This is a tale of Altruon, a magnificent kingdom from a world apart. Positioned comfortably in the south on the mid-eastern plate of Caldor, the kingdom of Altruon has seen much success throughout its time under the reign of a long line of benevolent and virtuous kings. The kings of Altruon are spoken of throughout the lands of Caldor for their fiery conviction and heroic exploits. Long have these kings reigned from Pyre, and there is a light that burns for their just and glorious governance, a flame of promise for the continuance of righteous rule.

Pyre, the radiant city of Altruon and its capital. Pyre was known throughout the world as a city of light and glorious splendor. Many stories were told of it across the seas in far off nations. The streets themselves were paved in gold, or so the stories went. Scholars and warriors from throughout the land would come to the capital to study and grow their talents. Scouts were sent followed by messengers with invitations to citizens throughout the four realms of the kingdom to find and select the best and most promising men to be brought before the king and to serve him. Throughout the centuries, the gates of Pyre have seen the rise and fall of many great kings and the burden of their people, but none like unto Almast.

Zephyr Almast was a man like no other. He reigned in Pyre as king from a castle on a hill at the eastern wall. High Palace, a magnificent fortress, just as dark and mysterious as the king had proven himself to be. He was a recluse to his people, a terror to his enemies, and a glorified success throughout the realms. He had transformed the capital and mining regions into a place of wealth and product.

Still, there were some who told stories, but with time, the old ways of the kingdom were forgotten and replaced. Then came new men with new industry and new ideas. Zephyr cast with the help of these men a revolutionary new vision which would transform all the known world, a newfound element and material they called maurium.

Maurium: a material of unknown origin which revolutionized the building and design industries with its malleability, durability, and comfort. Maurium had been found to be the ideal material for any product from clothing to housing to lighting to transportation. This miracle metal very quickly began to dominate in every industry known to the Altruic race. It was found to be wind proof, water proof, fire proof, and able to endure the greatest earthquake, collision, or pressure. The shavings were able to be spun into thread and woven into material which was inexpensive, protective, durable, and highly flexible. The material was even sensitive to weather, adjusting appropriately, allowing heat to easily escape on hot days and holding heat on cold ones. There were two types of maurium - a dark gray product and its counterpart, a mauve form of maurium which exchanged the increased durability and strength of the gray maurium for the distinct quality of luminescence.

Even education and communication have been revolutionized by this modern marvel. There is now little need for study, as the creation of maurium has enabled the perfection of a cranial receiver which is entirely effective in the reception and download of information within the subject's conscious. The device may be worn as an earpiece and the information will be shown as a part of the wearer's own memory, a quick and easy addition to their present reality. As a result of this, learning has been simplified to the point that it has caused traditional schooling to become obsolete, and children are instead given an eighteen year learning plan which is administered to them in their sleep through wave transmission and open communication with their own thoughts and memories. Reception of these transmissions with a strict adherence to the Kingdom Learning Program, commonly referred to as the KLP, and the king's orders of state communications are greatly encouraged and, at times, required by the kingdom's rulers. However, all such things are more common in Pyre than they are in other parts of the kingdom and its realms.

The kingdom is divided into four geographic realms and seven more arbitrary regions with Pyre at their core - the western plains, the southern foothills, the eastern forest, and the farmlands with the seas to the north. The seven regions were the seven centers of influence throughout the empire - Laoce, Euphess, Pergum, Delphi, Sa'ar, Tyra, and Asrymn. The seven were the traditional Kingsmen regions, the Kingsmen being a long standing religious order based in Altruon with a history as old as time. The Kingsmen influence in Altruon is great, the City Architects and nation's founders having been among their ranks, and they have lived their lives in peace until this day.

But even in this time of advanced technology and growing prestige, humanity still remains as it was. There is still theft, death, murder, deceit, dishonor, injustice, and all of those unpleasant things which are ever part of a world which is fallen. As the citizens of Pyre continued to build new, modern, better things, much of the old was forgotten. Some things seemed to fade away and cease entirely without a hope of their returning, and even the light itself seemed to fade as the air began to harbor darkness.

