I am Geth; I come bearing the secret of secrets. I have been entrusted with the knowledge that controls all. The world is one, from the heavens above to the pits of darkness below. Change is inevitable. Life ends and death begins; but as such occurs new life is spawned from that of the ashes. The world never ends, it is reborn. Immortality is the reward of the good-hearted listener. The one who can listen can accomplish much more than the one who speaks. Trouble is lurking in the shadows. But there is help; follow the sound of good, he shall bring you what you need. You are the only hope for light; the one that can bring right from wrong. But do not worry, you are not alone; there are ones to help you. They will find you.”
And then Imwita awoke. Her long black hair glistening in the sunlight as she greets the morning and looks outside to see the most beautiful blue sky she has ever seen. The sun is just rising as the day begins, a cool breeze flows through her hair as she walks towards the field to check on her animals. From the field she can see a river, sparkling blue and reflecting the green leaves of the trees hovering over it. The day is beautiful, nearly as beautiful as Imwita herself.
Looking out on the horizon Imwita can see the movement of what appears to be a small child, walking through the woods and finally sitting on a tree stump. The boy pulls out what appears to be some kind of flute, and begins to play. The notes glide across the wind until they reach Imwita’s ears, enlightening her and entrancing her. She follows the sound of the flute down through the fields until she is standing before the boy.
“What are you? Who are you?” Imwita asks in her daze. “My name is Pashalik. I am a fawn. But don’t be afraid, I am here to help you.” And then he begins to play again. And as Imwita falls into the trance of the music one again; a strange glow begins to emit from Pashalik until the light finally explodes like a super nova. On the tree stump lies a small glove, the knuckles and forearm covered in a strange metal. The boy has disappeared and is no where to be found, but still Imwita puts the glove on, and as she tightens the straps, two large brutes come up from behind her.
“Well, hello there pretty lady. What’s that you have there?” One of the brutes asks her, the smell of alcohol on his breath. “I’m not really sure, it’s some sort of glove.” She replies nervously, unsure of how to respond to the size and magnitude of the two men. “Well then, pretty lady, I think you should give it to us.” “Yeah,” the other brute tacks on to feel included. “But here’s a deal, I’ll give you one free shot, and if you can knock me down, you can keep it.”
“What choice do I have?” Imwita thinks to herself. She stands back from the man, stretching and pumping as she prepares for a single blow. The two brutes taunt her and make fun of her as she drills, but still she is confident.
And then, with the fury and the anger that she has built up listening to the taunts and insults, she strikes. But something strange happens. Half way through the punch the glove begins to glisten, and by the time it hits the brute the entire glove is on fire, but she is unharmed by the flames. She pulls back and the glove goes out in a hiss of smoke. The brute is on the ground, his face charred, as the other brute laughs. When he finally gets up, they both charge her, but she defeats them both with a single blow to each. “That fire is hot, I could use a shower.” She says to the two brutes as she turns her back to them, laughing. And then she walks home, wondering about the boy named Pashalik, the strange glove he gave her, and why he gave it to her.
*
Far away, on a distant island, a young boy awoke. “Torik! Wake up, its time to do your chores. Get down here and eat something so you can get to work. Torik!” The boy’s mother calls to him from the kitchen of their house. Slowly Torik stumbles out of his bed and works his way into the kitchen; he sits down, barely able to keep his eyes open. “Eat your breakfast so you can go out and help your father with the farm. Its already getting late, the sun is rising.”
The day is beginning in the town of Achid, but Torik is far from ready for it. He’s been kept up the past few nights with the same recurring dream of a man who knows all, but is not willing to tell him until he finds the girl with hand of fire. He cannot understand the dream, and he cannot escape it; the more he ignores his dream the louder it becomes.
After breakfast Torik begins the walk out to the farm on his father’s land, but he is still tired and dizzy. After a few minutes he looks up, and is unsure of where he is. He looks all around him but all he sees is trees. “I’m lost, father will beat me when he finds out I’ve gone missing. I must find my way home.” And so Torik listens to the wind for help, hopping she can help lead him back. Floating through the air, as if it was hoping from one leaf to the next on the trees around Torik, soft notes of a flute gives him the sign he was looking for. And so he follows the beautiful sound of music deeper into the woods, until finally he is standing before a young boy sitting on a giant rock.
“My name is Pashalik,” the boy began, “I am here to help you find what you are looking for.” “How do you know what I’m looking for?” Torik asks, shaken by the words of the fawn. “Close your eyes and listen to my flute, and you shall receive what you are looking for.”
Torik is unsure, but decides to close his eyes anyway. In doing so, the wind begins to pick up, and the notes of music begin to fly around him. The pitch of the music continues to grow louder and louder until finally Torik opens his eyes and covers his ears. At that instant, Pashalik disappears into the fog of the woods and the world goes silent. Not even the breeze through the trees or the scamper of woodland creatures can be heard.
The boy looks down at the rock where Pashalik was sitting, and sees a shiny piece of metal. Reaching for it, he discovers that the shiny piece of metal is a medallion on a book; the cover wrapped in leather. Torik opens the book, and the pages automatically wisp to the page entitled “Terra Eo.” He reads the words, and the instructions provided with them. The words tell him to repeat “Itum” three times, and then state where he wants to go, and he will be brought there within a flash. This seems a bit weird to him but he decides to try it anyway. “Itum” the boy repeats, followed by “Manus Flammae.” Suddenly a bright flash of light blinds Torik momentarily, and when his eyes come back into focus he is in an open field filled with animals and livestock. In front of him lies a small hut, and so he decides to find out where he is.
