Chronicles of Luminia

PROLOGUE

     

      - Tsuki… Come here…

      The little boy's shimmering azure eyes widened out of curiosity; leaving behind a makeshift ragdoll of cloth and tiny sticks that fell from the trees above, two beans for eyes and the remains of an old leather boot for clothing, he carefully traced his steps up the low hill to meet an aged man adorning an old, gray coat. This was Samuel Foster, remarkably not just the eldest member of his population, but also the only one to have lived in the golden age he so fondly recalled – an era that, he believed, should now to be transmitted to his descendants, so that its legacy would never be lost in the tides of time.

      But watching his young grandson cheerfully hop from stone to stone, his sight became clouded by two discreet tears that soon rolled down his wrinkled face and onto the wooly shepherd jacket; such a scenery reminded him of his own daughter, the child's late mother, when she had his exact age, that number considered by so many to be a lucky one, the bringer of good fortune, seven. Time had gone by so quickly since her death…

      As Tsuki drew closer, the old man sat, and the boy expectantly followed his example, innocently crossing his legs to stare at the wooden cross stumped on the ground in front of him. It was the only decoration that, aside from the eternally green fields and patiently gazing rocks, had signaled the presence of a grave, or rather, a small mound of dirt and little yellow, thorn flowers that rested in the middle of that lonely elevation overlooking a lively village sitting on a beach, timidly tucked into soaring cliffs crowned by verdant forests – a village they were proud to call home, or as the name suggested, their nest; this was Neast Village. Beyond it stretched the sea, the western, bountiful ocean that had generously provided resources over the years, and served as a safe way of communicating with any other populations that made their home on the seashore, thus keeping the link between them and their kingdom alive.

      "I want to tell you a story, Tsuki… This story, I wish for you to remember it for as long as you breathe…" He paused, certainly to gather his own breathe, such was the weight of the tale in his mind. The boy's mouth slowly opened, his body bending forward in interest. "Do you understand?" A hesitant nod was his reply, his crimson hair flailing forward as he strengthened the movement, as if suddenly deciding that what he was doing was the right thing to do. His grandfather smiled. "Do you know the name of this land we live in, Tsuki? You were blessed to have been brought up in such a paradise as our village; we are refugees of a war that lingers outside the forests and mountains that surround us, in lands no sane man would ever venture to enter. But it has not always been like this."

      Halting his speech once more, the man sighed, tenderly recollecting the past; he could still see the lands as if they were the downhill terrains of Neast Village itself, their fields blooming with white and yellow spots here and there, the perfection of the cities he had visited, their communities, every detail, every person he had shaken hands with, always receiving nothing short of a warm smile and friendly words of welcome – and yet he couldn't find the words to define such times, only define them, attribute them a name that would take away their meaning and replace it with a hollow shell of simple historical references. Gathering his thoughts, he spoke:

      "For many years, there existed a land, beginning on the shore of Neast Village and spreading for as far as the eye could see, far beyond the forests, the mountains and the skies… Legends call it 'The Emperor's Realm'. It encompassed two critical areas: the fertile, prosperous fields and the arid, lonely deserts... and yet, the people of the grasslands fed the inhabitants of the barren territory, living as the one thing they were back then. Brothers. Siblings in a world of peace, protected by Nature, by the power of the elements themselves… Then one day…" Samuel's voice grew graver; his thick, colorless eyebrows were slanted downwards, and his smile had gradually faded to a frown, as if arguing with the wooden statuette. "Two princes came to the throne. They sought for power only… for dominance over everyone and everything. Their greed was such that it corrupted their own population; soon, the kingdom was divided into two parties, and conflicts became more abundant with each passing day. Before such situation, their king was powerless; stepping down from the throne, the Emperor's Realm was split into two separate kingdoms. Today, we call them the Luminia Kingdom… and the Catalia Kingdom." Tsuki's interest was suddenly replaced by worry; his grandfather was clenching his teeth, and his eyes became swollen from the tears that rolled down the side of his face. "Since then, they have waged war… a war that poisoned our society and split our population into fragments of its former being! Hundreds of soldiers marched to their deaths! And for what?! For what?!"

      "Grandpa…" The boy gasped, grasping Samuel's sleeve and tugging it towards him, in a desperate attempt to get his grandfather's attention again, as if to make him awake from that horrible nightmare he was having while awake.

      "I am alright, Tsuki… I just need…" The old man sighed, cleaning the tears from his face with the sleeve he had been holding on to. Taking another deep breathe since the beginning of his tale, he faked a smile, attempting to simulate the one he had initially shown at his grandson to inspire in him the confidence both needed. "Those are times that have gone by… Our family has been blessed with a place to live: we were accepted in the Luminian community of Neast, where we have lived ever since we arrived… This is our home, our birthplace…" His last words had felt strangely inspiring for him, and taken by surprise, his mind tried to process those inexplicable feelings. The reason why he would transmit his knowledge suddenly made sense again: it was not for his own good, or that of the village, it was for the good of his family, for his only family, his grandson who sat by him, the one who shared his name and blood, and one day, he hoped, his courage, his knowledge, his strength – it was for Tsuki Foster. He threw his arms around the boy, hugging him with whatever energy he still had left; Tsuki didn't know what to do before such a sudden act, one that ended as quickly as it began, with Samuel's hands on his shoulders, the grin marking his face now honest, sincere, as authentic as the tears that rolled down his cheeks once again. "Tsuki… will you protect us? Will you protect our family? Our legacy?"

      Once again struck by the unexpected question, his head vacillated back and forth; Samuel nodded as well in a sign of approval, gripping his shoulders tighter.

      "Roven promised to teach you how to handle a sword tomorrow… It's a gift from the both of us for your seventh birthday…" Slowly, the old man curved forward, resting his head on the boy's right shoulder while whispering with the softest voice he could muster at his old age: "Cherish every moment. Cherish it."