A storm had gripped the land of Narn for a thousand years, its fury unrelenting, as if the very skies themselves were at war with the earth below. Thunder roared like a beast awakened, and the wind howled through the Forj mountain range, which loomed ominously opposite the great palace of Tradon. This was a land where no calm had been known, where even the strongest of creatures struggled against the relentless elements.
On the jagged slopes of Forj, a lone wolf Tracient clawed his way upward, each movement a battle against the forces that sought to drive him back. His fur was soaked, matted against his muscular frame, and his breath came in heavy, labored bursts. With each step, he slipped, his paws struggling to find purchase on the treacherous terrain. The mountain seemed to rise endlessly above him, a monolith challenging his resolve.
Yet, he climbed on, driven by a purpose that burned brighter than the lightning that cracked the sky around him. His eyes, sharp and fierce, narrowed as he felt his strength waning. But he knew he couldn't stop—not now, not ever. The fate of Narn rested on his shoulders.
"I must save Narn… at all costs!" he whispered, his voice barely audible against the storm's roar.
As if in response to his plea, a gentle breeze—softer and warmer than the biting wind—brushed against his face. It was a strange and sudden comfort, an energy that seeped into his bones, revitalizing him. Tracient's eyes widened in surprise, but there was no time to question this unexpected gift. With a newfound surge of strength, he leaped up to the cliffside, his paws finding solid ground.
As he stood there, breathing heavily but standing tall, he whispered once more, this time with a reverence that came from deep within, "Thank you, Asalan."
------------------
In the beginning, there was nothing but void—a vast emptiness that stretched beyond comprehension, where neither light nor shadow held sway. It was a place devoid of time and space, where the concept of existence had yet to take root. But then, from the depths of this void, a sound emerged. It was a hymn, a soft and sweet melody carried on the voice of a man. This song, pure and gentle, began to weave itself into the fabric of nothingness, creating something from the void.
The song was more than mere sound; it was a force, a call that resonated with everything it touched. For those with hearts untainted by malice, the melody brought peace, wrapping them in a sense of calm that could soothe the most troubled soul. But for those with darkness in their hearts, it was a source of unease, stirring feelings of uncertainty, anger, and deep resentment.
As the hymn continued, it was answered by other voices, rising in harmony as if to acknowledge the call of the first. At that very moment, tiny lights began to flicker into existence, each one a note in this divine symphony. The lights were countless, like the grains of sand on a beach, each one a beacon of the song's power. When the lights finally ceased their appearance, the voices grew silent, leaving only the deep, commanding note of the first voice.
With this shift in tone, the void itself seemed to tremble as a great ball of light—what we would later call the sun—rose from the horizon. Its brilliance was unmatched, casting light across the nothingness and revealing a silhouette within its glow, a figure of immense power and grace.
------
"Hey, Adam, drop that! Do you want me to stop the story?" The voice of a young blonde man cut through the air, sharp with both reprimand and amusement.
A young wolf Tracient, his fur still soft with youth, looked up guiltily from where he had been playing with a shimmering Merman crystal. The crystal reflected the light in mesmerizing patterns, captivating the young Tracient's attention.
"So shiny," Adam murmured, his eyes wide with wonder.
The blonde man smiled despite himself and walked over to the boy. He ruffled Adam's fur affectionately, a gesture filled with warmth. "Uncle Dirac, is that really how Narn came to be? And who was in the silhouette?"
Dirac's smile softened into something more thoughtful. "That will be a story for another day, little one. For now, it's time for bed."
Adam, still clutching the crystal, yawned and nodded, his eyes already drooping with the onset of sleep. As he settled down, Dirac patted his head gently. "May Asalan protect you," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of a prayer.
-------------
Adam stood at the edge of a desolate landscape, the remnants of a once-thriving world spread out before him. The sky was a dull, oppressive gray, and the land below was barren, devoid of life. No birds sang, no animals roamed, and even the wind, which had once been a constant companion, had stilled to a suffocating silence.
"This is what Narn has become," Adam murmured to himself, his voice tinged with sorrow and disbelief.
With his heightened senses, Adam heard a faint rustle in the distance, breaking the eerie quiet. His sharp eyes scanned the dry forest ahead, spotting a small squirrel digging through the dead leaves, gathering what little food it could find. The creature was oblivious to the silhouette that hovered above it—a predator in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
CHOMP!!! Splash!!!
The squirrel's life ended in an instant, a quick and merciless end in a world where survival was a daily battle. Adam watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable.
"Tch, it's hard to find a good meal these days," came a voice from the shadows. It was deep, rough, and laced with a weariness that spoke of countless battles fought and lost.
Adam turned toward the voice, his heart racing. It was the first time he had seen another Tracient, besides his uncle. His mind buzzed with questions, but before he could speak, the figure stepped forward, revealing himself—a tiger Tracient with a powerful build and piercing eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light.
--------
"No one appreciates being spyed on, you know?" The tiger's tone was accusing, but not unkind. "You can come out now."
Adam hesitated but then stepped out from his hiding place, feeling more like a cub than ever before. "Sorry about that," he said, his voice small.
The tiger Tracient grunted in acknowledgment. "No kidding."
Adam, trying to shake off his nerves, managed a weak smile. "Say, what kind of Tracient are yo—?"
