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Ballad of the Bard

Prologue: The White Space

Prologue: The White Space

May 11, 2025

I apologize if this suprised you guys. In my head, this is a series of ten books, so I have prolouges that break the arcs. I'm putting this up, so you can see my orginization, but overall, it shouldn't affect the reading expereience. Enjoy!




The white space gave way to a darkness where blue hued crystals appeared. Those floating amalgamations of memories and lives that had solidified at the death of its correspondent, glowed and pulsed as they appeared and then no more.

Anjur stared up at them, looking for something. Upon their delicate faces, a memory, the very last, would appear. He watched, focusing between a few, keeping track of the ones that showed. As soon as he gathered that one was from the planet in question, he summoned it closer and watched with curiosity.

His sigh of defeat was hollow in this expanse. With a weary slump, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. How many years had it been without a glimpse of those things again. It was like it had been a calculated fluke the last time those shadowy creatures appeared in the mind crystals. The sheer amount had been startling, so where had they gone? His fingers clenched as his frustrations mounted.

After itching his horns, he opened his eyes and hoped to spot them. When none appeared, he grumbled and had the crystals back. He would go through those memories later. For now, he needed to work on his assignments. He took another crystal in and peered in, recording down what he saw. One after another, manuscripts and records of these crystals piled up around him. After filling his desk, he let the last crystal leave, and he refocused on the ones he had set aside. More pointless fights had claimed those lives, a few had been snuffed out at a young age, he could still feel the parent's cries of despair at the loss.

Anjur slowly packed the manuscripts into bindings and then dissipated the time barrier around him. It was work and more work, not to mention trying to find out about those creatures. He vaguely wondered how that boy was doing. The one he saved all those years ago. So far, he hadn’t seen a crystal mind that showed him. There wasn’t a crystal of his mind either, so he was still alive, but not interacting with others. Anjur hoped he was doing well as he carried a few of the books in hand, enjoying their weight.

He passed by others Aytac as they hurried about, entering libraries and placing the books on the shelves. At each entrance, an Aytac sat, a crown of horns on their heads. All wore the same medallion, a central pillar with branching leaves and stars, a symbol of their work and who granted them their place in this universe. Anjur passed by one room after another, avoiding the others. Finally, he found the library that would contain the minds he had recorded and entered.

“State your name.”

“Anjur,” he answered, turning to the lean man before him. He wore light blue robes and his horns were arranged to curve like a present moon. He looked up with a bit of disdain in his purple hued eyes, as if to say, ‘oh, it’s you’. Anjur hardly flinched, he was used to it by now.

“How many?” he asked.

“Fourteen,” Anjur answered.

“New deaths? Place them over there,” he said, indicating to a shelf in the back. Anjur began to walk over. “Nothing else to report?”

“No,” Anjur said softly, as he passed. He knew they were all distrustful. He had broken the rules in saving the boy, and despite encountering the shadowy beasts, he hadn’t been able to show that they were causing any other deaths beside that village. It was a superficial fight that shouldn’t have drawn as much attention as it had, but because of his origins, it gained a lot of attention without much to show for it. Rumors of his previous actions began to circulate, and while some were fictional accounts, most were not.

He placed a book in its place, and then another. In this space, their abilities were sorely limited, so other than having access to his room and creating a waypoint, he couldn’t move the books except by hand. A waste of time really, but it had its place. He noticed the silence that grew as others around realized he was present. They were watchful, cautious and suspicious. He sighed and finished moving the books.

As he placed the last in its spot, a commotion began outside in the hall. Others turned and when an Aytac stopped by the desk and whispered by the horns of the recorder. Anjur’s horns itched as the whisperings vibrated to him. It was too faint to catch every detail, but something about shades and deaths caused him to turn and look their way.

The recorder glanced his way and then sighed as he grabbed his forehead and leaned against the desk. The one with the news looked his way with eyes open, his finger moved to itch his own horns and Anjur let a small smile creep onto his face, causing the news-bearer to shrink back a bit.

“Which world?” Anjur said, allowing his voice to carry over. The news-bearer looked away as if guilty. That was all Anjur needed to know that it was that boy’s world. He began for the door, and the recorder scowled at him as he passed.

“This doesn’t mean you were right,” he said, and Anjur stopped in the door. He grinned.

“I’m usually right. Comes with the territory of time manipulation,” he said softly so it wouldn’t carry as far. The recorder hissed as he rose, as if ready to fight him. Anjur shook his head and left. For an Aytac to get so flustered, he would have been a prime target to steal his time from. He didn’t care to take it, despite it being right there. That was the way his old self would have been. Since he had forsaken that role, it was beneath him. Though he still couldn’t stop noticing it. Despite these Aytac being recorders of time and masters of it, they had an abundance that they seemed to carelessly throw away.

As he walked closer to the library for that world, Anjur noticed the stares. Of course, he stood out. He was involved with the shades and that world, and wore darker blues than that of the others. It wasn’t hard to remember him, and it saved him time as he approached the door. Aytac parted before him and he easily walked in. A female Aytac with gray hair and a golden streak quickly turned to look at him, her horns were arranged like a crown he had seen on one of the crystals. She looked at him in shock and then bit her lip.

Without a word, she loosened her grip on the book she held and then handed it to him. Anjur looked at the recorder who nodded and he graciously took it. He activated his time domain right around him and the book, noting the slowed reactions around him. He then flipped through the book and his eyes caught sight of one word. Shades. It wasn’t remotely like the battle he had seen with the mother. This was much older and this thing talked. It showed this man how to gain influence and power. It reminded Anjur of his time with the Daemon Clan, teaching others how to steal time. He gritted his teeth. He slammed the book shut as his time domain dissipated, spooking those who had gathered.

Without so much as a pause, he stormed out and moved to his room. He would need to read through this in more detail to pinpoint who this was, and what their intentions were.


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Laurel R Call

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Anjur, an Aytac outcast, searches the cosmic libraries of memory for signs of the Shades, the shadowy creatures he encountered years ago. When a record reveals a Shade teaching a man to sow chaos on Bard’s world, Anjur’s past with the Daemon Clan resurfaces, fueling his resolve to uncover their plans. But with the Aytac’s distrust and time running out, can Anjur protect the boy he once saved?

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Prologue: The White Space

Prologue: The White Space

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