The city itself was one such thing which faded, the capital having been destroyed by fire about the time of Zephyr's reign and the invention of maurium. Zephyr had called for Pyre to be rebuilt three miles west of the place where the city stood. He called for a new city for the new age and encouraged the maurium be employed as the backbone of the city infrastructure. He called it the Eternity Project, and a great wall of maurium was erected to denote the borders of the new capital, the east gate being sealed to prevent a returning to the old capital and its ruins, and all was peace in Altruon.

Even so, a war is raging in the north against Obed, an old enemy of Altruon, whose people have fought them throughout their history. Though, in times of battle there is an opportunity for heroism and men of merit to rise in the eyes of the people of the nations they call home. One such man is a celebrated colonel, a man whose own descent is that of Obed. His name is Tyberion Ibori, and he is the father of a beautiful young girl who, in his absence, has become a blossoming young woman whose destiny will be forever tied to that of the nations.

She peddled her bicycle through the driving rain outside the city, through the streaming plains of water and soft, muddied ground. Her skin was wet beneath her silvery garments. She entered into a wooded area which covered her, providing some small patch of relief from the rain but not her tears. She continued steering through the scattered trees, breaking through into a large clearing as the rain began again to hit her face. She felt her feet slip, losing contact with the peddles as she rode. She lost her balance and fell, tumbling from the bicycle to the muddied ground below her. The bicycle continued on beside her, sliding down the slight decline and tipping over, quickly falling on its side. She sighed and closed her eyes, laying with her sorrows there in the middle of the grassy field. She laid flat on her back in the middle of the sea of green, the raindrops falling gently down upon her face, the clear water of cleansing coating the brown hue of her delicate skin with a glossy, wet shine as she breathed in the sweet air which accompanies a freshly fallen rain, so thick it was almost tangible. She would have smiled had her heart not hurt so badly. It was quiet there apart from the rain, but rain had always been calming to her, and she had needed desperately to get away. She opened her eyes and thought she felt a tear fall from her eye as it streamed down her face, warmer than the drops of water plummeting from the clouded sky. She breathed, beginning to calm, on her face a near perfect expression of peace, and a flash of hope could be glimpsed in her blue-green eyes, deep as the oceans.

A newness of life came as she turned her head, touching her cheek to the well wet grass. She glimpsed a structure in the distance as she prepared herself to rise. Far across the grassy clearing, tucked in near the line of trees and thick shrubs the forest bears and wears as its own illustrious garment, each uniquely and painstakingly woven, there was a building in the midst of it. She raised her head with interest, and her dark hair, shoulder length and tightly curled, spread out behind her, now drenched and heavy with an early summer rain. She lifted herself up off of the damp and muddied ground, captivated by this strange rectangular structure.

She moved slowly forward, beginning to examine its form. There were grand stairs to a broad entrance and a large dome on the roof of the center of it. She was transfixed by this strange aberration as she reached for her fallen bicycle, setting it upright, and taking hold of the handlebars. As she walked, she began to run with it, until at last she hopped up and mounted it again. She pleasantly rode the light downward slope toward this new found point of interest, unable to shake the feeling that the atmosphere had changed. Whatever it was that drew her to this place, it drew her more and more emphatically the nearer came, pulling at her core with ever increasing intensity of implicit necessity.

It was an old stone structure, immaculate but for its mild decay and the vines which gripped it. The smooth stone of the building seemed almost polished under the influence of the cold and driving rain. The vines which loosely gripped the structure, the leaves which climbed the sandy walls trembled and bent with the weight of the tiny silver droplets.

'How could it be that this is here? If this is the ruins, the city was destroyed by fire, but this seems almost... untouched.'

Being within several paces of it, she left her bicycle and curiously drew near to examine the walls. From this distance, she could see the wear on the old stone which was not readily visible from afar. She placed her hand upon the rock and traced over the scars in the weathered stone.

"What is this?" she breathed.

There was an inscription along the base, still readable, but partially covered by the grassy earth. She knelt down, digging out the muddied ground which covered the foundation, continuing to put her hands to work until the aged letters of the worn inscription became clear:

THE THRONE OF HIS KINGDOM IS E'ER ESTABLISHED

And again in another place:

THE KING IS MY FOUNDATION

EST'D YEAR 32, STEPHAN CALIPHUS KING

"Such an odd inscription," she breathed, her fingers tracing out the engraved lettering. "And I can't shake this feeling that there's something more," she muttered quietly.

