Book 1: Prologue – A Nightmare

The heart of the forest was ablaze! The fire was ruthlessly racing to destroy any and everything in its path.

In the centre of the expanding flames, a tall, broad-shouldered, middle-aged man stood confidently, staring at two angry and injured young men, both of whose faces, for some strange reason, appeared to be nothing more than a blur.

"Give up; there's no escaping!" The middle-aged man bellowed over the roar of the flames. "Don't give me that look. It's not my fault "they" want you and your brother dead!"

He spoke almost as if he was trying to prove his innocence to the taller of the two young men. Though it would've been far more believable had it not been for the evil grin formed by the thin lines he called lips.

Seeing how neither of the two young men seemed to have any intention of responding, he understood his words were effectively falling on deaf ears, so instead, the crimson-haired man began to chant, "Spirit of the Sun, heed the call of your humble servant…"

Raising his right hand, the flames that had been running rampant just moments ago suddenly became unbelievably docile, calmly floating above his head, slowly changing in shape.

The taller of the young men appeared unwilling as he looked at the ball of fire slowly morphing above them. His ochre fists clenched so hard that his nails pierced the skin of his palm, drops of blood dripping onto the scorched earth below as he understood how grim the situation truly was.

A gentle sigh escaped the mouth of the smaller of the two as he calmly faced the burning ball of death before them. "Take your brother and go."

The taller man instantly snapped out of his daze, quickly turning to his light-skinned friend, taken aback by his words. "What are you talking about?!"

"You and your brother are destined for greatness! Neither of you can afford to die here today!" The light-skinned young man answered unwaveringly.

The shorter, light-skinned young man was the picture of serenity as he stepped forward, protectively placing his friend behind him.

Realisation hit the taller of the two like a tonne of bricks. "You… You can't do this! I won't lea-"

"Just be sure you make them pay," the light-skinned young man said softly, interrupting his friend's appeal.

Then, like the crimson-haired man, he too began chanting. "Spirit of the Sea, heed my call…"

The taller of the two watched from behind as his friend's back seemed to grow in size as he prepared to sacrifice his precious life for theirs. The trembling of his body showed the pain he felt, but the tone of his voice revealed an even deeper resolve. "I vow to bring the heads of each and every one of those bastards and place them before your grave."

He took one final look at the crimson-haired man, or rather the symbol – of a golden halo floating above a pair of snow-white wings – sewn onto the black robe he wore as if to etch it into his memories.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a shadow darting quickly toward the burly mage from his blind spot.

"NO, STOP!" The dark-skinned young man screamed in a panic.

The red-haired mage frowned when he saw the frantic look in the eyes of his primary target. Normally, he would consider that expression normal for someone staring death in the face, but at that moment, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a feeling of terror swept through him.

He was about to turn to face whatever was approaching him when he felt something sharp pierce through his side.

"ARRGHH!" The attacker howled in pain and anger.

He spun round, only to find a child in his early teens, oddly similar in appearance to the taller of the two young men to his rear, glaring at him with eyes reddened by rage, gripping a dagger dripping with his fresh blood.

Like the young men to his rear, the teen was also wounded. His body was full of cuts and bruises, and his left arm hung limp, clearly dislocated, not that he could feel it.

The adrenaline coursing through his body allowed him to ignore any pain he should be in as he glared venomously at the mage with his big brown eyes that looked almost golden under the light of the flames.

"[Burning Palm!]" The scar-faced mage roared, overwhelmed by pain and feelings of fury and shame for allowing a weak little child to injure him.

The flames that had begun to dissipate due to the distraction of being stabbed now coated his hand, turning it into a scorching glove of fire.

"STOP! PLEASE... I'M BEGGING YOU!" The older brother screamed in horror as he sprinted towards them, urging his body to move as fast as physically possible.

His friend chanted faster, hoping to finish his spell in time.

Alas, they were both too slow. Time seemed to slow as they witnessed the fiery hand of their attacker brutally pierce straight through the chest of the young teen, exiting through his back.

"You…" The red-haired mage stared at the dying teen in shock.

At the exact same moment his attack speared through the boy's chest, the boy had re-thrust his knife deep into his neck.

It was an attack he would typically be able to resolve easily, but due to his pain and mind-consuming rage, he was left vulnerable, allowing a child no older than 13 to get the best of him.

As he helplessly began to lose consciousness, a feeling of immense shock and sadness overcame him.

When he had killed in the past, as his targets breathed their last breath, they would show some combination of fear, terror, anger, and or sadness. However, never in his life did he think he would see a victim show a smile as pure as the one he saw at present, on a child who was bleeding and burning to death, no less!

The boy paid his killer no further attention. His total focus was on his older brother, who was manically sprinting, much too late, in their direction.

Like his victims, the mage had subconsciously believed that if he were killed, he too would feel one or more of the same emotions they had, but never in a million years did he think his last emotion would be one of regret.

Not regret for allowing a snot-nosed brat to get the best of him, but for killing a child for reasons he was too low in the pecking order to truly understand.

"I'm sorry!" The burly mage mouthed in the boy's direction before all signs of life faded from his body.