Chapter One
The Planet Volonia
A cloud of dust fills the dark, starless sky. A layer of golden dirt covers the planet’s surface for as far as the eye can see. The night seems lonely; the foreground is bare and uninviting. It is cold and void of life, and energy seems to be almost forbidden. Not a person, place or thing is in sight.
Arched high above the lifeless surface floats a massive, gold, meteor-like formation. It blares, heating up the dark night. The solid object, strategically placed high above the planet, a single protector of all things, is called Vamo. It is an ancient sun that has shone for billions of cycles. It sits alone, not a single other planet sharing its universe. This warming, golden sun gently lights the dark surface of Volonia, filling the void with a soft, glowing light.
Suddenly a light beam cuts through the darkness-- a ring of fire. The ring falls, floating gently from the sky, landing on the dry, rocky surface. The fire morphs into a middle-aged man. Standing alone in the dark Universe is Viscera, one of Volonia’s prestigious Guides. He stands six feet tall with pale skin and blonde hair. He is impeccably dressed in a white robe and a flowing cape hanging from his broad shoulders. His face wears a look of exhaustion. A black case appears, hovering in the air nearby. Peeking into the case, Viscera is moved to smile slightly, but it is a smile mixed with regret. An electric, oval portal appears in the distance. Viscera takes a heavy breath before reluctantly entering the portal.
On the other side of the portal, he exits into a transit terminal. A few people move swiftly past him, some gliding, others levitating. A bright glow pulsates from the black case; it’s energy seeping into Viscera’s hand, then to his body. He pauses; his immediate glance at the ground tells us that something’s different. Viscera himself lifts from the ground, levitating. “What in the world?” He smiles. The glow ceases and Viscera quickly descends again. “So that’s what it feels like?” Viscera strolls through the station, hands firmly gripping the case. He arrives at two 20-foot white doors. He clutches the case tightly as he collects his thoughts; then, he places his hand to a metal square attached to the wall. The doors open slowly. A cloud of smoke rushes into the station. Viscera walks cautiously thru the doors.
A sign reading Welcome to Volonia greets him. He looks out into a plain white sky and allows his eyes to glance out over the beautiful city. The streets are congested with people bustling to and fro, some maneuvering around others who have stopped to congregate haphazardly. Towering buildings command the majestic background and give a sparkling shine to the place. The streets are made of a reddish brick that blends nicely with the surroundings-- ancient buildings kept in tip-top shape. Merchants occupy every corner, offering quick spells and magic tricks for all who will stop to hear them. Children perform novice magical tricks on door stoops; some of the children disappear instantly, leaving Viscera with only a lingering smile.
Viscera walks swiftly towards two identical buildings, his head turning from left to right until he chooses the one on the left, Vasquire Towers. It is the tallest building in Volonia and just happens to be Viscera’s final destination.
The edifice stands about 10 stories high, the exterior sparkling with a golden sheen as rays from the Volonian sun Vamo beam down through the atmosphere. Viscera pauses, he notices a sea of festive people harmony shifting happily in the street. Harmony shifting is the act of moving your body to harmonies or melodies you enjoy. He tightens his grip on the black case and continues briskly up the walkway. A small boy runs toward him, his small, eager face smeared with dirt. He is dressed in a brown robe that hangs loosely on his frame, and his hat is tilted jauntily to one side. Viscera notices him coming and moves more quickly.
“Sir, may I show you a magic trick?” Viscera walks faster, the boy attempting to keep up with him. Viscera ignores the boy and moves on. Experienced at this game, the little boy disappears and reappears at the door, in front of Viscera.
“How did you do that?”
“That was my magic trick,” the boy replies with a smile.
Viscera seems unimpressed, his expression blank. “Okay where is it?” Viscera motions for the boy to hand it over.
“I am not sure what you’re talking about, kind Sir.” The harried Guide notices a group of the boy’s friends waiting in the distance.
“They’re waiting on you?”
The little boy hurries to change the subject. “I have another trick for you.”
“No more tricks. Hand it over.” Viscera kneels down. “Are you telling me that you’re a class two warlock?” The little boy attempts to run away, but the power of the case glows brighter again. Its glow is intensifying, and its power is piercing through the hinges of the case. The glow expands its reach, its shine resting on the form of the little boy. Mysteriously, this glow somehow lifts the boy, forcing him to rotate upside-down.
He screams as he dangles helplessly. “I’m sorry, Mister! I admit it! It’s a Cearian, given to me by a drifter!” A small device falls from the little boy’s pockets while his hands dangle helplessly below his head. Viscera cautiously puts the black case down and steps away. His eyes watch the bright light fading from the case as the little boy tumbles to the ground.
