Veri: Chapter One

Present…

                King Bryme lays on the center pedestal, skin pale and eyes closed. His hands set just above his slightly rounded stomach and glint with a family heirloom. The sapphire ring wraps gently around his finger, a dulled wedding band below it, and shows all those present who his father was and reminds those who can remember who his daughter is. A signature silver crown rests on his forehead, and his neck-long black hair drapes to the side.

                No breath escapes his lips; no words leave his mouth. His body lay still, snow falling like ashes around him. The peasantry and elite stand side-by-side in his honor, two fingers horizontal across each of their hearts in salute. Each face is long and weary, some creased with worry and others with fright. Each pair of shoulders sags with sorrow, residue of the wars occurring and those soon to come.

                Their beloved King…fallen, a thought they wish to erase.

                “Where is the daughter now?” a voice calls from the crowd, “If she is to rule… where is she?”

                Few eyes set on the cloaked figure, but those that do sense something odd about him. His hood shadows his whole face, and his frame is fuller than the townspeople and soldiers around. An outsider, it seems to some. What business does such a being have with the new monarch?

                “She disappeared long ago, to another dimension, I once heard,” someone counters, turning and facing the others.

                “Dimension?” another speaks up, “Blasphemy. That is nonsense. There is Veri and that is it.”

                The crowd murmurs amongst itself, the hooded figure standing as still as a statue in the back. Those of the peasantry cross their arms or scratch their heads in insecurity and slight annoyance. If they were wrong all along, why were they not told?

                “Yes, dimension,” the man closest to the pedestal clarifies, drawing the attention of all, “It is reachable by portal, of which few have the power of opening. Prophesiers and monarchs create the strongest ones but there are others that serve a chance, seeing as we lost our last few in the past ten years…”

                The crowd silences, waiting for him to go on, while the cloaked figure inches closer until he is at the front.

                “Who are the others then? What do we do now?” someone dares to ask, holding a child close to their being.

                The man at the pedestal turns, facing the closest few members of the crowd. He raises himself on the steps leading up to the frosty palace and looks out at the mass below. His eyes scan over at least two hundred faces before he decides to speak.

                “The others… It’s hard to determine. Only a few are born with that ability, just as a small amount of us are gifted with anything but simple elemental manipulation,” he explains, “As for what we should do… We need leadership. Our kingdom will not be at peace until the Princess is on the throne in place of her father, but that could take months… years to accomplish.”

                “Who rules now then?” a voice calls from the back of the crowd.

                The rest of the mass nods and sends shouts of agreement towards the man on the steps, wanting an answer to the same question.

                “Whoever the majority deems worthy,” he shrugs, “Isn’t that how our late King would have wanted it?”

                Murmurs break out again before the cloaked figure is pushed forward and to the ground. His hood is thrown off, revealing his chocolate hair and amber eyes. The crowd backs up, gasping, and he looks around with fright.

                “A boy…from the west,” someone shouts, “A spy!”

                An arm of the young man is grasped and held back by two townspeople, a third gripping him by the hair and showing him to the man on the steps. He tries to shake his head, but realizes the action would be difficult with the hands holding him still.

                “Not a spy,” he says, “I swear on my own life, I’m not. Call me a refugee if you may, but don’t call me something as treacherous as that. I am not like my father or his people.”

                “What is that supposed to mean?” someone asks, others following with nods and shouts of agreement.

                The man on the steps studies him before sighing, stepping down to his level.

                “Then who are you, fire user?” he asks.

                The boy swallows and takes a deep breath before answering, the crowd in eerie silence. Each pair of eyes lay on him or on the area around his being. His skin crawls with anxiety and fear of saying the wrong thing.

                “I am Haven Fino, though I claim none of the advantages to my surname,” he says, “Our nations are on the path to the world’s destruction. I want nothing but peace.”

                The man before Haven brings a hand to his chin and muses, thinking of everything he’d heard about the boy.

                “You’re one of the few,” he finally says, his voice loud enough for all to hear, “You are able to skip between dimensions.”

                Haven doesn’t verify, though his face turns a rose color, his skin itching.

