Young Writers Society

Prologue

Rodsha rode on his dragon, Edelline, to the cloudy kingdom of Sparth which floated in the pale lavender sky, home to the gods of Astricka. It was the fifth moonpassing, the time of requests. Every year, during this time, sorcerers and sorceresses would send their prayers and desires to the seven Gods of Astricka- and the lucky ones would get their wishes granted. Rodsha, however, wanted to make his request as up close and personal as possible.

He stood before the great ornate gates, darkly clad, with desire in his deep brown eyes, darkened by the shadow his large brow cast upon them as well as his grayish skintone. He had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.

“I call upon the Great Irvan Boltore,” he announced, his voice echoing into the kingdom beyond the gate.

And there in front of the gates, Irvan materialized after a bolt of lightning shot through the sky, which flashed deep violet before Rodsha.

“State your name and purpose,” Irvan’s voice echoed, booming through the sky. He was young in appearance, and had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, a strong man that appeared in his mid twenties, but he was a divine being, and as one of the Gods, he never aged. He had been there, watching over Astricka from Sparth since the day the great power created him, along with the other seven gods.

Irvan Boltore was the most powerful of the gods, but he wasn’t the highest in rank. All the Gods were equal, and often they quarreled, but that was why they had the Great Arena, where they would settle their quarrels through a system of divine tasks and battles, laid out by the one power- a divine energy that designed them to watch over Astricka.

Rodsha replied to Irvan’s demand.

“My name is Rodsha, and I am here to give you my request, for it is the

fifth moonpassing of the year.”

“You may proceed.”

“I would like the souls from the creatures of Archellon so I can make the creatures my slaves,” Rodsha began. The creatures of Archellon were a group of mermaids, nymphs, centaurs, and humatriacs, or evolved human supernaturalites, that lived by the Sea of Cressantris- the sea surrounding the land of Astricka. This was the sea where human magic wielders would extract magical sea salt that the Gods had blessed. The salt, when rubbed between the hands of a magic user, would exfoliate the the skin and stimulate the nerves of magic in the human body for approximately three days. These nerves, when stimulated, gave humans the energy they needed to perform spells. When the salt’s power wore off, the nerves would return to their average subtlety and dullness, which left no more power. In humatriacs, however, the nerves were already stimulated, but they were immune to the salt. They had only selected supernatural abilities, and no more. But Rodsha wanted all the creatures as slaves because he wanted the sea salt from Cressantris all for himself, and it was clear to Irvan that this was the case.

Irvan scowled at Rodsha’s selfish request.

“No good creature would request such a thing,” Irvan snapped, a lightning bolt shooting through what was now a deep violet sky.

“I refuse to grant you this wish.”

“I refuse to leave until you grant it!” Rodsha shouted.

“Foolish creature!” Irvan yelled, as he conjured a ball of lightning in his hands. Its electricity could be felt all the way from the cloud that Rodsha was standing on, as Irvan was far away.

“One must not argue with a conclusion of the gods!”

“I declare a duel in the Great Arena!” Rodsha foolishly yelled. He knew that no ungodly creature was allowed in the Arena of the Gods, but he hoped he could get Irvan to do so anyway by angering him enough to enrage him into battle mode.

“For doing so, Rodsha, I must punish you. The Great Arena was meant only for the divine, and you know that. You are forever banished from Astricka to the realm of Ignasis, and you may not have your request. Your body and spirit shall be disfigured, and you shall be unable to request anything from the Gods during the fifth moonpassing.”

And with that, he struck Rodsha with the lightning ball, which sent him flying off of the cloud before Sparth and into the realm of Ignasis where he was punished, leaving Edelline to release a loud shriek of terror before she flew away, abandoning her master and returning to the Simbaerian Glades where she had come from.

Just then, Irvan Boltore received a message from a great wizard named Milo who was truly pure at heart.

“This is my prayer, O seven Gods. In my adventures through the universe as a sorceror and explorer, I have stumbled upon a beautiful world called Lumasis.”

“The creatures there were created by some great power that was not our own, and they are the purest, most divine creatures I have ever met. They are abundant in magic and very gentle.”

