Kindling Saga (Original Fiction)

AN: Original fiction story - much more care will go into this story than any other I've tried to write. First chapter will follow Evelyn, the next will follow Adam and so on. Updated are intended to be once every week. Chapters are expected to hover around the 1500-3000 mark.

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It was supposed to be easy. Pull out the sword, fulfill the prophecy, and unite the nation. But Evelyn is quick to find that expectations often lead to disappointment. All the while, Adam begins to go through an Awakening that he's only beginning to understand. Follow each on their individual journeys through a broken empire, and watch how the actions of one leads to consequences for the other.

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A sword rests in the middle of the Jordain River.

The river itself is deep and wide, its waters dark as a midnight sea with a current that races strong enough to pull anything down before it can stop or fight back. The sword is settled in this flow just below where the water swirls around a huge rock, so massive it looks like an island set amid the river's swift currents. Yet there are no trees growing on that rocky promontory; rather, the bare stone seems oddly smooth—as though it had been worn by the ages until only natural curves remain. This particular stone is tall, rising nearly twice the height of any other along the shoreline, but not perfectly round: one side slants slightly outward from the rest, making the entire formation look almost like a gigantic pair of cupped hands cradling something precious within. It takes no imagination at all for anyone who stands upon this island to know what lies hidden within the great boulder: the sword which once belonged to the First Emperor of Paragon.

The First Emperor of Paragon was said to have possessed two swords, each blade fashioned from his own lifeblood and enchanted with such power that nothing could withstand them when wielded by their master. One each were passed onto the Emperor's two sons when they both came of age. But tragedy befell both sons while they yet lived; one died fighting against his father's enemies during the Blood War and his blade lost with him, the other perished during the Great Plague of 17AU and his sword stolen from the palace itself the following year. Only after the deaths of these heirs did the First Emperor become truly angry, for he realized how poorly prepared his nation was to defend itself without proper leadership.

The swords had always been meant as a legacy, should either of his sons prove worthy of taking up the mantle. With no heir to succeed him, the First Emperor travelled to the island of Ungarde on the far reaches of his empire, seeking the aid of a spiritual man the emperor was said to have known in his youth. No one knows what was said between the two, but afterwards he forged a third sword and called all across the island to come forth for a great announcement.

In that moment of triumph, the First Emperor proclaimed that his empire would only be ruled over by one who was worthy to rule, born of more than mortal flesh alone. He proclaimed that he would place this new blade deep into the mountains, and that the one who should be seen worthy by the blade to wield it would become his chosen heir. That they would rule over all the lands of Paragon.

Despite the Emperor's hopes, none of the people on the island proved themselves capable of pulling the sword from the stone. Undeterred, the Emperor returned to his capital on the mainland, for his empire was vast and populated. Yet still, he was met with failure, as many travelled to the island yet no person from the Empire could prove their worthiness enough to draw the blade and claim rulership in his stead. In his frustration, the First Emperor declared that no one would ever again hold sway over the lands of Paragon without first drawing his sword. The homeland of the First Emperor himself, and many kingdoms under his banner, was divided up among his remaining family until such time as another child was found worthy of inheriting the legacy. It is said that he believed that if his future heir was truly worthy then they too would be able to unite Paragon as the First Emperor himself did. For he believed his heir would have the means to change the hearts and minds of any man—a power gained through their own self-sacrifice.

In those days men were unquestioning in their devotion to their gods and their magics, and over the years countless people have traveled to the the Isle of Ungarde and attempted to draw the blade, yet all were met without success. Now, the only people that still hold to testing their worthiness are those that live on the island itself.

And as the sword became more of a story mothers tell their children and the once united land fractured into petty kingdoms and war-torn tyrannies, so the Temple grew and flourished within the city of Jerusala. And even when the empire began its slow decline, the priests of Jerusala held firm belief that one day the First Emperor's sword would be drawn and that Paragon would be remade. Yet the longer the years passed, the harder it seemed to believed the tale. No one had ever come forth who was strong enough to pull it free.

For nearly two thousand years the great stone rested in the center of the Jordain River in Ungarde. And for those years the sword has remained. Until today.

"I'm going to pull it out," Evelyn says, stepping forward to stand beside Micah on the floating bridge which stretches from shore to shore across the river. She brushes her brown hair back from her face with her hand and smiles at him as she adds, "You can't stop me."

Micah laughs and shrugs his shoulders. "I guess not." He looks up at the sun shining overhead and sighs. "I hope you do, it would be nice for all the fighting to finally stop."

