From the holy archives of the Prana-Bindu ​​Priests of Pama, in the year 380 AB (After Fall of Babeleon)

“Noish-pa, noish-pa, look what I found!” I knew I should not bother the oldest member of the village but I thought he would want to see what I had discovered in the ruins of fallen Babeleon. He was not actually my grandfather, but he was called such by everyone since he was older than even the oldest among us.

I ran past my father, one of the village elders who tried to prevent me from leaping into the old man’s arms with my strange trinket. Though I was large for my ten summers, Grandfather was considered a giant, fully a head taller than anyone else in the Valley. He allowed me to land fully upon his chest while gently clasping the strange object within a prana-aura.

“It isn't dangerous Grandfather, I carried it all the way from Babeleon and it barely made a sound the entire way.” Grandfather looked at my father who was worn from the journey and something passed between them but I didn't know what it was. Grandfather looked down at me and smiled his best smile. The one that said I had done something amazing.

“You appeared to have found a memory archive, Icaru Berenson. How did you come by such a rare and precious artifact? Were they lying about so than anyone could find it, or was there an adventure you have yet to share with us?” He sat down and pulled up a small chair for me to sit on.

I stood up on the chair so I could see my audience and tell my tale:

“My father, Stonemason Beren, took us to the city of Babeleon, as he often did, to gather stones from the ruins of the great city; claiming the bones, he called it. These are the same stones which make up many of the buildings in the Valley and this very temple surrounding the Heart of the Dragon.”

I looked at my father, who while always pretending to be displeased, seemed to enjoy the oratorical rendering of our tale so far. He claimed my talent came from my mother’s side, a known orator, before she was killed by raiders a few months after my birth. I never knew her but he said her gift was clearly in me. He claimed I had no skill with stone, and that it must have skipped a generation. Knowing how many times I have been injured trying to do any sort of masonry, I had to agree.

“Our convoy comprised of both masons and soldiers expected no difficulties on the path to Babeleon, because we had established a decent road which our neighbors used to good effect and helped to keep safe. This trade route was well monitored and only the leg toward Babeleon had seen little useful traffic. My da says, it’s the fear of evil spirits and renegade machines which keep people away from the city. I have been going to the city all my life and never saw anything dangerous.” Smiles passed around the room depending on whether they had ever seen anything on the road as well.

I jumped down and ran across the room to grab a bit of something watered down for kids before rushing back to my podium. After a quick sip, “We had made it to the city in only two weeks, good time for such a large caravan, and the search parties were hard at work finding our men who were working in the city and preparing to move stone to our wagons for transport. We found the men but they looked unhappy. There was talk of ghosts and spirits. My da laughed and we set about the business of getting stones from the last of the outer wall when we discovered an area with strange marks on the ground.”

“Bring your counters in,” my father told the men. He waited while the counters clicked away in their specialized way.

“No strong rays detected, sir.” The technicians fell away and the prana-bindu priests approached the sigils in the ground and entered a meditative trance.

“I always hate this part. They sat there for half the day before moving again. When they moved at lunchtime, they came back looking very happy.”

“There is an underground archive here. One that is undiscovered, protected by a variety of seals. It will take some time to unravel them and make the area safe enough for anyone to go into it.” The priests left and ate dinner before returning to talk to my father.

“While they were talking, I went to see the site. It was safe from rays and any prana energy had been tamed by the priests. I thought it was safe. I sat and focused my own chi and could see the energy swirling around. It called out to me and I was sure I could follow it. So I did.”

My father’s face is very red and he seemed more than a bit embarrassed but the storyteller’s job is to get the truth right. I was there, so I was telling the truth as it happened. “I stood up, I could see the the prana and some other energy directed me to walk a certain pattern. I traveled the pattern and when I opened my eyes, I was no longer where I started. It was dark, at first, then I began to be able to see again.”

Another sip of water and I closed my eyes while I continued, “Where I was standing appeared to be the exact same spot as I was standing on before, except it was night and the city was lit, like it was being lived in. I could hear music, drums in the distance, I could see fires all around the city, hundreds of them, I also heard chanting, prana-bindu rituals with the chaos flares rising into the night. Babeleon glowed, the stones glowed a blood-red and I could feel a sense of something scary all around me.”

I felt Grandfather’s hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to the room again. I had not noticed but the memory archive was glowing on the table. “It appears to be responding to your oration. Please continue.” Grandfather surrounded the archive with his own energy, just in case.

“I found the archive just a bit away from the towering wall near the sigil. It was in the hands of a dead man. A torch was smoking near him and when I picked it up, the fire rekindled. The man was covered in numerous paintings, a web-work, an artful tapestry of lines surrounding what appeared to be vast sores and slowly-healing wounds. His chest and arms were uncovered and such symbols decorated nearly every part of his flesh.

All around me, people made the sign of the Dragon, a prana ritual designed to ward off evil, everyone except Grandfather, who stared intently at the memory archive and then back at me. I didn't know why they did this but I assumed it was like so many adult acts, something from a time of legends.

Grandfather walked over to my father and whispered something, but I didn't know what. He turned to me and nodded, so I assumed he wanted me to continue.

“After I took the archive, I looked around and saw there were men all around me. I walked among them, and it looked as if they were in a battle with another group of men dressed differently than the first. The second group wore strange metallic jewelry but it was fused with their flesh. Some of their marks and runes looked like some of the prana-bindu signs we use in school.”

“That’s enough for one day, Berenson. You are your mother’s son.” Grandfather words were meant to be a complement and I was pleased.

