The Eye of Phoenix (Fantasy Adventure Novel)-1

“Once upon a time, the world was new and carefree. The air was crisp clean with a sweet fragrance of untainted earth. Mountains were blue under the clear, fair sky. Wide lands covered with flourishing trees and thriving meadows. Beautiful nameless wild flowers dusted prairies and valleys. The Glodius rode on the wings of bird-like giant creatures—PleasantHawkings they called them, and arrived at the heart of the Eastern Gathering Mountains. There, they built a kingdom so fair and rich…”

“What is Glodius?” young Kenneth chipped in as his father narrated the tale enthusiastically.

“Glodius…well,” Roy Brightman stroke his black beard, mused for a moment, “they are High Beings, look a bit like us, but greater in physical appearance and strength, fairer, and much wiser. They see things far beyond the reach of sight, and they possess an incredible healing power. With a simple touch,” he pressed his index finger on Kenneth’s forehead, “dying animals, sick plants, even rotten water, all would come back to life.”

“So they are medicine-man like you,” Kenneth’s eyes glistened with an innocent glare.

“My skills are feeble in comparison to their mastery,” Roy laughed. “I merely treat open wounds, broken bones and some common illnesses, but those mighty beings have the ability to restore life: man, plants and beasts alike, all with a simple touch. They came from a far place, where time does not exist. Everything remains constant. No war, disease or death is ever brought upon them, save the present endures forever.”

“Isn’t that a perfect world we all desire?” the kid commented.

“Perfect? Perhaps, son, but can you imagine not being able to taste the newly picked palatable fruits or the crisp spring water; can’t smell the delicate scent of fresh blooms, and spend an eternal blessing without the feel of pain, sorrow, love, hope and joy?”

Young Kenneth fell silent.

“Those simple pleasure, triumph and reverses are the things, which make our lives interesting, memorable and worthwhile living,” he caressed the boy’s cheek. “Through a magic mirror, one of the Glodius beheld our world, so different, so vibrant, and full of wonders. Since that moment, his heart could never rest. He and several of his kinsmen set out to seek the green earth and finally they settled down in the heart of the Misty Mountains, the Wood of Evergreen. They fondly called their new sanctuary Linaduer meaning Paradise, and there they dwelt in peace and contentment as time marched on, stretched beyond the record of memory and desire.”

“Does the paradise still there today?” the boy urged, while his father took a sip of water.

Roy Brightman smiled and continued on with his telling. “One day, a red dawn broke through a shroud of morning mist. The Giant Bonbada Tree that rooted near the bank of the Sacred Water suddenly came to bloom. It had never happened before. The huge white flower released into the air the smell of death and decay. The incident quickly aroused concern amid the Glodius. They gathered about the Mirror of Ethtilith, and a terrible foretoken was unveiled—War was raging beyond the borders of Linaduer. Senseless battles were fought over lands, water supplies and other natural resources. Among the race of man, some desired not only the material means but also the strength to dominate others. Day after day, their followers grew in numbers, for a promise of sharing power and wealth when the final victory gets claimed. In the mix of chaos, trees were ripped and greens were burned. Black smoke swallowed the blue sky. Birds flew far south, abandoning the nests. The beauty that had once carpeted earth floor withered away. An unstoppable force of evil swept across the lands, advancing toward the sacred soil. No mountain was tall and broad enough to shield the paradise from the terrible threat. So after a long day of restless debate, they concluded: it’s time to return home, to the World of MoHaven.”

“Glodius are mighty and wise. Why don’t they stay and fight? Do they not love the paradise enough to protect it?” inquired Kenneth eagerly.

“They have the power to grant life, not the authority to destroy, and they took a vow the moment they stepped on the face of the earth—never to involve themselves in the affairs of man, man who are known for their greediness and evil nature.”

“So did they indeed leave?”

“The decision of deserting the land brought them little relief,” told the father. “After all, Linaduer was dear to them and its fate forever bound to their care. At last, a resolution was reached three days before their scheduled departure: in an effort to bring order to the troubled world of man, a new race has to be created and with it comes the consequences even the wisest could not have foreseen.”

“A new race… sounds exciting…” the boy exclaimed.

“On May 18^th of the Elder Year 3075, the Glodius recorded into the book of EldLune one last entry. It was told on the morning prior, twelve seeds were planted into the Pool of Eternal Fountain. By the day’s end, before sunset, the seeds had gone through all the stages of a normal plant and borne fruits. The instant a ray of silvery moonlight shone upon them, one by one, the fruits burst open. Out emerged twelve fair beings, among which four were maidens. The Glodius named the new race ‘Evelin’, meaning Pure Spirit, and being the last and the finest creation of the Glodius, the Evelins inherited knowledge, insight, and wisdom far beyond the capacity and comprehension of the mankind. The next morning, as the Evelins prepared to depart, the High Glodius, Lord Anglise bid farewell to them before the Great Gate of Summonsveille and presented each of the members with a sendoff gift. For the eight Evelin men, proud, strong and skillful they received mirrors, not just any mirror, but the enchanted ones, with the ability to look into the future. For the young maidens, he granted them amulets. One was a round golden medallion glistening in the sun. One was a heart shaped crystal charm elegant and bright. One was an emerald green as the sea. The last piece was given to the fairest of all maidens—an egg shaped white jade, a precious stone that would glow in the night when all other lights surrender to darkness.”

