PROLOGUE: HISTORY OF HAERLAND
THE CHRONICLES SAY there was once a time, so very long ago, when the creatures of Haerland, both big and small, could roam free about the undisturbed and timeless lands without fear or restraint. A time when the curses of the current Age did not exist. A time when the term 'war' had no meaning. This was the First Age.
It was during this age that the earthen mother herself, for which the land had been named, lived in complete harmony with her creatures. After centuries of solitude, however, Haerland found herself growing lonely. She turned to the Architects of the sky and earth in the hopes they would answer with a solution.
Three Architects answered her call. The first was the Ghost of the Sea.
"In the southern waters," said the Sea, "you will find my gift. Take caution, dear Haerland. Treat this gift as you do your creatures. Only then will it serve you with respect and not disdain."
For a fortnight, Haerland searched up and down the southwestern coast. On the fifteenth sunrise, the Sea's gift showed itself.
A man was washed up on the beach, sand covering his olive skin. Haerland approached him and pulled him off the beach and out of the way of the crashing surf.
He coughed the seawater from his lungs and looked up at her. "Haerland?" he asked.
She nodded. "I am."
Once on his feet, he crossed his right arm over his chest and let his fist to rest on his breast. "I am Lovi Piathos. The Sea sends me," he said. "This reef behind me is my home. If you will have me, it would be my honor to serve out my days here in your beautiful land."
Haerland reached out and placed her hand over his exposed breast, and replied, "Welcome home, Lovi Piathos." When she removed her hand, she revealed a symbol engraved into his chest; five close-knit lines, the second and fourth longer than the others. It is the same symbol Lovi's children bear today.
The second Architect to answer her call appeared to her weeks later, eager to give Haerland his gift. This Architect was the Ghost of Fire.
"Haerland," he addressed her, "Tonight, I will awaken this mountain. You will know him as Mons Magnus. Treat him with respect, for he is a loyal being and has a hard-working and pleasing spirit. He is my favorite of the range, and now I give him to you."
The ground shook beneath her that night from dusk until dawn. With the rising of the sun, Haerland awoke from her slumber and strode to the foothill where the Ghost of Fire had come to her. There, she found a crack cut into the mountain that had not been there before. Inside this cave, she found a man.
The tall, bared man rose from his place on the ground and stepped directly in front of her. His body was streaked with soot and ash; his chest plagued with red burns.
"Haerland?" he asked.
"Yes?"
He took her hands in his and knelt down before her. "My name Mons Magnus," said the ashen faced and darkly bearded man, "and I am yours, my dear Haerland."
She smiled as he kissed the backs of her hands, and then said, "Rise, Mons Magnus. And welcome to my home."
The last Architect to find her was the Ghost of the Sun. She found Haerland on the first sunset of the new year at the highest cliff on the western coast.
"My dear Haerland," began the Sun, "I apologize for the time it has taken me to bring my gifts. Your patience is the greatest of your traits. As your reward, I come to you bearing not one, but three gifts. Three seeds. It is my hope they will find their home in your land and upon their maturing, I am sure you will never feel loneliness again.
"The first is a creation of mine and mine alone. Plant it here, on this hill, so that I may look over its growth directly." The Sun placed a small cloth in Haerland's hands. Within it lay a single small seed, pearly-white in color.
"The second was created with the help of both the stars and my beloved eagle, the Aenean Orel. Plant this seed in the north of the Preymoor." Again, the Sun gave Haerland a small cloth with a seed wrapped in it. This one was larger than the previous and a mossy blue in color, speckled with flecks of white and gold on the hull.
"My last gift is one whose creation required the deepest and most delicate care. During its inception, I enlisted both the help of the dead moons and the wind. This is an exceedingly special seed, Haerland. I cannot stress the amount of care and passion it will require in order to reach its full potential and growth. Nurture this seed with as much adulation as you give your own creatures. Plant it in the southern depths of the Forest of Darkness. The rich soil will give it the strength it needs." The Sun laid the last small cloth in Haerland's hands. This one was much different from the other two. It was black in color, lines of white scarring the hull.
"Remember, Haerland: use these gifts with caution. Treat them not as your equals, but as lesser ones. This is your only warning."
Haerland took the seeds and did exactly as the Sun had instructed her.
The pearly white seed was the first of the Sun's three to grow into its pole maturity. Haerland discovered it on a long summer evening. The adolescent tree's pearly bark was notched in various places, the perfectly crooked limbs reaching high towards the clouds. However, the tree was not the only thing Haerland found that evening.
There was a small girl sitting on the edge of the cliff, her feet dangling over the side. The billowing tendrils of the adolescent girl's white hair in the wind matched that of the tree's bark.
"Hello?" Haerland called out.
The young girl stood and faced her. "You are Haerland?" she asked.
