Alright, if anyone's up for a good little read here, this is my little (recently copyright-protected) book I'm working on. If you want, give it a nice browse through. ------- His Memories Exsilium Isle-11 years ago. The crisp air whipped around the island plains. The fresh, dew-glistened grass glittered underfoot. The large, ominous, ill-omened Exsilium Mountain to the west, and to the east, the grand, blue sheet of the Ocean. A small, three-year-old boy gazed dreamily at the sunrise, its light turning the azure waters into their beautiful true colours. Behind this child, a lonely yet peaceful house stood in the centre of the plains. An attractive gold chain with a magnificent blue sapphire hung from the child’s neck, and, with it being so large, and he being so small, it hung just above the ground. He had a small shock of black hair, bright emerald green eyes full of promise and innocence. Slowly, the boy took the stone from around his neck, and held it up to the morning light. Calmly, the blue stone began to radiate a peaceful aura, and a sudden flash of light shone forth, until everything, the mountain, the oceans, the plains, the house, the whole of Exsilium Isle, became hopelessly lost in the bright, white haze. That was just a memory. Exsilium Isle-8 years ago. The light died down, and it had returned to the same spot on the island, although it was slightly closer to this only house on the island, and it seemed to have been three years after the previous vision. The child, now six years of age, stood with a black, blunt-edged sidian training sword in his right hand, a carved oak shield in his left. That same blue stone still hung around his neck. A few feet in front of him, an energetic, older boy was facing him, an intent to compete with the younger child shown through his long, jet-black hair and in his red eyes. Another golden chain, with a ruby as blood-coloured to match the owner’s eyes, hung limply across his neck. The boy’s brother. Sanguine. The older one’s stance was clearly more accurate than the younger one’s; he was also holding alike blunt weaponry. A man, probably in his early-forties, was kneeling next to the eight-year-old boy, saying: “Now remember, you don’t want to harm the little one, for this is his first time holding a weapon. And no, you can’t use Magic on him either, for he hasn’t quite mastered that yet. Just let him get the hang of holding the weapons for now, because the whole point of this is for fun, let’s not forget that.” After a few minutes of talk, the man got up and paced a few steps away before shouting: “Alright, no physical contact- just practice the holding and striking of the swords. Hit only the swords and shields- nowhere else. I don’t want any incidents on the first day of the kid‘s grown-up fun. Is that clear, lad?” That last question was directed at Sanguine, who eagerly nodded in his father’s direction, and the game was underway. The two walked slowly towards each other, the nervous younger and the active older brother. They both stopped in the centre, Sanguine still adopting his stance, the little boy unknowably keeping his childish weaponry by his side. Sanguine stood facing the younger child, indicating at him to allow the first swing. The little boy understood his brother’s actions, and swung his sword. Through the first five minutes, they were simply exchanging playful blows onto each other’s shields. However, the momentum and excitement of battle carried all thoughts away. In the sixth minute, the boy, out of sheer competitiveness, knocked Sanguine’s sword aside with the wooden shield, and charged him over, knocking Sanguine to the ground. The older one looked up, grinning at the thought of a challenge. Then, though vivacity and lack of thought, all order was lost. Sanguine’s red stone began to glow with a malevolent fiery rage. He stood up, throwing down the meagre ‘weapons’ in the process, and held his palm out in his younger brother’s direction. The little boy looked on, ensure of his brother’s sudden reaction. A red light began to swell at Sanguine’s palm. The light became an ember. The ember became flames. The flames became an inferno. The little boy, rooted by his own fear, felt the strong sense of malice radiating in such Magic. The blazing fire leapt from the hand and collided with the child’s face like lightning. A scream. Blackness. That was just a memory. Exsilium Isle-7 years ago. The boy sat alone in his room. It was a small room, untidy, but the kind of untidy where you know where everything is. His bed lay unmade, and through a single window a sunset radiated, an amber glow hazing his room. Various parts of his room had unlit candles for when it was night, so the child could read those stories he enjoyed so much. Several black sidian weapons hung from his wall, including his training sword from the year passed. This room was his very own little world. He was doing quite well in his tuition of fighting, although he’d been doing most of these sessions with his father instead of his brother ever since the accident. He had also recently learnt to swim as well, via the nearby ocean. His Magic skills, however, were not as proficient. He’d spend hours in his room, focusing on his precious sapphire, hoping to devise some kind of Magic or another. Unfortunately, the most he could muster was a strange condensation misting his window. Slowly, he put away his stone in his tunic pocket. The boy was presently sitting on the side of his bed, staring into a small hand mirror. His reflection showed the same boy he always was, save the fact that his left iris was no longer a brilliant green, but a blood red. It had been like that since the incident. The child glanced up at his brother’s crimson-stoned necklace hanging from a peg on his door. It had been there for almost a year now, for Sanguine had it confiscated when he disobeyed the rules. Father had given that stone to the boy as a kind of compensation, but he had never once used it. He was determined to use his own source of Magic, without the aid of a sunrise (or Magic Hour, as certain people used to call it). The boy lazily dropped the mirror onto his soft carpet floor. Today’s playful training had been exhausting, as he was currently learning to combine both fighting and Magic at the same time. As guessed, he was decent at it until he got to the Magic part. And, without even bothering to get changed, the child turned over and slept. ******* Almost instantly, he felt himself being shaken awake. The first thing that hit him was the strong scent of smoke, an intense heat, and the cackle of flames from outside. Turning over, he found himself face to face with the panic-struck father, who, for reasons unknown, was holding his favoured spear in his hand, his amber stone resonating around his neck. The child opened his mouth to speak, but: “No talk, lad. We’re in a bit of trouble; an attack.” The boy’s questions and protests were interrupted when the man smashed open the window with a single jab of his spear. Then, with his free hand, lifted the little one out and onto the damp grass. It was raining hard and long since midnight. When the boy asked about Sanguine, whether his brother was safe, the father told him not to worry and to get as far away as possible. To escape. So there he was. A seven-year-old boy running for his life. With him nothing but his sapphire stone hidden in the pocket of his cloth tunic. He’d forgotten to take the ruby stone with him. Too late to turn back now. Where could he escape to? Exsilium was an island! He seemed to be running endlessly, no end to the hazed darkness clouding his senses, no end to the burning protests of his weak muscles, no end to the chill that crept into his lungs at every breath. He tripped face first onto the ground - his mouth filled with the taste of damp salt and sand, his eyes scathed… he was on the verge of the island, and as far as he could go. At that instant, he sensed a malevolent presence just behind him. The terrified child turned around in the pitch black - he didn’t need any light to acknowledge that it was Sanguine. Then, out of the darkness, a flicker of yellow light. A bolt of lightning. In that fraction of a moment, he saw his older brother’s face in the malevolent spark - a face that he knew it wasn’t in relation to him. The blazing essence of hate and cruelty shot into his shoulder, and even in the darkness, the boy felt himself being flung back, until he heard the crash of falling into the icy ocean, a rush of salt and cold gripped all around him, until his senses failed him finally, and the only sense remaining was sinking. That was just a memory. Sanctus. Open your eyes. ------- Chapter end. Seeing as this was only chapter one, you only see the main character's childhood, setting you up for the story ahead. It's good to know the history of the main character rather than read the book through the eyes of a stranger, I think. Any feedback or advice would be greatly appreciated.