“But I wasn't finished, Grandfather. More things happened, I think you should know about.”

“Perhaps another time.” My father’s tone indicated this was not one of those moments for debate. Disappointed I stepped down from my podium. He continued, “Put the animals away, get cleaned up, tomorrow I will need your help with the inventory.” He put his hand on my head and kissed me goodnight.

I think they would have wanted to know how I got away. And what I got away from but I guess that will wait until tomorrow. Or so I thought.

“Beren, how long has he carried that module? Did he tell you anything else I should know about?”

“Grandfather, the boy’s head is always full of romantic notions and he is always talking. I can honestly say some of the time, I am not as attentive as I would like to be. He wants to be a warrior of the Ten one week, and a loremaster of Babelonia the next.” Beren’s head hung low at his words, but Grandfather seemed to understand.

“This time it’s important. If what he says actually happened, we are in grave danger.”

“Why?”

“The boy has, through use of a chaos gate, traveled to the past of ancient Babeleon, to one of the first wars of our two orders. What he describes sounds like a battle from almost five hundred years ago. There was a scourge, a plague which devoured Chaos magic and those who used it. It was what lead to the creation of the Prana-Bindu psychic abilities we used today.”

Beren made the sign of the Dragon again, this time with focus and his prana energies rippled across his body. “I thought I remembered something like that. When the boy mentioned it, I assumed it was just another one of the many books he’s memorized during his training as an orator.”

“It may have been. And it may have also triggered the Chaos gate because he happened to be thinking of the tales of adventure from that period. The gate would have responded to his desires because he was improperly shielded. More learned practitioners would never use or even approach such an object without freeing their minds of any form of desire or random thought.” Grandfather waved the last of the temple visitors off as he and Beren moved into the inner sanctum overlooking the Dragon-heart fragment.

“We are not addressing the true issue in the room at the moment. Your son was able to access a Chaos gate because he has both sets of abilities, Prana-Bindu and Chaos Sorcery, likely from his mother’s heritage, her dark hair and grey eyes were both signs of potential alignment with the Chaos energies. Because of his training, we had managed to suppress any Chaos tendencies. But now with an exposure to pure Chaos, he may begin exhibiting signs of Balmor’s Scourge.”

Beren sat back into his chair and sipped the tea he had been offered by Grandfather. Something bitter to go with this news. “The Scourge hasn’t been seen in generations, it was thought to be as dead as Babeleon. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I can already see the seeds of the infection. His accidental triggering of the gate has triggered his Chaos gift. His visit to the past exposed him to the pathogen.” Grandfather paused and then went to a cabinet where many of the books from the old Southern Temple found their way after several pilgrimages revealed the destruction of their temple. He took out two worn codices and feathered gently through their worn pages. He stopped on a drawing labeled Balmor’s Seals.

In a second book he displayed a similar detailed image of imitative artwork resembling Balmor’s work without the proper signs. They were ornate, beautiful tattoos but ultimately worthless. Everyone who received these drawings was ultimately consumed by their Chaos power twisting them into horrifying mutants.

Walking back to the memory module, he lifted it gently touching only the prana aura around it. “It was the exposure to this artifact that caused the infection to spread to him. Without any innate ability, the device would have been safe enough in the Valley, but all I can do for him is to try and seal it.”

Grandfather laid down the module and walked over to Beren. “You must give approval for the seal. As his parent you should understand, that sealing the Chaos powers within him will be excruciating. Balmor’s process would have actually worked but few were willing to allow their powers to be sealed away in a time where magic was so prevalent and chaos magic one of the most powerful of the day.”

“If you can make him better, Grandfather, that is all I need to know. I am in your debt.”

The old man turned away and went back to his cabinet.

“Tell him old man. Tell him about the source of the Scourge.” The Heart of the Dragon throbbed and lit the room from its spot on the dais. Only Grandfather could hear the poisonous words. He threaded his message through the energies of the crystal for his mental reply.

“Quiet, Dragon. He does not need to know.”

“I disagree. If you are going to possibly kill his son, he should know the source of the plague that eventually brought about the fall of Chaos Sorcery was created by none other than your order. A much less enlightened order, to be sure, one willing to have the ends justify the means. Much like your enemies, the Babeleonians.”

“We were nothing like them. They used Chaos magic to shape the world in unnatural ways. They created destructive magics capable of leveling towns, they warped nature to create monsters who bred true and still roam the world today. The most destructive thing they ever did with it was to summon your kind from another world. You and yours almost destroyed the world on both sides. Our goal was much simpler. Removing Chaos magic from the world.”

“You used your prana-bindu to shape a virus which would, in a fashion, I might add, the Babeleonians might have approved of, if they had thought to consider the source of the infection, to make it cost them vital life energies to use their magics. Then you let them be consumed by their pride. A masterstroke of your order. Had I been privy at the time, I would have approved of your technique. Your treachery was exquisite.”

The glowing crystal grew quiet again. Beren sat looking at the old man as he appeared to be communing with the Heart of the Dragon. Picking up the module, he drew a thaumaturgic circle around it and activated the module. A strange machine with flaming green eyes and tendrils of energy surrounding it stood inside of the circle, rotating slowly.

Grandfather looked up from the crystal, his eyes hard as stone. “I have something you need to know.”

— End of Part 1 —

Once I left my father and Grandfather behind, I went home to our small house at the edge of the village. We lived near our work area and I could hear the last of the workers clearing out after delivering the pallets of new stone for working.

My father’s orders were swiftly carried out and the horses, were anxious and irritated. They were as happy for me to be done with them as I was to get finished. Only their fatigue kept them from protesting more vigorously, my rough handling.

