Heir of Asratoil Prologue

A small, grey ball of fluff shivered under the pouring rain, nestled against the worn steps of a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere. Inside, a man and a boy were arguing, their voices rising and falling in a storm of emotion. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the air, and the boy burst out of the door, slamming it behind him. He was busy tucking a small leather journal into his satchel and not watching where he was going.

As he stepped onto the last stair, he felt a squishy lump beneath his foot. Panic surged through him, and he jumped away, hearing a crack followed by an eerie silence from the creature he had stepped on. Looking down, he saw a fluffy, grey kitten. He scooped it up and gasped.

“A Tabaxi!” he exclaimed, staring at the small humanoid kitten with big blue eyes streaming tears. The rain mingled with the kitten’s tears, creating a sorrowful picture. The boy noticed the kitten’s leg was bent at an unnatural angle.

“Can you talk, little guy?” the boy frowned.

The kitten shook his head. As the tears began to slow, he wriggled in the boy’s arms.

“We should take you to the healer in the nearby town. It’s only a few hours’ walk, and I was heading there anyway.” The kitten started moving his paws in a series of signs.

The boy stared at the kitten, bewildered. He hesitated before speaking, “Sign language? I don’t know sign language, sorry little guy.” He gave the kitten a sympathetic look, and the kitten responded with wide, sparkling eyes.

Just as the boy opened his mouth to ask another question, the door of the cottage swung open. He dashed to the side, clutching the kitten tightly, both of them shivering in fear and from the chilly rain.

“Boy! Where are you?” a large man bellowed into the dark, wet night. The kitten wondered who this man was and why the boy was running away. He watched the man, intrigued, his jaw dropping as the figure stepped into the moonlight. An elf! He thought. He glanced back at the boy, his eyes widening; the boy was an elf too! A loud slam pulled him from his thoughts—the man had gone back inside.

After a moment of silence, the boy exhaled. “That was my uncle,” he explained. “He’s been taking care of me since my parents disappeared. He hates me. I decided to run away and go on an adventure! My dad used to go on a lot, and he wrote about them in his journal. I’m going to do the same!” The boy smiled, and the kitten licked his hand in response. They sat there for a moment, the pale moon casting its watchful glow over them.

“Why were you on the stairs of my house?” the boy asked, confusion etching his features. The kitten made a writing motion with his paw. The boy stared for a moment before realization dawned on him.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second there,” he said, gently patting the kitten’s head. The kitten let out a small purr. Reaching into his satchel, the boy pulled out a piece of paper, ink, and a quill. Light raindrops began to fall, but the rain seemed to be letting up. Once it stops, we should leave, the boy thought. The kitten scribbled on the paper in messy handwriting. After a moment, he handed it to the boy, who read:

My name is Silent Quill. Call me Quill. My family abandoned me in the nearby woods. I walked for a while until I reached your house. I come from a wealthy royal family. I know that war is coming. They left me to save their last heir.

The boy sat in stunned silence, a thousand questions swirling in his mind. This kitten certainly had a way with words, he thought. Taking a deep breath, he decided to ask one question at a time.

“Okay. So, who is your family?” the boy asked. Quill took the paper and wrote:

My family is the royal family of Asratoil, the capital city of Wistimis. Do you know these places? They’re on every map of Zespiria.

He paused, looking up for a response. The boy nodded, and Quill continued:

My father is the king, and my mother is the queen. My brother was in line for the throne until he died in a terrible accident. I am now next in line. Except my parents abandoned me.

The boy, curiosity ignited, asked, “What is the war that is coming?”

Quill began to write again:

My father spoke little about it, but I overheard some details. There is unrest among the people; they think my father will crack under the pressure to protect the kingdom. He is trying to defend it from an army of beasts, led by King Assyrius of Lavoria. Lavoria isn’t on any map I’ve seen; it’s one of the banished lands.

The boy’s eyes widened as he absorbed this information. The banished lands! he thought. People never mention those! Quill handed the quill, ink, and paper back to the boy, who quickly tucked them away in his bag. They both sat quietly for a while, fatigue settling over them.

“We should probably start walking to town,” the boy said finally. “Your leg is hurt.” He stood up, still cradling Quill, and began to walk down a narrow path into the woods, not glancing back at the cottage that he had once called home.

The two continued along the path, deep into the woods. They were surrounded by towering trees, their branches cracking and shifting in the breeze. Each noise made Quill flinch, his ears twitching nervously.

They continued through the muddy woods, the boy’s boots slipping with every step. Quill shivered in Castian’s arms, his leg hurting. Castian felt guilty each time the kitten winced.

They walked in silence, the rain slowing to a drizzle. Castian glanced at Quill. The kitten’s royal background and the war he mentioned kept spinning in his mind.

“How are you holding up?” Castian asked softly.

Quill didn’t answer, but his eyes showed pain and fear. Castian gently spoke, “We’re almost there. You’ll be okay.”

Quill pulled out a piece of paper and wrote:

I’m scared. What if my parents are dead? Or worse, what if they’re starting this war?

Castian read it and patted Quill’s head. “I’ll help you figure it out. You’re not alone.”

They reached the village and a woman with silver hair approached. “What happened to him?” she asked.

“I found him,” Castian said. “He’s hurt. His leg’s broken.”

The woman nodded. “Come inside. There’s a healer here. But be quiet—it’s not safe out here at night.”

As they entered her cottage, the healer quickly set Quill’s leg. While he worked, Castian thought about Quill’s story. He felt a strong need to help the kitten.

“I don’t know what’s next,” Castian whispered, “but I’ll be here for you.”

Quill relaxed in Castian’s arms, no longer trembling from the cold. Together, they sat by the fire, ready for whatever came next.