Prologue || Variable zero

Once, there was a chronicler, who wrote down all the history of the world. When he finished, he shuffled the pages until he arrived at the first paragraph of the book. He focused his eyes on the opening sentence as he let it resonate in the privacy of his mind: "A great event has an insignificant beginning, and an epic adventure starts with a great event."
Then he looked outside the window and saw snowflakes, which began falling from the sky. He smiled as he closed the book and approached the window.

The clouds were slowly drifting outside, above and beneath his abode. It wasn’t unusual for the snowflakes to fall at this elevation, but he wondered, whether they would make it to the ground before turning into raindrops. After all, down below the weather wasn’t as cold anymore.

He walked up to the calendar on the wall near the fireplace, and his eyes skimmed through the names of months.

Among the eight seasons of the world, Peizh was always the season of rebirth. It started cold and snowy, but as it progressed, it became like a fresh breath of a new life after many days of deadly frost. As the season of Peizh was nearing its end, both people and animals could joyfully walk among the green plants, which all at once were returning back to life.

Followed by Peizh was the season of Faev, when the land finally said goodbye to all the snow, and covered itself with green grass and flowers. Powerful thunderstorms occasionally passed through, threatening to cause major damage, yet usually they just drifted away, leaving almost no trace behind. In the season of Faev, young animals could often be seen running around in wilderness.

And then, the season of Dzon quickly followed with long days full of sunshine. Throughout the season, the sun was already up when the early birds awoke, and it still hung in the sky when the night owls fell asleep. The nights were warm, but the mornings were still chilly, giving goosebumps to those, who decided to go outside without a shirt.

After Dzon came the season of Dees, together with vacations for all the schools. The days began to shorten, but the weather got hotter. After many days of constant sunshine without clouds, the air was always hot, sometimes even sultry. However, even in this heat, many businesses remained open on workdays.

With the coming of the season of Byzh, which always started the new school year, the days were only a bit longer than nights. Then by the time Byzh came to an end, the days and nights were of equal length. The weather was still hot throughout this season, and occasional warm rainshowers made children dance in joy as they played outdoors. However, for adults the season of Byzh was the time to prepare for the months of cold and snow.

By the time the season of Veuf came over, all trees had lost their leaves. The nights were longer than the days, and the days were cloudy and rainy. Last fruits were gathered from the orchards, and late grains were collected from the fields. The sunny warmth of abundant daylight was about to fade into the dark cold of lengthy nighttimes.

When the season of Tsun visited the land with its first snows, it was too late to do any farmwork anymore. The gates of storages were closed, and the farm animals were gathered inside barns. Outdoor decorations were limited to the most sturdy ones, mainly statues made of stone and chairs made of metal, while the more fragile wooden decor, fabrics as well as living plants in their planters, were safely stored inside homes.

After the season of Tsun came the holy day, or two holy days, depending on the year. With these holy days came the end of the year.

Afterward, a new year started with the season of Toas, which always began after the shortest day of the year. Even though the daytime slowly got longer, the season of Toas remained as the time of short days and long dark nights. Cold winds and blizzards kept people inside their homes most of the time. Yet an occasional day of sunshine, with neither winds nor clouds, was always a pleasant opportunity to take a walk outside amidst the snowy landscape for those unafraid of the cold.

* * *

It happened on the last day of Toas in the year fifty-seven-hundred ninety.

Among the snow and evergreen trees, deep in the woods and far away from any civilization, stood a two-story family house with a four-step staircase leading to a raised patio. In the snow, which gathered on the staircase, there were two sets of footprints, which continued through the patio to the front door.

In the kitchen on the first floor, Larch Dolyan Kedaung River had a conversation with two guests. Larch was a short man with a beard, somewhat chubby, and with a deep look in his eyes. He was sitting by the table, which had a total of six chairs.

The taller one of the visiting men was standing by the wall full of cabinets near the kitchen entrance, while the other visitor was lazily pacing around the kitchen, listening but not interrupting.

Across from the cabinets, the stove had its own place under the window, while the adjacent sink was hiding in a corner of the kitchen. A narrow old wooden door between the sink and the cabinets led to the pantry, while a wide entryway connected the kitchen with the living room.

Right by the corner in the living room, the stairs led to the bedrooms. The first bedroom, directly in front of the last stairstep, was for the guests, but without any guests, it was used like a storage room. The other bedroom, right by the hallway window, was where the family slept together. There was one more room next to the staircase, but it wasn’t used for anything and remained empty.

Safflower Ngau Yastrabok Wind of River, who was Larch’s wife, stood by the crib in the family bedroom. She was a beautiful tall woman with smooth skin, a long golden braid, and eyes like sapphires.

She was swaying left and right, as she was lulling her baby to sleep in her arms. When the child finally fell asleep, she heard loud shouts and the sounds of a fight coming from the kitchen.

"You’ve betrayed us!" someone yelled from downstairs.

Upon hearing the words, her heart started beating rapidly as her face showed the first signs of worry. She stood still as if frozen, listening in, but all the noises quickly died down and were replaced by silence. That was when she realized, that her worst fears just came true.

Downstairs, the two guests looked at each other.

Larch, the owner of the house, sat down on the floor visibly in pain, but with no signs of wounds. He leaned his back on the wall, and quietly murmured something to the tall man, who squatted next to him, while his shorter companion stood right beside them.

Unlike Larch, Mesquite Bereza Kalikal Wind was a very tall man with straight gold hair. He had an air of royalty around him, but his face made him look as if he would easily betray anyone willing to put even the slightest trust in him.

