An Indistinct Aurora

Prologue

A young Haro girl saunters among endless tomes in Sympan, the Ancient Tower, taking her time as she wanders its corridors. She lets her fingers kiss the binding of each tome as she passes. The tomes resonate with power, the energy manifesting as sparks of dark light with each touch. Pausing, the girl traces the lettering braided into one of the bindings as the sparks tickle her hand. She imagines the day when she will pull it from the shelves and unveil its secrets for herself.

Her arms linger behind as she progresses. Each tome's energies flicker and dance around her fingers, before dying off as her hand moves onward. It is as if the sparks are teasing her them, trying to convince her hands to pluck the book from its shelf and begin a journey of their own. She had long wished to experience every detail of every story in every one of these tomes. She imagined their contents as evil plots, twisting and turning her world on its head before some ancient hero saves the day.

If some ancient hero saves the day, she mused, moving forward once more.

She stops every few paces as a smile etches itself into her youthful face. Flecks of bright gold sparkle in her violet eyes as if they were each a point of light in the night sky – a star here, a galaxy there. They flash brighter and longer with each step she takes, burning with curiosity that could not, and would not, fade.

"You are the history of my people," she whispers to the tomes and pauses for a moment, looking around the hall. The books exude a tremulous glow. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, the glow bringing a soft light to the otherwise harsh darkness. Smiling, she continues talking to the tomes as if they were living creatures standing next to her in the aisle. "You tell of the struggles and trials of our heroes. You speak to their triumphs, cast down their failures. You unravel the machinations of those who would see the Haro destroyed."

She brings her thoughts back to her goal as she moves to the end of the aisle. She had come to the tower this day for her initiation, her induction into Haro society. She was to take the tome called Dawning, bring it to the ritual circle, and meditate on its contents.

Dawning, she thinks with a smile. She continued caressing the books with her fingers, their chaotic energies sparking at her touch. A shiver shook her body as she halted her walk. The First Book, the beginning of all things, she thought as she stood for a moment, reflecting on the dichotomy presented to her.

She was at the end of the aisle, near the end of her walk.

"It lies in the next row," she said aloud, her voice breaking the silence in the hall like the shattering of glass. Her voice echoed through the tower, catching the attention of acolytes tending to other, more distant areas. She could not see their faces; their hoods blocked the soft light of the tomes from illuminating them. She would not have known if they were looking at her, but for the fact that they all stopped their tasks and turned towards her in unison.

Bowing her head in shame, she touches the last book in the aisle, and her pulse quickens. Her fingers close around the tome's binding, pleading with her to extricate the manuscript from its resting place. She runs her thumb across the title on the cover, wishing but not daring to open the book. The magic within the tomes is dangerous; one could lose their mind by opening them outside of the required rituals.

She had long dreamed of her initiation. Wild imaginings of her future life filled every dream, every fantasy, every moment of every day.

And it all begins here, she thinks. Excitement builds within her, questions and imagination and reality swirling together. She looks at the tome as her thumb traces one word, and a thought comes into the world.