Forgotten Legacy

Once upon a time, there was humanity. Humans cherish the life that unfolded before them on the Mother; a loving world, bent on providing for her children. Yet, fate had other intentions for the ever-noble race. The humans of old cherished the land and with that, the things living among it. Spirits lived as one with all of nature; helping the Mother transition from summer to fall, from day to night. Daily cycles that celebrate the ever-changing ways of the world.

No one was ready when change came to the world's most hollow race.

Within a few years, the chaos erupted among the people. It was humans versus spirits, two who had lived in peace for so long had now scorned each other. Humans were righteous and demanded the land, the resources upon it for their vastly growing civilizations. Whereas the spirits had become a part of nature itself, protecting the land from being ravaged.

The spirits began to turn into melancholy versions of themselves, twisted by the turmoil and growing increasingly darker. The Mother could not take the burden of all the things herself, so she tried to awaken the ancient Guardians who slumbered on her terrain. To no avail, these guardians had been asleep for so long, they were just fragmented versions of fables to the wind now.

Since the Mother could do nothing to help her children, other than give them the tools to stop the fighting, she brought on the power to a chosen number of offspring to mankind. Certain individuals were granted the ability to see spirits, who now revolted against their intended purposes. These brought on the era of Children of Sight, who took up the mantle in protecting their homes from the spirits who attacked them.

Humans could not harness magic like the spirits could, but they could channel it in objects to create a link. This magic allowed the to stand a change against the hordes of spirits.

“There is no need to kill you all. Seeing that for us to survive, we need the mortal fear, and you need the fruits of the world. I will offer you this, surrender yourself to us and we will allow you to live enslaved to the Spirits. You will help you if you help us. We do, after all, need your feeble human fear to remain. Or we go to war.”

Ban, the leader of the Spirits, one of the most feared spirits among them all, came to speak to the King, Tsar. Ban was the spirit of fear, who harbored and lived in the shadows. He was essential to the night and the balance. Tsar was a noble young and inexperienced king.

“We will never allow ourselves to be enslaved, Ban. Once you were a kind man-“

Ban snarled, exposing pointed teeth. “I am no man.”

Tsars lips pursed as he stood a bit taller. “We will not surrender.”

“So be it. We will go to war at Dawn. Everyday, we will wage war until one of us either dies or surrenders. We will cease the fighting at sunset, allowing our troops the rest and the honor of burying our dead. Does that sound satisfactory to you, Tsar?” Ban sneered at the name.

The young king tipped his head to the spirit, and they both walked away, preparing to tell their people. The only true advantage that the humans had against the spirits, were sheer number. For years had they lived in peace, and now in Tsars lifetime, had the truce between the two shattered.

So for several years did this war rage, each day new forces arise to fight each other, and as the sun would set they would both retreat into their own places. The humans were not going to give up, however, they were not going to win without help. Finding any help at all was necessary.

“The guardians,” the woman slammed a book on Tsars desk, the page open to a mural of several different faces.

He looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

She cleared her throat and pointed. “No one knows who created them, they outdate the Mother herself, and have been the ones keeping the world balanced since the beginning of time. They went to sleep once we began to establish ourselves and had peace with the spirits. The guardians were there to help us learn the world and its ways,”

Tsar nodded. “Yes, everyone knows this, but the guardians aren’t real. If they were, they would have done their job and stopped the war.”

“No,” the woman said triumphantly, “No. a Guardians job is to maintain. It is to protect the world from being swallowed by darkness and balance to be off. There are several different guardians, all with different purposes. Right now, they are not needed. They will be.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and pushed it in front of Tsar. He skimmed it, while she explained. “A report from the battle today, Ban hasn’t been seen in almost a year. We. The scholars believe that he’s going to unleash something on us. Something that is going to destroy life as we know it. When that happens, we will have no choice but to surrender.” Her words fell like stones, loud and cold.

“How can you be sure?” Tsars eyes remained on the ink.

“We aren’t, but if he does there will be no balance.”

“How do we even begin to wake the Guardians, Lyla?” Tsar stood; the floor seemed to sway underneath his feet. He was afraid.

