It was a quarter to six, the beginning of dawn in the floating town of Samada, when a young Adime woke up as usual on the first day of spring. This was going to be her first year at the Towers of Wind, the place all young Fahduris went after having seen five full blue moons.. That was the youngest age they were allowed to take the Skritivi, the rider’s test. Although tradition didnt speak if they would be strong of body and mind, it did mention this was the minimum age at which they could survive to try again.

Adime went about her morning as usual. She woke up by taking the leap of faith, followed by a perimeter run and back to taking a leap of faith again, before heading to make breakfast. She felt extremely pleased at the time of her run and it could be seen reflected as she went about making breakfast, humming the tune of the winds of time. “You seem chipper today”, remarked Forve, her dad and only other current occupant of the house. “Clocked 45 mins on the run today” she replied smugly, while gnawing at her breakfast. Forve, dropped the patch of armor he was cleaning and looked up. “But that’s a full 5 minutes”.. “I know”, she stood interrupting, “..before you say anything, I ran it again and the result was the same. I can feel it Dad!”.

Forve stood stunned, not knowing what to say. His youngest daughter had just beaten the kingdom’s record by 5 whole minutes, twice in quick succession. She was ready. He nodded and put the armor back into its box. “I will get back to this later. First, I have something for you. It belonged to your brother”. If Adime was startled at the mention of her brother, she didn’t show it. She looked curiously at her father. Forve went down to his chambers and came with an old dusty pile. “He wanted you to have this, when the time came”, he said as he laid it in front of her. “No one expects you to take it today, you know!”, he said as he went back to cleaning the patch of armor he had taken out today.

Adime didn’t hear her father. She had unwrapped the pile in front of her and was fixated at the object in front of her. The pile had revealed itself to be a scrappy piece of paper, a bow and a vambrace. It was the vambrace that had stopped her in her tracks. It looked exactly like the one she had found that last blue moon when she had messed up her leap of faith but somehow survived miraculously thanks to the lightning shaped vambrace that she scrapped of the tree trunk, while clawing desperately to stop her fall. A shiver ran down, prickling the scars on her left arm. No one knew about the incident. She had taken to wear long arms to make sure of it. How did it? What was the meaning of this? “What is the meaning of this?” she screamed at her father. “You bloody knew all along, didn’t you?” “Calm down youngling.” said her father, with his eyebrows raised as he scanned the pile. What had gotten into her? His eyes landed on the vambrace. “Ah, that was the vambrace he used when he took the test”. “I am not talking about that. That day.. Why did you give this to me now?” she questioned him.

Forve let a sigh. He thought he had been careful to not leave any presence. “You brother wanted it to be so”, he replied nonchalantly. Keep calm he told himself. She mustn’t suspect a thing. She slammed her hands on the table, “Stop lying to me. You know very well what I am talking about. You were there that day, weren’t you”. “Calm down youngling, as I said, I am just passing on your brother’s wishes and nothing more” snapped her father. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Like I said before, you don’t have to take it today. No one will think less of you for it. Stop trying to turn this into a fight for an excuse. That isn’t the way”

Adime looked, still glaring at her father’s calm face. Her father was lost in his work again. Maybe it wasnt him. She closed her eyes, trying to recall. She had woken up at dawn like usual and had jumped straight out of her bed, housed atop a giantwood tree, 1000 feet atop the floating piece of a small cloud that was part of Samada. That morning something felt wrong as she took off on her jump like normal, but mid-leap, she couldn’t feel the void. She grew frantic as she was quickly closing in on her landing. 600 ft down and still no hold of the void. She tried maneuvering closer to the trunk, squinting through the blast of air to find something to cling for support. Something to slow her down. Nothing. Down she went another 150 ft, before her arm struck something but it slowed her only for a tiny fraction of a second. Whatever it was, came off the trunk and she plunged further down. Realizing it was a vambrace, she shoved it on her left arm, hoping it would hide the scratches on her arm from being noticed as she prepared for death 100 ft from her landing. Her left arm tingled. She tried to ignore it until she realized what it was. The void was back! But it felt different. Not having enough time to muck around, she quickly seized it and stumbled, rolling on her back and coming to a halt. Not the most graceful landing, but I will take it, since I am alive! she thought to herself. She looked at the cracked vambrace and then into the sky not knowing what to make of it.

