Chapter 1

The four Elders. The Original. The Source.

These are all titles that have been used to describe one of the ultimate stages of existence. Some believe that these beings are one, and that they embody the very world itself. Some think that they are the culmination of all living creatures. but the truth is that not many know who or what they really are. But those who do will never forget them.

There are four of these beings. Together, they make up the essential elements for the world to exist.

The first of them is called Nihad. He controls the rain, the rivers, and the oceans.

After him is Thorn, the custodian of the earth, the plants and everything that came from the dirt.

Then there is Ariel. His domain is the air, and the wind. He breathes life into all things beautifully.

Lastly, there is Ifirit. The deserts, volcanos, and heat itself is his to command.

Together, they form a fundamental balance that must be kept for the sake of all. If even one disappeared, then the world as we know it would go with them.

They are not merely the lords of the elements, but rather the elements themselves. Although many names they might have, only one is true. Spirit Kings.

Day after day Ifirit existed within the spirit realm, toiling away, watching the few kingdoms he had, and the fewer intelligent beings who entered them. What was worse is one of the aspects of his reality. Within his realms, he was almost omnipresent. It made watching over them a far easier task than the same would be for a King or lord, but he knew the joy of seeing from only one place, of never knowing what lay around the corner, of not knowing every facet of everything he looked upon.

And worse still, he had no way to escape. Unlike the others, he was too young to form a physical body in the physical realm. His consciousness was not advanced enough to put the will and potential of a Spirit King into a body that can exist alongside other physical beings.

After all, he and his brethren are not immortal. They all can age, and he was the newest and youngest of their ranks.

The only moments of entertainment he was given were the glimpses he saw through the fires of the world. Perhaps it was a fire burning a forest, or maybe it was a torch lighting a hall, or even a fiery spell being cast. Whatever it was, he only saw through them for seconds, only at their peaks right before they began to fade, another issue with his age.

But for Ifirit, those moments were pure bliss. Pure entertainment that he would latch onto as if it were the last he'd ever see.

He knew how foolish it was---feeling such emotions as loneliness and boredom. Soon, within the next hundred years, he would be able to walk where he wished and do as he liked. Against what was near eternity, what was a few decades?

But for him...it was like watching the world pass by as he lay in bed, as his body slowly aged and withered, as he knew the feeling of freedom was but a grasping hand away.

He didn't resent his choice. Becoming a Spirit King meant that you existed at the top of existence itself, and he had made the choice with the knowledge of what it meant to be one. But now he yearned for just a taste of what he once had.

Ifirit knew there were ways that he could circumvent the impediment of youth, but such methods usually arose only because drastic measures needed to be taken. The last option he knew of was almost as unlikely: Summoning. To be called to by a being of matter, of the material. But Ifirit was no fool. He did not hold onto false hope. For something to be able to call him, to bind him to themselves would require them to have a level of talent that even the high races rarely had. Such talent would certainly change the world.

With all that considered, why, Ifirit wondered, did he see the impossible?

Ifirts spirit realm embodied who he was. Spiraling towers of fire rose into the sky, lakes of plasma, and palaces and cities of molten metal. The skies were red, and the clouds were aflame.

It was a realm of heat and constant change. Look away for only a moment, and a new forest of burning trees might be before you. Far, far in the distance, farther than you could ever hope to see on earth, were the realms of the other Spirit Kings, all connected, all balanced.

An untold number of spirits of every shape and size moved through and around the realm, not bound there as Ifirit was. His home was a place that had seen almost everything the world had to offer. Almost.

In front of Ifirit, hovering like an impossible door calling his very name, was what he knew could only be a summoning circle.

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Tay Mallor had only ever truly wished for one thing. It was the same wish many had made, whether it was the old, the young, or the crippled.

Power.

Not power to control, or to abuse. Power to change the stagnant world they found themselves in. Who you were, what you did, where you lived, and what you said were all born and changed through power, and Tay wanted change more than anything he had ever known.

