This is my first story on Fictionpress, but I have been writing in my own time for quite some time. The story is well on its way, but I'll post it one chapter at a time to give me time to get the rest done. There will inevitably ten or so weeks where I have posted all my work so far and have no more to go until july, but Thanks for reading part 1!
Also, seeing as I plan on publishing this, I may never post the second half of book one on this site, and leave this as a taster. still, there is a good 10 chapters, excluding this prologue, and they should be of reasonable length. Anywho, on with the prologue!
The boy watched from a dark, hidden window as five black, robed men slithered out of the dead forest, their movements smooth and graceful and yet, wraith-like and dangerous. Their weapons were hidden in the shadowed folds of their cloaks.
Each of them was carrying a deep purple sphere, about twice the size of a fist. Suddenly they started to fade and vanished. All except one, who seemed to hesitate before leaning over and hiding something in a hollow log, which lay in the dead, rotting leaves on the ground, and then faded as well, just managing a glance towards the boy's window before disappearing into the darkness, leaving no trace he had ever existed.
The boy felt confused, there was something unreal about this. However, sensing it was safe, he crawled out of his window and down a dying vine, and cautiously retrieved a cage which had, for some reason, been left there, sitting in a log as if it had been there since the beginning of time. Carefully, he started to open it and was momentarily blinded as a beam of light shot out of the box.
Suddenly he was on a bright pathway, surrounded by beautiful trees, unlike the dying, leafless, skeletons of the last forest. He looked down and was surprised to see he was still holding the box, but now the lid was open.
He pulled out a small stick, only about a foot long, but made out of strong Purewood. It was a dark colour, almost blue, with bright red streaks in the grain and a very smooth feel, marking it as "bleeding" purewood, rare, but unusually strong. The boy walked down a path, twirling the stick absent-mindedly, when suddenly a harsh, unexpected screech resounded from the tall, green mountains in the distance and everything went black.
Thanks for reading, constructive criticism welcome. Next chapter is longer, sorry if this is too short. Currently the story stands at 25k words, so be patient.