Igneeria. A world at peace. Once ravaged by segregation and discrimination, it has since become a planet focused on a common goal.
Within this world is the continent Issham, Land of the Rulers. Here, humans are the dominant species. Races from across the world gather here for a warmer life, promised safety within the walls of Vermillion City.
On the western side of the continent lies The Highlands, a barren wasteland with tall, insurmountable spires reaching above the clouds. The Issham government issues warnings to anyone who wishes to enter, as there are many cases of wanderers being 'spirited away' in this inhospitable land.
High in the atmosphere where the sun is hotter and the air is thinner, a white streak jumps from surface to surface. As if gravity was turned sideways, the adolescent figure is clearing gaps of thirty to fourty meters in length.
The jumps aren't that difficult, the white-haired boy thinks to himself. But I'm starting to get really tired.
The tall boy's brown bag bumps against his red tunic and beige shorts with every stride, rattling his tools against raw materials. His winter white skin shines in the boiling sunlight, yet he breaks no sweat. To anyone above the clouds, he is a beacon of light in the bright expanse of The Highlands.
His piercing white eyes look over his shoulder, noticing that the billow of smoke coming from his village has grown larger. His father's last word to him, begging him to flee, flashes across his mind. He can't tell if there are any pursuers, so he trusts in his father's word alone: Run.
The flat top of these plateaus vary in size; some with vegetation, others completely barren. The boy avoids the land filled with foliage as they indicate another village may be nearby. The last thing he wants to do is drag another tribe into his mess. His route takes him across platforms around fifty meters in diameter, leaving him little time to catch his breath between leaps. Traversing these lands for twenty minutes straight is difficult for the weakest Highlander in the tribe - he can't clear two at a time like the others can.
I should have tried harder at my physical training, he thinks to himself. This is just embarassing. As he leaps another chasm, he realises he miscalculated the distance. He stretches his arm out for the ledge, falling just short.
"Oh fuck," he sighs. He screams profanities as he tries to get some sort of hold on the cliffside - to no avail. Giving up, he plummets through the clouds, crossing his arms and legs to calmly assess the situation.
"Okay. On the bright side, it may be hard for them to pursue me. That's a bonus." His falling body enters the shadowed lower side of The Highlands. "On the deep-shit side, it is welcoming me graciously."
The boy breathes slowly, focusing his energy on his innate magical abilities. If there's ever a time to work, it needs to be now, the boy thinks hopefully. He grabs a small hammer from his bag and clasps it with both hands, straining his eyes closed. His skins glows slightly as veins of light appear over his body, flowing towards his hands. After a moment, the light fades quickly.
He slowly opens his eyes, realising nothing has happened. He looks downwards as the hard ground beckons him closer. "Gravity sucks," he groans. Well, looks like I have to do that, he thinks. As the boy is about to attempt his final back-up plan, a strong wind current blows upwards and slows his fall. The gale steals the air from the boy's lungs and ears, leaving him breathless as the world rings loudly around him. He feels immobile, locked in some sort of wind chamber that is bringing him downwards ever so slowly. Once he is inches from the ground, the air current dissipates and he falls onto his back. The boy gasps for air as he feels the chill of the cold, barren ground. It's somewhat pleasant. He stares at the clouds above, surrounded by plateaus that block out most of the sun. "What in Jeramiel's name just happened?" he asks. A man with a young face and incredibly built body appears in the boy's vision. He has short hair with a brown backpack on.
"Hello," the man says. He kicks the boy on the ground. "You alive?"
The boy groans his eyes shut, then opens them with a furrowed brow. "Yes, I am. Please don't kick me again." He stands up and stretches, noticing the dryness in the area. Who could live down here? He puts his hammer back into his bag and turns to the shirtless man, now noticing the blue hue of his skin and the incredible amount of muscle it contains. "Did you save me?" he asks.
