Prologue
Magic was everywhere it was in everything but only the elves knew how to properly harness that magic and connect with the world around them. It was a different kind of magic to that which the humans used. The elves could even join with pure spirits if the spirit is willing. A little elven boy was watching his elders as they summoned cleansing spirits to bless the forests. His golden eyes widened as he watched the ritual before him, seeing these pure spirits with awe as a great swirling magical field surrounded them in the centre of this forest clearing. It was beautiful and he wondered if he would be able to do this one day when he was grown. He felt a new presence among these spirits and then he saw it. A dark entity, appearing as shadow almost looking like it was trying to take form but it looked directly at him; eyes as black as the great abyss and he felt like he was falling right into them. He was terrified but he could not look away.
“Something is wrong! Another being is coming through! It is malign! Get the children to safety!” elder Barthil called, the boy saw the elven elder looking around to him; his kind brown eyes filled with fear. His father scooped him up in his arms running along with his mother close beside. He heard screaming and he looked over his father’s shoulder to see the dark entity was free and the elders struggled to subdue it. More appeared to be tearing through the magical barrier between worlds, more darkness, more entities from the darker realms. These were not pure spirits.
Suddenly humans appeared, magic wielders and they somehow managed to push back this dark entity protecting him and the other elves that had run but he knew the entity was not defeated, he could still feel its presence and its empty eyes looking at him though he could no longer see this being. These humans turned to the fleeing elves and the boy’s father put him down.
“Thank you so much, human,” he said and suddenly he was struck down by a blade through his chest falling dead beside him. The boy’s eyes widened as he watched the life leave his father’s eyes, golden eyes like his own; his mother screamed holding onto him tightly pleading for mercy as the humans closed in on them. He reached for his father’s dagger and stood in front of his mother. The humans laughed at him for he was just a small boy, angry tears falling from his golden eyes as he tried to defend his mother but was rendered unconscious by a single blow. The last thing he heard was the leader of these magical humans.
“Gather the children, kill the adults,” and then the response.
“Yes, my lord, Zakalis,” that name Zakalis rang through his ears and he would never forget it.