It had been as if she were being drawn by a strange force, but it was more than a force. Not a force at all, really, but a person. It was as if someone had taken her by the hand and whispered, "Come with me," and so she had.

She made her way across the front of the building, constantly examining it with curious interest. Occasionally, she felt as if someone was standing there beside her, causing her to glance, but no one ever was. Now, there she was, standing before the grand entrance of this great ivory hall. The stairs were vast and used, the huge stone slates laid one atop another having been cut to perfection, making an impressive set of stairs on every side which led into a magnificent portico. The roof of the portico was rounded and beautifully carved within and without, its stone pillars the notable work of a skilled craftsman.

'Incredible.'

There was a plain band around the roof of the portico's edge, clearly exhibiting the writing which read:

LIBRARY FOR THE BETTERMENT OF PUBLIC HEARTS

Her interest grew with each word she read and, seeing the large stone stairs which caught the water as it fell reflecting the remnants of light which the thick covering of clouds could not hold back, she began to make her way forward and up them. She had never actually seen a classic library, only heard about them as being a part of the old ways of their civilization. They had a modern library in Pyre, but it was nothing like this and she had never gone but once as a child.

'I've always liked the idea of libraries. It's just that... I've never had need for them.'

The foreignness of it enchanted her, drawing her ever nearer the platform and pillars with which the entrance was marked. Boldly, she ascended the library stairs until she reached the broad wooden doors of the grand structure with its distinguished domed top. The doors had not even the slightest indication of rot or decay. The brass handles were polished, the wood was finished and firm. Slowly, she reached out, as if to grapple with destiny or grasp it in her hand. She took hold of one of the handles, and breathing in, she began to pull.

The room where he stood was broad and lined with wooden shelves filled with books, the same which filled the floor space all around him. It was a grand hall with lofty ceilings, marble floors, broad doorways, and a well-polished wooden desk at the front in the center of it all to help and direct those who would come in search of a librarian for guidance. The main hall of the library and its trappings were magnificent. Even at a glance, it could be known that the craftsmanship was matchless - the carvings, the paintings, the bindings, everything had been done with such enduring perfection and careful planning. Yet, beyond that, there was much more grandeur and detail than the sharpest eye could latch onto, even after years of close inspection.

The ceilings and walls were painted a candlestick white. The bookshelves had carved into their sides images of vines, flowers, and other such things, and the whole of the room was trimmed with gold, save the desk and shelves of books, which had been fashioned of a dark cherry wood. The whole of the ceiling was plain and white, being as the walls were, but for the dome.

The dome itself was a thing to behold, a beautiful mural having been carefully placed upon the glass of its delicate frame. On it was painted a magnificent image of the sun rendered in various shades of gold with long, winding rays. Surrounding the sun and its rays was a deep royal blue, dappled with gold like embers of flame against the night sky. A single light suspended from the center of the painting on a long chain. The brazier which hung by its chains seemingly from the sky above it was made of finely polished brass, and a fire inside of it. There was a cord which held it also tied to the rail of the narrow balcony which lined the back of the upper portion of the room with spiral stairs to reach it. Around the top band of the brazier, etched within its metal framework, were the words: Kiss the Son. This fire was the only source of light within the whole of this grand and lofty hall, but still the light remained. The light it gave was a perfect, and the air itself seemed to shimmer around it, giving off a strange, magnificent glow.

He was a young man with a comely countenance and pale skin. He was tall, slender, and built for athleticism. He was well dressed, sporting a plain white long sleeve dress shirt with buttons on it along with a gold tie and sand colored vest with matching trousers. His hair was a light copper brown, thick and wavy, which he kept well-groomed and combed to the side in a traditional manner. The round gold wire-brimmed glasses he wore reflected the shimmering amber flecks in his warm brown eyes.

'Here it is,' he reached his arm up to a higher middle section of the shelf, taking gentle hold of the top of a dark green spire with gold lettering. 'Book forty-three of the Kingsmen Chronicles.'