"I asked the winds to save you, and they did," the man explains. The man non-chalantly swirls a spear around his neck. "They don't like everyone, but they like me, I think." His light green eyes contrast his chiselled jawline. "I'm Glint. What's your name?"
The boy opens his mouth to answer, but becomes hesitant. While he is usually one to properly exchange pleasantries, he is afraid there could still be pursuers. As his vision aclimates to the darkness, he notices the figures descending into the pits of The Highlands. The outline of his pursuers are humanoid, but he knows better; those are monsters. The boy turns and runs. Exhausted as he is, he believes he has a large reserve of energy. His ragged breath begs to differ.
Appearing alongside the boy, standing on his flying spear as if it were a board, is Glint. "Need a lift?" he asks.
As nonsensical as it looks, it's definitely more logical, the boy thinks. With only a moment of hesitation, he jumps on the flying spear.
"Hang on tight," Glint says. He then speaks in a language the boy hasn't heard before, yet is able to understand. "Sep."Â Quickly.
The boy grabs Glint's arm tight and the spear moves at an incredible speed. Cold winds rush past his body, but he notices the wind below the spear is pushing upwards. Is that how he's flying? the boy ponders. It's magical in nature. The spear silently weaves through the mesa skyscrapers, quickly clearing a lot of ground.
"You never told me your name," Glint says.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the boy responds. "My name is whOA!" A sharp turn surprises the boy.
"Your name is whoa?" Glint asks.
"No, sorry," the boy regains his composure. "My name is Jasper."
"Oh, okay. Nice to meet you Jasper." Glint says.
The spear jets past the final turn and the two are hit with the light of the sun. Keeping pace, they fly towards the beach ahead of them. Before them now lies the beautiful sight of a vast ocean meeting the curve of the horizon. Jasper's eyes glimmer in amazement.
Upon reaching the shore, Glint speaks in a foreign language once more. "Ptiat." Slow. The spear comes to a stop at Glint's command. "You can get off now," he says.
"Thanks," Japser says. His bare feet touch soft sand for the first time in his life. The ocean, Jasper thinks. I actually made it. I'm halfway there. He wiggles his feet, feeling the coarse material filling the gaps between his toes. In this moment of tranquility, his mind goes to his tribe. I can't be standing around wasting time like this. He turns to Glint, the only person he feels that he can trust in this moment. "Glint, I'm sorry for bothering you so much today, and thank you so much for saving me, but I have a request."
"A request?" Glint asks. His skin changes to a light shade of yellow. He's curious.
"Did your skin just change colour?" Jasper asks.
"Is that your request?" Glint inquires.
"No, I've just never seen that happen before."
"Oh. I've never not seen it happen before."
"What?"
"What?"
Jasper scrunches his forehead with his fingers. He puts his hand to his chest and asks cordially, "Can you help me get to another continent?"
"Sure," Glint says nonchalantly. His skin returns to a light blue hue.
Jasper's eyes widen with hope. "Really?"
"Sure," Glint affirms. "I was just thinking that I should leave that place."
"Wow, great timing," Jasper says with a big smile. "So, what should we do?"
"I don't know," Glint says. He starts drawing in the sand with the tip of his spear.
"You don't know? Didn't you say you could help me?" Jasper insists.
"Yeah, I can help you," Glint asserts. "Just tell me what to do." His attention is focused on drawing a symbol in the sand.
Jasper brings his hands to his face, realising he has adopted a stray. He clearly doesn't know anything more about the outside world than I do, he laments. He looks at Glint once more, who is more than focused on his drawing. It looks like a circle with four diamonds surrounding it. He worries about what the future may hold, and whether Glint may hold him back. It was in this moment that he notices that Glint's hair is a bright white, just like his own. He feels a sort of kinship with him. Glint saved him from his pursuers, and he's clearly a very strong companion for Jasper to have. He's lucky to have him. Well, that settles it. Jasper looks along the beach. Over some hills, along the leftside of the coastline, he spots a vessel. "There."