As I tried to leave them behind, they nudged me for a piece of sweet-fruit I had in my pocket. I offered it to the two of them, but they shied away from my right hand and would only take food from my left. I put the right back into my pocket and rushed away from the stables.

I was in a hurry to get home. There was something I wanted to tell everyone but was unable to do so. The module wasn't the only artifact I found.

As I pulled the memory module from the hand of the dying sorcerer, something jumped from his arm to mine. As soon as it locked itself around my arm, I could feel it stabbing into me and I doubled over in the worst pain of my life.

I tried all of the meditations and prana rituals I knew to repel or disrupt Babeleonian sorcery-powered technology but nothing worked. All my unsuccessful attempts only seemed to make it squeeze tighter. Since I came back from the past, if that’s what really happened, the bracelet was as cold as ice and invisible to anyone but me.

I tried to tell my father but the words wouldn't come. The bracelet seemed able to reroute my conversation toward the memory module and after a time, I stopped trying to share the information at all. When we got home I tried to share the experience and I hoped by talking in the group, they would notice something was not quite right but somehow it made me unable to mention it without actually lying about it.

Once I was dismissed, I thought I would have one of the other brothers of the order help me at the temple once we were surrounded by the proper meditative resources.

Since we got home, the bracelet has grown warmer and stayed hot as long as I was in the temple. I didn't know why that was. All I knew for certain was, I had to get it off.

Fatigue caught up to me first and I knew I needed to clean up, get the stink of the road off of me and then I might be able to think up a plan. Behind the house, my father’s hothouse was a welcome relief with a series of baths from cold to hot, allowing one to get clean and warm the cold valley’s winter from one’s bones.

This time of night, there was no one there and I was only too happy to wash up in the smallest of the tubs, clean it out and head for the largest, hottest tub with room enough for eight. I got into the tub and the heat was welcome.

I think I dozed off because when I opened my eyes, there was someone in the pool with me.

I didn't see or hear him come in.

He also didn't introduce himself, as was the custom of bathers here. He stood across from me, only his head was visible above the water.

“You know they will come for it. You should use it before they arrive.” I didn't know his voice, he wasn't one of my father’s crew and I couldn't even tell if he was someone I knew. It was as if he was speaking to me through a fog deeper than the steam from the pools.

I wanted to feign ignorance, pretend I didn't know what he was talking about. That also felt as if it would be a futile effort. Instead I did as I was taught to do. I sought insight. “If you know about it, then tell me how to remove it.”

“Why would you want to remove it. It is one of the great weapons of the Babeleonians; imagine it, Icaru Berenson, champion of the Valley. You would be able to take your place among the Ten.”

I was ashamed to admit I wanted a place among the Ten. While my prana was strong, one of the strongest in the Valley, my ability to bind it and control it was lacking. Without control, prana is a potential, not an actuality. I could never become one of the elite brotherhood known as the Ten unless my control improved. Most potentials master a degree of control by the time they are nine. I've had no such luck. I would likely be relegated to the role of Seer or Loremaster, great positions, especially for the son of a stonemason, but not nearly as celebrated as the martial masters of the Valley, the Ten. “I still have a year of training. I may yet make my way to the path of the Ten.”

The stranger looked at me, his eyes half lidded but their intensity no less burning. “Icaru, without divine intervention, you will never become a member of the Ten. Your martial skills are sufficient. However, your prana while potent, lacks any control necessary for the higher spiritual arts. You will fail. But there is another way.”

“Who are you? How do you know so much about me?” I prepared my energies sensing my questions might provoke an attack.

When the man finished laughing he continued, “You amuse me, child. So many frustrated ambitions. I know all of you in the village. I watch all that you do. You may consider it my way to pass the time. I have no more time to spend with you, so I give you a warning. Three will come for that bracelet. They will take it by force if you do not defend yourself. None here despite your lifestyles of ritual and training will be able to stand against them.” He stood up from the water, his presence exuded power and menace. He unfurled dripping wings, reptilian with scales that flashed in the moonlight, splashing water everywhere.

“You will use this weapon, or you will die, the entire valley, your way of life, all that you know will end. Tonight.” He shot into the sky and in seconds vanished from view.

I woke. Shaken, I climbed from the stone-lined pool, steam rising from my body and shivered from a chill of premonition.

I ran to find Grandfather at the temple. By the time I was dressed and riding down the road as fast as I could I heard it in the distance. The sound of an explosion. A bright green light flew into the sky. I had seen it before when mage-raiders struck the town in the past.

Chaos fire. But I had never seen a plume like this. This green flame challenged the moon in lighting up the night.

I laid low in the saddle and we ran like the wind.

There would be many more explosions before the night was over.

— End of Part 2 —

“Beren, call the Ten and their acolytes. Support the border guards. I will see if this has anything to do with our resent acquisitions.” Grandfather disappeared into the night, vanishing from sight.

Beren bound his prana, his willforce and reached out to the Ten. They were already en-route. Psychic images indicate there were three men approaching the valley using Chaos magic in a fashion rarely seen. Loss of life had been limited so far, but the men moved into town as if they knew where they were going.

Beren was a stonemason, now. But before he left the martial aspect of the Order to marry, he was one of the Ten. Stopping only to grab his hammer, he ran toward the explosions to protect the Valley once more.​

When the Ten arrived at the gate to the valley, all they found was the dead and dying. Their leader Wing-Lu, a diminutive young man whose calm demeanor held in check a fierce fighting spirit. He wore tattoos of a distant land he traveled from before settling in the Valley.

