Prologue

In the Southern Pacific Ocean there lies the funny little island of Arkelia. Blessed with lush forests and fertile lands it is a utopia. The only mar in the history of the island was the Day-of-Tragedy. The Day-of-Tragedy is remembered in Arkelian hearts as the day the sun turned black and a giant rock fell from the sky, obliterating the north-eastern side of the island. However, the Day-of-Tragedy brought forth two blessings in disguise: the first, precious metals could be mined at The Crater and the second the generation born after the disastrous day exhibited strange powers. Three types of powers surfaced in these children: Nature, the power to help plants grow, command and even talk to animals, Body, the power to help heal wounds and disease, and, the final, Element, the power to influence fire, water, earth and air. The Gifted helped the land to prosper, prevent disease from being spread, and caused typhoons to just bypass the island. Soon the island was dependant on the Gifted, more dependant than anyone could have known.

The moon shone through an open window in the highest tower of the seaside castle. King Creon was pacing his study mechanically. Today he had been to the church for, his son, Roman's, Day-of-Prophecy. The tradition of taking a child to the church on their first birthday had been observed in Arkelia for generations. Yet, Creon was sure no other parent could have received a more tragic prophecy. The priestess had looked up from the prince's hand, her protuberant yellow-green eyes wide, and stated, "Your son will surely kill you!"

He could not kill his son. His people would turn against him, and he loved the boy whose red hair was the exact shade of red as his mother's. Queen Lydia had died giving birth to the green-eyed boy and he had promised her that he would do all in his power to raise Roman well.

Out of the corner of his eye, Creon saw the curtain twitch. He strode over and shut the window on the balmy night, then continued his pacing. No, he would bring Roman up as though no prophecy had been made, after all if Lauis had raised Oedipus that particular prophecy would not have been fulfilled. In any case, if Roman did kill him he would be able to see his Lydia again.

The curtain twitched again. Dismissing it as a trick of the light, Creon absentmindedly started flicking through a report on the Zifinki, a newly developed weapon. He was glad to have invested so much time in this scientific endeavor. Made from a very soft metal found in The Crater, the Zifinki was strengthened with, well he wasn't entirely comfortable with that, but the result was well worth it. The Zifinki were powerful weapons, harnessing water, fire, earth, or air, even non-Gifted could use these weapons, and peace was ensured throughout the kingdom with them.

His ponderings were brought up short, for the curtain had twitched for a third time. Had Roman snuck out of bed again? He tossed the report carelessly on his desk, he had told the guards to send the boy back to his room if he waddled out. There were so many things for a boy his age to get into. He made his way to the window.

Creon drew the soft velvet curtain aside to see, not the round face of his son, but a man with a silver dagger in hand. There was a flash of fire and a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Creon stumbled back, gasping the room was full of people now, each with a curved silver blade that glinted in the candle light.

"Guards!" he heard his voice rasp, hoping beyond all hope it wasn't their poker night. The wooden door burst open, and in flew his personal guards.

Several hours, and cups of tea, later, Xander the head of his guard had brought Creon the report on the assassination attempt. An organization called the Componential Sphere had been behind the attempt, and the group was comprised entirely of Gifted.

"I want every last Gifted killed!" declared King Creon, "we cannot have dissent in Arkelia so it will be best to eradicate them all!" The King's order was followed at once, Creon had stamped out the rebellion, returning Arkelia to a peaceful and better state, or so he had thought.