1 Chapter 1: Déjà vu
Somewhere in the kingdom of Beerkeley, a battle between two magus was about to end. Chaos was raging, explosions followed one after the other, the atmosphere went from freezing to burning as if the gods were unleashing themselves.
Two men were fighting in a dark room, only lit by blood-red flames that encircled one of the two magus.
The flames shimmered and brought out the red glow of his long hair. His right hand was pointing towards his opponent and on that hand a horrible scar was visible.
He laughed sadly and looked tired of fighting but also tired of living. Yet a bright red glow came out of his eyes which were like two little embers ready to give birth to an inferno.
"Troene, you should have followed me. With your help... with your help we could have changed this world, destroyed the rich, abolished the monarchy and avenged ourselves. Why are you fighting me? ».
The flames began to grow, the surrounding heat increased, the magus surrounded by flame made an incantation.
The wind became restless and a burning wind blew in the face of his opponent Troene.
Troene didn't move as if he didn't feel any heat, only his white hair and white clothes fluttered in the wind.
Troene, who was nicknamed the Hero of the People, was now looking at his opponent with a mad desire to kill him. Troene seemed tired of the fight because his forces were leaving him.
He tried one last time to reason his old friend. " Do you not see what you have done? They are innocent people, women, children."
His adversary, however, began to smile as he thought of the innocent he had sacrificed.
Seeing his opponent's reaction, Troene resolved to kill his long-time friend." Can you at least understand what I'm saying, you never had a family... it's too late. You're a crime its unforgivable. Prometheus, today you will die under my blade or my spell. »
Prometheus looked at his opponent one last time, "If this is really what you want, die Troene".
He made a simple gesture with his right hand and the flames around him moved towards his opponent.
At the other end of the room Troene looked at the flames with attention.
Suddenly he crouched down and put his hands on the floor, he whispered a word. "Wall"
Suddenly an ice wall of 50 centimetres wide and 2 metres high comes out of the ground. The wall was as hard as steel and as cold as the ice pack.
The flames of Prometheus collided against the wall. And a violent explosion sounded, the noise was loud.
The ice wall began to melt and drops of boiling water splashed over Troene. As the flames passed backwards through the wall, burning the skin of Troene, at the same time Troene was hit by a headache caused by the sound of the explosion.
Troene's heart was beating fast, the fight had been going on for a long time and he had almost no strength left.
It was only a matter of time before his opponent Prometheus, nicknamed the mad arch-mage, won.
Prometheus gave Troene no respite and shouted. "Hell come to me."
The glowing flames of the Arch-mage turned black. When the black flames reached the ice wall, it cracked. Small black flames began to pass through the cracks.
The flames touched Troene and corroded his skin. Troene screamed in pain and fell to the ground with his hands on his face which had just caught fire.
But when all seemed lost, that Troene was about to die. Something happened. Maybe it was just luck, the will of fate, or even a sign from God. But a miracle happened.
Troene lay there screaming in pain, his hands on his melting face. Suddenly he stopped struggling and his eyes opened wide.
His eyes had turned white and felt cold. This feeling of coldness spread through his body and then throughout the room. Troene's body began to levitate and a snow-white aura began to surround him.
The wall of ice that was barely holding on exploded. Prometheus was ready to see his opponent die, but what he saw made him lose all confidence.
Troene was standing in front of him, his skin was healing, his body was levitating and all around him was freezing into a beautiful snowflake.
Prometheus moved back, his flames froze the place became cold and his opponent looked at him with the intention of killing him.
"H-how did you do it! It took me so much sacrifice to become an Arch-mage! ".
Prometheus fell to the ground on his buttocks, petrified and stuttered. "You dirty... You filthy, traitorous monster, why your life is so simple! »
Troene advanced calmly towards Prometheus, he did not say a word, his face was dark. His pats resounded, they were heavy and sinister.
Everything in a radius of ten meters congealed in his path, even the air. A macabre smile appeared on the face of Troene when he stopped in front of Prometheus.
"It's all over, poor fool!".
Prometheus was afraid, he did not want to die, what would happen after his death. Would he become a crazy magus of tales for children, or would he simply be forgotten from the memories, as an insignificant and useless existence.
he still had so many plans. He was so close to bringing his mother back to life. Then he planned to take revenge against the nobles who had destroyed his life, against the kings who had let them do, and create a kingdom where all men were equal and free.
Prometheus had so many plans and he was young and talented. But it would all end now, and no one would ever know who he was. Prometheus was devastated.
"demonic magician, I, Troene, newly appointed arch-master of ice and light, grant me the right to judge you. For the premeditation of a coup d'état, for the trafficking and buying of slaves in the cruse of extracting their souls to revive a dead woman. I sentence you to death. And I give myself the right to execute you."
Troena took a slight breath and pointed his finger at Prometheus. A flash of white light output and passed through Prometheus' head.
His body fell to the frozen ground and remained inert. A pool of blood formed under his head, and tears ran down from his eyes wide open. His mouth implored, but words never came out. This was Prometheus' death, as sad and lonely as his life was.
Troene remained in a dark mood and looked at the dead body of his old friend. "Rest in peace."
His eyes shone with sadness. Suddenly the sound of the door crashing broke the silence. Three people entered the room, all surprised.
" How did you do it."
"An arch-mage!"