“Amazingly kind, they are weak and believe that there is a Chosen One out there who will some day rule over them. Without their Chosen One, they claim they will die. They are searching for a leader, and I know there is a creature out there who is pure enough to watch over their world. A creature with a purely good heart, which I suppose is lighter than a grain of salt from the sea of Cressantris.”

“I wish to pass this great knowledge to you before I die, and I wish for you to activate the prophecy I have written, and create a way for the Chosen One to access Lumasis once such a creature is found. I have created a quest for the Chosen One to go on, so they can prove themselves worthy of ruling over the world. Please allow this quest to be made real. As I am old and near death, I wish for you to grant me this request before my life comes to an end.”

“I shall send you the written Prophecy and the quest I have designed for the Chosen One to prove themselves worthy through a portal. Please accept my prayer.”

With that, a scroll materialized before Irvan. It was marked: For the Gods of Astricka; A Wish.

Two Years Later

“Who is that man?” Orna whispered to Cedrick.

“I’m not quite sure.”

They peered over at the darkly clad, disfigured man, who was hunched over, narrow boned, and shadowy eyed. His gray skin was a complete contrast to the humatriac’s soft golden skin, but he seemed threatening as he stood there, watching them silently, a deep guilt and vengence booming within him.

They were on the coast of Archellon, on the sandy shore by the sea of Cressantris. Irvan was extracting sea salt for his new job in the Sorceror’s Guild. He was the magic salt collector and packager, and his job was to extract the magical sea salt and pour it neatly into boxes that would be shipped to magic shops.

Orna held their baby, Serafina, gently in her arms. They watched the odd man in the distance, as he walked out by the sea, pacing by the huts that had been made by the tribal humatriacs, much like the islanders that lived on the chain of Islands in Cressantris called the Islands of Ophracia. They were known for their lovely artisan crafts and their many tribal designs, as well as for the markings they’d draw on their bodies from the glowing blue dust from precious sea stones along the shore of Cressantris.

The man entered one of the huts, and Orna became worried.

“Take Serafina,” she said, gently placing her baby in Cedrick’s arms. He took Serafina with a concerned expression.

“I’m going over there,” Orna said dutifully.

“Be careful, Orna,” Cedrick warned quickly. He quickly changed his mind, catching her shoulder. “Perhaps I should go instead.”

Orna agreed, taking Serafina, who was two years old, and sitting down with her on the shore, beside Cedrick’s packages.

Cedrick crept into the forest lining the coast of Archellon, peering out from behind the tall trees with dark brown bark and flat emerald leaves, overlooking the shore. He felt unarmed, as if he needed a weapon for protection. He watched as the odd, disfigured man left the hut, nearly catching a glimpse of his Cedrick’s face, which left Cedrick with a prickled feeling in his neck that began to feel painful.

Cedrick got down flat on his stomach, and crawled with his knees and arms back to the shore where he saw Orna sitting with Serafina. Running up to them, he placed his hand on Orna’s shoulder, and whispered to her.

“It’s not safe,” Cedrick said with caution. “The man is powerful, and he’s up to no good.”

Orna looked at him, at his neck.

“Cedrick…” she whispered, in awe.

“What is it?”

She touched his neck, and whispered back, “there’s a black mark on your neck. What happened?”

The skin was as black as night, and soft. It as if the black mark on his neck was devouring him, although it wasn’t spreading. It was simply in one spot, devouring that area, absorbing its power.

“I don’t know,” Cedrick said worriedly, “the man just passed by me, and without even looking at me, I felt a prickling sensation. I need protection. We should go back to the house so I can get something to defend us.”

“Are you sure? How much time do we have left before you have to deliver the salt to the Sorceror’s Guild?”

“We’ve got time. Don’t worry. This is important. Orna…”

“What is it?”

“Keep Serafina safe.”

Chapter One

Fifteen Years Later

Serafina Mathonwy

The cafeteria buzzes with commotion as I sit down next to Aaron, who’s eating his lunch quietly by himself. The golden glow of summer has faded, and it’s the first day of our senior year at Wildavon Academy of the Arts.

