The Medallion Chronicles: Bloodlines

By C.A. Jarest

The war of the gods, Dalgot and Zathiria, has spilled over onto the planet known as Yugerith. The tyrant goddess Zathiria rules over Yugerith with ruthless pride and a craving for servitude. The only way to end this war and return Yugerith to the inhabitants is to return Dalgot’s medallion to him. Years pass as this war wages onward with no end in sight, until one day, off in the southern farmlands, a young woman unsuspectingly finds the medallion and will soon be flung into a world filled with wizards, magic, dragons, and adventures that she never thought possible. She quickly discovers that she is the only one who has the power to overthrow Zathiria and free Yugerith. The question is: will having her friends at her side and the faith of the gods at her back be enough to help her prevail?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645369905

C.A. Jarest

C.A. Jarest grew up in a tiny town in the state of New Hampshire. She had an average childhood, days spent exploring the woods among long summer nights. She started dabbling in writing in high school and continued through college and beyond. Writing has been a passion that has always been with Jarest and has propelled her desire forward. She now lives in Derry, enjoying life with family and crafting new stories.

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C.A. Jarest (2020)

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Jarest, C.A.

The Medallion Chronicles: Bloodlines

ISBN 9781645369875 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781645369882 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645369905 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020912520

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

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Prelude

The Gods of Yugerith

A long time ago when the universe was first created, there were eight gods, six of whom were born from the union of Dalgot, the father of all gods, and Amerithia, the mother to all the gods, barring Dalgot. These eight gods created the world called Yugerith. The three sons of Dalgot were Belgron the oldest, also known as The Sun God. Then Krothrin was the second-born son known to be The Keeper of the Stars, and then there was Ctholiean who because of his rank of being the third son and thirsty for his father’s affection became known as The God of War. Then there stood the three daughters. Flithera, the oldest daughter, had the unfortunate title of being the Goddess of Death. Aberithica, the second female child born was Goddess of the Winds and all that occupied its space. Last but certainly not least was the Goddess of Fire whose command of the temperamental element got her recognition from both of her parents, and still she was unhappy and jealous of her father.

One day, the mighty God Dalgot was wandering around Yugerith when he stumbled upon a muddy chunk of gold. He took the gold back to his tower where he then fashioned a magical medallion from the gold. As he carefully crafted the medallion, Dalgot infused into the gold the sacred Elvin waters of Aronlu and other things that he held dear to his heart. Dalgot then put his symbol on the medallion, a green dragon. As he wore the medallion over time, it would glow a brilliant green. Dalgot also noticed that as he wore the medallion, the jewel started to develop a consciousness. Somehow, the medallion had absorbed some of Dalgot’s life force. Amused by this, Dalgot went to the other Gods to tell them of his medallion. Dalgot then realized that some of the Gods would become jealous of his jewel and want to steal it. So Dalgot called upon his disciples and told them to hide the medallion on Yugerith and to protect it with their lives.

Zathiria awed with the medallion coveted it, wanting it for her own. She knew her father and knew he would hide it on Yugerith, the land of his spirit, in his disciples’ care. Finding it was not a difficult task and once she found it, the object of her infatuation and her father’s creation, she hid it away from her father’s eyes and his knowing. Under the guise of secret actions, Zathiria could not contain her desire to wear the medallion herself. Tentatively, she draped the golden cord around her neck. The weight of its importance touched her skin, and at that moment in a distant place, the Box of Rocza was released from its ancient shackles of containment. The Box of Rocza held all of Amerithias’ fury. As it is true of every earthly mother, so too can it be said of a goddess. Amerithia was not foreign to a mother’s temperate love and affection with her children, as she too could spill into a tirade of wrath when disobeyed by disobedient children. To protect Yugerith from her anger, the other gods harnessed her angst in a strong box, immune from the wear and tear of rage. So the medallion containing a portion of Dalgot’s essence knew it was stolen and triggered the prehistoric response of outrage contained in the Box of Rocza beyond the capacity of its heavy-laden chains, as it was placed around the youngest child of Dalgot and Amerithias’ neck. As a consequence of her shame and dishonor, a fraction of her soul was cast into the underworld with her sister Flithera to serve as her handmaiden while awaiting redemption or revenge. This would be her punishment for stealing from her father and betraying her mother’s love.