                “Ladies and gentlemen of the North,” the man steps back up on the pedestal, “I would like to propose a searching party sent into the next dimension, Sir Fino at its head.”

                Shocked, Haven looks up and asks for an explanation. Him, the outsider, leading a group of Northerners in search of the lost Princess?

                “To prove that he is what he claims, I believe he should hold the responsibility of taking four of our gifted youths – one from each of our allies and two from our own soil – into the next dimension to find the Princess,” the man goes on, “If he is true to his word, our Princess will be brought back and peace will be restored. If he is not… the youths may do as they wish with his cursed soul.”

                The crowd mumbles amongst themselves and finally comes to an agreement. Two youths, a male and a female, step out of the lines and up to the pedestal. They kneel before the man, two fingers across their hearts in salute.

                “It will be done,” the young man, one with bright blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, rises and looks back at Haven.

                The young woman nods in agreement, standing as well. Haven, released, hesitates before getting to his feet and fixing his cloak. Not uttering a word, he looks between the two and then up at the one on the steps.

                “Your proposed democracy is failed, sir, if it isn’t so bold for me to say,” he says through gritted teeth, “That election won’t happen, and you’ll make sure of it. The throne is what you wanted since you started here.”

                A shot of ice is sent hurtling towards Haven’s cheek, of which he reacts with a short-lived fireball. The ice melts and the ash falls to the ground, leaving Haven untouched.

                “I hope you know when to step down,” he says, “Your Princess is the only hope left for this world.”

                He flips his hood up and leads the two youths through the crowd, which splits like the Red Sea as they walk. The two hurry to catch up with him, and the young man smoothly morphs into an elegant white wyvern. Haven watches with curiosity, the change much like a knife driven through a loaf of shortcake in his opinion.

                The young woman leaps on the wyvern’s back, situating between the wings, and waits for Haven to join her. Instead, Haven jumps in the air and transforms into a phoenix in a cloud of smoke and fire. He flaps his wings and soars higher until the wyvern bounds into the sky beside him and leads the way.

                Hours later, the trio crosses the boundary line into Seawards territory, a smaller oceanic kingdom to the south. Upon reaching it, the wyvern lands on the shore and allows the female to sprint towards the castle. Haven perches in a palm tree, watching. His mind races with what is to be done and a face plasters in his mind, one from a dream he cannot seem to forget.

                The wyvern takes off again without the female and Haven decides to stay put, not caring enough to follow. Moments after, the young woman returns with another with bluish-black hair and green eyes. Haven disappears in a column of smoke and fire once more before reappearing as human in his perch. The two girls look up at him, exchanging a few words he can’t pick up, before sitting in the sand.

                “My brother Seth will be back soon,” the female from the North speaks, “He went to pick up the Eastern youth in order to save time. Once he returns, you will open the portal for us, Heaven, and – “

                “It’s Haven,” he interrupts, looking out at the ocean instead of the two, “My name is Haven.”

                “When he gets back, Haven, you will open the portal for us and Seth will lead us to the lost Princess,” the girl continues.

                “No,” he shakes his head, “I will open the portal, yes, but the lost Princess is my responsibility to find. Do you not remember? Your leader put me in charge. You four are simply my babysitters.”

                He glances back at the two, suppressing a smirk, and watches as Seth’s sister narrows her eyes at him. The other draws in the sand without a word.

                “You mind your place, Fino,” the first threatens, “You aren’t out of harm’s way, even when we jump dimensions.”

                Haven studies her before looking back out at the ocean and sighing.

                “You mind yours,” he responds, “Fire melts ice.”

                “And water douses fire,” the second adds.

                Haven tightens his jaw and jumps down as the wyvern lands with a bronze-skinned boy on its back. The wyvern shifts back into a human and the two boys join the girls. Haven stays separate, studying each of them before flicking his wrist to the side.

                A swirling purple gash cuts through the air before them and Haven barely hesitates before throwing his cloak off and jumping through. Seth follows first, then his sister, and the other two last. As the last one falls through, the portal sews itself shut and locks the five into the unknown.