“Hey. Did you see Baeya?”

Aaron pauses, and looks at me with a deep stare as if he’s hinting at something.

“Not liking her new look, huh?”

“I don’t know. It’s just different.”

“She’s changed a lot over the summer, I know. I get it. Just don’t judge her. She’s not that different deep down.”

Baeya walks by, dressed in a low V-neck shirt revealing her chest and a skirt that’s barely long enough to cover her butt. She has bright red and pink streaks in her long brown hair, and her glasses are replaced by contact lenses. I start feeling kind of uncomfortable. This isn’t the Baeya I used to know- not the Baeya who threw that arcade party in sixth grade where me, her, and Aaron all became best friends.

She used to be nerdy but lovable, honest and quirky. I struggle to trust Aaron that she’s the same. But I give him a chance. He’s got a good point.

“So,what art elective are you taking this year?”

“Art and comic book illustration,” Aaron replies.

“Awesome. Let me know how that goes.”

“Will do.”

I’m really excited for him. He’s a pro at comics. His style is really dark, super edgy, and incredibly modern and technical. He draws futuristic, dark characters with ornate technical gadgets like no other. His imagination is totally wild.

I pause, indifference in my face, my mouth curled to one side.

“You have any clue why Baeya changed?”

“Not really.”

“She hasn’t been opening up to me as much over the summer. She just talks about the typical stuff over the phone- movies, books, whatever. No more three-hour heart to heart conversations.”

“Yeah, I understand. You two used to be closer than any two girls I know. You should talk to her about it.”

“Good point.”

I look in Baeya’s direction, and Aaron peers over too. She’s cuddling with an emo guy who’s hair is blue, pretty much sitting on his lap. Looks like she’s pretty interested. I wonder if they’re going out or something. Awhile ago, she told me she was dating a college guy and I kind of overlooked it. She didn’t mention it for the rest of the summer. Looks like she found someone else, I guess.

I look back at Aaron, concerned. He brushes it off pretty easily. His eyebrows rise and fall real quick, and he continues to eat his lunch. My heart sinks as I look at her. She was the only person I knew who I could talk to for three hours on the phone about absolutely anything, have sleepovers with on weekends and go places with around town without feeling unusually excluded or overlooked. She really paid attention to me, understood me, and made me the person who I am.

I really hope that Aaron’s right.

Aaron Duncan

I’m in art illustration class, working on a giant painting of my main character in action. A girl with wavy blonde hair is sitting next to me with her canvas, peering over at mine.

I’m painting the main character’s plasma gun in different shades of turquoise. She’s kind of awkwardly staring, but turns away.

“You’re really good,” she says, after looking back at my work.

“Thanks.”

I notice that she’s pretty good herself. Her painting is of a girl with crazy colorful hair, standing on a bridge with wind blowing in her face, and peering over at the water. She’s off to a great start, and is just beginning. The outcome is going to be pretty cool.

“I’m Heather,” she says, “Heather Farrell.”

“Aaron Duncan,” I reply, with a smile.

I notice that she’s really good looking, and I must have smiled pretty big because her smile grew and she laughed a little, then turned back to her painting.

“You new at Wildavon Academy?” Heather asks.

“Yeah, two of my friends and I decided to go here for our senior year. We’re all into art, so it was a big change, but we really wanted something new.”

“What school did you transfer from?”

“Westerville High.”

“Oh, that’s awhile from here. Really city-ish, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well,” she says, swishing her paintbrush in the water. “You’ll have to introduce me to your friends some time.”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” I reply. Serafina probably wouldn’t mind meeting her, and Baeya’s always up for meeting new people. But the two of them together? I’d have to check it out first.

The hallway is bustling with kids, and I’m making my way through the crowd to my locker at the end of the day. I look over to see Baeya standing right next to me and I almost jump.

“Kind of scared me there,” I say.

“Oh please,” Baeya says. “You totally saw it coming.”

I smile, a mixture of concern and eerieness hiding behind my friendly appearance. She’s not usually that sarcastic.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Not much,” she responds casually.

