GENESIS PROJECT

No one knew how much longer the Universe would last after the devastation of the Shatter Wars, but nearly all could see that it was on a razor’s edge. One step on either side was a death, unlike anything ever known. The Olden Souls, led by Ishkaluuad had done their work well... the Universe was gasping on the floor... What hope was there? Even the Emahra, who, it was said, could communicate with the Divine, had no answers as to the fate of the Universe...

The future remained a question mark.

And in those ever dark days, minions of evil moved freely, with wicked thoughts of conquest and power… and the final death of everything in the Universe...

-From the Journals of Nell Sorrow

‘There is a connective tissue between all beings who exist in our vast Universe… and that thing is… sorrow…’

-The teachings of the Dark Wyzard Helmdom

XALLI

‘As the Heir to the Emahra throne, you need to at least be able to stand straight!’ Auntie Meema snapped in the Emahra language, her words popping off her tongue as she spoke. With a dried reed, she struck Princess Alathor along the backs of her calves, as the pretty, blue-haired young woman stood perfectly tall and straight, hair tied back in a tight bun, dressed in a long, royal Hanbok gown of blue and white silk, with a blue belt around her narrow waist.

She knew she must look ridiculous with a book balanced atop her head.

Alathor turned her dark eyes Auntie Meema’s way and sent a frustrated glare down at the short, green, scaly, frog woman. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever need to balance a book on my head!’

‘Oh, really?’ Auntie Meema asked, arching a green brow. ‘Well, for that cheek, you will balance it for two minutes longer.’

Alathor clenched her jaw, biting back the retort that leapt to the end of her tongue.

Auntie Meema started walking around Alathor, tapping her reed on the floor with every step, as she spoke.

‘If you can’t manage to keep your warrior teachers, then you will learn the finer parts of your royal training.’

‘I don’t really need warrior teachers, I’m better than most.’

‘Everyone needs teachers, young Princess. Not everyone scares their teachers away. So you train with me. I don’t scare.’

‘Alta is going to train me soon,’ Alathor said, suddenly. ‘There’s a Warrior teacher!’

‘Yes Alta will teach… and she has before. You’ve had her as a teacher twice. She’s given you up twice,’ Auntie Meema said, stepping in front of Alathor again, looking up at her with that cocked brow again. ‘What have you to say to that, little one?’

It was an odd thing to say, because Meema barely came up to the Princess’s knees.

‘I’m an acquired taste,’ Alathor beamed.

‘You are a stubborn girl!’ Auntie Meema charged, seemingly not in the mood for jokes… but then was she ever? ‘You take too much after your Mother!’

Alathor grinned.

‘Your Sister, Hart, is so much easier to deal with,’ Auntie Meema sighed. ‘Teaching her these finer things was simple… and you’re the older Sister! You should have already learned this!’

‘I’ve been busy,’ Alathor offered.

‘Always running off seeking adventures.’

‘But proving myself as a warrior in the process. You can’t deny that!’

‘You are stubborn and easily distracted!’

‘But I’m cute!’ Alathor beamed.

‘Cute are you?’ Auntie Meema scoffed. But she actually smiled… a little. ‘You are trouble! You know this is why your Parents have had to become more strict with you?’

Alathor frowned.

That was true at least. It seemed every aspect of he life was controlled these days. She didn’t know why everyone was in such a hurry to make her Queen material. Emahra lived forever… barring illness, accident or murder… there was plenty of time for this sort of thing. Her parents would be around for eons… After all, the wars were over.

There was peace.

Alathor kept her thoughts to herself.

Across the bright, blue and white training room, Alathor heard a commotion in the hallway. Without turning her head, her eyes slid toward the sounds. She saw some Emahra Warriors meeting, talking hurriedly. This palace was the Emahra Academy, and such exchanges weren’t uncommon… and always seemed exciting.

Alathor listened as best she could.

‘The Outer Scout, Migi, just reported in,’ one of the men said; a tall, dark-skinned man, dressed in the white and blue armour of the Emahra Warriors. With him was a fair-skinned woman with green hair, and also a tall, handsome man with white hair, and ears that were a little more drastically pointed than Alathor’s Emahra kin; indicating that he was an Ilorian. Another of the ageless races.

‘You have to get word to the King and Queen now,’ the dark-skinned Emahra said to the woman. ‘Tell them this exactly: One of the Keepers has been found. He has been taken.’

‘What does it mean?’ the green-haired woman asked.

‘They will know,’ the dark-skinned man assured.

The girl nodded and she hurried away with the Ilorian. The other man went the other direction.

Auntie Meema struck Alathor across her calves with her discipline reed.

‘Ouch!’ Alathor said, but didn’t move, and the book on her head stayed where it was.

‘Are you not focused?’ Auntie Meema snapped. ‘You know that means ten more minutes, Princess Alathor.’

‘Seriously!’ Alathor groaned.

‘Fine… because you so want it… twelve more.’

Alathor kept all other comments to herself, and focused as much as she could.

She wondered though what it meant… what was a Keeper, and what did it mean that he’d been taken, and who, Alathor wondered, had taken him?

She tried to force these swirling thoughts from her mind, but it wasn’t easy… something big was happening, and she wanted to know what.