Leap of faith, as they called it, was the Fahdurian training to become a skyborne. It meant leaping to one’s death at first breath every day and using the inner void to break the fall and land on the sailing clouds. Timing was everything. A little too early and she would not gain enough control of the void to land her jump, and a little too late, meant parting of the inner clouds. No one would trust a skyborne with that kind of a record. And trust was everything. 

Ever since then, she had taken to wearing the vambrace covered by a long-arm sleeve and switching to her left arm for accessing the void. It had been about 2 years since then and it still felt weird. But it was the only way she felt assured that the void would always be there. 

The second vambrace in the pile looked exactly like the one she had found that day. Except there was no crack. She carefully studied it before putting it on her other arm. An immediate surge of the void, brought her to her knees. ‘frikzbad’, she winced kneeling, she felt more of the void than she had held up-to the sum of her life so far! Ecstatic and scared, she snatched it open to stop the surge. What was that? Did he not notice? She looked up to see her father undisturbed and continuing to work on his armor. “Flying fish in a cup of tea”, she cursed. She had to put it back on and figure this out. She was now sure that the first one belonged to her brother. That differing sensation of the void was no more. It was as though the connection was complete. Had it been him? She dismissed the nostalgic thought. How could it be him? No one had seen him for the last 2 decades, ever since that cerulean night, the One Prince stood timeless.

She gathered the pile and took it up to her room. “Make sure they honor the closeout period” she shouted to her dad as she put on the new vambrace again and jumped out to try something.

The day was off to a bizarre start.

On the cusp of his 60th name day, it all changed. He grew restless by the day, and at night sleep seemed a mercy he was denied constantly. Every minute of his remaining breath felt part of some grand scheme. Or so he led himself to believe.

Soon he started noticing things - that till then seemed too small and abstract for anyone to be paying much notice. He was surprised to realise that he was the only prisoner not to be held in chains, a thing that brought a smile to his face every time he thought of it. He was amused at first and later irritated to find that the guards always brought him food that was cold and partly eaten. His mild existence ensured that the guards barely ever gave him a second glance. Whoever was guarding his cell during the night always fell asleep in between their watch. A fact not changed by his constant muttering during the nights. He began to wonder if others felt the same.

By the end of his 60th name day, he made up his mind to walk out of his imprisonment. No longer will he suffer in silence. It was time to let the world know. Through most of this he had been a passing cloud, always observing and staying clear of lightning’s way. Not anymore he vowed.

All this because of a dream!

A dozen or so guardians jumped off from around the ridge. axe in hand, each in their favored glissading positions as they raced forward towards the misty ponds.

Chidai had to burn off some ash to speed up her sprint. “frigkizzbad. What have you started Lance 😬” she cursed as she came down the steep slopes. She was gone before Ruthgar could muster a retort. Bog stood up with a faint smile on his lips, eyes showing just a tinge of parental fondess! Leave it to his eldest to be the first to gather her wits when something unexpected happens. She was after all the first one to quickly recognize heartstrings as soon as they turned blue. “She will be fine Ruth. Go to the queen. I know just the bunch to send to scout”.

Ruth nodded and took off into the night. Bog made haste. He was about to open a pandora’s box and it was best he reached them first.

She wouldnt have been the only one to recognize those trademark remnants. But as his foster sister, she would be the only one who wouldnt use it to her advantage. Well she hoped it wouldnt come to that. He was barely that anyway. How long had it been since she last climbed the cracks of asgarhtia. Duty and honor are gonna be tested tonight, she taught noticing the glacial blue glow beginning to pulse again.

She just wanted to arrive first to ensure nothing was tampered. Heartstrings and Hope had both been unleashed. “To what end” must be solved correctly. The fate of their very way depended on it.

“Focus” she reined back her thoughts as she arrived at the same time as Ashamar. That startled her. If he made it here in time, he must have intuitively reacted to the events as they unfolded and took this logical conclusion. The efficacy chilled her to the bone. Emerging talent, just as she had heard. Things could get messy if he saw a different light here, she thought.

“Heartstring - just like when Lance struck that tree in class, it kinda felt like time unravelled onto itself and momentarily I was floating in nothingness. It’s that isnt it?” he asked with eyes pausing for corroboration.