Mesquite nodded in response to the words, which he had heard from Larch, then he quickly got up, left the kitchen, and went toward the staircase.

The shorter man, Pine Sharinga Titoki Fire, remained in the kitchen, and while Mesquite was climbing the stairs, he drew his sword out of its sheath.

After mortally wounding his best friend, Mesquite left it to his knight to quickly end Larch’s life, while he himself went upstairs.

When Safflower heard the footsteps on the staircase, she knew that it was already too late, so she hugged tightly the baby boy, and gestured on his forehead her final blessings, before gently putting him in the crib.

Mesquite quickly strode to the door, which led to the main bedroom and opened it with one swift motion. Inside, his eyes met Safflower’s. She was unusually calm for a woman, who knew she was about to die. When she looked at Mesquite, tears began collecting in her eyes. She slowly shook her head, and opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her any time to talk. Before she could say anything, he took one step forward and swung his hand in the air, as if he was cutting something with his fingers.

She stood at least two meters away from him, at a distance where he couldn’t touch her, and yet a thin line of blood appeared on her neck. When Mesquite put down his hand, her body fell to the floor.

He approached, knelt down next to her, and said a short prayer reserved for the deceased.

Afterward Pine, who had ensured the death of Larch River, came upstairs.

Pine was only several years younger than Mesquite, yet he didn’t look like a man about to turn forty yrold at all. Quite on the contrary, Pine could easily be mistaken as a man still in his twenties. His face shone with life and energy, even though at the moment he had a concerned countenance and a solemn look in his eyes.

Mesquite stood up and both of them looked at the baby in the crib, born less than six weeks ago.

Little Yew Chirabilva Araukaria River was crying loudly, awakened from his sleep by the noise. He didn’t understand what was going on around him, but the man, who had just killed his mother, came up to him and looked kindly upon the baby.

"There is no reason for an innocent child to be punished for his parents’ sins," he said before he took the crying baby into his arms and directed his next sentence to his knight, "He deserves to have better parents."

Then, after calming down the baby, Mesquite handed Yew over to Pine, who already knew what to do.

* * *

A long distance away, another man observed the whole affair inside a mirror. He was a semi-tall man with mid-length black hair and olive eyes. He wore long black pants, black shoes, a black turtleneck with long sleeves, and a black buttoned sleeveless coat. Other than his head and hands, no parts of his body were uncovered.

"Sycamore," a patriarch, who was standing nearby, called out to the man in black, who didn’t respond as he continued to stand still in front of the mirror and watch.

The two men were the only living beings present in that empty room with no furnitures except for a huge mirror hanging on the stone wall, and no windows or any other source of light except for two torches, one at each side of the door – the only exit.

The patriarch wore a bright grey robe. He had lost most of his hair on his head, but kept some thin grey strands at the back. He had no beard, but his moustache was long and, unlike the hair on his head, fairly thick.

"What are you thinking about?" asked the patriarch, trying a different approach in order to get the man’s attention.

Sycamore Murtinha Bismarckia Snow slowly opened his mouth, then said, "it’s so different."

"What’s so different?" asked the old monk.

"Everything," Sycamore answered and turned toward the patriarch. "Everything is so different. This world… " he started saying, but then he closed his mouth, and looked away.

The patriarch waited for a while, but since Sycamore didn’t say anything else, he spoke instead, "Now you understand."

"I don’t understand anything," Sycamore snapped back, withholding his anger.

The old monk looked at him with compassion in his eyes. "The people here had lived in peace for more than ten hundred years. They have long forgotten evil, and are not prepared to face it. She destroyed your world, and now she threatens this world - our world."

Sycamore began pacing to the other side of the room. He stopped when he arrived at the wall, and turned around. "I will not help. I cannot help."

"You live in this world, and it has become your new home. Would you allow her to do the same thing to this world? Have you forgotten what she did to…" the patriarch paused before he said the last three words, "your old world?"

"She turned it into a pit of death and despair," Sycamore’s whole body shook in anger as he recalled the unpleasant memory. "I would never forget," he added in a more quiet, pained voice.

"Sooner or later, she’ll come here," the patriarch said, "but here, we aren’t alone. We have the Heavens on our side. By the time she comes, we’ll be ready."

"Then do it without me," Sycamore snapped back.

"We would, if we could," the patriarch chuckled. "But you’re necessary. Otherwise, the Heavens would have no reason to bring you here."

Sycamore looked into the eyes of the patriarch, and the patriarch looked into his deep murky eyes, which looked so pained, like the eyes of a soldier, who had spent too many years on a battlefield and wanted nothing more than to rest peacefully in his grave.

"I won’t be of any help," Sycamore declared as he went straight for the door, swiftly opened it, stepped out, and violently closed it with enough noise to wake up the dead.

The patriarch, who was left in the room alone, looked again at the mirror, which continued to show the now-empty bedroom. The baby had been taken by Pine Fire, and Mesquite Wind had carried out the body of Safflower.

The old monk blankly stared at the floor, where a small blood stain had remained. It had dripped down from Safflower’s neck, but neither Mesquite nor Pine saw it, or else they would have erased it.

"So it begins," he said as he raised his hand, then slid it down in the air. When he did the motion, the bedroom in the mirror disappeared. The mirror reverted back to being a normal mirror, reflecting the patriarch’s lonely figure, as he turned around and left the room.

After the door closed behind him, the mirror began to show another scene, but there was no one in the room to see it.