The gods tracked down Zathiria and took the medallion back to Dalgot. Angry with Zathiria, Dalgot and the gods waged war with her. This war lasted for almost eight hundred years when at last, Zathiria was defeated on the battle field of Deglume by Sorinth and his two twin brothers, Sovane and Sobrin. The night Zathiria’s body was killed was when all evil would no longer be able to terrorize the people of Yugerith. The evil creatures Zathiria had created were hunted down and exterminated from the world. Wazore, Dalgot’s primary disciple, decided to appoint each of the immortal brothers to rule over a kingdom. Sovane ruled the kingdom to the south, Sobrin ruled to the east, and Sorinth ruled to the north. To make sure that peace would be preserved, each brother agreed to marry a princess of another race. Sorinth married Betallina of the giants, Sobrin married Solvien of the avens, and Sovane married Galien of the elves. The three brothers ruled their kingdoms in peace for many, many years until Zathiria’s disciple Gellith emerged out of the darkness. Gellith invaded Sovane’s kingdom first in order to take back the medallion and again there was war. This war would last for centuries.

When news of the war reached Dalgot, he went to Wazore in order to protect his medallion yet again. Dalgot, afraid for his precious jewel, put a curse on it. No one but Dalgot or the guardian of the medallion would be able to wear it. Anyone else who touched it would die. As the war for the medallion continued, Zathiria was slowly gathering up her powers, the power to leave the underworld and to take the medallion back.

The night Zathiria’s body was killed was the night her body and soul became one again. Now that her body and soul had been rejoined, Zathiria would wait in the depths of the underworld as Gellith hunted down each of the guardians and killed them. The closer Gellith came to finding the guardians, the more power Zathiria gained, and soon she would be able to return to Yugerith. She waited eagerly to join in the hunt and to conquer Yugerith for herself.

Chapter One

Sir, they have smashed through our barricade. We can’t hold them back for much longer! the young man screamed over the explosions of cannons and the cries of dying men.

Do what you can! They must not be allowed to get through! yelled the commander at the young man. The commander couldn’t give up; his army had lasted for half a year so far. He had to hold the city. If they lost the city, then they would forever be defeated. He couldn’t let that happen.

Yes sir! shrieked the young man as he ran off to inform the troops, leaving the commander alone. The commander looked over his map of the battlefield again, as he knew there was no way they were going to win. He had lost too many men; they were outnumbered. Minutes later, the young man returned to the commander to inform him that the city was lost. They had been overrun.

Sir! the young man said as he rushed into the commander’s chambers.

They have swarmed our troops; they are in the city now. We must draw back. The young man was covered in blood and he had a look of fear in his eyes. This was a fear the commander knew all his troops held in their eyes and hearts. The commander knew he had to retreat.

Alright, tell them to pull back, the commander said, sitting back in his old beaten chair.

Yes sir, the young man said, turning to leave the commander once again.

Wait. Before you go, I want you. I need you to do something for me. The commander looked the young man square in the eyes.

I need you to go to the northern post. There, you will find a man. Tell him the elk have fled.

Sir, what does that mean? the young man asked.

That doesn’t concern you. Just tell him and go quickly! We cannot waste any more time. The commander went back over to his chair and sat down.

It was an honor to have fought under your command, sir. The young man saluted the commander and dashed out of the room.

The commander sat alone in his command room as he waited for Gellith, the very man he was trying to kill and the reason why this war had started in the first place. If Zathiria ever got her hands on the medallion again, the other gods would be banished from Yugerith for all eternity. And she would rule over Yugerith’s people with an unquenchable taste for servitude, whatever the cost. The commander couldn’t let that happen, not while he was alive.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps climbing the rickety stairs up to his room. The door exploded into shards of wood and revealed a menacing figure. A tall, muscular man covered in blood-soaked armor stood in the doorway with his long sword drawn. The black-haired man walked over to the commander and placed his warm, bloody sword on the commander’s throat. The menacing intruder smiled.

Bow to the might of Zathiria! the man bellowed.

Never, Gellith. You will have to kill me first. They stood facing each other.

You dare challenge me, Herthian? You are more foolish than I thought, Gellith sneered as he stared at Herthian.