Chidai sighed. Before she could reply. “Must have had a reason. Look at where they lead to - the prince’s heart”. She gazed towards his left, in the direction of his stretehed ice axe. “Its frozen. There is no heart beat, but I can still sense aaa life-force?. If we can even call it that… Why is he playing with time this way. How far do you think he’ll go”. She started to develop a level of admiration. “Remarkable” she exclaimed out loud before she could stop herself.

Ashamar nodded towards her, “So whats our plan now?”

The son of a colshard. A boon, a curse. A double-edged sword. Back in its sheath now.

That was a delicate gamble, Lance thought as he landed on the soft patch of snow at the bottom of the Towers of Wind in Samada. He must hurry now to make himself be there at the right time and place to kickstart this hail mary of a domino effect. I hope this works. A terrible price had already been paid. He hoped it wouldnt come to more.

Being a rider of time, the blade let him burn time essence: all the life-force. He used this in battle, to achieve superhuman feats. Like heartstrings struck his opponent and attached these blue strings to their heart, freezing them in time, which he converted to gain a time-skip. But at the same time he also needed a space-skip. So he had unleashed hope to turbocharge this skip and spring shoot him into the training grounds of the Fahdurians. 10 winters ago. Light have mercy. The man had nearly become death himself … destroying the very fabric of time space.

The cost has always been the same. What giveth, also taketh. The blade drained both their life reserves. After all it’s hope that kills you!

He still had to find One. Unravelling his last act would require a boundless energy source. Something way beyond his reserves.

His life depended on it. No turning back now.

Taking a deep breath once again, Lance made his way up the pass. He vaguely remembered something about a hidden danger right in the middle of it, but couldn’t recall what it was. So he stuck to the extreme right, it was the only viable path anyways given he wanted to stay unnoticed as long as possible. Fading into the shadows, the direct path made his task laborious. As he stopped to take a deep breath, he couldn’t help notice a ripple in the stillness surrounding him. “furqkizbad”, he cursed to himself. “I expected to make it half way through”, he barked at no one in particular and made haste. It won’t be long. The arrows of illumination would light up the whole pass, putting him in the limelight.. He would be a sitting duck for any watcher with his sling on. He was hoping the questions would buy him time. Hope, his strange double-edged sword had that effect sometimes, but there was a price to pay.

As he reached the misty ponds at the top, he could hear the whispers and murmurs racing across the ridge-line as the arrows reached the zenith bursting into a hundred tiny sparks, moonlighting the fiery slopes and the high pass. “Reveal thyself” the first gong was sounded. Must hurry now, he thought as he came by a fork, one leading him to the towering royal gardens and into the palace, the other melding into the core of the enchanting lands of Evermore. This was as far as he could go. Stepping off the trail, he flung his right shoulders to gently lay something on the floor and jumped high into the air. Unsheathing his sword, he caught one of the sparks and reverse springed it to further accelerate his jump. Almost time now, he remarked slowing down as he let gravity do its job. Heartstring, hit the mark he said, as he guided his sword towards the ground. Thank the light, the skybornes had taught him this neat little trick. Everything depended on the landing now.

“Light have mercy” came the second. “Is that the First Prince lying in the ground?” someone’s recognizing voice raised its voice. “who/what’s that riding to the ground?”, someone else shouted. Lance braced himself as he set reversing back the spark to soften the blow. A spark flew out of the ground, where blade touched skin and suddenly the figure was no longer there. Only He was gone in the blink of an eye. And as everyone turned, trying to wrap their heads around what had happened, it was perhaps young Ashamar who first pointed and shouted, “What are those stringy things leading to the prince?”

“Heartstrings” exclaimed Chidai, at the same time several gasps went up through the crowd. The threads surrounding the prince turned a shade blue under the moonlight. Soon the threads that touched the ground bounced back, crystallizing and wrapping around the prince to reveal a pyramidal tomb. “It can’t be” retorted Darari. “But only Lance can use that” the words shot out from Tenzin before he realized he had said it out loud.

Tensions creeped as the nightly calm once again hugged the land, making everyone question what their eyes had seen. It was real alright. The stillness returned but the faint blue glow in the distance served as a reminder for everyone who was there. People turned towards the high balconies, as Tenzin Bog stood up, carefully weighing the words in his head.

Times have passed without the whispers of the old ways. And now so little left of the old ways, that some fear all is lost in the Void. The Void. Piece or whole. It’s a mountain as surely as a molehill. Calm engulfed in rage. A beast watching, waiting to be unleashed. Light and dark, burned into one. Feared even by the Gods, it is the One.