“Leave that to me.” Her grin was one he’d seen several times before; determined and reckless one might call it. She turned to leave, but tsar cleared his throat. Lyla stopped for a moment, listening.

“Don’t do anything unusually stupid, please. I’m already dreading the first human of the time these guardians meeting being you,” he said, the humor in his voice making it warm. She shot him a look, then smiled and nodded. Then she was off.

Fire illuminated the stone, the ancient etching incoherent to her eye. The mountain towered so far that the peak lay amidst the clouds. There was no moon. There had not been clear skies since the war began, a sign that the Mother was growing weaker as a result. The mountain was carved into several thousand years ago. A massive carving of a woman kneeling, with her arm out holding a scale. She was on one knee, face down with her back etched into beautiful sand colored stone. It was carved as if she was holding the weight of the mountain. Each of the scales were alight with bright flame. Whoever had lit it, kept it well maintained, if someone kept up with it at all.

Lyla took a breath as she stepped forward, only to hear a sharp screech. Jerking her head towards the sound, she could barely avoid the approach of an owl. It had been perched somewhere above her head, and now had its talons out wings open exposing its wings and belly of pure white. Its silent flight had left her unaware as it now, mere inches from her, came swooping down at her. Within an instant the owl was now soaring away from her and the mountain.

Lyla took a moment as she could feel her heart beating out of her chest, the blood rushing in her ears. It was a barn owl, she thought, an omen perhaps. Her attention then caught on the reflection of something in the fire light. Looking down, amid the sand and rock, lay a necklace. Hesitantly she bent down, picking up the necklace.

It was a simple copper chain, but the amulet was a rusty carved sun. There were a few runes etched in the back of tit. Flipping it around in her palm, she examined it with much curiosity.

A loud noise erupted in front of her as sandstone began to shift and move; opening to expose a cavern deep within the earth. Lyla could barely contain herself as she wrapped the necklace around her wrist and lit a torch.

The walls within had the carving of a long-forgotten language, one that she might have even recognized as the dialect of the firsts. Holding her torch towards the writing, the words seemed to almost react to he fire light as they danced in the shadows. She walked down the hallway, intering a large cavern.

Dusty old books, pages of them scattered along the way. Empty bottles strewn along the floor some broken, some half full. What was in them a long time ago, no one could know. Perhaps perfume? Potions or even alcohol. Accidentally kicking one, it skittered along the stone floor reverberating throughout the entire room. Wincing, she carried on. This place had been abandoned for so long…

The door in front of her sat with a pedestal. Inside was an oily substance, with the image of a sun carved into the bottom of the bowl. Palming the necklace, she hesitantly placed it on the alter. The necklace sank down into the oily substance.

Silence greeted this action, as if the wind itself had stopped. There was no noise as her ears pricked with anything, something to ground her as she began to shake. What if she was making a mistake?

The screech of the owl echoed again, so sudden so that Lyla almost leapt out of her own skin. Light bloomed all over the room as the sconces went ablaze in the light. She had let go of her torch in the initial flight and it had connected with a line of oil on the ground. The line was carved so deep that the fire itself was centralized and did not spread. Instead, the lines connected in a way that it formed a picture of fire. A blazing sun.

Then it clicked.

Lyla picked up her torch as she gently placed the fire on the alter with oil in it.

The fire, one of the most beautiful colors, going from ruby red and blood orange to a dazzling golden, it seemed to reach the ceiling. Yet, it wasn’t hot, it didn’t burst; it seemed to live on its own as the doors in front of the alter clicked open. Lyla held her breath as the doors slowly swing open.

A loud noise of something pouring out of the room as all kinds of gold, books, cups, bottles, valuables of several ages spilled into the room. Lyla, her mouth agape, looked at the mound as something shifted enough for her to make out a large maw. The horror of it, as it took a deep breath, its exhale sending gold flying and exposing the face of a dragon.

The fire glinted off its golden scales, as took another breath and that owl again screeched. A millennium seemed to pass as the dragon opened its eye. One of the most beautiful things that she had ever seen, it had eyes of emeralds, with gold flecks.

She had found the Sun Guardian.