see.
They soon
fixated on the star, trying not to worry so much now, and moved
closer to its presence. Although they knew they would never reach
it, it did begin to look bigger in a suspicious way. Which they all
agreed was strange for a star.
Among one
of those needed things they packed in Silvarian, was a small map of
where they believed they would be travelling, if they were to
follow the star. It showed their journey, and even all of Eleanor
and Christian’s journey from what was once their home village.
Whilst
Eleanor talked about how much her life had drastically changed in
just a couple of days to Ematay, Christian drew on the map. Yet he
didn’t deface it too much.
He just
drew things children would. Things with a not so steady hand: Like
swords, stick men, resembling the three of them. A shield with the
symbol of Astora on: A swan. He drew a fire too. All of this was
drawn with a magickal quill, one with never ending ink; created by
the Adalasians on their own world, Adalas.
They
spent many hours riding and tried to keep to having food and rest
once or twice at the most each day.
Thoughts
plagued them all as they rode in silence of the Shadows already
having taken on the Silver Cathedral, which means their world would
no longer be as before—nor their people. All they had now was the
mere word of ‘hope’ to keep referring to. And hoped that it was on
their side in these dark, changing times. Because if they thought
on the truth of all that moved and was happening, it would disturb
even the minds of the gods right now. Let alone themselves, as mere
humanoids.
A History Told. A History Seen
As Eleanor
walked on she daydreamed too of something that seemed to have
lingered inside and felt necessary to worry about about people, but
there was still little that could be done about it on her own.
She
remembered this especially because this was the last thing she
could remember of her father. Him talking to her, telling her of
their world when it was all very new to her young eyes. He spoke of
Amaranth, and the truth behind their degrading system they passed
on to Astora, their home world. Though she didn’t understand much
of it then, she understood it all now. Maybe too well.
“It is
still caught in its medieval ways, not just with weapons and such,
but with brutality. There is a very unfair democracy; and it has
always taken place since anyone could remember on Amaranth. The
council members on this planet were always wealthy bureaucrats that
cared only about their own wealth and profit; that was all. All of
them came from a business life and background. An industry of
farming, tailoring, stable keeping, Inns, blacksmiths, protectors
and guards, amongst others. The ones that always had a sky high
profit from the many thousands of people in the one and only city.
Everything our own world is against.
Amaranth is
also the world where Spell-casters originated from, and from them
they passed on the knowledge to the other two worlds.
But Adalas
refused to use their magick; sticking with their own corrupt-less
system few know about to this day. Although it has been speculated
it is a power that was given as a gift before any were alive.
The most
well known people on Amaranth—their Edeolon warriors, are the only
power to arise from their system that gives our united Starao
nation hope for progress and betterment.
The Edeolon
Warriors will always be the strongest of all warriors; being the
first six born into every millennium, there was so little of them
to go around, which makes them all the more important to
protect.
But with
these extraordinary beings, a talent emerges when they hit the
double
Similar Books