"By my gods, Troene, you have survived. »
The Troenese teammates hugged each other, happy for their achievements and for being alive.
***
The town of Cheerby was located in the north of the kingdom of Beerkeley, it was a large town and known throughout the kingdom for its large population. It was a lively town and a good place to live.
At noon today the market traders were shouting heartily to try to sell their produce. Children ran through the streets and pushed the passers-by. The day was sunny and nothing seemed to be able to break this beautiful day.
Yet in an isolated street, so narrow and desolate that the light seemed to flee away from it, a child was sleeping. He was lying between the garbage.
This child must have been about 11 years old. Yet he was only 5'10" tall, his body was skeletal, and his skin was covered by a smelly layer of dirt.
The child seemed to have an uncomfortable dream, his eyebrows were frowned upon, he spoke in his dream.
"No, stop, impossible".
Suddenly the child straightened his chest, his eyes were wide open and he screamed at the top of his lungs.
"DON'T KILL ME! "
His nostrils were dilated, he was breathing hard and fast, and his eyes were red as if he had just cried.
The dirty, punctured shirt he was wearing was soaked with sweat.It became almost transparent and we could see that his bones were stuck to his skin.
His skin was pale like a dead man's. He remained for a few minutes sitting there looking into the void, he seemed panicked, so panicked that he could no longer think.
A few minutes passed, his breathing slowed down, his eyes seemed calm. He began to look around him.
On the right there was a wall made of poor quality stone, badly cut and of varying sizes that crumbled when it came into contact with water.
On the left there was another wall, but this time covered with torn posters or piled one on top of the other. It was a glorification of ridiculous or abject causes.
- The right to vote for spirits.
- The battle front for the extermination of olddy's is recruiting.
Between these two walls there must have been less than two meters of space. The young man scratched his head, then he began to touch his face, mumbling
"1.3 cm to the left. 2cm on the right..."
He touched his arms on his chest and then finally his left hand which had a scar covered with stench that seemed to make him suffer terribly.
"How is it possible! I'm... I'm not dead."
He had just figured out where he was, he had grown up in this place with his mother before she died, then alone trying to survive every day.
"This may be just an illusion... impossible people who know my past are either dead or want to kill me... and no one is capable of making such an illusion unless he has the help of the gods. That is impossible."
The child got up with difficulty, and leaned against a wall.
"So if this is not an illusion, I am back in the past..."
Unfortunately, his body was in such poor health that it was almost impossible for him to show his excitement.
"Let's imagine that I'm back in the past, how long has it been. "
He looked at his left hand with pain
" I'm at least 9 years old, maybe more, which means that... »
He paused, the rest of the sentence was too difficult. He looked up at the sky and said.
"Mom has been dead for at least 1 year."
He closed his fist against his heart and remained silent for a minute.
You may have guessed it, but this child was Prometheus in his childhood body. Normally at that time he had been living alone on the street since his mother died 3 years ago.
Throughout his life Prometheus had considered his mother's memories as the most precious thing in the world.
Neither spell or magical tool could have bought her. If you asked him, he would surely tell you that his mother was kind and caring, but also that she had a tender heart and was forgiving to others.
During his adult life Prometheus tried to remember his mother's face for comfort him despite his loneliness.
In his memories his mother had black hair in cascades, long and shiny and above all soft. Living on the streets had never diminished the beauty of her hair, on the contrary, it had gained a fierce, wild, but also sad side.
Prometheus also remembered his mother's skin, it was soft as lilac-white silk but covered with crass like a building polluted by the toxic fumes of the city.
But strangely Prometheus did not remember his mother's face. No matter how hard he searched in his memory, he couldn't remember such an important thing.
This fact had always made him sad, because he thought that he could take a stranger for his mother or worse take his mother for a stranger.
Prometheus came to his senses and drove his mother out of his thoughts.
"I am not back to life to sob. No, I'm here for revenge". his face was dark.
Prometheus was thinking of the Landcaster family a great noble family that had destroyed his life.
Twenty years ago during the war of the great families, Prometheus' father had massacred many noblemen and the majority of them were from the Landcaster family.
In revenge the Landcaster family exterminated the entire family of Prometheus 10 years later. The only survivors were Prometheus and his mother. But the Landcaster family knew this and made their lives a living hell.
As Prometheus grew older Prometheus grew stronger and stronger his desire for revenge grew greater and greater.
Prometheus wanted to destroy the Landcasters but also this kingdom that had let the Landcasters destroy his life. But before he reached his goal he died killed by his only friend Troene.
Prometheus didn't want to stay in this street any longer and started to walk with his hand against a wall. His feet were slow, his legs were aching.
But determination was stronger than anything, his feet became more and more rhythmic and energetic, Prometheus walked towards the light of the city and left this dark alley where hope never comes.
As he walked Prometheus began to speak aloud. It was a habit he had since the days when he lived alone on the street. At that time he had no one to talk to, so to feel less alone he started to think out loud.
Prometheus was planning his future
" I need money... to buy food and pay a roof over my head. But how can I make money with the body of an 9 year old child".
What seemed like a dead end was the routine for Prometheus who had spent most of his life in poverty or having to flee from his enemies.
An idea crossed his mind; he knew what he was going to do to make money. He stopped and picked up a stone that was lying on the ground.
"I need more stones like this."
