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the mage-kind.
    The ancient woman, currently in her youthful guise, drew in a sharp breath and let it out on a long sigh. She blinked her eyes several times and seemed to come out of her trance.
    “Now, where was I?” she said, smiling faintly and looking as if she was fighting back tears.
    Jahrra felt awkward and glanced at Gieaun and Scede to assess their reactions. Gieaun was staring at her hands, folded and resting awkwardly in her lap. Scede just shrugged and looked back at Denaeh, but his eyes didn’t meet the Mystic’s.
    Jahrra looked timidly up from where she rested her chin on her knees. “Um, you were at the part in the story where the Crimson King first came into power.”
    “That’s right, forgive me. It was so long ago and I sometimes forget the story.”
    The three children nodded, and Denaeh continued on with her tale. Forget the story? Jahrra thought to herself. Denaeh never forgets anything, no matter how long ago it happened . Jahrra shook these thoughts out of her mind and listened to the Mystic continue on with her tale.
    “The new tyrant king, who had come to be known as Cierryon, began spreading his evil throughout the land. But just like Ciarrohn before him, Cierryon became languid and arrogant and soon his opponents were plotting against him. The Korli dragons, along with the races of men, elves, and dwarves, were rallying together to defeat the dreadful oppressor they called the Crimson King. They knew that Traagien, long ago, had defeated a powerful god. If one dragon could destroy a god, then what kind of damage could several dragons do against a mere mortal?
    “Their attempts were all in vain however, for the first war against the king failed, and many lives were lost against his battle-bred Morli dragons. Like a dormant volcano, the Crimson King erupted, the wrath and anger that had been held at bay for so many years poured out into the world, raining hatred and anguish down upon the people of Ethoes.
    “It was a time of terror, darker and more fearful than anyone could ever remember. For years, the Tyrant’s minions roamed free upon the land, seeking out the weak, the poor and the down-trodden, sucking away any joy or happiness that graced their meager lives. Several years passed before anyone, mortal or immortal, dared to challenge the king again. It was the king of the Tanaan race of humans who finally decided to act. The good king of the west gathered his soldiers, all of his best fighting men and seven of his eight sons, and traveled to confront the evil king in the east. He left behind his kingdom, his queen and his ten year old boy, the youngest of the eight. The small prince begged to go, but the wise king knew the battle field was no place for a child.
    “The Tanaan king and his men fought bravely, but one cannot simply defeat an enemy who is immortal. Cierryon had earned the power and favor of the dormant deity Ciarrohn, and he’d become as invincible as a god himself. The Tanaan king and his allies perished in the land of Ghorium, and when word of this awful defeat reached the people of the west, the land fell deeper into despair. The queen took this news the hardest and died shortly after of a broken heart. Her son, the last Tanaan prince, was left alone with his suffering people; alone except for a wise Korli dragon who had been the lost king’s own mentor and one of his majesty’s most loyal vassals. The dragon, devastated by the king’s death, looked after the boy, caring for him and teaching him about the ways of the world.
    “Eleven years passed, and the boy grew into a young man. He remembered what the Crimson King had done and how his mother had died, the entire time plotting vengeance for the people of the west. The young prince learned everything he could about the world, biding his time for the day he would be able to enact his revenge. He waited until his mentor was absent from the province and then, and only then, did the young prince gather his followers to