Soulford

Prologue: Dark Beginnings

A pleasant day full of cheer, joy, and pure happiness. Oh, how we wish for this story to start out this way, but, alas, it cannot. Our story begins on a dark, but clear night, with the moon shining brightly upon the small village of Gashenad. The moon was shining also upon the form of one to whom belonged the name of Gir'nashe, the commander of the Sko'li army. As the army crossed the Bridge of No Return, their bodies were illuminated in the dim light of the moon. Spiny, scaly, and lizard-like, these druids were anything but pleasant. They reeked of rotting meat and burnt flesh.

As the sun rose, the small army set out again until they reached the sleeping town of Gashenad. A scream erupted. A dying breath was taken. The Sko'li had invaded the small Shaman village. “Seize the village,” Gir'nashe roared. Seven Druids snapped to attention and now began to raid the houses, as they had been only focusing on the shops. Every last man, woman, and child was slaughtered... except two.

In the remaining house of Skalin-hól, panic was spreading. The family alone was now the entire living population of Gashenad. A tall, raven-haired woman stood over a small babe. “Allid, you must cooperate. Stay quiet, no matter what happens.” The babe nodded, as if he understood every word she said. In the corner was conveniently placed a basket, which she quickly stowed him in. She quickly walked towards the door while Allid peered on through a crack in the basket-lid. The Sko'li burst through the door.

“Commander, we found the last one,” said a smallish-looking Druid. At these words, the Commander stormed into the small room and stared into the woman's emerald eyes.

“You. Is the Fount of the Trees in this room?” he bellowed.

“N-no,” she stammered, “I have never heard of such a thi---”

“Don't you lie to me!” he screamed, his rancid breath blasting her in the face.

“I-I promise, sir, I'm not lying!” Gir'nashe shrugged and motioned to one of his guards.

“Kill her,” he said. Without a word, two of the cruel druids pulled out large, curved knives from their holding places on their sides and slit her throat without flinching at the dark-red, paint-like substance that spewed from the wound.

All through this, young Allid watched on.