He leaned the book back towards him and pulled it from the shelf with grace. He smiled as he looked at it in his hand, his eyes carefully considering the intricate pattern of the gold decorating the cover. Gingerly, he cracked it open, leading through the pages until at last he found the desired portion.

"The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not laid hold of it," he read aloud, proclaiming the fate of the nations.

The words on the page seemed to lift and alight as he breathed them out. They took their leave with letters aglow like newly born sparks, each word lit like the sun at the fiery break of dawn. Twirling with graceful movements in rhythmic flight, they floated and danced on the air as they were blown like swirling leaves in a crisp, cool breeze, and the fire reflected in his eyes. His speech was sweet and eloquent, each word, each sentence moving as a soothing stream flowing gracefully, smoothing stones as it washes over them. Still, they came forth with flashing conviction and impenetrable power - undaunted, unquestioning, and without even the slightest hint of doubt. Again, he smiled, touching his fingers to the page and brushing them over the black ink.

'How marvelous you are... how marvelous this light is.'

He walked back past the shelves to the front, holding the book in his hand and carrying it alongside him. He looked to the door.

'Dorcus said she'd be coming. It's about time, isn't it?'

No sooner had he thought it than he heard the door crack as it began to open, the sound of the winds and driving rain entering through it.

'Ah, at last! There you are...'

A young woman stood before him, dressed in a maurium sky suit and quite wet. "Hello! And, may I say, how exceedingly grand it is to have you here," he called out dandily, waving his unoccupied hand as a friendly means of greeting. "Welcome to Pyre! I've been expecting you."

She looked at him with fearful astonishment. Scared and startled, her eyes grew wide with terror. 'Hm... yes, but it seems she wasn't expecting to find me here, was she?' He looked on her with quiet compassion and careful apology, his eyes soft with empathy. 'No, not at all.'

He hung his head, a small smile still on his kindly countenance. "I'm sorry," he muttered softly, "I didn't mean to startle you."

She looked at him, tilting her head, her eyes questioning.

"My name is Benjamin Palmer," he explained, raising his head again as he mindfully approached, willing to present himself to her as nonthreatening. "You might consider me the librarian here. Of course, I like to think of myself as the bookkeeper," he stretched out his hand, and patiently waited for her to accept it along with the warm welcome. "Perhaps there's one that might interest you," he invitingly commented with a friendly smile.

He watched her eyes and noted the fear which gripped her still. "Please," he appealed to her softly, "don't be afraid. All's well, I assure you." He looked down at his hand then back to her face, which seemed to calm with the kindness of his words and demeanor.

For a long moment he waited before he withdrew his hand from the beautiful young lady who now stood statuesque before him. He frowned, feeling the pain which was within her, festering and pricking at her soul. "You've hurt a lot in life," he mumbled, softly considering the state of his guest and her needs, his mind still seeking how best to accommodate her.

Her eyes fell to the ground and she clenched her teeth as a flood of painful emotion flooded her face.

He stopped for a moment, visibly overcome with a heartfelt compassion which overwhelmed him.

"What is your name?" he at last inquired.

"Avera," she told him softly, still reticent to answer.

He smiled. 'Good. Then there is hope.'

"Well, Avera..." he said, touching his hand to the back of his head, "perhaps you would like a towel, something with which to dry yourself off a bit, and a change of clothes? If you're tired, a spare room, also. That I have, I can offer, and that I offer you, Miss..."

"Ibori," she said with a small smile of thankful amusement. "And yes," she added, coming to herself a bit, "I'd like that."

"Ibori?" he repeated, his smile becoming a small grin. "Good, then."

'Avera Ibori, eh? The same as Tyberion. I doubt such a thing as a coincidence.'

"Well, Miss Ibori, if you would be so kind as to come with me..."

He smiled at her as he walked over to one of the bookcases which lined the right wall of the library's main hall. He pressed against the center of one of the flowers, a particularly delicate wood carving on the side of the finely crafted bookcase. He applied the light pressure to the point of the mechanism which sunk into the space between the pedals until a faint click was heard. He removed his hand, and the bookcase slid back into the wall, revealing a stone stairwell leading downward, deep beneath the library's foundations.

"Coming?" he asked her, looking back with an invitingly curious grin.