Prologue

In a vast universe of nothingness, there was a world known simply as Dargon—but one of five parallel worlds—that was divided into further five kingdoms ruled by different races. Elf, Druid, Dwarf, Dragon and lastly, Human.

In the vast human kingdom, there existed large cities, packed with people and bustling with activity, but also large fields and plains, the epitome of peace. In one such field, a single house stood far from the others. In this a house—small enough to be called a hut—built of sturdy pinewood and straw, there lived an old man, a shepherd from a long line of shepherds.

Inside the hut, it was cramped and dirty and dimly lit. It was smoky and filled with dusty paraphernalia hanging on the walls as relics of the old man's past years. A large, rusted hoe leaned against the wall from when the old man had tried unsuccessfully to turn the barren plains into a farm. Bits of leather and food hung next to the odds and ends he had found and taken a fancy to over the years.

A small path, made by generations of feet, led from the house to the pen and outhouse near the outskirts of the property. A rickety fence surrounded the land, more to define the space than to keep intruders out—it couldn't keep a determined chicken out if it tried. The small pen housed a few dirty sheep and an old sheepdog, with fleas undoubtedly living in his dirty coat of lumpy fur, who kept watch on the sheep with his remaining good eye.

The fence squealed loudly on hinges that had needed a coating of oil for several years now. Oil was not something found in abundance in the dwellings so far from the city, and there had been a scarcity of oil even in the large metropolises as the world still recovered from the devastating war nearly fifty years ago.

"Grandpa!" A youthful voice shouted over the noise of the hinges as the gate swung open with a bang.

The old sheepdog started barking, rousing the shepherd from his slumber. Quick footsteps ran along the dirt path and clambered up the few stairs to the porch in front of the house. The old man opened the door and a little boy jumped into his arms with a beaming smile. The old man staggered, but ruffled his light blond hair with a fond smile.

"Why hello, Jason!"

Jason's wide blue eyes sparkled and his smile revealed a proud gap in his teeth.

"Grandpa! Tell me the story about the creation of the world!" he said eagerly.

His grandfather chuckled. "You never get tired of it, do you? You're turning eleven this year—don't you think you're getting too old for fairytales?"

"Nope! I'd never get tired of listening to you, grandpa!"

The old man put Jason down and sat on the porch, placing an arm around his grandson.

"Which part would you like to hear? The creation of this world? Or…" His weathered face cracked into a knowing smile. "...or the other worlds?"

The boy practically bounced in excitement. "Yes! The Abyss… and Heresh too! Also the Ether! Dargon's just boring!"

His grandfather smiled patiently and reminded him to stop bouncing or the floor would collapse—a distinct possibility, considering how old the hut was. Most of the wood had been replaced at one time or another, but some creaked ominously when one stepped on it.

He sighed, but began the tale.

"Long ago, there was nothing in the universe. Darkness filled the void, until the day the founder of the Gods was born. Father Haert emerged and created the sun and moon, as well as four worlds connected by magic."

The old man continued to tell a tale told through the generations, passing it to young Jason, who listened avidly.

"First was the Abyss, a hellish place filled with lava pits and blood red soil. Some said the blood of Ziocrat, the god of death, stained the soil to that shade. The Abyss was home to monsters of all kinds. Demons, vampires, cadis—tall, thin humanoid demons with sharp claws that could slit a throat with no trouble—and elementals were among the Arysi, the bigger monsters who dwelt near the center of the Abyss. Lesser monsters, commonly known as Debui, such as the grysan, ogres and trolls dwelt near the outer edges.

"The second world was Heresh, the world of the undead; the necromancers, where King Naghren ruled supreme.

"Heresh was a world composed entirely of greens and greys. It was a dull and lifeless place, with most necromancers returning to Dargon—the world of the living—to capture beings who had evaded death. No one desired to spend eternity in a place like Heresh. Vampires regularly visited the court of the king, whenever they were fortunate enough to stumble across a portal to Dargon. Through the death of a soul on Dargon, a vampire could enter Heresh. That was a trait possessed only by vampires, for unknown reasons. Perhaps Father Haert had favoured them.

"The only creatures encountered were creatures infected by the Dark Cloud—A plague that destroyed the mind— becoming mere mindless servants or beasts of burden.

"The third world was the Ether. After death, the spirit was captured by the Ether. In a way, it was a version of paradise, for you could wish for anything without a soul. But if your loved one died, you would most likely be reunited with them in death. The Ether appeared differently to every person. You could tailor the world to your own eyes, making the Ether as malleable as human nature itself.

Portals to Dargon appeared randomly around the edges of the Abyss due to the strong magic in the world of the living, allowing weaker monsters to enter Dargon. But, similar portals connecting other worlds were seen very rarely.

The old man finished his tale with a small cough, excusing himself to get a small drink of water. He wandered over to the little well near the pen and grabbed a bucket, sinking it inside. Moss crept up the sides of the stone and cracks showed the true age of the well. A splash told the old man the bucket had hit the bottom of the well, and he brought it back up gradually.

Lifting the bucket out, he called, "Jason! Can you get the ladle?"

The boy nodded, getting up and rushing into the house. He returned moments later with a wooden ladle that he handed to his grandfather, getting a nod of thanks.

The old man finished and balanced the bucket at the edge of the well, leaving the ladle inside.

"Now, Jason, it's time to see how much you were actually paying attention during my history lessons," he said, turning to the boy.

Jason nodded eagerly and the old man continued, "Tell me about the Key and the Guardians."

"Right! Um… the Key was created as one of the eight gifts that the first archangels gave the mortals, right? So were the Guardian powers! And… the first Guardians were… Reyneld—"

His grandfather stopped him immediately, saying, "Wrong! You mixed up the most famous Guardians with the first guardians. It's true that Reyneld was the most well known Guardian to this day, but he and his fellow Guardians of that generation were the third heirs to the powers. Perhaps it will remind you if I tell you that Rhyslin Bladesworn was the first Gold Guardian?"

"I think I remember now! Rhyslin was the Gold Guardian and Mediana… the Key Guard. Um… I think the rest of the names were…" Jason hesitated, struggling to remember, "Uh… Monos, Xander... and, um… Saemlin and Gaiyus who were the Silver, Sapphire, Ruby and Emerald Guardians, I think?"

"Very good!" His grandfather smiled and patted his head.

Jason's face lit up and he said happily, "So I did get it right! I mean, the Guardians are just so cool, but I kind of forgot about the first generation 'cause Reyneld and Alexei and the rest are so awesome!"

The boy looked at his grandfather hopefully, "Do you think… I could be like that one day?"

His grandfather sighed. "Well… the Guardians have vanished since the demon war nearly half a century ago and no one has seen them since then. But even if there are no Guardians left, Jason… I think you'll become a magnificent hero!"

The old man hugged him when the boy's eyes lit up, but muttered under his breath, "I pray we never have a need for you to become a hero, Jason…"

"Hmm… grandpa, did you say something?" Jason asked.

His grandfather shook his head thinking, So innocent… I hope he grows up to have a good life…

As the years passed, Jason visited less and less frequently as he grew up and eventually took a job as a squire. Five years passed in quick succession and he'd turned sixteen. A series of coincidences and chance meetings would finally set things into motion.

The boy was destined to be a hero…