Tell me where it is, Herthian, and you will be generously rewarded by Zathiria herself. You cannot resist Zathiria. No one can, Gellith said quietly as his gaze softened a little.

Never. You will have to kill me, Gellith, Herthian said calmly. You will never find it, Gellith, and I will never tell you where it is. By the light of Dalgot, Zathiria will never find it! Herthian said triumphantly.

You will die then! Gellith raised his mighty sword, and with one smooth motion, Herthian’s decapitated body collapsed to the floor and lay in a pool of hot blood. Gellith stood over Herthian’s lifeless body and cleaned his sword. He took the head of his enemy by the hair and left Herthian’s body on the floor to rot in its own filth.

The young man raced through the rubble of what used to be one of the three grandest kingdoms in Yugerith. The young man ran as fast as he could while keeping out of sight from the Grelins, Zathiria’s minions. The Grelins were ugly, vicious monsters that stood as tall as three grown men stacked head to foot and had malicious horns atop their heads, accompanied by razor-sharp teeth that could tear through anything. The face of a Grelin was said to be a cross between a pig and a donkey; It is a face only a mother could love, the people would say. Zathiria bred the Grelins herself, altering them continuously, making them stronger and more obedient. The Grelins were like a plague upon Yugerith that ravished its beautiful lands; the Grelins were unstoppable.

The young man arrived at the northern gate of the city where the outpost was located. The gate was heavily guarded by Grelins; he couldn’t get through without being seen. He sighed and started back into the city to find a different way around. The young man crept around a building corner and saw Gellith leaving Herthian’s chambers. Gellith stood overlooking the city and held Herthian’s severed head in his left hand. The young man couldn’t believe what he was seeing and turned away quickly. The taste of vomit crawled up the man’s throat as he spewed up the contents of his stomach. He wiped his mouth. The young man had to get to the outpost. He sat there for a moment as he tried to gather himself. Suddenly, he remembered that there were tunnels that existed underneath the once-great city. The tunnels had been dug many years ago in case the city needed to be evacuated. The young man peered into a window of the building behind him and carefully entered. He looked cautiously and examined the floorboards where he found a small silver latch. He pulled up on the latch. A large door emerged from the floor as he pulled up and revealed a tunnel entrance. He looked around one last time and jumped down into the blackness and closed the door on top of himself.

The tunnel was divided into many different sub-tunnels which led to different exits out of the city. The man continued to follow the main tunnel until he saw a dim light up ahead. He crawled out and found himself standing in a lush green valley with mountains looming in the horizon. The young man looked around, and sure enough he had made it safe and sound to the northern post. He turned and gazed at the once-majestic city. It was where he had grown up. Now all that was left were big black clouds of smoke billowing in the skies above the defeated city. Putting the thought beside himself, the young man looked around for the person he was supposed to meet. Just then out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a tall elderly man dressed in a blue satin robe. The old man had a gleaming white beard that just barely touched the ground, and in his hand, he held a tall brown staff. The young man approached.

The elk have fled, the young man said, unsure if this was the right person he should be speaking with.

Who told you that? the old man asked sharply.

Herthian told me to come to the northern outpost and speak with the man there; you are the only one here.

Where is Herthian?

He is dead. Flashes of Herthian’s severed head ran before the young man’s eyes.

Thank you for delivering to me this message. Come, we must go now before we are found, the old man said, lifting his staff into the air. The old man started to rotate his staff counterclockwise in the air. Directly in front of the old man, there were sparks of energy that danced rapidly from side to side, creating a circular pattern. Eventually, a large floating hole appeared, swirling with hints of electricity. The young man noticed that small stones and pebbles were rolling over the green grass and flew through the air into the energy hole. The young man’s clothes waved in the wild wind that seemed to be coming from the hole.

Come, we must go this way. The sorcerer motioned for the young man to step through the hole.

No way, the young man said, stepping away.

Don’t make me force you in. It is safe. Trust me, the sorcerer said. The young man hesitantly approached the floating hole and jumped in, quickly followed by the sorcerer.

The young man found himself being flung across a small clearing and rammed into a tree. He rolled over on his side and grasped his stomach. The old man gracefully stepped out of the floating hole and walked over to the young man. The young man stood up and leaned against a tree.

