1 The Jade Moon Trapped in Five Shadows

The clash of metal echoed out into the hills of the grassy plain. It sliced into the morning air with a ring as prevalent as the continuous claps of thunder that rolled off the distant mountains. In the midst of battle, two young men held firmly to their weapon's hilts. Competitive smiles were etched on their faces as their muscles rippled from exertion. The sun had yet to reach its peak, and both warriors were covered in a fine layer of sweat, tunics damp and stuck to their bodies like a second skin. Boots were expertly coated in a fine layer of mud and dust kicked up from fancy footwork, leaping and evading.

"You really think you can beat me again?" Soral bated. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he added more strength to his sword. It twisted to the right and slid just a bit further along Jaelan's blade. His long locks were tied back with a purple sash that accentuated his prominent brow, which was currently beaded with droplets of sweat.

Jaelan grinned, exposing a line of white teeth. He grunted as he pushed his sword forwards, allowing the blade to catch the rays of sunlight. The brilliant shine reflected off the polished metal and threw itself into Soral's unsuspecting face. It blinded him momentarily, forcing the younger man to squint, nose wrinkled up like a dried persimmon.

That slight falter was all Jaelan needed to turn the fight in his favor.

He added more strength behind his sword and drove it forward. His feet darted to the side in a mastered technique as he slid the blade to Soral's throat, stopping it just a mere hairsbreadth from the younger man's Adam's apple.

"I win."

Soral groaned and inhaled sharply, "Damn it."

Slowly his eyes opened and drew downwards to look at the lethal blade at his throat. Very carefully, he swallowed and moved his head back just a smidgen to avoid unintentionally cutting himself. The sound of tinkling laughter erupted behind him like the ringing of summer's bells. He groaned once more and winced.

Jaelan slowly withdrew the blade. The victorious warrior spun it in a complex arc before sheathing it in its decorated scabbard that hung loosely from his leather belt. With his hand now free of a weapon, he patted the smaller man on the back.

"Oh, Susu." Jaelan snickered impishly. He wrapped his arms around Soral's neck and added his full weight to the other's back so that he was practically hanging from him. "How many is that now?"

Embarrassed and miffed, Soral tried to shake the taller man off again. He bucked like a stallion to dislodge the bothersome flea of a man. However, the attempt proved futile as Jaelan only tightened his hold and laughed louder, causing him to drop his sword to the ground.

"Jae!" Soral's rich baritone voice rose in irritation. He grabbed at the arms around his neck and pulled, only surprised when the hands came undone all by themselves. Soral smirked, and before his companion could utter another victorious chuckle, he grasped the unsuspecting Jaelan by the forearms and flung him over his shoulder like a sack of barley.

Completely startled, Jaelan gasped as the air was knocked entirely out of his lungs. His back collided with the ground rather painfully. A grimace morphed onto his face, screwing up his handsome features as he laid still. Two eyes blinked up at the illustrious blue sky and noted a large cloud blow through the heavenly sea before Soral's round face loomed over him, one eyebrow raised into a large forehead. He stood there, a captor over his prisoner with hands folded across his chest and evident mirth displayed in the dimples of his cheeks as he stared down at his childhood friend.

"It is never over until one's back hits the ground." He stated. Soral's grin grew wider as Jaelan began to wriggle on the bed of grass like an upturned centipede. "Isn't that what the Chief always says?"

Jaelan rolled his eyes and lifted his hand for Soral to grab. "You don't need to quote my father at me." He grumbled as he was drawn to his feet by the other's strength. "I am quite aware of his favorite saying."

Soral patted Jaelan's cheek in good faith and laughed when the other jerked his face away crossly. After one last pat, he took a step back; he allowed Jaelan to pat himself down comfortably and shake free the dirt and grit of the ground from his clothes.

The bested warrior Jaelan, having turned seventeen only two weeks prior, was just as strong as the finest of the clan's swordsmen. Tall and lean, he could move faster than the shadows themselves, skin as pale as the moonlight itself. When he ran through the wood, bow aimed at unsuspecting prey, it was as if the God of the Hunt had come down himself and graced them with his presence.

Soral sighed to himself and watched as Jaelan stood tall and brushed loose tendrils of hair from his eyes. The midnight locks at the front, which were sheered shorter than the rest, framed his face as they dangled loosely by his ears. The rest of his long silken hair remained tied back in a rich, blood-red sash. It was decorated with hanging rings of quartz and flashing metal carved into spheres, etched with elaborate patterns. The ebony locks tumbled down his back and ended just shy of his narrow hips—a proof of his seventeen years in their length.

Soral looked at his childhood friend and absentmindedly shrugged his shoulders. His eyes loosely followed the way Jaelan's tongue peeked out from his mouth and licked habitually at his lips.

Suddenly the sound of the piercing notes from a horn echoed through the slope. It made both men perk up and turn their heads toward the direction of their village in puzzlement.

"Did your father call visitors for the day?" Soral asked as he bent down to quickly pick his sword up from the ground and sheath it.

Jaelan frowned and shook his head, unable to recall anything of the sort.