Looking at the ground where the gates one stood, he found only splinters of the ironwood used to protect the people of the Valley. He sprinted outside the gates and ran down the path.

He entered a meditative trance and the remaining Ten split into three groups of three, each following after one set of footsteps that had transformed from a man into a magi-mecha, a lost technology of the Babeleonians.

This, would have been considered impossible since the Babeleonians were thought to have been slain, down to the very last invader in a war that destroyed the world.

Except the evidence was impossible to refute. Mecha still existed, their spiritual signature was unmistakable. But there were no Chaos sorcerers disciplined enough to use them. Grandfather would need to be told. Gathering his prana, he sped back into the Valley, faster than the fastest horse could run. He only hoped the other Nine would be able to hold the mecha off until more rigorous defenses could be established.

No one living except Grandfather, had ever seen an animated mecha, but the descriptions found in lore left no doubt they were completely capable of destroying everything dwellers in the valley held dear. What could they possibly want?

Icaru arrived at the temple only a half an hour after the attack began. Master Wing-Lu was already in conference with Grandfather but both men stopped once he entered the temple.

Explosions sounded in the valley and green flashes lit the sky, indicating one of the mecha was already under assault by three of the Ten. Master Lu, nodded to Grandfather and grabbed a relic sword from the wall. Forged in a bygone age, it was unbreakable and impossibly sharp. He disappeared from the room, vanishing from sight, only the swoosh of his passing Icaru indicated he had ever been there.

“Icaru, I know I silenced you earlier. Is there anything else you want to tell me about your visit to Babeleon?” Grandfather was in a lotus position in front of the Heart of the Dragon. Icaru had the strangest sensation, as if he was in the presence of a familiar person. That feeling you have when you see a face but can’t recognize their name.

“Yes, sir. I had a vision. It told me they were coming.”

“That isn't what I said, boy,” said a familiar voice in his head.

Icaru looked around the room but didn't see anyone else. But his face belied his surprise and the old man looked, first at Icaru and then at the Heart. “So you can hear him. I thought your heritage would allow it. Come over here to the Heart and let me listen.” Grandfather pointed to a mat near the glowing artifact. As Icaru approached his arm began to glow brightly and the bracelet was easily visible.

“Old Man with the Heart of a Dragon, why would you want to hear my thoughts? We discuss things all the time, you and I. But this boy is new and interesting and very much aligned with Chaos.” The Dragon was in a good mood. He was corrupting someone innocent, an activity he had not been able to partake of in some time.

Bending his prana around the Icaru and himself, Grandfather spoke to the Dragon bound within the holy relic, “Leave the boy out of this. If you have summoned these war-machines of ancient Babeleon to the present, I will deal with them and you in due time.”

“You are mistaken. I did not summon them. He did. His trip back to the present made it possible for the three of them to follow. They know nothing of my presence, but they can feel my Chaos and hope to tap it to bring more of their brethren from their doomed past to this very fragile future. It’s a plan I admire.”

Icaru spoke before he realized he was talking without permission. “Why would you tell us their plan, then? Isn’t there a chance they may free you from our temple?” Grandfather’s eyebrow rose slightly at the question. He was curious about the answer, just the same.

“Because I will enjoy the havoc, the pathos, the chaos that will be formed while you struggle for your lives. This will empower me enough that when they arrive, I will simply take their machines and leave this place. Your knowledge only enriches my repast.”

“Grandfather will stop the machines. They may be from the past but so is he.” Icaru turned his eyes toward his elder who remained composed and silent.

A chill wind blew through the temple and waves of released prana rippled on that wind. These were the mental exertions of citizens of the Valley and likely the Ten in their battles. The wind spoke of their defeat at the hands of the ornate and terrifying war machines of a past age.

“Will you tell him or will I?” The Dragon’s glee was barely contained.

Grandfather’s rebuke was soft. “Be quiet, monster. Icaru, I cannot stop all three of the mecha. I may be able to stop one. Two if they are damaged sufficiently or particularly careless. Three is simply too many. I will have to meditate to bring my abilities to their full power. Even then, there is no guarantee.”

“What about the Ten? They are some of the best warriors in the Valley?”

“Yes, they are, but I have neglected the most dangerous aspects of Prana-Bindu to keep their hearts safe from impure forces. These aspects can give powers beyond what they know, but opened them up to dangerous influences. My goal was to go forward with few knowing these rituals until they were no longer needed.” Reaching across the temple with his will, Grandfather grasped the mysterious memory module and it floated into Icaru’s hand. “You can stop them. A legacy of your parentage gives you dominion over this machine. I realize what drew them here; they are seeking a weapon of immeasurable power.”

Grandfather opened his eyes, his face and voice full of sadness. “You, Icaru Berenson, have the power to save the valley. But if you do, you will most certainly die.”

— End of Part 3 —

The first three of the Ten died within the hour. The Babeleonian mecha were taking three different paths through the valley. These paths would converge upon the Temple. The first one was encountered in the rice fields. It made no attempt to hid itself and chaos flames flew from its eyes setting homes on fire.

Most of the Valley was trained in the techniques of Prana-Bindu, the shaping of the Will. They used this training to make themselves stronger and faster, strengthening their minds, bodies and will. This conditioning made them proof against corrupting magical forces which still lingered this close to the ruins of Babeleon. These psychic abilities made them more than a match for most human foes who might attack the Valley, and under those circumstances, they would take the fight to the enemy, keeping them outside the valley altogether.

