The last remnants of fleecy white clouds were dyed blood red as the sun sank into the valley. Kirthin sighed. These few last hours of the day were his favourite ones. The hills caught fire as the sun dipped lower and lower behind the hills. He was to start his lessons tomorrow.
Kirthin did not live in our world, Earth, as we call it. He lived in Chisst. Chisst is what some people may call “another realm”, or an “alternate dimension”, but it truly was what it was called. It was another world. A world full of magic.
Now, back to the world of Chisst. Chisst is a vast land separated into five distinct parts. One part is called Dorman, and is covered in precipitous mountains and coniferous forests, with no flat land anywhere to be seen. This is where Kirthin lives. It is separated into many barbarian tribes that always quarrelled against each other, as well as allied frequently to fight against the mountain goblin tribes that also inhabited Dorman. Dorman was a very independent land, not caring about anyone else’s troubles, as they had more than enough of their own. This is the only part of Chisst Kirthin has ever been to in his lifetime.
To the north of Chisst lay was the Great Wall, a never-ending mountain range of icy glacial formations that never moved and never melted. Few brave adventurers ventured into those lands and none of them ever returned. To the south of Chisst lay a great body of water named the Great Deep. No one ever sailed across the Great Deep. There lived great beasts such as the Kraken and the Sea Serpent, said to be four thousand miles in length. It was said that the Great Deep went on and on until it ran right off the edge of the world in a never ending cataract.
Kirthin was part of a barbarous mountain tribe called in the Basic tongue of Chisst; Mahamiko. It was tradition for the males of the Mahamiko to be trained in the art of combat from the age of ten for generations. These same traditions applied to a male that was found to have a Signa. A Signa was an insignia of a certain type of magic that was found on a sorcerer (a person that can only use one type of magic) at birth. The Mahamiko considered the Signa a blessing from the gods, since no other members of the tribe could use magic; therefore the ones found with a Signa were given private training lessons in magic from the age of sixteen. Kirthin was found with a Signa of Inferius, the fire element of magic, crawling up his left arm; he turned sixteen tomorrow.
The tawny gold and orange sky began to fade to gray, and a few stars began to twinkle like diamonds in the sky. Kirthin shivered as a cool breeze washed over him. It was about time to retire for the night.
“As if I’ll get any sleep tonight...” Kirthin said to himself, “I’m too excited.”
The years of learning magical theory were over. Tomorrow he would begin to learn how to wield the power of flame. Finally. He heard someone call his name. He turned to see a young man his age running toward him. It was his childhood friend Searle. Searle was a joker, barely serious about anything. His hair was short and black as raven’s plumage. He had a dark caramel tan like Kirthin with clear, very light blue -so light they looked white- eyes. He wore a band of purest gold around his muscular arm, signifying among the barbarian tribes he was a great warrior and champion. Even Kirthin couldn’t face up to him in a friendly tournament.
“Are you going to stay out all night, oh great starwatcher? Or are you going to come and celebrate with us?” he joked.
“Celebrate what?” asked Kirthin.
“Why, the fact that you’re going to be a great and powerful mage soon! We can say we knew you before you rose above the rest of us! It will be a great and solemn occasion, just as you like it!” Searle laughed.
“What are you talking about, fool? I soon will be able to burn you with my mind!” joked Kirthin, drawing himself up importantly with a false “great mage” air.
“Sure, like your brother, right?” laughed Searle.
Kirthin dropped his false air. He turned to give Searle an icy stare. A lesser man would’ve promptly ran in the opposite direction had he saw it.
“Wha-?” Searle began, “Oh, come off it- look, I didn’t mean anything! You know that...” he reached to tousle Kirthin’s messy black hair, but Kirthin seized his wrist firmly until his knuckles went white.
“Look, Kirth. I’m sorry, I just forgot, and I just-” Searle began, but Kirthin cut him off.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Kirthin said quietly, twisting Searle’s arm painfully before releasing it.
Kirthin’s brother, Rith, was a touchy subject, as you might have guessed. He left the village when Kirthin was around six years old, supposedly on some quest. He was never seen from heard from again. Some say he joined the Wraith, due to Rith’s tendencies to act somewhat... harshly. The Wraith were a group of evil corrupt knights that wore black armour and wielded evil destructive magics. Others say he perished on his quest. No one knows what really happened to Rith.
“Yeah, o-okay... sorry...” Searle looked very hurt as he stalked off. Kirthin swept around to return to stare at the sunset. He knew Searle meant no harm. But he didn’t care. He knew that his traitor of a brother went and joined the Wraith; he didn’t care if other people tried time and time again to convince him he would never do such a thing. But Rith... he knew something about Rith he would never tell anyone else. Something he wouldn’t even admit to himself. Ah... but he didn’t want to dwell on that right now. He would start lessons tomorrow. Finally.
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This is a revised version, thanks to JC ad meadowlark and someone's name which i cannot pronounce! All constructive critisism is very much appreciated!