After exchanging a set of worried looks, they both promptly broke into a run. The two young warriors were anxious to find the reason as to why the horn had been blown. After all, the clan didn't sound it for just any reason. They left it for only those unique instances…the three being the arrival of guests, a ceremony of birth, or the passing of clansmen.

Nervously they both bounded down the side of the hill. The leather soles of their boots dug into the Earth as they propelled their bodies forward. Attention focused on outlying huts around the village as their muscles burned with strain.

Jaelan's long legs naturally pushed him ahead of Soral as they ran, his slender arms swung by his sides as he drove himself forwards. Fear gripped his heart like a tightening metal chain as he sprinted ahead. The wind whistled by his ears as he ran.

So fast did his legs move that he appeared the likeness of a giant arrow from a distance. Ebony hair sailed the breeze behind him as he flew down the slope on a pair of invisible wings.

Upon having reached the outskirts of the village border, he increased his pace. Jaelan darting through the familiar streets and only stopped to catch his breath when he stood in front of the village's town circle. His hands fell to his thighs as he bent over to catch his breath while his eyes searched for his father. When he spotted him offering his hand to a strange woman, he only relaxed slightly.

He squinted his eyes as he tried to take a closer look. The sweat from his last fight dripped into his eyes and made it harder for him to see clearly. Agitatedly, he wiped it away. Then with one final breath to fill his lungs, he straightened his back and jogged forwards. All the while, his eyes remained on the strangely clad visitor.

The woman beside his father was dressed in an array of white silks. A headdress, the length of his forearm, adorned her crown. It was littered with emerald and jade stones in various shapes and sizes. Around her neck rested a band of gold. It, too, was encrusted with a large milky opal. Her arms remained bare except for the winding silver bands that ran down to her elbows.

"Ah, Jaelan." His father beckoned him to his side as he stood by the raised pole flying their clan's banner.

Jaelan nodded and quickly rushed over to take his place beside his father. His arms went to rest by his sides as he took his position. Back straight as he stood tall.

The clan's Chief smiled widely at their guest and bowed his head forward. Although barely over forty years of age, his hair was already the color of newly fallen snow, as were every other seasoned warrior of their village. It was one of the few telltale signs of their direct link to the heavenly gods.

"Please do not lower your head to me." The woman entreated. Her eyes grew wide in horror. "It is I, Senisari, who must bow to you instead!"

And just like that, the woman in white fell to the ground. Her arms prostrated in front of her as she lowered her head, nose to the dirt ground.

It was then that Jaelan noticed the others of the troupe. Seven men in red armor had immediately fallen to the floor around them as well. They, too, bowed their heads low to his father and him.

Jaelan's eyes instantly jumped to his father's face. Wonder was painted across his features in plain transparency. However, the Chief remained stoic. His smile had disappeared from his face like the flame of a snuffed candle. Instead, it took on a more solemn look.

"Rise, fair woman." His father pronounced, voice a little gruff. "One such as I could not possibly deserve such an honor from you, Priestess. You converse with the gods themselves, but we only carry a percentage of their blood."

The woman lifted her head. Her fingers dug into the Earth as she looked up in shock. "I may be able to hear their words, but their blood runs through you…as well as in your line."

At that, her eyes turned towards Jaelan and flashed.

The young warrior barely managed to hide his flinch as a pair of unnatural cobalt eyes stared at him. So blue and unusual that the sky and sea were dull in their comparison.

"You." She called to him as she stood to her feet. "…You…the bringer of a nation. I bring you a prophecy."

Jaelan swallowed. Suddenly, he felt his heart jump into his throat at the woman's words.

Who was she? Why had she come here? Why had his father sounded the horn for this…this, Priestess? They were not a religious lot. Having the blood of the gods running through their veins, they had nomads bringing gifts to them every solstice.

"You…" She pointed at his chest and walked forwards until her long fingernails pressed into his yellow tunic. "…You…Jaelan of the clan of Ellos…where the blood of mortals and gods are in complete equilibrium…" Her eyes flashed, and pupils constricted as she stared at him unseeingly. "…. You will be the one to give rise to a mighty nation…"

Her eyes then suddenly refocused as she stumbled back two steps. She seemed to wobble on her feet for a minute. Then eerily, her shoulders slowly shook, and her breath sounded laborious. The Priestess gasped as if she had broken free from some spell, and hurriedly, she began to speak. "…I have seen it…and so it shall be...you must go to the mountain of seven peaks, bathe in its serene waters and there find the jade moon trapped in five shadows…" She suddenly grabbed at her throat as if trying to fight off a choking assailant. Her eyelashes fluttered wildly. "…Y-you have to g-go now! L-leave now…. o-or it shall f-forever be lost to you!"

Two of her armored guards rushed forward, eyes wide in alarm as the Priestess clutched at her throat. However, when they attempted to touch her, their hands recoiled as if burned by an unseen fire.