The man-like beings who approached the valley were tall, nearly seven feet, with six fingers on each hand. Their bodies were as massive as they were tall, and they were covered from head to foot in fanciful tattoos. These designs caused fear in all who viewed them as they moved across their often exposed skin. Their flesh, albino white, was covered with wounds and sores which never healed as long as they used their Chaos magic.

Their eyes, filled with a crimson energy, revealed them to be Babeleonian sorcerers of the first order. Not native to this world, they arrived bringing war and a thirst for conquest. They channeled sorcery and bound it into armor, weapons and machines.

There were many races which populated this world. But after the arrival of these sorcerers, any foolish enough to oppose them died screaming, covered in chaos flame or crushed beneath the fists or feet of their mighty machines, which stood fifteen feet high, and festooned with magical runes which powered the monstrosities.

For ten thousand years they ruled this world, their war-machines laid waste to any who directly opposed them. It was after dragons arrived, did they have any who could and would oppose them. The dragons did not fight for anyone else but themselves. While the dragons were not allies, this opened the doorway to resistance since the dragons only considered the Babeleonians a true threat and rarely attacked humans, even those with prana-bindu capacities.

Thus began one of the first wars against the Babelonians.

It was in these rice fields where Sze Chen, Faran, and Ngo, the oldest and the most powerful of the Ten fell. There was no failure in their technique. They used blazing speed and their relic weapons to attack the mecha. They avoided the blows and struck true cutting into the ensorcelled metal. The voices of the machines and perhaps the men within them screamed. They did not stop. The three damaged the great machine but did not stop it.

But men, even those using their Will as a weapon, make mistakes. Faran was the first to fall. Realizing slashing attacks would not be enough, he drove his will into the point of his weapon and with the support of his friends, made a powerful strike into the heart of the machine.

He leap into the air piercing it through the center of the machine. Sze and Ngo, cut off one of the arms of the mecha, preventing it from reaching Faran. His blow was perfect, his form magnificient.

The mecha fell backward and landed soundly on its back. Before he could leap away, the other arm grabbed him and crushed him like a twig.

Sze, horrified ran toward the mecha, using a quickstep, there was a flash of her sword and the other arm of the mecha fell away, but too late for Faran. As she tried to release him from the mechanized grip, she turned her back on the machine.

Ngo, seeing the machine sit up, threw his spear into the eye of the machine, deactivating it. The other eye swiveled toward Sze Chen and released its chaos fire. Ngo, weaponless, did not see the severed hand of the mecha behind him, so distraught at the screams of his friend and was never aware of the hand rising like a serpent behind him, grabbing him and crushing his skull.

The same arm crept to the body of the machine and re-attached itself. The second arm was picked up by the formerly severed limb though it tried to reconnect the limb it was unsuccessful. The prana used to sever the limb destroyed a glyph on the armor and it was unable to reconnect itself. The machine threw the broken limb aside and rose to continue.

Using its one remaining hand, it removed the spear from its damaged eye and the eye slowly reformed itself. The lacerations across the mighty frame slowly closed. The fires which lit its eyes and mouth went out, but the device was still active. It had lost its ability to project fire and it was slower than it was before; the toll taken from its damage reduced its effectiveness but it was still mobile.

The still and broken bodies of the three warriors had no such resurrections. Only the moonlight was privy to their passing.

The other Six of the Ten fared no better at stopping the mechas relentless approach toward the temple. They slowed them, they damaged them, but they could not stop them. Of the remaining six, four would give their lives.

Now only Wang-Lu stood before all three.

— End of Part 4 —

Wang-Lu watched the machines approach assessing the damage and deciding which he would attack first. Behind him, he heard someone running fast, their steps heavy, their prana strong. It was Beren. Beren’s white hair and beard further identified him as he approached. He nodded at Wang-Lu and readied himself as the three lumbering forms rumbled in the distance.

Now they were two. Beren carried a warhammer, something consecrated during his time as a member of the Ten. He had retired over a dozen years ago, but still came to the workouts when time permitted. He had lost a step over the years working as a stonemason, yet few could equal his physical might.

The two men sat back to back in a meditative pose. Each shared their prana with the other, binding themselves together. Beren shared his physical strength, Wang-Lu, his incredible speed. They would be stronger and faster together than they would have been separately. This was the secret of the Ten, a combining of physical capacity which made it possible to combat the powers of most chaos sorcery.

These were no ordinary sorcerers. These were the elite. Wang-Lu and Beren knew without Grandfather, they were lost.

“Icaru. This module holds within it a manifestation of Chaos. A being bound to the summoner and sharing its physical form with the summoner. I don’t want you to use this unless all hope is lost.”

“Why are they coming here? What could we possible have that they would want?”

“They are coming here to take the Heart of the Dragon. With its power, they hope to bring their dying past to our living future. We cannot allow that. In the centuries since the time they come from, our Order has died. There is no one left to stop them if we fail.”

“If you fail, it means we shall usher in a new era of the Dragon.”

“And then there is that.” Grandfather looked at the crystal on the dais and shook his head. “I won’t allow that to happen, Dragon, no matter what you may think about our current situation.”

“For you to have any chance at all, I am going to cover you with a seal. It’s designed to protect you and slow the disease which will affect your body once you begin to use Chaos magic.”

I couldn't contain my questions. “Disease? I heard there was a disease once that eventually destroyed many of the Chaos sorcerers in the past. Why would I be worried about this? I remember the disease affected only the Babeleonians who were not completely human.”