This fear sparks Great Wars ever so often, the last of which, lasted a full one hundred and seventy years. Darkness and death ruled the lands, governed by misery and pain. A war fought on four sides, by the Four Kingdoms, when none knew not where the next arrow would land. The carnage of such was never seen. The skies turned red. The dead filled the seven hells. Few who stood in the end wished otherwise. But this was just the beginning.

Now the Wielders knew that the one who conquered the Void, conquered all. The Wielders of Far had seen the prophecies. He would be worshipped as a God among men. He would be God. But they wanted one of their own on the throne. They saw it as an opportunity to have one of their own at the helm. Power. Control. How small these words were and how large they could change the very basic nature of the mind. Their lust for power, kept the prophecy from seeing the Light for nearly a hundred years until Lance, the first free Rider and a Wielder, published the truth and distributed it across the Four Kingdoms. What followed was a serious of wars similar to the Great Wars, smaller in magnitude but no less devastating, and the whole lands plunged into a state of random chaos. For three hundred years battles and conquests, killings and sufferings ruled the heart of the lands, that the whole world was sure to be doomed.

The worst to suffer were the Kalldohdians. Ruled by ten Governors of the Old Ways, they were victorious in the beginning. But the Governors were blind for power and plotted against one another as much as they fought against the other Kingdoms. Soon their armies were lost half to civil war and the other half paid as a meaningless sacrifice in hopeless battles.

Then hope arrived in the most unexpected of ways.

Little can be said about the river flowing at the foot of the Urahara Mountains, and even little about the inhabitants along its bank. One Varthur Vander, lived a quiet life, deep inside the forests on the other side of the bank. He hunted the animals that terrorized the folk from the village and farmed what allowed itself to be grown on the Urah Soil. In another life he had been a Rider, in Fahdur. Giving up his old life, had been the hardest choice he had to make and all the attractions of his old life still surfaced from time to time. Truth be told, he had not completely quit it yet. For who can live without breathing?

It was a normal day under a normal sun. He was on his way home, after having sold all the meat he had hunted in the past week. As he was about to turn and catch the sun’s final rays for the day, a violent explosion rocked the ground and he was suddenly thrown into the air. Falling twenty feet from where he last stood, the wind knocked him right out.

It could have been a few hours or day or even a week. How long was he unconscious? Gathering himself up, he looked around him. The whole mountain was reduced to a flat piece of land. The houses, trees and everything solid had been reduced to a pile of dust. And the dust now lay scattered by the wind in four directions. Pure chance had nothing to do with him being left unscathed. He knew it was time.

Gidan, Keeper to the Gods, Chronicler, Master Writer, stormed into the palace. The royal palace was one of a kind, built in the clouds and floating on thin air, it was. Lightning electrified the palace and thunder struck a sweet rhythm that few musicians could match. The design itself was simple, yet it commanded a majestic presence. Making his way to the Grand Centre Hall, Gidan noticed that the number of guards were half the original. When he reached the Hall, he found the One Throne empty; a hundred questions filled him and a thousand possibilities he saw. Yet he could not fathom beyond what was a simple known fact.

Maachin Tshu, Lord of the lords, Protector and Defender of the Realm was gone! It only meant one thing.

Far down, about 100 miles east of the royal palace, Agraharr Van Crone was the first to hear thunder roar before lightning lit up the throne. It was always the other way round. Wasn’t it? Riding further east he came towards a small clearing just outside the city of Surin. His people had camped there for the past few days, without any trouble. Each was a good man. But not a Rider of the Fall. He was. A rider who never lost, A rider who knew when the fight was coming.

Three hundred men followed him. Three hundred, ready to march and kill on his word. Few were trained soldiers. And yet all would die for him without a second thought. His word. He shuddered at the thought. He would not risk another’s life where he would not his. He hoped they would see sense. But Glory and Death was all they saw. Glory and Death.

Moving towards the fire at the center so that all could hear him clearly, Agraharr waited till everyone’s eyes settled on him. “There is a war out there. Not a war between right and wrong, but a war for the One Throne. The War of the Gods. You may win or lose today. You may live or die. But remember, no matter what happens today, the Records will speak of you as Soldiers of Liberation.” when Agraharr Van Crone finished speaking, the thunder above morphed into a distant heartbeat

“For glory! For death!” each of them cheered.

They were after all to become the Riders of the Fall.