PART I:

Prologue: CHAOS混沌

Archmage Feslen Raster watched the destruction and chaos with grim satisfaction. Fires from the depths of blackness burned the world around him. A brief ash storm blew his cloak away from his face. The sun danced in and out of the darkening clouds. The sun’s light revealed the young Archmage’s new symbol on the back of his gray cloak: an open gate with flames billowing through it. It replaced the standard mage’s Yin Yang symbol he had worn earlier in the year.

 Pillars of ash plumed upward into the skies again, blocking out the sun. Choking winds spread across the land. But the storm’s cruel, merciless pounding elicited no feeling from the Archmage; no sign of emotion was revealed in  his eerie walnut-shaped silvery eyes. Wind blew his long, thick copper hair back and forth; his neatly tied ponytail was disheveled, but he didn’t show any signs of caring. Fist-sized hail struck his bronze-tanned skin. Years of inhabiting the North Regions had inured him to odd, inconsistent weather. Feslen’s once pale yellow skin had hardened to an almost -scale-like texture. It glittered in the brief moments of light.

Even though he was once a citizen of this world that was being destroyed, the Archmage thought, “It serves those fools right”. The gray, nearly lifeless lands below him mirrored Feslen’s ashen soul.

Thunder clouds rolled in along with the ash storms. Lightning accompanied them, followed by swirls of new-born tornadoes. Down below, hordes of the undead feasted upon the few who had been hardy enough to survive. Two-headed winged snakes, with demonic human faces, arms, and hands, sprouted from the clouds. Shadows of humans reflected against the ground as the sun struck the serpents’ gray scales. These shadows sent waves of terror to the people below.

Feslen watched all this, leaning upon his silver inlaid staff as he climbed to the peak of Chiendong’s Mount Jing. Feslen’s staff was carved in the shape of the mouth of a monkey, its ruby eyes glittering at each of Mount Jing’s awakened volcanic bursts. Bored by the scene, Feslen looked down momentarily at the vibrating object hooked on a belt loop on his thigh: it was a magic container holding five glowing lights. The lights rushed out, making a dash for freedom, when the cover suddenly bounced open. He closed the container tightly.

Laughter rose in the air. It was laughter from the spirits invading the human soldiers below, and it stirred Feslen to laugh as well. But a moment later Feslen gasped in astonishment: the  ashes of the dead below had begun to stir. Out of the ashes walked a bald-headed boy, completely untouched by the destruction all around him. A sense of serenity and purity emanated from him. Feslen watched as bloody tears streaked the boy’s face. The show of emotion from the boy stirred the Archmage’s stone-cold heart, but all he could do was to laugh once again. The boy gave him a nod and began to walk towards him. Torn between duty and curiosity, Feslen stood waiting for the boy.

Heat and fire spouted from Mount Jing, reddening the skies above. Knowing he had time, Feslen planted his staff. When he reached the Archmage, the boy just stared at him. Flashes of fire and waves of shock raced through Feslen’s soul as he locked stares with the boy. “Why are you here? Who are you?” Feslen asked, after a few minutes of awkward silence. The boy’s calm but steady eyes had unnerved the Archmage, causing him to speak first, which was a rare occurrence for him.

Clashes of the remnants of a world war went unheard by the two of them. A total hush followed. Then the boy replied in a soft but strong voice, “You don’t understand?” He detected a hint of sadness in the boy’s voice.  The boy’s voice became stronger next, “You never will. Before you can offer help, you must accept the Truth and you must accept yourself.”

“Those who accompanied me have gone. Those who allied with me have died. My enemies perished. What is it that I don’t understand? I am the only one left who could save this pathetic world. What am I missing?” Feslen asked with a half-twisted smile and a grand sweeping gesture.

The boy coughed slightly as the ferocious winds rushed all around them. The Archmage knelt and unfastened his robes and placed them around the boy for protection. But the boy refused to wear the robes and dropped them to the ground. Anger arose in Feslen and he readied a destructive spell, pointing a finger at the boy.

 “Open up to the world before you understand and seek,” said the boy.

The whispering, hissing sound of fire alerted the two of them to the presence of a serpent who was an enemy spirit. But Feslen and the boy remained unmoved. The winged serpent’s red lantern eyes burned bright as it neared. The beast reared and struck Feslen, but he felt nothing. Flames billowed out from Feslen’s body, destroying the serpent spirit.

“As I was saying …” Feslen grinned, pleased to have shown the boy his powers so easily..

“Power is only fleeting. True power comes not from destruction,” the boy replied with a steady tone.

Feslen snarled and pointed his finger at the boy once more. He hated this cryptic game. Then the boy licked his cracked and blistered lips. Again, pity took Feslen. The Archmage clapped, and music flowed from his supple hands to stop the chaos for a moment. A celebration feast of food and wine and water materialized at their feet. The boy made no moves to take the presented food.

“Well? What is it that you want?” Feslen snarled.

“I am what you wish to be and what you seek. But only when you want it, will you realize,” said the boy. He bowed and turned down the mountain towards the ashes.

Infinite wisdom had radiated from the boy, something which the Archmage himself lacked. So Feslen ran after him and tried to stop him. Panic and confusion splinterted Feslen’s ego when he reached out to touch the boy. But the boy had started to return to the dreamy ash world from whence he came. Feslen was gripped by a sudden need to know the true meaning behind his actions, his life itself, and the Powers At Hand. “Wait, who am I?” Feslen blurted out.

No answer came, but at last the boy whispered softly, “You already are; you just need to find peace.”