In the Beginning
The Battle of Zephya

A long time ago, the precise date is uncertain; a boy was born in Eury, the land of Spirits. They called him Damian, it meant divine power and fate; it was an omen, he would become a great and powerful man. With that prophecy hanging over his head for all of his childhood he became spoiled and later in his teen years, power-hungry. Like a lot of Euryians before him, he could communicate with spirits, they’re called Spirit Weavers. Be it spirits of the dead or the spirits of the Dragon Gods, although he had never gotten through to any Dragon God…until one fateful day.

Damian wanted more than just communication with Spirits, he wanted it all. He wanted the world at his feet, but most of all he wanted control of all the elements. Well he got his wish; the Dragon God of Shadows, Scath, thought that Damian was the perfect vessel for his evil. Scath gave Damian the powers of some elements, the ones that were faithful to Scath and all he stood for. Unfortunately the elements he obtained were three of the Lesser Elements: Time, Illusions, and Dreams. Then Scath gave Damian his power and element, Shadows.

Although after he got those elements, his lust for power was not sated even a tiny bit; he started looking for other things he could take control of. Then it hit him: the Stone of Eselldra, the force that keeps the Dragon Gods awake; if he got the Gods to submit to him, then no one else would dare to question his power. There was a problem with that plan though; the Stone of Eselldra was in Zephya, where the king and queen lived. It was the most heavily guarded place in all of Eselldra; the castle of Zephya was an impenetrable fortress of stone as hard and unbreakable as diamond and just as smooth. The outer wall was just the same, the only way to get in is through the gate, which is made of the thickest wood from the Forest of Helm; so the gate is about a meter thick, and it takes about five men to open it. And that’s just the gate. The Great Wall goes all around Zephya, and is made of the same stone as the castle.

Damian knew he would need much more power then just an army of trained men, he would need creatures that Scath could provide him with; disgusting, evil creatures that would get the job done quickly; creatures that wouldn’t need any reward aside from the taste of human flesh. Damian thought it would be a simple matter of storming the castle and seizing the Stone of Eselldra, killing anyone that got in his way; then ruling Eselldra with an iron fist, the Stone in one hand, and the power of the defeated Dragon Gods in the other. What he didn’t expect was the army of resistance that met him outside, and within, Zephya.

The bloody battle that followed was horrible, the Zayonawr River ran red with the blood of good and evil; the ground was stained with red and black blood. But the castle had yet to be breached. Zhal, the king of all Eselldra, was a great commander, his rule had never been challenged, his command had never faltered; and he wasn’t about to stop now.

The Great Wall was being assaulted from the south and from the east, the north and west was guarded by a long chain of tall mountains that ended at the top with a sharp point, so the name the Spikes defined these mountains perfectly. These mountains eventually merged with the Mountains of Fay to the east. The only successful breach of the Wall so far was by Damian’s Reapers, which were ugly creatures with the forms of men and wings of bats; they were usually shrouded in long cloaks that they folded their wings into, so that they had the appearance of a man with a misshapen back. The only other deformity that gave them away was the horns, two thin black spikes that snaked down behind their head and curled behind their ears.

The Reapers could easily fly over the Wall with their large black bat-like wings, and that was exactly what they were doing; the archers were hard pressed to shoot them all down in time before the Reapers discovered that they could get to the castle and finish their master’s job. The battle looked like it was never going to end, Damian’s armies seemed never ending, for once Zhal didn’t know what to do; they were helpless and it looked as if there was no way out this time. If Damian got the Stone that was the end of everything, because the Stone worked both ways, all depending on who held it. If someone with a good heart and mind obtained the Stone, like Zhal, then the world would be a wonderful place, peaceful; but if someone like Damian got hold of it, it would do the exact opposite of what Zhal would want, nobody knew exactly, and nobody was willing to find out. The only thing that seemed certain now was to make sure Damian never got hold of the Stone, but it couldn’t be hidden deeper in the castle because he would surely find it. It had to be taken out of Zephya, locked away somewhere far from Zephya and Damian; but even that seemed fruitless in the end because if he ever found it again then he would win anyway; it was just prolonging the inevitable. But…he would only win if he found the Stone in one piece…Zhal felt a plan forming in his mind, if he could get to the Stone and somehow break it, Damian wouldn’t be able to use it, not in pieces. But getting to the Stone was a difficult task within itself, getting there undetected was even more difficult. He had to try, it would be absurd not to try, and now that he had a plan he felt that they still had a sliver of hope.