Grandfather laid the boy down and had begun the drawing of the seal on the floor around him. “The disease was tailored toward their nonhuman nature but we designed it to affect anyone who used Chaos magic. This is why so many of the human sorcerers we see today are disfigured and sickly. It is why we don’t use chaos magic.”

The dragon feeling the need to add his two bits, “He isn't telling you the entire truth, my boy. You are descended from a great sorceress and her magic flows through your veins; with all her potential and vulnerabilities. It’s how you managed to travel to the past and why the magic sought you out.”

“All that he said is true. It is your lineage and the weapon you are carrying these madmen are seeking. I must deny them both. Then I will go out and help the Ten. Breath in. Enter the First State. Once you transition to the Second State, you will feel the seal taking place. In the third state, the seal will be complete, preventing you from accessing your Chaos power and preventing it from being harnessed.”

Explosions sounded outside the temple. “They’re here,” the dragon chortled. “Only two of your precious Ten remain. Once they’re dead, the rest of the valley will follow.”

Icaru, bound by the spell, was unable to move. He had entered the First State of meditation, which was likened to falling into a deep well. He could still hear the world outside of himself, distantly, emotionally detached from everything. He was ready to make the transition to the second state when he heard his father cry out.

There was nothing else for Grandfather to do here. Either Icaru would complete the transition into the Third State and protect himself completely from Chaos possession and manifestation or he wouldn't. The decision would be left in the boy’s hands.

As he dressed in the robes of his now defunct Order, he mused on their failure to destroy Chaos magic. The argument was that magic was a tool just like the psychic abilities of Prana-Bindu. It wasn't the tool that was corrupt it was the beings using them.

This is why the Order needed to die, right alongside the Bablelonians who challenged them. Magic was inherently corrupting. If one was gifted, it was impossible to not use magic. This is why the Order’s pathogen spread so quickly. There were too few who were willing to suppress their potential for magic.

“That’s what made the weapon so perfect, wasn't it?” The dragon eavesdropped on Grandfather. “Your Order was no better by the end of it, taking the means of their enemy to ensure an end to the war. Let me assure you, without the Babeleonians winning the battle against my kind, none of you would have had a chance. You owe them your existence, like it or not.

“Is that why you joined them? To be on the winning side?” The old man walked over to the dais and the brightly glowing crystal. It’s ruddy light cast shadows beneath the old man’s eyes, making them appear as empty hollows. “There is no place for any of us, any like us, filled with a need for power, for worship, for accolades.”

“Do you include yourself in that list? I remember when I first met you, how hungry you were for recognition. Young, ambitious, eager to prove yourself. At least my kind can undestand why I did what I did. I betrayed them for power. The only power that in the end will matter. The power to leave this world to ravage others.”

“You will never leave this place, until I am ready for you to do so.”

“Hurry and die, that I might be on my way then.”

Grandfather stopped long enough to pick up his jo staff, shaped from iron wood, hardened further by prana and bound with psychic power for nearly one hundred years. He watched as the seal crawled its way onto the body of Icaru, one symbol at a time before settling down, locking away the chaos energy within him.

The old man joined the fray right outside the temple, its prana bound walls shook with the blow that missed Beren Stonemason by mere inches. The shockwave of even the near miss, stunned Beren, leaving him insensate. The man-machine struck again before Beren had regained his senses. Only the well placed jo staff deflected the attack inches from the stonemason’s head.

Sparks flew from the contact between the Chaos energy and the bound prana within the ironwood staff. Beren had already been hit, his left arm a pulped and shattered mess. Extending the staff and focusing his will, Grandfather drove the automaton backward knocking it from its feet and driving it three meters where it stood seconds ago. Stunned, the device lay still for a moment before rising again, apparently undamaged.

Wang-Lu was also worse for the wear, his scarf in his left hand and sword in his right, he could only manage to drive the devices to the ground by wrapping his scarf around their legs and with prana flipping them to their backs. Realizing what he was doing, the sorcerers kept him from being able to bring his sword to bear on the center regions where the control mechanism for the devices likely lived.

Several grazes had taken their toll on Wang-Lu and he was nearing the end of his strength and stamina. Grandfather lifted Beren to his feet and the three of them huddled together, momentarily breathless.

“So that’s it boy? You are going to sit here while your father and your spiritual leader die? No last minute saves, no disobeying orders? Going into the third layer of your meditative trance and leaving the dirty work to the adults? I’m disappointed. I thought you would have the stones to do what no one else could do here; win the battle.”

Icaru floated through the second meditative state, feeling disconnected from the material world, in a world composed purely of iconic representations. Here he could see a dragon sitting on a building, resembling the great City of Babeleon in its heyday, talking to him, with smaller dragons flying around him, paying homage to his conquest of the city of sorcery.

It took great effort to hear what the dragon was saying and even greater effort to care. He had been given his instructions and knew Grandfather was right. So why did he still possess a lingering doubt? Was the dragon right? Should he trust his own instincts about this?

“Ah, you can hear me. Then perhaps you should hear this too.” The sounds of a fierce battle resounded in the quiet realm of Logos. A scream, something primal, the sound of someone in unbearable pain unable to control their response. One of the first arts learned under prana-bindu is the control of pain. If one of the three warriors who remained made that sound, the injury must be grave, indeed.

“Summon it. There is still time to save them. Wang-Lu is down and unmoving. Your father holds his hammer limply in one hand. One of the automatons moves no more, the other staggering but mobile. One has regained the use of its eldritch fire. It eyes sizzle and energy is building. Your grandfather can protect himself or your father. One of them will die. Will you stand by and do nothing?”

“No.”

