Son of Root

Cyrus stepped to the edge of the cliff, and stared out at the expanding forest of pines far below. Their swaying tips towered high above the ground, reminding him of an emerald sea. Overhead, a flock of flametail sparrows flitted through the sky, their bright golden feathers catching the light of the sun. He counted fifteen in total before they dove into the canopy of needles, disappearing from his view. He frowned, and eyed the remainder of the woodland valley until his gaze fell upon a column of smoke, rising in rhythmic puffs in the distance. He tensed, his eyes widening in disbelief. Half a year. For half a year, he had traversed this god forsaken land, with no memories of his past, and only a strange amulet to his name. Not once during that time had he crossed paths with another person. Yet there they were, waiting at the bottom of the cliff. A slight breeze carried the scent of cooked meat to his nose. His mouth watered. 'Food. They must have food down there!' Quick on his feet, the young man leapt over the edge, his frayed cloak billowing around him as he hurtled towards the ground. Below, the pine trees rushed to meet him, their outstretched branches intertwining to form a bed of needles. Cyrus grinned, his heart racing. The familiar warmth of his magic flowed through his veins, accompanied by the soft whisper of the forest. Ten meters remained... Then five... One... … Son of Root is a story about a young man whose lost his memories, and possess nothing more than a strange amulet from his past. It will follow his journey across the lands of Arkendol, where the practice of magic is forbidden and those who wield it are feared. From the shadowy depths of this land, a deadly illness rises, brought forth by those who wish to see the downfall of its inhabitants. Who are these strange beings, and why do they seem to know Cyrus. The one they call Treeborn.