He only wished he had been more prepared to fight for it. If only he hadn't run headlong into hell. The tower was no place for the naive and the impatient, no matter their level.

It had only been a few hours since he had entered the sky-scraping structure. He had only seen the weakest of monsters, which were really just simple magical constructs rather than the physical manifestations that were monsters. He wondered if because of how easy it had been, he had gotten arrogant.

Tay groaned as he sat on the stone of the ground, his side bleeding from a claw-created gash. The bodies of the few humanoid Fey he had killed lay around him, their grey skin had begun to tint a shade lighter as their blood drained from them, the mouths of their eyeless faces hung open, and a few had blood dripping from their fiendish claws—his blood. And then there were those tentacles; as thin as a finger, yet as long as an arm. Dozens of them attached to each of the monsters, protruding from all around their heads, almost like an eldritch crown. The blue light that had glowed from the tip of each one was now extinguished.

He could hear the tapping of their feet on the ground around him. The only thing that was keeping him alive was his complete stillness. He knew that if he moved, every one of the Fey would be on him like rats to trash.

He had nothing left to give. His body was sore, more sore than he had ever felt it. His short sword was drenched in the blood of the monsters on the other side of the cave, only visible in the dim light created by the dozens of yet still-living creatures.

He thought back for a moment. The world outside wasn't all that different from in there. In both places, Tay had fought for what he had. He had put his life on the line, holding it bare for everyone to see. But where had it gotten him? Beaten, scarred both body and mind, thrown from where he had called home, and now halfway to dead.

He laughed at it, at himself. He couldn't not. It seemed like life would never stop throwing rench after rench at his goals. He looked around, seeing the knife, then pushed himself to his feet. He could try to go for it, but there were a half dozen Fey between him and his weapon, and they had already heard the shuffling of him standing. He wouldn't make it.

A grin broke across his face as he started towards the nearest eyeless monster. His fist landed squarely in the face of it, the gash on his side gushed bright crimson blood, but he couldn't feel it anymore.

It had been years since he had brawled with his bare hands, and it felt good.

The Fey had heard him as soon as he started moving and had all begun their uncertain jogging towards him. The monster he had engaged lashed its claws out, catching Tay's still outstretched arm. Tay reared back before leaping towards it, tackling it to the ground.

His hands grabbed anything they could, which mostly were the long appendages around it's head. The monster screeched as he pulled, ripping them from its skin, one after the other. Its hands and feet clawed at the air wildly, unable to connect with Tay's flesh as he kept himself behind it.

He finally grabbed the Fey's forehead, putting his knees just below its neck, and then yanked as hard as he could. The neck of the monster let out a sickening crack before its body stilled, lying lifeless in Tay's grip. He felt a spark of triumph at his fifth kill, at gaining it without a weapon. The spark soon vanished as a slicing pain came from his back.

Another one of the Fey had reached him. Its presence had gone unnoticed by Tay, as occupied as he had been. The monster had clawed out a chunk of flesh from his upper back. Their claws were made to rip flesh from bone, rather than to slice it.

The Fey managed to graze another blow before he rolled away. It didn't remove flesh, but it caught the back of his left arm. As he recovered—getting back up to his feet, he examined himself. The glancing blow had done a number on him. He didn't think It would cause permanent damage, or he hoped it wouldn't, but he could feel odd sensations when he moved it.

But Tay was more than pleased with the outcome of his fight. He had rolled away to be clear of the Fey who had been blocking his path to his short sword.

Suddenly, Tay could feel warmth in his body, like that of a stove. He looked down and saw that he was glowing. It was faint, barely bright enough to see, but it was there. A jolt of excitement ran through him. He knew what this meant. If he could kill one more Fey, he would finally evolve. Tay grinned as he picked up his sword, the blood covering it went unnoticed behind his adrenaline.