Where are we? the young man asked.

Somewhere we are safe. Now that we are safe, you can discard your disguise, the old man said.

What do you mean ‘disguise’? the young man asked. The sorcerer raised an eyebrow.

I am a sorcerer. I know things, he said. The young man stood there for a moment and then took off her helmet. Long black hair dropped out of the helmet and waved in the light breeze. The woman looked at the old man with her intense purple eyes and smiled. Though she was covered in mud, there was still a soft feminine look about her.

That is better; you make a much nicer woman than a man. Now, may I ask why you were in disguise? the sorcerer asked her.

My family was killed by the Grelins, and I wanted revenge. As you are aware there are no women in the army, so I disguised myself as a man, the woman said spitefully.

I see. What is your name? the sorcerer asked.

My name is Violet. My mother thought it was appropriate, since my eyes are purple. What is yours? Violet asked.

My name is Wazore. It is an honor, he said.

What was it that Herthian wanted you to hide from Gellith? Violet asked.

Herthian and I were very old friends. The item that he wanted hidden is a secret, a secret I cannot reveal to just anyone. I must now go into hiding in order to protect the item. If you would like, you could come with me? Wazore asked. Violet thought about it for a moment. Her family was dead and she had nowhere else to go.

It would be an honor to go with you, Violet said.

***

For centuries, the medallion was safe from Gellith under the watchful eyes of Master Wazore and Violet. Over many thousands of years, Violet was instructed by Wazore in the ways of sorcery, which then enabled Violet to live for an eternity. Wazore taught Violet sorcery for her protection and for the medallion’s protection. Wazore kept the medallion moving between the remaining guardians. Even though Zathiria was dead, she could still instruct Gellith to go kill off the guardians. Gellith, the reluctant servant, met the terms of Zathiria. Gellith had already killed Sovane’s son, Herthian, but Sovane had produced another heir, a baby girl. Gellith killed Sovane in a battle. Afterwards, Gellith went to Sovane’s palace and slaughtered the rest of his family, but his blade missed Sovane’s baby girl.

Wazore and Violet went to Sovane’s palace in search of any survivors where they found Sovane’s baby daughter. Violet then went into hiding with the baby girl and raised the child as her own. Wazore and Violet waited in silence for when the day would come when they would be called upon to help assist the guardian of the medallion on the journey to defeat Zathiria.

Chapter Two

Twenty Years Later

The battlefield rang with cries of men, explosions of cannons, and the clanging of armor. The field was littered with the dead or dying. On the grass plains, the army of men fell and the army of Zathiria prevailed. Zathiria would not stop until her evil hands once again held the medallion that shattered her soul. Gellith’s army left yet another battlefield triumphantly, and as they left, they finished off anyone who might still draw breath. As Gellith left the carnage behind, he didn’t know that there was still one soul alive.

There on the outer rim of the battlefield, she lay with a sword through her leg as her tired body slept on a pile of rotting flesh. Many days passed before any of the local villagers ventured out onto the field in hopes that there might be someone alive. They found her just in time and brought her back to their town where they quickly began to heal her. Days passed by and still the young woman did not wake. The people feared that they had come too late to save her. One morning when the scarlet sun was rising into the sky, the young woman woke. Frightened, she lurched out of bed and grabbed a small suture knife off the table next to her bed. She stood for a moment as she looked around herself. There were beds lining both sides of the long room and people were scattered between the beds. She blinked a few times as she tried to piece together where she might be and what had happened to her. An unknown servant walked over to her to help, but instead, she grabbed him and put the knife to his neck. The other wounded people in the room started to shout at her. She blocked the screaming out of her mind and walked toward the door with her prisoner. A man dressed in white ran over to the doorway and stood with his arms outstretched and blocked the door. He said something to her, but she couldn’t hear him. He said it again and again.

Be still! said the man dressed in white. His eyes delved into the woman as she inched closer to a nearby wall.

Where am I? I want to know where I am now or I’ll kill him! the young woman demanded as she slowly moved the knife across the servant’s throat. The servant gasped as the cool metal dug into his throat and warm blood oozed out of his flesh.