“Saw you at lunch today,” I say, “you looked pretty into some guy.”

“Saw you in art class. You looked pretty into some girl.”

I laugh.

“Yeah,” I respond. “Her name’s Heather. Heather Farrell.”

“Interesting.”

“Wait…” I pause. “You were there?”

“Passed by in the hallway on my way to the bathroom. Happened to catch a glimpse of you two through the window in the door.”

“Oh.”

“So you like Heather, huh?”

“Yeah, but, don’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, I won’t. Trust me.”

Serafina Mathonwy

I’m packing to go to my bus when I notice a strange figure from my locker mirror. Ghost like and dark, he’s standing solemnly behind me, peering in from the windows of the courtyard.

I shudder, and grab my books.

He flickers away quickly, and as I swing my backpack over my shoulder, I notice a dark mark in the bone of my wrist. It makes my skin look black as night, and moist like wet clay. It’s far too richly pitch black to be a bruise. Devouring my energy, I feel the bony area of my wrist go numb after being engulfed in a prickly sensation. Something strange is happening. This has never happened to me before in my life.

It’s two AM, and I can’t sleep.

I hear something pound on the window.

I’m starting to freak out a bit. After the dark mark, I’ve been having a really eerie sort of night. I pull the covers aside on my bed, and get up.

The pounding happens again. I feel like I should defend myself, but I don’t know what to use. I grab my desk lamp, noticing how pathetic I feel for it.

The window bursts open, but I see nothing besides the dark night time sky.

And then, I saw it.

Materializing before me, it shimmered in the moonlight. It’s blue scales were smooth and shiny like gem stones. It’s large, round eyes were a glowing lime, glassy looking with black slitted pupils. It had turquoise blue fur that trailed along the back of its neck like a horse’s mane. A dragon.

I hear a distant voice softly calling my name, but it’s not coming from the dragon. It flows in with the wind, tumbling into my ears from the window.

Serafina…

I shudder, frozen with fear. My hands are trembling as I place the lamp carefully on the floor next to me.

The dragon’s name is Junafir. Climb on her back.

“Who are you?” I ask the voice.

My name is Tobias. I am a wizard in the world of Astricka. Climb on to Junafir’s back, Serafina. This is important.

I look around the room, trembling. What if Mom notices I’m gone? How the hell do I explain this to her? I’m not climbing on that dragon’s back. I have no reason to.

Serafina… the voice calls. I’m begging you.

“No,” I respond, my voice wavering. “I’m not leaving.”

Serafina, you are in extreme danger. I am offering to freeze time in the real world. Climb onto Junafir’s back, and no one will ever know you were gone.

Freeze time?

It takes me a few minutes, with all my fear, to understand that if a dragon can materialize by my window, time can be made frozen.

The clock stops ticking, and I open the door to my room, puttering down to my Mom’s room. She’s in the midst of turning on her side in her sleep, but she’s frozen still.

I return to my room, the dragon’s large round eyes pleading me to climb on its back.

I’m in extreme danger, apparently.

“What’s going on?”

The dark side is after you Serafina, but I cannot prove anything to you unless you see for yourself. There is too much to explain in a few short moments. I sent Junafir to retrieve you. Climb in her back.

I walk over to the window, and pause in awe at the dragon’s beauty. Sliding the window open, my eyes shine. Breathtaken, I slowly approach Junafir. My hand reaches toward her, afraid to touch her scales. I place my hand on the far side of her neck, terrified that I might fall out of the window and break my own. Junafir leans her neck in through the window helpfully. I swing my leg over, and cling to her, a rush pounding through my body as my inner leg muscles tighten to keep me on her back. She’s about as tall as the house, minus the height of the roof. Her head perfectly meets my second story window.

Within seconds, she turns away from the window and flaps her great sapphire webbed wings, and before I know it, the wind is rushing through my hair and I’m looking down at the town below me as if it’s shrinking gradually into the ground. After awhile of steady riding, a small smile appears on my face as I cling to Junafir’s neck, my tired eyes relaxing as I look down at the world below. I haven’t felt this alive in ages.