• Each day is filled with a glorious sun – each night, a beautiful moon. But the moon carries the sense of perplexing blackness that evokes a sense of darkness within us all. But when the dawn arrives, and the moon sets itself away, the sun will dominate once more.
    - Andrenous Cassious
    Star Studier and Captain of the Moonshire guard

    Waves hiked to the decks, winds pummeled the sails, and crew scrambled and slipped around, eventually coming together. Shouts and curses hollowed out by the bellows of thunder, lightning, and water crashing against wood. Men continued to push, pull, tie, and move around in a roughly choreographed dance of the ship’s survival. As if the ship waged war against the mighty sea itself…the captain and his crew fought back vicariously.
    “This storm forebodes our presence!” shouted an older male near the main mast of the mighty vessel. “We shall respond with tenderness! The sea is like a great beast, and we shall show we mean it no harm!”
    Crewmen, ordinary men, continued to fight back and hold out from the endless waves, each one heeding to their seasoned captain’s orders. To them, they seemed to be more of a soothing encouragement rather than an explicit direction. The captain adjusted his hood and felt the freezing cold rain splash against his firm cheeks, ignoring the feeling entirely. He looked around him and caught sight of his first mate running to him and stopping, his eyes blinking from the water splashing into them.
    “Captain!” said he. “This is too dangerous! We must turn back - for the safety of the crew!”
    The captain put a hand on the man’s shoulder and pointed to the black sky above them. “I saw the stars earlier tonight; they mean us no harm. The seas are not our enemy.”
    “But, captain!” protested the first mate, “It is far too much risk!”
    “Look into my eyes, lad - trust me. We will be alright.”
    The youthful first mate stared at his captain and gave a hesitant nod, then turned and went back to helping the rest of the crew control the ship. The captain turned to the other side of the ship and stared out at the sea and their monstrous waves, the rain slapping his hood with the wind relentlessly. You wanted me to come for something, he thought, what is it? What is it you wish for me to find? What use is this old man to you now?
    Minutes went by, each one feeling like an hour, but the storm began to die down, and was eventually gone, leaving the sea calm and tranquil as it once was. A very much fatigued ship crew sat down and leaned against each other on different parts of the ship’s deck, feeling as if they were working for an eternity. They soon all started laughing and cheering exhaustively to each other; and even the captain was allowing himself a smile for the victory, when two crew members emerged from under the deck, both stopping behind him.
    “Captain,” said one, “The ship has been damaged by the storm. We must turn back for repairs.”
    “Can you not fix it?” asked the captain.
    “It is not really the ship that is the problem,” said the second crew member, scratching his salt-water-soaked head. “It’s what was brought onto the ship.” Having said that, the crew and first mate all stared at one another, puzzled, and slightly worried. The captain himself widened his eyes in wonder. Was it what his dreams told him?
    “You will want to see this,” said the first mate.
    The captain nodded and followed the two as they led him down below deck, the crew cautiously following them. There, in the corner of the fishing vassal, he saw a spot where the hull was cracked, nearly ripped apart, and a pile of fishing net in a massive clump on the floor, and something was in it. Whatever it was, the captain, and the crew could say for certain that it was definitely not a fish.
    The captain widened his eyes and stepped over to what was in the net, the body of a person. Kneeling down, the body was turned onto its back – it was a boy, young and fit-looking, light skin, outlandish face, and dressed in a leather cuirass, leather boots and gloves, and a pair of loose, tattered green-brown sack pants. The boy’s chest expanded and receded just barely, showing that he was breathing, but faint.
    “He’s alive! Get him to my cabin!” barked the captain, the two crewmen immediately heaving the body up and out of the room, in then coming the first mate, with a look of astonishment on his face.
    “Who is that?” he asked.
    The captain slowly stood up, his hands clutching around a small amulet, one found next to the body. It was an ornate trinket, one like he never had seen: a silver chain, holding a jeweled dragon crest.
    “I do not know,” the captain replied, turning to face his first mate. “He must have been caught in the storm, and eventually into the fishing nets.”
    “We have not seen a ship on water for days; there is no way that a person could be out here alive, without us seeing them!”
    “Maybe so; then the lad is lucky to be alive. Wherever he came from, we will find later. For now, he is under care.” The tired man stepped closer to his first mate. “Where is the nearest port?”
    “Moonshire, down at Tipalo bay,” answered the latter.
    “See to it that we reach it by day tomorrow. Until then, I need some rest.”
    “Very well, goodnight captain.”
    After exchanging a pat on the back, the tired captain walked up the steps, and into his cabin, leaving the first mate gawking at the pile of net in wonder. He placed a palm on his chin and thought long and hard. That child was alive…how long was he out at sea? And better yet, what was he doing out here?
    By the gods…you never cease to amaze me.
    Upstairs, the old captain tossed away his coat and hood and looked around. The storm had shaken the cabin up, some plates, books, and even food helter-skelter around. Giving a sigh, he stepped over to the body that lay on a sofa beside the dining table, covered in blankets, his clothing and armor aside. He took a good look at the boy. Long, flowing brown hair, light face, sharp forehead, and some cuts and nicks on his cheeks and chin. Lifting the blanket a bit, some scars and cuts and wounds could be seen on his chest and arms as well.
    What happened to this boy? How was he still alive? The captain let the body alone and listened to its breathing. He was more stable now; unconscious, but very much stable. It was best for him to be left alone until the morning. Who was he though and where did he come from? So many questions! Suddenly, a small book slipped from the lad’s tunic, it falling on the floor, completely dry. A cover of Evicus leaves, a magical herb said to have divine healing properties. Giving a blink, the weary veteran lifted the small tome off the floor and opened it, his eyes immediately widening in surprise. By the gods! It was written in Perinas, an archaic language few have heard of, and fewer understand. A quick glance at the boy, and the captain began to predict that this boy from the sea was something more than a lucky chap.
    One more page turned and a small note slid open. In pristine handwriting, in gold font, was a request:

    I know who you are. I know you can take care of him. I know you can turn him into his true self. I know you can help him fulfill his destiny. Please, help him now. Let him mature, and then tell him who he is. The boy’s name is Falon…

    The captain read the rest of the note and shook his head, then moved to his bed. He sat down and lay back, looking out the window, to the distant night sky, and at the many stars that covered the horizon, each shining in the bright sky.
    So, this was it. Another use of this old man. Very well, one more adventure would never hurt.
    He only gave another sigh, and got into bed. Almost suddenly did he fall sound asleep, as did the rest of the crew on the mighty ship Amaranth, as it coasted gently on the sea, towards Moonshire bay.
    Through the night, the stranger grew restless, constantly tossing and turning in his slumber. He was dreaming.
    In the dream, there was a city, vast and large; a metropolis of a great kingdom in a forested land, all on fire. Buildings crumbled to ashes; bodies filled the streets; pestilence loomed in black clouds in an empty red sky; strange horsemen with burning eyes and empty faces traveled the dusty roads. And there, at the large clock tower, stood he, a sword drawn, his ocean-blue eyes staring back at a shadowy figure that stood before him. The stranger’s eyes were a blue like none have ever seen, deep and powerfully vibrant, and they widened as the figure rose a hand up and spanned its fingers out, saying incoherent things. And then, a wave of light came and the stranger felt his body being propelled out of the clock tower spire, his body falling fast, and his mouth screaming cries of pain. Suddenly, the words echoed into his mind: “Rise, Falon. Rise and seek your destiny. Now, awaken.” The stranger’s body continued to rocket towards the earth below, and just before he landed in the flames of darkness, Falon woke with a start, in the crew’s quarters, gasping for air. Trying to calm himself, he looked around the room, seeing that no one else had been awakened. In fact, no one else was there. A beam of morning’s light peered through the open window, onto his face, over his eyes. Turning away and rubbing his eyes, he began to regain focus. Looking down at himself, he closed his hands to his lap, feeling his muscles ache slightly. It had been so long since that night now – six years even, since he was brought in mystery onto the Amaranth, since that day he first met the captain, and the first day that dream would start reoccurring almost every single night.