She doesn't answer immediately; instead, she pauses to examine the enormous boulder ahead of them. The rock appears almost perfectly smooth, though there is a deep crack running down its length starting from one of the pointer fingers and ending somewhere below the water.

"I wonder what it actually does?" Evelyn wonders aloud. "A sword forged by a god would have to be able to do anything, right?"

"The First Emperor wasn't a god," Micah corrects.

Evelyn gives him an amused look, and then starts toward the boulder, muttering under her breath, "Maybe…but we give prayers to him don't we? Sounds like something you do for a god."

She keeps walking, but then stops short when she sees movement in the water just beneath the surface of the Jordain River—a long, sinuous shape that writhes in the current. As it comes closer into view, Micah recognizes it as some kind of snake. He's surprised to see such a creature out this early into the Spring.

"It's pretty big," Evelyn observes as it continues on across the river without a glance back at either. It passes over the bridge, flowing between two stones on the far side and continuing on until it disappears from sight beyond a bend in the river.

Evelyn stares after it for a moment, and then she says, "Think it's a good sign or a bad one?"

Micah smiles and shakes his head. "How can you tell one way or another?"

She frowns slightly. "Father used to say that snakes symbolize the cycle of life, and compared their shedding to transformations and new beginnings we go through in our lives. So I guess a large snake crossing your path means a transformation is coming soon."

He laughs. "I think he was full of shit. The only good snake I've ever seen is a dead snake."

She shrugs her shoulders and turns her gaze to the rope ladder hanging down against the boulder. "Why did you let me talk you into bringing me here?"

He steps forward, setting himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Evelyn.

"Because you wanted to come, right?" He glances around them, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but there's only the usual sounds of the Jordain River running past them: gurgles of water, faint trickle of pebbles tumbling from the rocky shoreline downstream, the flutter of birds overhead. There are no people anywhere about, just as he expected—most who live on the island have already tried to wield the sword at least once in their lives.

Evelyn briefly meets his gaze, but says nothing as she begins to climb up the ladder. Micah follows behind her.

She pulls herself to the top and stands poised on the edge of the stone platform. Her green eyes stare out over the river for a long moment before she speaks again. "I hope we're back before dark," she tells him.

Micah sighs and follows her atop of the boulder. He leans against the massive rock and looks back across the river toward the forest they spent the day hiking through. A breeze picks up along the banks of the river, sending waves across the surface, though its touch is gentle enough not to disturb their perch on the island's crown. Still, Micah decides it might be better to be quick and not stay exposed to it too long.

Evelyn turns her gaze toward the sword, stabbed deep into the crease where the stone hands overlap. It almost seems to gleam with a soft light that comes from within itself rather than reflecting off any outside source. But then Evelyn gasps softly when a bright shaft of sunlight breaches over the top of the boulder, landing right upon the swords hilt like an arrow released by some unseen bowman.

"Well," Micah says with another laugh. "I would consider that one a good sign."

Evelyn takes a few steps closer to the sword, before hesitating and turning toward Micah. She smiles "You first."

Micah nods and moves up to the the sword's pommel and wraps his hand around the hilt. The weapon feels strangely heavy in his grasp; not in a physical sense, but as in a weight pushing upon his soul. He has pulled free similar blades from their resting places, but none of those were forged of blood and magic as this one was. And as he stares at the blade before him, something strange happens. Its hilt grows warm beneath his hand, just enough that the palm of his right hand starts to hurt slightly.

"Here we go then," he mumbles.

Micah pulls the sword with all his might, yet the blade remains unmoved in its resting place.

He pulls again harder and strains every muscle in his arm. With each pull on the sword's hilt, it becomes hotter and hotter until it feels like someone is pressing down on his chest with both hands and trying to force him back into the stone floor. All at once, Micah cries out in pain and releases the sword—only for him to trip and fall back towards the edge of the boulder.

"Fuck!" Evelyn yells as she rushes over, the worry evident on her face. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," he snaps back, raising his hand where raised and red skin now lies. He forces himself to breath. "It burned me."

Evelyn shakes her head. "That isn't what's supposed to happen. No one's ever mentioned something like this happening." She purses her lips and looks back over toward the sword. "Do you think they just forgot to tell us?"

"Maybe I should try again?" Micah says hopefully. "This is something new, not something the entire island would just forget to mention. And it's not like people are just walking around with burned hands"

"Try your other hand," Evelyn suggests as she helps him to his feet and places a gentle hand atop his shoulder.

