Prologue

If my father had not been eager to go on a quest to Mount Agoria, probably none of those adventures I had gone through would have occurred. Until now, I was never sure if he was really a kind-hearted shaman or a scheming Astrian priest. Whether he did what he did what he did out of naivety or greed. His loss became my gain. And it took me almost three months to prepare myself to a new journey. Physically, mentally, and spiritually.

The Astra tribe lived serenely at the Desert of Flames, a piece of desolate land so hot no one could ever imagine to step on the ground. Legend had it, those wanderers from different lands on Nippolia, who came to the Flames were charred to ashes. It was Hell to them, the foreign explorers. Probably, the headless giant worms that lived under the Flames' soil petrified them. Truthfully, they wouldn't attack unless harmed. And for that, they became my friends.

Being the son of a Shaman meant that I was a paid a high respect by my peers. Before my father's disappearance, he taught me the importance of virtues, a strong mind, and the ultimate lesson: Magic. I couldn't say, though, that I was excellent. One would call me a jack-of-all-trades, but master of none. I was best at concentrating on my Qi powers, for healing and defense purposes. I was a mediocre fighter, although I was proud with my own invention: A spear made of elephant tusks and soaked in a serpent's venom. And I could understand a Pterodactyl's language.

I knew all about Nippolia's other regions. The Dead forest. Merchant Village of Gratz. But no one else knew about us. The Astra tribe. Because we were long forgotten renegades, a tribe of half-human half-daemons. I used to question why Father dressed me up with grand-looking necklaces made of Phoenix's feathers, or forced me to wear ear cuffs made of a Saber-toothed Tiger's fangs.

It was a few days when Father had embarked on his journey to Mount Agoria, whose purposes remained a secret, when my tribe members went on a total transformation of their real selves – creatures more vicious than a drunk dragon or a hungry wolf, I realized why we had lived on the deserted Desert of Flames. They went berserk and fought among themselves, before turning the barren fields into a food fest for the giant worms. I was the only one who remained sane. It hit me that the ornaments kept me sensible. It was enchanted with spells and divine spirits. I was blessed.

It took some guts and continuous thinking whether I should live the Flames or not, since I was left alone. Where to go? Who to believe? I was just a young man with few experiences, and I almost backed out from leaving. I had my doubts. I had never seen the so-called civilization the other Nippolians claimed they had. I would be the laughing stock of the city if I entered dressing like a partially naked mad man with my long, red hair and bizarre accessories. I couldn't take them off, or I would end up just like the other Astrians. I could sense the evil presence lurking, waiting for me to trip over and fall.

But I need to find my father, and find the reason behind the Astrians' madness. I need to do this.

I wish I had learnt how to turn invisible, or transform into an animal in disguise.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a story in an alternate universe; in this case, a Middle-Earth/Narnia-like place called Nippolia. Sounds cliche, I know, but it's a college project. So, I'd like to thank Werewolf Nighteyes, and the class of Language and Literature for letting me borrow your characters. Sorry if they're not like how you imagined it.