The runes of the seal, stopped their march just seconds away from completing their formation on Icaru’s body.

They are blasted away with the burst of Chaos magic released from the amulet on the boy’s arm and his childlike body is replaced, by a man-sized automaton. A machine with a will. A machine that lived and sought freedom from subjugation.

“I will never serve you, sorcerer. Your chaos magic may bind me here, but I will never fight for you. Never.” The machine’s voice is a beautiful mechanical ringing. No machine of chaos could have ever been designed like this.

“No, being of clockwork and light, you will serve me instead.”

Icaru stood inside of himself as the mental manifestation of the dragon-winged man from his dream and the beautiful machine-man faced each other. Each radiated a powerful aura that threatened to overwhelm him.

He could still hear the battle outside and knew Wang-Lu was near death. Grandfather was in the midst of a decision and it would not be to allow Beren to die. He could feel the old man releasing a power unlike any Icaru had ever known.

Then the Chaos flames swept over them and Icaru could no longer sense their presence.

Filled with desperation, Icaru, ran between the two beings who battled for control and felt a hidden power within him, burst forth. Both of these intruders were within his body. This was his realm. There would be order! The energy of his prana but laced with the energy of chaos swept over both beings driving them apart and binding them still.

“How did you do that?” The dragon-man sat up and rubbed his jaw in shock.

The mechanical man’s silvered body rose to its feet, its head slightly tilted as if in analysis. “That was not a force of pure Chaos.”

Icaru, surrounded by his aura of chaos and order, spoke mentally to both of them. “This is my mind and for the time being, my body. You,” pointing at the Dragon-winged man, “Out.” The dragon faded from view.

He walked up to the silver armored being and touched him lightly on the arm. I cannot compel you to fight. I realize I’m not powerful enough yet to do that. But I am begging you. Please save my father. I promise to release you to go where you will if you do.”

“Those are not the words of Chaos. Placing the well being above one self, is a sign of Order. I will help you.”

The being of Order reached out his hand and Icaru placed his own within the warm metallic grasp of the entity. Then the hand grabs his tightly as a flaming sword sprouts from its chest.

“I told you boy, this body will be mine, one way or the other.”

Shielded from the chaos fire, by his fading prana energies, Grandfather felt a stabbing pain through the center of his chest. A burst of unaligned Chaos dispelled the local prana in the area. The Dragon was loose. Icaru what have you done? Beren lay at his back adding his prana to Grandfather’s, placing his hand on the old man’s back.

Both knew they could not last much longer.

A fountain of red light, the same light the Dragon’s Heart emitted flew from the open temple door out into the encroaching night.

The remaining Chaos autons redirected themselves from attacking Grandfather and Beren and instead began moving toward the temple door. This was the magic they were seeking. A source of immense power they would control and use to retake this world.

“Now, boy, you would match your power and wits against me? You caught me unaware once. I have taken your measure now. The auton is dead. This body is mine. Get out or die.” The dragon was frantic, his mental voice screamed desperation.

Get out? What did he mean? The mind of Icaru realized he was seeing the world through new eyes. He could see his body, his original body lying on the floor, wounded flesh peeling and burning as if under a bright light. The chaos light of the Dragon Heart was killing him.

But if he didn’t fight, his father and the valley would die. He had no choice. He returned to the mental landscape where the dragon stood laying down the mental construct of the mechanical man.

“You choose not to leave. You could have saved your body, but now, bathed in my renewed energy, you will die.”

Icaru realized the dragon had slain the intelligence of the machine, but its spirit was still his. Now he understood what Grandfather meant.

This was a machine built to control or destroy Chaos and its minions. He imagined himself as his father. Larger, stronger and wielding his father’s hammer. He could feel the weight, the heft, he could smell the cold wrought steel. He could see the runes of disruption burned with prana and bound into the metal.

“No, you can’t do that. You’re just a boy.”

“That’s where you are wrong. I am in training to be one of the Ten. And my dreams matter. This machine would never serve you. Even in death it defies you. I only have a few minutes. I’ll start by putting you back where you belong.”

The room filled with blinding white light.

The three machines of ancient fallen Babeleon turned away from the old man as his aura shield failed. Both men were burned and their clothing smoked. The two watched helpless to prevent the autons as they bathed in the light of Dragon-wrought Chaos coming from the temple.

A pure white light surged suddenly filling the entire region. A light so bright there was no taking cover from it. It filled the spaces in the shadows, it filled the spaces within the dark places in one’s soul. It removed Beren’s grief of a dying wife. The horrors of Grandfather’s immortality and the threat of being consumed by an ultimate evil. It removed the taint of Chaos from the three autons and the Babeleonians within them.

The three Babeleonians were ejected from their constructs and fell to the ground, flesh burning from the holy light of order, writhing in agony. Their autons frozen in the doorway to the temple, inert, lifeless and unlikely to ever move again.

The sorcerers naked bodies were covered from head to food in Balmor-like, but ineffective, markings surrounding wounds, pits, scars, and pustules bursting even as they screamed in their suffering. They were horrible to behold. It took days for them to die.

The three of them were incoherent most of the time and only the light from the Heart of the Dragon would calm them. Even Grandfather was not privy to their whisperings, but they were no longer able to work even the simplest magic without great suffering.

They were buried in unmarked graves on the side of the mountain, far away from the Valley.

Beren and Grandfather, supporting each other struggled to make their way to the temple, each afraid of what they might find.

Nothing could prepare them for what they encountered.