Put the knife down and I will tell you where you are, the man bellowed at her. The woman pulled the knife again and the servant started to bleed even more.

Alright, you are at a monastery. We found you out on the battlefield and brought you here to be treated. Now let him go, the man pleaded. The woman looked at the man and she released the servant. She was not afraid of the man. She had been yelled at many times in the army. What scared her the most was not knowing how or why she was here. The woman collapsed to the floor.

Her hands were shaking, and she suddenly felt very sick. The white-robed man helped her to her feet and walked her back to her bed. The woman sat down and blindly gazed at the floor. The woman was not frightened by where she was. She was frightened because she had no recollection of a battle. The woman calmed down and cautiously walked over to a window. She gazed out at the rising sun over the white-peaked mountains. Somehow, the world seemed at peace for the moment, peace the world had not seen in many years. The world had changed over the many years of war and tyranny. The woman heard a faint voice calling to her from behind her. She turned and saw the white-robed man smiling at her.

Please, child, sit down. He motioned toward a couple of chairs. They both sat down.

What happened? Where is this place located? the woman asked.

Our town is called Luctan and it is located in the northern edge of the farm lands. Gellith’s army stormed the kingdom and won, of course, the man said as he studied the young woman. Her bright green eyes were filled with worry and her black hair hung over her shoulder. She was a tall woman and very shapely.

The local villagers brought you here to this monastery where we healed you, the man said, pointing to her leg where there was a bandage.

Oh. Thank you, the woman said softly as she touched the bandage.

What is your name, child? the man asked.

My name is Zail, and yours? Zail asked.

My name is Keal’tor. I am the high priest here. I take it you will be leaving now that you are well.

Yes, I will be on my way, Zail said.

Very well. I will have someone bring in the clothes we found you in. Warm wishes to wherever your journey may lead you, Keal’tor said, leaving the room.

Moments later, a servant came in with Zail’s clothes. Once Zail was changed, she went down to the courtyard. Zail was dressed in a dark brown leather suit with a belt wrapped around her waist for her sword. Keal’tor was waiting in the courtyard for Zail. He held the reins of a horse in his hands. It was a dirty, muddy, and un-kept horse. She couldn’t tell if it was a white horse or a gray one.

I’ll give you this horse for your journey, Keal’tor said, handing her the reins.

Thank you very much, Zail said as she mounted the horse and left the courtyard.

She didn’t know where to go; the army was her home and family. But that had been swiftly taken away from her. She thought about the army and the memory of why she had joined in the first place. The image of her adoptive mother, Violet, surged before her as well. Zail’s parents had been killed and Violet had taken her in. Zail decided to visit the battlefield where so many of her friends had died. As she progressed down the road, the pungent smell of rotting flesh filled her nostrils. The horse bucked several times, protesting not to go any further. Zail pushed the horse onward. Moments later, Zail pulled the horse to a halt as the battlefield became visible. Zail dismounted and tied the horse to a tree as she slowly progressed toward the battleground on foot. Her stomach turned as vomit filled her mouth. Tears of sorrow soaked her face. Zail gathered herself up and entered the carnage.

There was something she had to do before she left this area forever. Zail had a flash of memory. Her commander had sent for her, but she never made it to her commander. In past battles, the commanders’ tent would be near the tree line, though the tent was no longer standing. Zail knew that the commander was dead, but still she had to see for herself. She had to figure out why he wanted to see her. She carefully made her way to where the tent had once stood. As she walked over the rotting men, Zail tripped and fell into a pool of mud and expired blood. Zail jumped back onto her feet and wiped the bloody mud off her face and hands. She looked around, and there at her feet lay the commander.

Zail kneeled down beside his body and sighed. She examined his body and found a sword protruding from his abdomen. Zail tilted her head as something shiny caught her eye. Zail reached down as she dug into the mud and felt a flat, round, and smooth object in her fingers. She pulled the object out of the mud and cleaned it off. It was a golden medallion. The medallion had an insignia of a green dragon on it. Zail had never seen anything like this before. Zail gazed at the medallion for a moment before she noticed that the commander’s hand was curled up as if he was holding something. Zail put the medallion in her pocket and unfolded the commander’s hand. Inside his hand was a piece of paper. Zail unraveled the paper and read it.