The tiger's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Seriously? Now you think I'm a freak?"
"What?! No! I… I think we started off on the wrong foot. My name is Adam, Adam Kur—"
But before he could finish, the world spun, and Adam found himself flat on the ground, pinned by the tiger's powerful paw. The speed and force of the attack left him stunned.
"Huh? What just happened?" Adam gasped, struggling to comprehend how he had been overpowered so easily.
The tiger leaned in, his voice a low growl. "Who exactly are you? The Kurt family comes from a long line of wolf Tracients, and they've been extinct without a trace for over a thousand years."
Adam blinked, his mind racing. He hadn't even seen the tiger move. "I didn't even see him move," he thought, bewildered.
"Start talking…" The tiger's grip tightened, the threat in his voice unmistakable.
Adam, still dazed, managed to speak. "This is a rather uncomfortable position for a discussion, don't you think?"
For a moment, the tiger was silent, staring down at Adam with narrowed eyes. Then, without warning, Adam was no longer beneath him—he was behind him. The tiger spun around, his expression one of shock and confusion.
"This guy… he is no ordinary Tracient. Could he really be…?"
Adam stood there, his composure regained, though his heart still pounded in his chest. "Like I said, we started off on the wrong foot. My name is Adam Kurt."
The tiger stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking. "Kon. My name is Kon Kaplan."
-------------
The two Tracients sat by a campfire, the warmth of the flames offering a brief respite from the cold, unforgiving world around them. They had spent some time getting acquainted, but the tension between them had yet to fully dissipate.
"It's not possible," Kon muttered, shaking his head. "Asalan is a myth, folklore, a legend. He doesn't exist."
Adam looked into the flames, his thoughts heavy. "That's what I used to think. I knew nothing about Narn or what had transpired. All this time, I was away from my people while they were suffering. So, tell me about yourself. I've been doing all the talking."
Kon sighed deeply, his gaze distant. "What is there to say? You're looking at the last free Tracient. A lot has changed in the past thousand years."
-----------------
Narn, Year 5999
The scene was one of utter devastation. The air was thick with smoke, and the screams and shouts of the wounded echoed in the distance. Fires raged across the landscape, casting an eerie orange glow over the ruins of what was once a proud and thriving land. The sky was a churning mass of dark clouds, reflecting the turmoil below.
In the midst of the chaos, two Tracients stood close together, their expressions grim. Abel, a powerful male Tracient with light blue-gray fur that was almost white, bore the scars of countless battles. Beside him was Amaia, his mate, her fur a mirror of his save for a deep yellow strand that streaked through her otherwise pale coat. In her arms, she clutched a small bundle—a child with fur as blue as the deepest sea, except for a single lock of his mother's yellow hair that stood out against his dark pelt.
This child was Adam, the future of their kind, and the key to everything they had fought to protect.
"We have no choice, Amaia," Abel said, his voice rough with exhaustion but laced with determination. "We can't let the Arya fall into the wrong hands. This is the only way."
Amaia looked at him with tear-filled eyes. She knew what he said was true, but the thought of what was to come filled her with a dread deeper than anything she had ever known. Still, she nodded, her resolve firm despite the fear.
"Very well," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Let's do it."
Together, they looked down at the tiny Tracient in Amaia's arms. Adam, blissfully unaware of the chaos that surrounded him, cooed softly, his innocent eyes wide as he gazed up at his parents. There was a quiet strength in him even then, a potential that both amazed and terrified them.
"Come forth," Abel commanded, his voice strong despite the despair he felt.
From the shadows emerged another Tracient, a male with blonde hair and a solemn expression. His name was Dirac, a trusted ally and a warrior of great renown.
"Thank you for this sacrifice, dear Dirac. We will always remember your kindness," Abel said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Please, take care of them."
Amaia looked up sharply. "What do you mean, take care of them?"
"Amaia, I…" Abel began, but Amaia cut him off.
"No, Abel. No, I am not leaving you here alone, and there's nothing you can say or do to convince me!" She thrust Adam into Dirac's arms, her eyes blazing with determination. "Take him, Dirac. Protect him with your life."
Abel, the male Tracient, walked over to Dirac and removed the necklace he wore around his neck. He pressed it into Adam's tiny paw, his eyes filled with sorrow. "May Asalan be with you, my son," Abel whispered. "Please, protect him."
Dirac, holding the child close, nodded solemnly. "Don't worry, Abel. I will protect him… with my life."
"Thank you, Dirac." Abel said, his voice filled with gratitude and sadness.
With one last, lingering look, Dirac turned and ran off into the rubble, clutching Adam tightly as he disappeared into the night. Behind him, Amaia and Abel stood side by side, watching him go. They knew they would not see their child again, but their sacrifice would ensure his safety.
"Are you ready to die, Lord Abel?" A dark, menacing voice echoed through the ruins, sending a chill down their spines.
They turned to face the source of the voice—a dark silhouette emerging from the smoke and shadows, a figure of pure malevolence. Without a moment's hesitation, Abel and Amaia steeled themselves for the final battle, their hearts filled with a fierce determination.
They screamed at the top of their lungs, their voices filled with the power of their resolve, and rushed forward to confront their foe.
"For Narn!!!"