Joseph The stones of creation

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-3-7597-5795-1
Verlag: BoD - Books on Demand
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 410 Seiten

Long ago, the world Daraen was forged by the High Aedan, the children of the divine Ahar, using seven sacred stones - gifts from the one and only goddess, Iah. But not all of them were content with their creation. Urehel, Lord of Darkness, cast a shadow over the world, unleashing terror and death upon its lands. Now, an ancient evil stirs once more, and the question remains: Can Urehel be truly defeated? Can the hatred he sowed into the hearts of the firstborn humans ever be uprooted? Or will a new breed of darkness, more cruel and relentless than Urehel himself, rise to plunge the world into yet another age of despair? The fate of the world hangs in the balance, as old legends clash with the terrifying possibility of an even greater, more dangerous enemy.

I was born in Austria in 1990 in a lovely little village close to Kitzbuehel in the heart of the Austrian Alps.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Joseph, M.

Leseproben

1

In the autumn of the year 887 of the Third Age in the new reckoning, a girl named Marániel was born in the opulent port city of Dinambad, a renowned seat of the Princes of Miénast for generations. To those around her, she was known simply as Mara. At first glance, she seemed entirely ordinary, a fourth child overshadowed by three elder brothers, destined for a life of little consequence within the family’s history. Yet, there was an undeniable sense, a subtle but palpable aura, that marked her as something exceptional, as though destiny itself had woven her into a tapestry of singular importance.

The names of her brothers were Enwir, the eldest, who was the heir to their father, the Prince of Dinambad; Anwar, the second-born, a station that bore little honor; and Diam, the third son. Each of the Prince’s children was graced with hair of remarkable smoothness and beauty, though - except for Enwir, whose locks shone with threads of golden-blonde - they were distinguished by tresses of deep, almost raven-black hue. In this, they mirrored their father, Prince Ráhad, who was not only the ruler of Dinambad but also the brother-in-law of Dinhad II, the Warlord of Miénast, having wed Ráhad’s elder sister, Aminas. All bore the same striking eyes, gray with a subtle glimmer of blue, as if the very essence of the ocean’s waves had been ensnared within their gaze.

Ráhad’s beloved wife, Iornieth, was taken by a swift and merciless fever in the very hour of their daughter’s birth. Thus, Mara became the only child who would never behold her mother’s face, while her brothers, mere children themselves at the time, soon let slip from memory the gentle visage of the one who had borne them. Only Prince Ráhad remained haunted by the beauty of Iornieth. Though he might have longed to relinquish such bittersweet remembrances, her enchanting smile - so full of life and love - clung to his mind, ever beyond the reach of forgetfulness.

Yet, despite their loss, the children of Prince Ráhad wanted for nothing. Ráhad, a man of immense wealth, had been beloved by the proud and willful people of the grand port city since his earliest years. And as a father, he spared neither expense nor effort in his unrelenting desire to surround his children with every comfort and joy that his vast fortune could provide, determined to fill their lives with happiness in whatever way he could.

On the very day Mara entered the world, and only hours after her mother’s life had been claimed by fever, a young and mysterious stranger arrived at the gates of the city. She sought an audience with the grieving, clearly overwhelmed Prince, offering her services to tend to the newborn child. Her name was Adraéth. Though she wore her hair skillfully braided, concealing the pointed tips of her ears, it did not take long for the townsfolk to recognize her for what she was - one of the Immortal Folk, the Aedan. Whispers soon spread through the streets. What business could such a being have in their land? And why did she remain so faithfully by Mara’s side? Some, in their ignorance and fear, even muttered dark suspicions, claiming she might be a witch, with sinister designs on the child, using her for purposes only the shadows could know.

Yet any lingering suspicions soon faded like mist in the morning sun, for Adraéth proved herself over the years to be a devoted guardian. She tended to Mara with unmatched care, and, from the moment she first cradled the infant in her arms, she loved her as though she were her own. Like a mother full of tenderness and devotion, she wrapped Mara in the warmth of her heart, dispelling the fears of all who had once doubted her intentions.

It was on a warm afternoon, as Mara, now a young child, sat by the well in the palace gardens, that Adraéth began one of her tales. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, her voice carrying a soft lilt of enchantment. "On a vast island, once barren and deserted, nature showed kindness to the few survivors of a mighty wave that had swallowed the island of Tanuhal, their former home. As they landed on the shores of this new land, the untouched fields bloomed, plants sprang from the earth, and clear, drinkable streams gushed from springs high in the mountains, winding their way through the unspoiled landscape."