Zail, if you are reading this, then I am dead along with the rest of my army. I

need

you to do something for me. You will find in my hand a golden medallion.

Take it.

What you need to do is bring this medallion to a man named Wazore. You

must go

south to a town called Octall. There, Wazore will find you. You must hurry;

we cannot

waste any more time, and tell him Sobrin sent you.

Zail read the note several times to make sure she was reading it right. Zail found the whole note very odd. The names Wazore and the commander claiming to be Sobrin were mindboggling. Violet had told Zail stories of Wazore, the disciple of Dalgot, and the three brothers who killed Zathiria. Zail thought they were only stories. She was confused.

Zail put the note in her pocket and went back up to her horse. She glanced back at the battlefield, closed her eyes, and closed that chapter in her life. Zail mounted the horse and headed off down the road. Zail pondered the note and how Sobrin said to go to Octall, but Zail was unsure about this. She needed someone to talk to; she needed advice. She thought about it for a while. Since she left for the army three years ago, Zail hadn’t seen anyone from her childhood in many years. She hadn’t seen Violet in many years. She knew Violet would find the note and the medallion very interesting.

Zail continued down the road until it split and went in two different directions. The right road went to the Town of Ama and the left road went to the farmlands. Zail couldn’t wait to see Violet again; she couldn’t wait to see that farm she called home for so many years again. It was mid-afternoon when she approached the gates of the farm. She stopped outside of the gate and waited for it to open. The gates slowly opened and revealed a short, plump, elderly man.

Who is it? What is your business here? Speak up! he declared. Zail looked down at him for a moment.

Go get Violet and tell her Zail has come home, she said to the man as he scampered off into the courtyard. Minutes later, Zail could see Violet running toward her from the kitchen, with her arms outstretched and tears on her face. Zail dismounted and went to Violet with a smile on her face and happiness in her heart as they embraced in a hug.

Well…it’s about time you came home, young lady. Where have you been? Violet said through tears and her joy of having Zail back home.

Oh, I have so much to tell you, Violet, Zail said, looking into those wise eyes she had known since she was a child; Violet hadn’t changed at all. As they walked through the farm’s courtyard, young children played, goats foraged for food, and dogs chased the farm cats. Memories of when she was a young girl flooded her mind as she walked next to Violet.

Zail could smell a meal being prepared in the kitchen. The sound of women’s voices echoed from the kitchen out into the courtyard. They were disagreeing about what to make, how to make it, what to put in it, and so on. They walked past the kitchen, through the food stock room, and into the servants’ building. They entered the building and the sound of kids roaming the halls and moms giving orders to their children vibrated through the halls as they ascended the staircase to Violet’s quarters. Violet’s quarters were the biggest and nicest quarters in the building because of her seniority among the other servants. The interior walls of Violet’s quarters were of solid pinewood, and the sweet aroma of the wood filled the room. The first room was dimly lit by candles, and the sunshine helped to lighten the room a bit. There was a bed on the far side of the room against the wall with nightstands and a very large chest at the end of the bed. In the second room was a small kitchen area with a small cast-iron stove and a table and shelving. Zail went to a third room, her bedroom, and put her bags down. She then joined Violet in the kitchen.

So, Zail, tell me what you have been up to these past years, Violet said, pouring them tea and sitting across from her adoptive daughter. Violet knew that Zail had joined the army shortly after leaving the farm, but she also knew that there was another reason why she had left. Violet sipped her tea and watched the young woman in front of her. There was something on Zail’s mind.

Zail sat with her tea for a moment as she held the note from Sobrin in her pocket. She was fumbling with the idea of telling Violet. Why shouldn’t she tell her?

Violet, I want to show you something, she said, pulling the note out of her pocket and giving it to Violet.

I was wounded in battle and the local villagers healed me. When I was feeling well, I went back to the battlegrounds and went looking for my commander. Underneath his body, I found this note, Zail explained to her. Violet’s eyes widened and then slowly migrated down toward the note. She read it carefully and, once finished, looked up at Zail curiously.