When he puts pressure on the sword hilt again, Micah finds that there is no gradual increase in the heat against his skin like the last time. Instead it is already burning hot and he quickly pulls away.

"Let me try," Evelyn says, giving a worried look at Micah's hand. Slowly, Evelyn places her fingers on the sword's pommel. After a few moments of feeling nothing but cool metal on the tips, she takes a deep breath and grips the hilt firmly with both hands. A faint shimmer of light plays along the blade and goosebumps rise up along Evelyn's arms.

"It feels weird…not hot. Like water trickling under my skin." She glances at Micah questioningly. "That's never happened before either," she says softly. "What does it mean?"

Micah shakes his head. "I don't know."

Evelyn lets out a breath through her nose and begins to pull up on the blade, slowly sliding it free from its resting place. Like a hot knife through butter, the weapon comes easily out of the stone it has been sheathed in for centuries. It is as if the resistance that so many before Evelyn experienced doesn't exist.

"I did it," Evelyn questions, shocked.

"Yeah," Micah answers, watching as she draws the sword closer to herself. The sword glimmers even brighter now, almost pulsing with life and power.

She stares down into the glowing blade as though seeing something else entirely. For a moment her eyes widen, and then she smiles, shaking her head slightly and looking back toward Micah. "It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like this before."

Micah gives an appreciative nod and watches Evelyn and the sword warily. "Do you feel any different?"

The glow from the sword slowly starts to dim, until it fades completely.

"No," Evelyn shakes her head. "That feeling I had under my skin has gone away as well. It was very strange." She looks around the boulder they're standing upon.

"Well, that was certainly anticlimactic," Micah says with a frown.

Evelyn glances around them. "I'm half expecting the rock to sink," she admits with a laugh.

"Do you think we should try to hide it?" Micah asks.

Evelyn hesitates and considers his question before answering. "I don't think so, it won't be long until someone comes up here and notices the sword is gone" she says with a sigh. "I'm sorry about your hand."

"It's nothing," Micah dismisses with a wave, "Let's just get down off of here and..." Micah takes a few steps closer to the edge of the boulder. "Evelyn, you should take a look at this."

Evelyn's smile fades when she looks over around his shoulder to sees what has captured Micah's attention. There are more snakes—hundreds of them, maybe thousands. The creatures are weaving their way among each other over the surface of the Jordain River with the rock they're perched on as their center-point.

Fear starts to truly creep into Evelyn's belly for the first time today. One snake she can handle, but hundreds are entirely different story.

Micah stands quietly beside her, and together they watch as snake after snake slithers out of the water and up the side of the rock.

One after another the snakes come over the top of the boulder and Evelyn and Micah both slowly back up. They stop in the center of the stone, directly above where she pulled out the sword. The snakes begin to encircle the two, giving them no direction to turn without dozens of serpents blocking their way.

Almost as one, the snakes closest to the pair begin to move around them in a circular loop. Their scales seem to catch the light from above and shine brightly. Their motion almost hypnotizing.

"Do you see this?" Micah asks, eyes wide and voice soft.

Evelyn nods mutely.

Suddenly, the snakes halt their movements and raise their heads to look at them. To look at Evelyn. Then all at once they let out a chorus of hissing, a sound so loud it fills every crevice of the boulder, drowning out the sounds of the river.

"Oh my God!" Evelyn cries. She lifts the First Emperor's sword with trembling hands, desperate for something to provide at least an illusion of safety. She's not sure if she wants to run or stay still; she's never felt so frightened before in her life. But as she stares down into the mass around them, fear is quickly morphed into pure terror.

And then the snakes lower their heads in a way that comes across as almost respectful. They begin to move once again, but this time instead of entrapping them the serpents begin to retreat. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, the snakes finally retreat completely and disappear back down the rock and under the water's surface.

Soon, Evelyn and Micah are once again alone on the rock, the snakes having all left their sight. The only sign that they were there at all being the slight ripples left behind in the water.

Evelyn lets out the breath she didn't know she was holding. "What just happened?" she whispers. "What was that supposed to mean?"

"Judgement," Micah replies, his voice tight and eyes still wide. His hands are shaking.

"Huh," Evelyn looks up at him, confusion clear. "What?"

In response Micah simply points at the sword that Evelyn has a deathlike vice around with both hands. Her fingers have turned white from how hard she is squeezing the hilt as if trying to crush the weapon to powder.

And there in a flowing script upon the blade, unnoticed by Evelyn and once hidden by the stone, lays a single word:

Judgement.