Prologue

Gerard Tungsten trod through the piles of broken wood and crumpled stone. Pillars of smoke still rose from the remains of what used to be the Phoenix Castle, even though the air was still frigid from the attack.

Wood snapped under his feet and flames crackled quietly in the distance. The other villagers who had survived the battle were silent as they gazed at the ruins. Their breath steamed in the air, and no one dared make a sound for fear of disturbing the silence.

Gerard's ears picked up a soft sound. If not for the still quiet, he would have never noticed it. Moving away from the other villagers, he kicked away the shattered remains of the castle, searching for the source of the sound. By the time he had come close, the other villagers were nearly eighty yards away.

The sound was very near now, and it was coming from below. Crouching on his hands and knees, Gerard swept his hands across the burnt and blackened ground. It was soiled through with freezing water, and stuck to his hands like clay. But as he continued to feel through the black mud, pushing aside chunks of wood and stone, the space suddenly warmed around him, pushing away the constant chill that had perpetrated the air since the attack.

Then he saw the baby.

It was barely noticeable, a tiny bundle wrapped in blankets and half-buried beneath the rubble. With a quiet cry of shock, he swooped down and heaved the stones off, swiftly scooping up the uninjured child in his arms.

Gazing down softly at the peacefully sleeping being, he surveyed its face. Its hair had yet to grow, and its eyes were closed, but there was a small red mark over and around the child's eye. Gerard couldn't quiet make it out, but he could tell it was some kind of tattoo or birthmark.

The baby hiccupped and Gerard snorted in amusement. It hiccupped again and shifted within its blankets. With the motion, a small slip of paper suddenly peeked out of the blankets and Gerard furrowed his brow, pulling it out to read it.

His name is Jonathan. To whomever it may concern, please take care of him. I know not the fate that shall befall me, but the Ice Queen must never know of his existence. If you choose to carry him with you, protect him with your life, lest the gods of Fire punish you.

The handwriting was beautiful, yet hasty at the same time, and Gerard assumed this was the note of a noble who had made a last attempt to desperately save their child. They were definitely of Thalean origin though, if they still practiced the religion of the Fire Gods.

Gerard crumpled up the note and crouched, burying it in the black soggy ground with his thumb. He stood straight again and took a long look at the baby boy in his arms.

"Jonathan, huh?" he murmured aloud, as if talking to an old friend. "You'll make a great blacksmith, and a great Tungsten as well."