“I bet Lord Anglise held a special sentiment for the last lady,” muttered Kenneth.

“Why do you think so?” said the father with a curious smile on his face.

“An old saying has that always save the best for the last, so the lady must be his favorite creation.”

“Her name is Similya, Lady of Youth,” Roy Brightman breathed softly. “Lord Anglise said to the Evelins as they were about to set off: You are the blessed race, one that shoulders the weight of the free world. Long you shall live among the mankind and guide those who deserve peace. The day will come when your obligation is fulfilled, and your exertion comes to fruition. You may then have the liberty to decide your own destiny. Whether remain hither in peace with respect that matches your feat until youth leaves your body, or ride to the undying land of MoHaven, where eternal bliss awaits you. The choice will be yours. The road ahead is long and treacherous. You serve as our eyes and ears. The words you speak render our desire. Remember: the will of good and the strength of evil are both seeking this land. You must not let it fall into ruin. For it is dear to us even in our absence.”

“Why do those words sadden me?” the boy sniveled, eyes watering.

“Under Lord Anglise’s command, the gate to the secret passage underneath the Nine Mountains opened wide,” the father went on. “One by one, the Evelins passed through in a single file and the Gate slowly closed behind them. Soon afterwards, the Glodius bore on the wings of the white PleasantHawkings. They headed west, passing into a brilliant golden light and were never seen again.”

“So did Evelins fulfill the mission?” asked Kenneth.

“The Wars of Man had lasted for two and half thousand years. With the help of the Evelins, the old dominion was broken. Dark shadows wailed sensing its defeat. Walls were raised dividing territories. Cities and houses appeared on green hills, bare rocks and over wide plains. Those once held high authorities had to learn to live without them, and the commoners who possessed neither the position nor wealth earned respect on battlefields.”

“What about the Evelins?”

“Along with those delightful achievements also mingled grief,” said the father. “Blessed with long life, the Evelins are not immunized to death. Twelve initially came to help the mankind, only seven survived the long wars of man. Four mirrors were broken beyond mending on the Prairie of Delfelrow, and one golden medallion melted in the Gorge of the Infernal Flame. The fate of the remaining Seven was often debated. Some claimed that the race had entered into the Eternal Light and retired to the Holy World of MoHaven, where their creators awaited them. Others believed that a few might still linger in the world of man. According to the book of EldLune, four surviving Evelins had indeed sought for lasting peace in the Undying Land. The fairest of all maidens took shelter in the heart of Glanta, the Mountains of Evergreen. The whereabouts of the other two were highly debated, for they often travel in disguise. One carries a strange artifact—a fortune-telling mirror, which may alter in size. And some wild herb collectors claimed that they had seen a beautiful maiden clad in white, wandering in the woodland glade at night. She bore a crystal charm around her neck. In a flash, she’d disappear, turning into a blinding light and vanishing without a trace. Yet, people also chatted of another Evelin, not the initial Twelve that had come to them long ago and guided them through much hardships and turmoil. Unlike his kinsman, who sought solitude after the Great War, he chose to live among the mankind. Youthful and wise, extremely fair of face, quick to laugh, and always humming a delightful tune, the Evelin received admiration and affection wherever he went. But suddenly one day, he sang no more. Sadness hovered over him like rain clouds veiling the high sun,” Roy Brightman paused. His thoughts seemed to wander.

“Who is this Evelin, and what terrible loss did he suffer?” the description aroused the boy’s curiosity.

“Angoles Silvermoon they called him, the 13^th and the last member of the blessed race. He had everything his heart craves, yet one slipped forever from his grasp. He did not follow the footsteps of his kinsman to the undying land of MoHaven,” the father paused again.

“So where did this Evelin disappear to?”

“A rumor has it: over the peak of the Moonlit Hill stands a lonely castle. When the moonlight shone upon it, its true form gets unveiled. Like the tears of the stars, it glints restlessly against the fortress of the night. On the cold passing wind, few might hear a sorrowful plea—come back, come back to me. The heartrending cry quickly scatters in the breeze. People say that’s him, Angoles, mourning his loss,” with that Roy Brightman rose to his feet.

“Is this the end of the tale father?”

“For now, yes, you may hear the rest of it when I return from my trip.”

“Can I borrow the book, the one you lock up in the trunk? I know all your fascinating stories come from there.”

“That book is sacred. You are too young to comprehend the content.”

“How about take me with you on the trip? I’m old enough to ride a horse,” badgered the boy.

“Next time Ken, when you grow tall enough to reach the saddle,” said the father as he stroked the son’s head fondly.

The following morning, Roy Brightman rode away with his devoted servant Fen Halfway. Amongst his luggage a golden chest with beautiful markings carved all over its body. That was the last time Kenneth saw his father. He later learned that the boat his father boarded got caught in a horrific storm. Unfortunately, none had survived the ordeal.

To Be Continued......

An ancient prophecy foresees the fate of the bloodline of Lord Dearborn;
An unfulfilled oath breaks the bond between two enchanting lovers;
A Thousand Year Promise unlocks the gate to the world of paradise;
The curse that casts upon an imprisoned soul shall welcome the challenge of a fearless warrior.