He walks around the animals, nearly tripping over a lamb, but he manages to make his way to the hut. He knocks on what appears to be the door, and as she opens it, he is startled, and yet amazed. The pure beauty within her was astonishing. Her long black hair, her blue eyes, filled with life and vitality, wrapped in her cocoa brown skin. Every inch of her body amazes Torik; he stands in awe at the beauty before him. “My name is Imwita, how can I help you?”
*
Out in the woods, across a green field, a young looking fawn is playing a flute, sitting on a fallen tree. Nearly silent, a boy in his mid-twenties is crawling between the trees, looking for a deer to call his meal. His name is Arcum, and he's been looking all day for something to eat. Thinking he finally spots food, he crawls up slowly on the fawn, only to discover that he is actually half human.
“Don’t give me that look, I’m just a fawn,” Pashalik grunts annoyed, and then goes back to playing his flute. Arcum looks around, confused. “Can you help me find some food?” he asks rather desperately. “I can help you on one condition,” Pashalik replies, “When we meet again, you must give me what I am looking for.”
“This guy is crazy, but whatever, I’m hungry.” Arcum thinks to himself; “alright, I’ll do it, how are you going to help me?”
The wind begins to pick up… and spiral around the fawn, as the fawn begins to play louder and louder. The wind becomes so strong that the fawn begins to float up, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. A small bow and a quiver full of arrows lands on the tree that the fawn was sitting on. Latulla lifts the bow, and places the quiver over his shoulder. Pulling an arrow out of the quiver, he notices that the arrow is inscribed with a two simple words: “Sagitta Ducere”
“Hmmm, I wonder what that means,” Arcum thinks to himself, putting the arrow along the guide of his bow. He aims up into the air, and fires. As the arrow climbs higher and higher into the sky; suddenly it turns on a 90º angle and hits a bird in a tree. The bird falls to the ground and Arcum is amazed. “Oh,” his echoes through the woods as he picks up the bird and goes on his way, looking for somewhere to cook his new found meal. Walking through the trees he comes upon a clearing, and following the animals pathway, he comes across a hut, and walks towards it; hoping to use their fire pit to cook his dinner. Laughter and excitement is coming from the hut as he grows closer, “A good sign,” Arcum thinks to himself, “Laughter is a sign of good people.” Arcum smiles as he sees two figures through the window, a man and a woman, talking and having a good time. “They seem pretty happy; I hope I can join them.”
*
The streets of Tífil have always been full of different people: lots of people yelling and bargaining, anything to make their deal. The perfect place, for a young girl to make a rather mischievous living. Her name is Latulla, and her trade: master thief. Even from the age of six, Latulla has been able to rob the security guards outside the temple. Covered by her innocence and beauty, her devilish intent is never sense, nor realized.
Today, however, is a different kind of day. Latulla decides that today is a good day to roam the outskirts of town, perhaps to find a wealthy victim. As she begins her search around the field, she hears the echo of a flute ring through the trees. The sound entrances her as she walks blindly through the woods to find its source. As she walks, she begins to hear a voice. Distant at first, but quickly the sound grows closer, the dark voice echoes in her ear: “Follow the music to a single hut, alone in the open field. There you will find three, who will help you on your way, and in return you will help them.”
Hypnotized and enchanted by the voice, she continues her search for the hut, until it finally comes into view. She begins to run as the hut comes closer and closer. Latulla is about to reach the hut when she blinks. She opens her eyes to find herself on the ground; a tall, attractive, young man standing before her. “Sorry about that,” the man apologizes, “I didn’t see you coming. Are you alright?” “I’m… I’m fine,” Latulla stutters, lost in the gaze of his dark brown eyes. “Let me help you,” the boy says, holding out his hand to help Latulla up. “Thanks, my name is Latulla.”
“Well Latulla, my, that is a beautiful name; my name is Arcum. Nice to meet you; do you live here? I was just on my way to knock on the door.” “Me too!” Latulla’s eyes widen and glow with excitement. “Let’s go in together,” Arcum smiles as they make their way to the door.
As the two approach the door to knock; it swings open. “Hello there. My name is Imwita, and this is my new found friend, Torik.” “Hi,” Latulla answers, “I was told by a voice in a dream to seek your hut, and here I am; not to be blunt about my coming here.” “And I was looking for a place to cook my meal, when I ran into this beautiful girl.” Latulla blushes as Arcum smiles happily towards her. “If I had not spent yesterday afternoon with a fawn, I would call you crazy. So, come on in already! We’ll talk inside.”
*
And so the four sit and talk, each one telling the others their story of how they became to be sitting in their chair today. After hearing all there is to hear, they decide that they best stick together, as it seems that is what nature has intended to happen. “So where do we go from here?” Imwita asks, just finishing her share of Arcum’s game.
Torik is the first to speak up, “I say we travel around the world, searching for the solution to each of our personal missions.” “What about my livestock?” Imwita asks, worried of what might happen in her absence.
“We could sell them at the market,” Latulla suggests, “I guarantee you that they will be treated well there, and we will be given a fair price.”
“Food will not be a problem,” Arcum adds, polishing his bow, “I’ve got that taken care of.”
“And I’ll take care of keeping us warm,” Imwita agrees, putting on her armored gauntlet.
“And I can take us wherever we may wish to go,” Torik smiles, grasping onto his spell book. “So let’s be off then,” Latulla agrees, excited to be with such new and unusual people.