"You must leave now!" She cried out before she bent over and gasped for air. Her legs were visibly trembling under her layers of silks at the strain of keeping herself erect. "I have r-rushed here….t-to tell you…..you m-must leave now…o-or it shall forever be l-lost to us….the birth of a nation…a son...the one to u-unite the s-scattered clans…..y-you...son of God and m-man…"

The Priestess coughed. Her fingers dug into her throat as her face had begun to turn red. Panicked, Jaelan leaned forward and grabbed the thrashing woman by the shoulders. However, as soon as his fingers touched her skin, the woman's body went rigid. She stumbled back a few steps and fell into the waiting arms of her guard.

The boy, barely a man, stared alarmed at the woman's stiff figure, eyes widened in horror.

Had his touch somehow brought along an early demise for the woman?

"Do not be distressed, my young prince."

Jaelan whipped his head to the side. His eyes fell on a hunched, elderly woman who had just hobbled over to the circle from her later arriving wooden palanquin. A curtain of black translucent silk veiled the lower portion of her face. She smiled kindly up at him before turning her head to the guards. She motioned for the duo to put the Priestess into the litter she had just departed from.

"I told Priestess Senisari to wait, but the stubborn child barreled on ahead like usual." She sighed and folded her frail hands in front of her. The burgundy silk was loose against her small frame.

"Don't be so scared, boy. I can practically feel your insides trembling."

Jaelan stiffened even further. His lips parted in silent surprise.

The elderly woman smiled kindly. "Jaelan of the Ellos clan, you will have to learn to hide the emotion on your face a little better than that. If an old woman can tell what you're thinking, how will you be able to help your son lead a nation?"

The boy's jaw dropped. His eyes nearly popped out from their sockets as he stared in shock. "My son?" He swallowed and cleared his throat. "My apologies, Lady. However, I can assure you I am quite childless. As the next in line, I do not dally in such a manner."

"Hmm." The woman frowned and turned her head to stare at the Chief, who looked just as shocked.

"I'm assuming neither of you was able to understand my young protégé. Very well then." She sighed and smoothed her silks down with the palms of her hands. "Let me tell you once more. Jaelan, graced as you are with the blood of both human and God, have been mentioned in prophecy. Priestess Senisari was bestowed with a vision but only a fortnight ago, foretelling you to be the bringer of prophecy. You must go to the mountain of seven peaks, reach its hidden cave and find the jade moon trapped in five shadows. Sadly, if you do not leave immediately, there is a chance you will miss the opportunity."

Jaelan felt a chill run down his spine as an array of goosebumps broke across his skin. "So, I must go to the mountain of seven peaks?" He looked to the North, where the mountain range peeked in the distance. "That would take a full moon's cycle to travel."

"Indeed." The woman nodded slowly. "Which is why it is pertinent you leave as soon as possible if you are to find what you seek. Neither Priestess Senisari nor I could pinpoint exactly when the Jade moon of five shadows would appear in the cave of the mountain. Only that you must set out and find it as soon as possible, alone."

"But why my son?" The Chief interjected. He felt a growing sense of trepidation brew in the pit of his stomach. "Surely any other of my clan can go and fetch this moon? All are of mixed blood here. He's my only son out of nine children, and you're asking me to send him alone to the North without hesitation?"

"I am just the messenger of the word." The old woman creased her brow. "It is completely up to him whether he chooses to go or not. Though I highly recommend you do, Jaelan." She looked at him pointedly. "If you chose to throw our words to the wind, the blood of your kinsmen will be on your hands."

"Just a min—"

"—If you do not heed the prophecy and stay here," the old woman continued, her voice took on an eerie tone. "You shall have a decade of prosperity, but then...it will all come to an end. Your lands shall be invaded, and your women will be taken from you and your sons beheaded before your very eyes. This land shall be thrown into chaos. Blood shall flood the rivers, and fields will be turned into a wasteland. A horror upon humanity unlike any you or your ancestors have ever seen."

Jaelan inhaled sharply. The image of his sisters torn away by invisible hands…their yet-to-be-born sons and daughters pulled from their arms and impaled upon spikes as an army of men pillaged their homes. So vivid was the vision that Jaelan grabbed the sides of his head and dug his fingers into his scalp. He shook his head to clear it of the terrifying image.

"You saw it, didn't you?" The woman whispered grimly. Her lip trembled as she gazed sympathetically at the frightened young man. "Your mixed-blood…allowed me to project the vision to you and your father."

Jaelan staggered just a bit before he whipped his head towards his father. His mouth drew open as he took in his father's horrified expression. The Chief's eyes glazed over as the vision continued to play in his head without respite. Unlike him, his father couldn't break away from the imagery. He was forced to watch it play out to the very end. Before it had even finished, tears streamed down his father's face.

And that…that scared Jaelan more than anything.

Never in his seventeen years of life had he ever seen his father cry.

"I'll go."

"Jaelan, wait!" Soral finally broke through the crowd. His breath ragged as he pushed through the throng that had gathered around the village circle when Priestess Senisari had entered the scene. The warrior's eyes were wide and unable to hold back the fear he felt. "You can't!"

Soral watched in silent apprehension. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest as Jaelan turned his head towards him. The familiar eyes were clear with resolve as the wind whipped his ebony locks across his face. The two boys held each other's gaze for a minute, reading what otherwise words couldn't convey before finally, Jaelan looked away, head cast down.

"I leave as soon as the sun peeks in the sky."