Mara, perched on the stone bench beside her, listened with wideeyed wonder as Adraéth continued, "King Manardur II, one of the last of the Haládan bloodline, settled with his loyal followers on the westernmost coast of this great island, naming it Farham – Distant Home in Haldron. There, they built a grand harbor city of white marble and bright stones, calling it Dinambad. For many years, ships sailed from its docks, searching the vast unknown world for other survivors. But their efforts were in vain. Rarely did the sailors return, and those who did came back with empty hands and heavy hearts. Many were lost forever, swallowed by the endless sea. The few who made it back seemed reluctant to speak of what they had encountered, as if the great expanse of Ymbsetta, the encircling sea, hid secrets too dreadful to reveal. Their only answer was always the same: There is nothing out there.”

Adraéth paused, casting a lingering gaze upon the girl, as if weighing her next words carefully. "But the ships only ever sailed west and south. Never had they ventured to the north or the east. Farham may be vast, but do you know what lies to the east of this world?”

Startled, Mara lifted her head. "That’s not part of the story.”

"Every day you ask me to tell you more of this world, and yet you always return to this same tale.”

"Because you’ve never told me how it ends.”

"For good reason,” Adraéth said gravely. "For the story has no end - not yet. So, can you answer my question?”

Mara blushed, lowering her head in embarrassment. "No, I cannot. But I don’t believe the east is only water. That’s what lies in the west and south. And what’s in the north? Will you tell me?”

"When the time is right,” Adraéth replied gently. "But not yet. Now, let me continue: After King Fheran, Manardur’s great-grandson, ventured further east into Farham and reached the silver forest of Faldar, he encountered other inhabitants for the first time. A strange unease settled over him, and he began to worry for his people and their ancestral treasures. He ordered the construction of a grand fortress in the foothills of the greatest gray mountain of the Tin Uael, called the Mâhl. This fortress was surrounded by three massive walls of stone and an enormous crescent-shaped rampart. Once completed, Fheran moved there and named it Mahlrit, making it the new capital of the Kingdom of Miénast. Though the people of Faldar were peaceful and had no ill will toward the newcomers, Fheran never fully trusted them and kept them at arm’s length.

What he did not know, however, was that long before the dawn of men, centuries before the Firstborn of Haládan saw the light of day, the Aedan had already walked the lands of Farham. They were tall and slender, their hair golden and smooth, their eyes the color of the sky. Their pointed ears marked them unmistakably as different from men. Among them, the highest of their kind - only seven in total - were crowned with snow-white hair. The Aedan were immortal, having lived since the dawn of creation of Sedäa, the Aerin name for Farham. Though they could not die from age, their hearts were not beyond breaking. Their fate was to love but once, for eternity. Should their beloved perish, their hearts would shatter, and many who could not bear the grief chose to end their lives, hoping to be reunited in the sacred halls of the First Mother, high above in the Mencael, the eternal heavens.”

Adraéth took a deep breath, her eyes clouded with memory. "The High Aedin Mylias ruled over Faldar. She was kin to Elfor, Lord of Dunhir to the north, and Thergil, leader of the Aedan in the forest of Thrad. Together, they were the last of the seven High Aedan on all of Sedäa.

In his fear and greed, King Fheran fell ill and died without an heir at the age of 21. His younger sister, Fhara, was crowned as the first Queen of Miénast, moving her seat to the splendid gardens of Folares in the northwestern foothills of Tin Uael.

Nearly three hundred years later, King Mandir, the ninth ruler, had two sons, Miendir and Andor. A petty quarrel divided them, splitting the Haládan people in two. Miendir, as the firstborn, ruled Miénast from Mahlrit, while Andor, along with a few loyal followers, settled on the northeastern side of Tin Uael. There, amid fertile lands and flowing streams, he built the city of Suthawen and encircled it with wooden palisades. This small, unassuming village quickly grew into the capital of the newly formed Kingdom of Anros. Though the land was rich and fertile, it was also wild and dangerous, earning its reputation as the Wilderness.

Taladan, Miendir’s grandson and the son of Taradan, who was slain by a monstrous creature, was-"

Mara sighed. "Do you expect me to remember all of this?”

Adraéth smiled faintly. "If my stories bore you, all you have to do is say so, and I will hold my tongue.”

"No!” The girl sat up, startled. "Please, continue! I want to hear the whole story.”

Adraéth’s smile softened. She took another breath and continued, "Taladan was one of the first rulers of the divided kingdoms to face...