— End of Part 4 —

— Epilogue —

Two of the Chaos automatons were deemed dead and unable to be reactivated. Their battle-scarred bodies were a testament to the powers of the Ten and they were stood at the front of the rebuilt ironwood gates as a warning to anyone who would dare attack the Valley in the future.

They were, for a few decades, an effective deterrent. The legend of the Ten grew and new recruits were eager to join the ranks of the Acolytes who might one day be good enough to become a member.

The third Chaos automaton stood in front of the church and could be activated by any who possessed the Chaos gift in their family line. With training as a member of the Acolytes of the Ten, they would be trained in its use to protect the valley.

This was only in emergency since the Chaos-feeding disease still required the Balmor markings to protect practitioners of Chaos magic. As one aged, the power to control the device lessened because of the Balmor markings. Control of the device ultimately fell to the youngest members of the Acolytes who could use it longer before losing their Chaos abilities.

Grandfather changed the device to be unable to attack anyone in the Valley and it became an emergency weapon to keep the Heart of the Dragon safe from those who might try to weaponize it.

Beren, after some treatments from Grandfather would live another five to seven years before he died from complications due to his injuries. Grandfather admitted he had done all he could but the damage to Beren was so severe, he was amazed the man survived as long as he did. During his remaining years, he helped to train new recruits to the Ten and in his downtime, helped to rebuild all the things destroyed by the Chaos autons.

The portal to the past was buried, the mechanism beneath the ground was undisturbed for fear that attempting to understand or use the mechanism might have unforeseen consequences on the future. The priesthood determined burying the exit point would prevent any further incursions from the past. It remained quiet for decades.

As for me, I died that night. Poisoned by Chaos, my body would never recover. Grandfather spent the next days, while I died, transferring my spirit, my soul, my prana completely into the beautiful mechanical man, a construct of pure Order.

Who made it was never learned. How the Priests of Pama in the past had come across it, was never learned but it was suspected the Babeleonians stole it from another world and hoped to turn it to their use.

Writings from the lexicons of the priesthood indicate the mechanical man was stolen from the Babeleonians and was caught trying to escape with the weapon. The records indicated the device was lost and never recovered, nor was it ever seen in the field of battle, so it was presumed destroyed. The thieves, dressed as sorcerers, had been killed and the device would have been recaptured, if I hadn’t stumbled upon it. The device, believing it was being rescued, presumed I was a Priest of Pama. It linked with my prana and that’s what saved my spiritual essence.

Now I live completely within this auton and I became a loremaster, as my father thought I should be, mostly for fear I would hurt someone else due to my inherent clumsiness. It took many years before I could learn to walk, talk and move in my new body.

During that time, I was able to spend more time reading and learning than I ever had before. I learned all of the secrets of the Priesthood, of Prana-Bindu, the Sorcerers of Babeleon and the reasons for the Great Wars. I learned about the dragons, their failed conquest and how we came to live here in the Valley.

When I learned how to move again, I had become a Loremaster, my innate memory boosted by the perfect mind of the Mechanical Man, but my dream of being a member of the Ten had not left me. I trained and eventually mastered my new body. I became the first Loremaster and Warrior of the Ten. I would not be the last.

My ambitions achieved, I thought my life, such as it was, was perfect. In addition to being strong and beautiful, my new body had a wonderful voice. I was difficult to injure and my injuries healed over time with little more than refined metals and ceramics placed near the injuries. My appearance changed over time as we experimented with different substances, with the goal to appear as much like a living person as possible. We settled on dark ironwoods which made me appear as much like the coffee and copper-skinned people of the Valley as possible.

There were sacrifices. I longed to feel the sun on my skin. My new body was impervious to pain and muted to touch. I felt disconnected from everyone around me, even as they adjusted to me and later would seek my company for story and song.

I watched people I knew growing older. The children became adults, the adults became old men. The old perished. And still I lived, unchanged in body, undiminished in spirit. I found myself alone more often. I sought out Grandfather and asked him how he dealt with his long life.

Grandfather told me, I was burdened with a surfeit of life energy. I would live as long as I wanted to. And if the burden of being alive became too great, he recommended I sleep for a time. Waking, he said, would renew my interest in life.

I slept for weeks and then later months at a time. I taught the people of the Valley how to wake me for emergencies and I slept in the temple overlooking the Heart of the Dragon.

Whenever I woke, I kept the genealogy of the families of the Valley, their history, their dreams, their ambitions; most importantly, I kept their secrets. Grandfather and I talked and sometimes when he and I were awake at the same time, the Dragon, who held a grudge for a few years, would tell me tales of his worlds and conquests. Terrifying stories which I refused to retell until Grandfather and the Dragon disappeared.

Once word of Grandfather’s death (because that is what we called it) was known, new invaders came to our doors, bringing with them new ideologies, new threats, and new religions. We clung to Prana-Bindu, teaching it to the old and the young, refuting strong emotion and strong drink. We were craftsmen, artisans, builders and people desired the work we produced. We established a trade with many nations over time and I watched this with eyes that marveled at the changes in my people.

Now, with Grandfather gone, I am the again a protector of the people. Because of my long periods of sleep, my ranking as the first of the Ten is held by the daughter of Wang-Lu, Bao-yu, who did survive the Night of Chaos.

Bao-yu is the first woman to ever be the leader of the Ten. The night of her ascension I tell her to wake me only in need. As she seals the sarcophagus I remind her I will appear whether that need be for a strong right arm or a song to wake the hearts of men.

I have achieved all I could have hoped for in life; my ambition is finally spent. The darkness soothes and I have nothing but the dreams of the people of the Valley to sustain me.

Until they call for me again, it is enough.