Where is the medallion, Zail? Zail shifted in her chair as her suspicions of the medallion grew even more. Violet didn’t need to say anything for Zail to know that the medallion was more than just a fancy piece of jewelry. Zail slowly lifted the medallion out from her shirt pocket. The medallion hung from her hand as a soft green light started to emit from it. Violet sat back and let out a slight gasp. Her face had gone a ghostly white and her eyes were fixated on the medallion.

Violet, what is the matter? Zail asked her. Violet stood and looked out the window.

Zail, ever since you came to me, I knew you were different, special, and unique, Violet told her. Zail sat back in her chair as she listened.

The letter you found is devastating. Sobrin was a fine man and was a very important part of the war against Zathiria. Not only that, but he was a dear friend, Violet said, turning to face Zail. Her face was wet with tears.

Now the medallion you found is extremely important and I need you to listen carefully to me.

Alright, but I don’t understand…

If you listen, then you will understand. Zail didn’t like the tone Violet took with her.

The medallion is no ordinary medallion. It as well has a very important part in everything and it is very valuable and must be kept a secret. You know of the story of Dalgot and the forging of his powerful medallion? Violet asked her. Zail tilted her head and touched the golden jewel.

Yes, of course I do. You told me that story every night before bed. Why?

Well, it is no story. The medallion you possess is Dalgot’s. You remember the curse he put on it?

Only one human at a time is allowed to hold it and is given the duty of protecting the medallion at all times. This person is called the guardian, and this responsibility is passed down in the family, a family line that Dalgot himself chose to guard his possession. But if anyone but this guardian or Dalgot touched the medallion, they would die. Zail looked white-eyed up at Violet and found she could hardly breathe anymore. It was as if all the air in her lungs just seemed to seep out slowly. Could her childhood stories really be true? Had she been lied to her entire life? Her childhood now seemed as if it had been shrouded in lies and secrets.

Violet…I don’t understand…How can this be? Zail managed to say through her fear and hurt emotions. Violet sat down and held Zail’s hands.

I apologize for keeping this from you. I had to keep you in the dark until I knew the right moment. Violet closed her eyes and sighed.

Eighteen years ago, there was a terrible war between Gellith and Sovane. Sovane was also a guardian of the medallion and Gellith killed him in that war. Gellith then went to Sovane’s home and killed off his entire family. I was passing through that part with my master and we saw the burning house and rescued Sovane’s baby daughter, Sovane’s only surviving heir, Violet said, peering deep into Zail’s eyes.

What do you mean by your master, Violet? Violet squeezed Zail’s hands even harder.

I am a sorceress, and my master’s name is Wazore. We are prophets for Dalgot and we go wherever he guides us to. We protect those who need protecting and we serve our god, country, and people with our life. That day, eighteen years ago, Dalgot guided us to you and told me to protect and hide you from the world for as long as I needed to. You, Zail, are Sovane’s daughter and the new guardian of the medallion, Violet told her. Zail felt her checks flush with anger. Her temper rose and then it was sullied by another emotion, happiness. But that was soon replaced by shock and surprise. Zail looked out across the table at the woman she considered a mother and she suddenly took on a new light. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Violet…thank you for telling me this. I am glad to know who I am. I have a few questions though.

Alright, ask away. I am glad that you are taking this so well.

If Sovane and his two brothers were the ones who killed Zathiria in the battle of Deglume, how is it that Sovane was killed eighteen years ago? Plus, he is immortal, so how is it that he was killed? Zail had so many different questions running through her head about herself, her family, Violet and her master, and of course Dalgot. But one thing at a time was her feeling. Zail could feel her emotions settling now as Violet answered her questions.

Well, in the past few years, Gellith has become increasingly strong and determined to finish off your family. Gellith, I don’t know how or where he found it, found a weapon that is able to kill an immortal. That is how he killed Sovane, with his weapon. This weapon of his is one of the only ways an immortal can be killed, Violet told her. Zail sat back in her chair and ran her finger across the medallion. Zail thought about the medallion and what it meant to her now that she was the guardian. She didn’t want this. She didn’t choose to be this. How could Violet expect her to do this after lying to her all her childhood? Zail looked up at Violet as she put it on the table and slid it toward Violet.

I don’t want this. I won’t do it. You tell me that all I was told when I was a child is a lie, and now you want me to be this person that I am not. I cannot do this, Violet. I don’t even know what to do with this, Zail