It would be hard though, very hard. He was positioned almost right above the gate, making sure no one and nothing came threw it. It’s now or never, he thought. Zhal bolted down the stairs without a second thought, within seconds he had cleared the stairs and jumped on his stallion Silver Lightning. He was halfway to the castle when he heard the sound he dreaded hearing, but was expecting to hear all the same: a Reaper was following him, by now it was probably aware what he was attempting to do. The king urged his stallion on, trying to ignore the screaming Reaper behind him; he could see the door just ahead. Zhal prayed to the Gods that there were still guards inside the door, because if he slowed down even a tiny bit, the Reaper would be all over him.

“Open the door! Open the door!” he screamed, “Quickly!” Seconds ticked away, still the doors didn’t open; Silver Lightning was nearing the door with each stride, but then… Zhal breathed a sigh of relief, the doors were opening. Right after he galloped inside the doors slammed shut in the Reaper’s face. Screeching defiantly, the creature clawed at the door, but to no avail, the door wouldn’t budge.

“My Lord, are you alright?” one of the guards had come up to him. Zhal climbed off his horse and handed the reins to him.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” He said, waving the man away. He started to run then, every second was precious; he had to get the Stone as quickly as possible, men were dying while he just stood there. The castle was deserted, the rest of the royal family and the servants were in a secret room that was very well hidden. He ran towards the Great Hall, closed and locked the doors and ran to a door on the left side of the chamber, which led to his quarters. He knelt on the floor beside his bed and pushed the rug away, then removed a loose piece of stone from the floor. There was a small hole in underneath the stone, and Zhal removed a rectangular red box from it. Opening the box he removed the Stone of Eselldra; it was the size of a closed fist, it never remained one single color, it was an ever-shifting rainbow of every color imaginable.

“That it should come to this…” Zhal murmured, gazing fixedly at the Stone in his hand. He thought of his young son, and his beloved wife, and all the people he governed; this is a small price to pay, he thought, the Gods would surely agree. His thoughts were interrupted by a door banging open,

“What--,” the words died on his lips. Standing in his chamber was Damian, a cruel and delighted smile alighting on his face when he saw what Zhal was holding.

“Well, you have just done my work for me then,” Damian said, mockingly. Staring at Damian, Zhal realized with horror that his eyes were totally black, like bottomless pits.

“You will never get the Stone, you vile creature!” Zhal shouted vehemently. And before Damian knew what was about to happen, Zhal turned and smashed the Stone against the wall, shattering it.

“NO!!”

Zhal was prepared for Damian’s wrath, awaited it actually, what he wasn’t prepared for was that the shards of the Stone had broken into thirteen identical pieces, each a different color and were now swirling in a circle around Damian. Creating an ever-moving barrier about him, no, not a barrier, more like a prison. The Stones started swirling faster now, and Zhal could hear voices; Damian could hear them to, and he looked scared. Suddenly a booming voice blocked out all the others, reverberating off the walls in the chamber,

--YOU DID WELL, WIND WALKER, THIS VILE CREATURE WILL BE LOCKED AWAY. I DO NOT KNOW FOR HOW LONG, BUT NOT FOREVER, NOTHING IS FOREVER. OUR POWER IS WITH THE STONE, WE MUST SLEEP NOW. THESE SHARDS WILL BE IN THEIR RIGHTFUL TEMPLES, AWAITING THE TIME WHEN THEY WILL BE REASSEMBLED. I KNOW NOT WHEN THAT WILL BE, BUT A NEW WIND WALKER WILL COME FORTH TO FINISH WHAT YOU HAVE STARTED—

The voices faded abruptly, with a start, Zhal realized that Damian has disappeared as well. That voice, it had been Helm, the Dragon God of Wind, that was amazing. Zhal shook himself out of his reverie; he had to go see what happened with the battle…

Thus ended the battle of Zephya, after Zhal destroyed the Stone, the armies of Damian dispersed in fear, and cowardice. The death toll was great, but there were many survivors, and they slowly rebuilt what they had lost; soon the battle was but a memory of the past. Zhal wrote down everything Helm had told him, so that generation after generation of his line would know what had happened that day, and what to do should the need arise to put the Stone of Eselldra back together. Years past by without anything amiss happening, the Shadow did not hold its sway anymore; the Stone of Eselldra became a legend, then a myth, and soon people began to question as to whether it had truly existed. There was no physical proof, the only way people would know for sure was to venture into unknown regions of each land in search of the Temples, where the Shards of the Stone are said to be. Only the royal family of Zephya knows the truth, for they have the written proof of Zhal’s own words of what happened. But generation after generation passed by, and still nothing happened, Zhal’s papers were pushed into a forgotten area in the library, and mysteriously the single page containing information on the thirteenth Shard disappeared. Almost a hundred years have passed by, and now the Shadow is reaching out from its resting place, the time for the next Wind Walker has come; the Dragons must now be awakened.