One more. If he pushed one more time, he might very well gain the ability to leave there alive. The Fey were upon him. They could hear his quickened breaths and shuffling feet as he tried to get in a stance to fight the monsters.

Suddenly, two of them jumped at Tay, their claws coming down in narrowly missing arcs. Tay shot the blade out, catching the closest monster in the neck. The attack wasn't able to end it, so in desperation, he leaped forward, holding his sword in both hands in front of him as he tackled it.

Instantly, that warmth enveloping him surged as the life of the monster beneath him was snuffed out. Knowledge flooded his mind like he was reading a dozen books at once. Light surged from his body, illuminating the cave, but Tay could no longer see what was before him. He could feel his muscles tighten and his bones ache. The process of evolution was something that often took days, which usually were spent in the comfort of wherever one called home.

The flood of information slowed and he was able to make sense of what his eyes were showing him. The Fey had been temporarily flustered by the sudden surge of magic from their prey, but they had quickly recovered, and now Tay was like a torch in the night for the magic-sensitive monsters.

With evolution came power, both physical and magical. The physical side would often take days to be fully realized as your body adapted to and used the energy provided to it to enhance itself. The magical side however was near instant actualization.

With each evolution someone went through, they were given spells. These could very drastically in effect and use, but no spell was ever useless. With these spells came a basic intrinsic understanding of how they worked. Although it was ever only basic.

A simple fire ball spell for example was more easily understood than a spell that had the potential to create an elaborate structure. For someone's first evolution, they are given two spells. Tay instantly knew what the first spell was.

Closing his eyes, he felt for it. It was deep within the small pool of magic that he had. It was soaking it in like a sponge, attempting to be able to be used. He mentally grabbed for it and activated it. Instantly, his blade began to exude heat, a faint glow starting to emanate from its edge.

Tay spun around as another chunk of flesh was ripped from his leg. The sword found the face of the monster and cut through it like butter. The blood on the blade started to bubble as the heat continued to increase. Tay could feel his reserve draining quickly. The cut had been deep, having carved through the flesh as if it wasn't even there.

The monster fell to the ground, unmoving. Tay receded into himself, looking for the second spell. This one was much harder to understand. It was like looking at a sheet of music that only had a quarter of it finished. He knew how it started, but he could never know what the end product would be. What he knew was that it was a summoning spell.

Summoning spells were on the rarer side, and often provided useful companions for combat. As the summoning spell absorbed enough power---nearly taking everything he had, he activated it. Raising his hand, he could feel the magic leaving him, feel it forming into something at his wish. The heat from his sword faded as it ran out of power to sustain itself.

The room began to vibrate, the walls becoming hard to see in detail like there was a heat haze obstructing it. Tay could feel the floor heating up through his boots, and the monsters who had no protection began to howl in pain as the skin on their bare feet began to melt and stick to the floor.

In the center of the room, growing from the ground---which now looked like lava, was a pillar of flame. It didn't lash about wildly as fire did, but rather created an effect that looked like water beneath a thin layer of ice. At the tip of the pillar formed a sphere. It grew and grew until it was only a little bit smaller than a human head.

Then, as if it was a drainway suddenly opening up at the bottom of a lake, the heat, the lava, and every trace of warmth was sucked into it. Then the room went still. The cries of the Fey stopped as their flesh was no longer being burnt. The only thing that moved now was the orb of flame. It twirled horizontally, a hundred different shades moving and fading into one another.

Tay instantly knew that what he saw was a spirit of fire. The incomplete sheet of music that it had been now slowly revealing itself.

Tay could feel the characteristics of fire. The same ones that he had felt in himself when he went to have his potential realized. Flame represented power. It was the force that moved the world forward via destruction. But it was also beautiful, and if used properly, could be a useful tool.

He was still uncertain about it, as it was still not fully revealed. But that didn't matter. He had the power now to leave that cave alive, and he would use it.