The Gates - Prologue

***Disclaimer***

I am posting this on my partner's behalf. This is the prologue to a story he has been working on since 2020. Let us know what you think in the comments!

Prologue

This is the story of a world filled with ancient magic, wondrous landscapes, and creatures of every shape and size. Born from ink, powers manifest themselves across the globe in ways unimaginable to the small village of Curas. Children grow up with legends of birds that bend the sky itself, dreaming of one day commanding such beings.

Ink is vital to all living things. The Atra is its physical mark — power displayed on the vessel’s body for all to see. Atras appear in many forms and strengths, granting their bearers dominion over land, sky, and sea. Lion-like beasts with jagged circular Atras across their chests roar with such force they can deafen or paralyze prey. Winged monsters with Atras stretched across their pinions whip up gales strong enough to pulverize stone. These terrors are common; greater threats still roam the world, making them seem like playthings.

Yet it was not always so. Once, humankind reigned at the top of the chain, unchallenged. But when devastation struck, history itself went dark. Elders tell of beings with absolute power descending upon mankind, forcing them underground to survive. For ages they lived in shadow — until one story brought hope: the tale of a hero who discovered a strange, forbidden gift.

The power to evolve.

“OH, OH, I know what happens next!” a young voice bursts out. The room returns, the fire flickering, the grandmother’s frown softening.

“Ferin, what did I tell you about interrupting a story?” she chides, though her grandson’s bright eyes betray his excitement.

“But this is the best part! The hero with the Atra!” Ferin leaps to his feet, hands shooting out as he mimics blasts of power.

“Yes, yes. Now sit down and let me finish, little arran.” She hides a smile and turns back to the heavy leather-bound book.

With the agility of a cat, Ferin flops back onto the pelt rug, legs crossed, hands folded, eager eyes fixed on his grandmother’s face.