“Thank you, Mister.” Viscera reaches into his pocket and hands the little boy one Volo, a coin commonly used for exchange in the Volonian markets. The boy smiles victoriously as he runs towards his friends and into an alley, where they congratulate him and scurry away.
Viscera gingerly lifts the case from the ground, then curiously places it on the ground again, then lifts it again. “That’s it? No more magic?” Viscera looks up at the building, picks up the non-glowing case and continues his walk through two large, blue, glass doors, which magically open as he approaches. Two guards holding scepters stand just inside the entrance. They are large for Volonian men, bodies like Nubian Gods, boasting physiques only nature could sculpt: glowing, bronzed skin and rippling muscles spilling through their robes. One of the two guards motions to Viscera to stop. “Welcome back, Viscera. How was the trip?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a Guide if I told you,” replies Viscera. The guard lifts his wrist, connecting it with Viscera’s wrist. An electrical current illuminates from the connection.
“You’re cleared. You may pass now.” The guard points to Viscera’s case. “So is that what I think it is?”
“Yes, this is it. Every new class must get their wings, right?” Viscera picks up his case from the floor and proceeds down a wide hallway. “Is she here?”
The guard smirks, his scepter drawn down to his side. “I wouldn’t be much of a guard if I told you.”
Viscera smiles and continues down the hallway. His footsteps echo on the marble floors and his eyes wander around the massive space. The walls are lined with paintings of older, ancient Volonian Lords. Viscera stops at a painting to view the image of a man: colorful robe, extremely pale skin, grayish hair, and leaning on a cane. The inscription beneath reads Greater Guardian Malyan Vulakan. Viscera bows as if to pay homage to the man in the painting. He then resumes his journey down the long hall.
He eventually turns a corner and reaches another corridor that opens up to be nearly fifteen feet high. He lifts his hand once again, placing his wrist near a metal plate at the door. A voice acknowledges his presence. “Welcome, Viscera. You may enter.” The fifteen-foot tall doors open soundlessly and Viscera steps into a smaller room. It is dark, but Viscera places his wrist onto one final metal plate, and a growing portal appears. Despite the intimidating security measures, Viscera walks through with an air of familiarity. The portal leads him into a lobby where four more guards patrol, body types the same as the others-- muscular and intimidating. They keep a close eye on the Guide. “Good day.” The guards ignore him and stare straight ahead.
A beautiful woman with golden, olive skin and draped in a shimmering, golden robe stands waiting behind a desk. Her hair falls loosely in waves to her m
id-back. The two exchange pleasantries. “Viscera.”
He nods. “Lola.” The woman moves from behind the desk, now standing in front of Viscera. She smiles before extending her hand, her wrist draped in sparkling bangles. Viscera smiles. “No hug? Just, Hand it over?”
Lola smiles and gives in to the warmth of his familiarity. “I’m sorry,” she says, embracing Viscera. “I’m glad you made it back.” Viscera welcomes the hug.
The guards keep a close eye on the two. One walks over and cautions, “Lola.” The beautiful woman lifts her hand regally, assuring him it’s okay. “All right, that’s enough,” announces Lola. She takes a step back and extends her hand toward Viscera. “It was great to see you again.”
A bit taken aback, Viscera lifts the case from the floor. “I guess connecting every few cycles isn’t so bad.” Lola takes the case. Her eyes search the room. She is hesitant. Then she abruptly kisses Viscera on the cheek. “What’s that for?” Lola turns and walks toward a door, then playfully turns back to Viscera.
“Just because.” She places her wrist near the door. Her bangles send tinkling echoes down the long, narrow hallway.
“See you around?” A portal appears. Viscera lingers for an answer. He stares. Lola steps through the portal and is gone.
Viscera waits an agonizing moment before turning to leave. Suddenly, his patience is rewarded, and Lola pokes her head out of the portal “Yes!” The portal quickly disappears.
Viscera turns, beaming at the guards. “She said yes!” The first guard points to the exit toward which Viscera gladly walks.
On the other side of the portal, Lola appears before a pair of bronze doors. Still holding the case, she pushes them open. The room is oval-shaped and welcoming, with everything neatly in its place and a few pictures hung decoratively on the walls. A beautiful, reddish lounger invites her to the middle of the room, where a table made of clear crystal stands a few feet away. Lola slowly steps into the center of the room and carefully places the case on the crystal table. She then holds out her hand and a square device magically appears. She firmly pushes a button on the device. “Marion, it is here.”
In less than a moment an avalanche of golden smoke fills the oval room. A woman nearly six feet tall with black hair to her shoulders magically appears. She is dressed in a flowing white gown. A ruby necklace and matching ring accent her dress perfectly. “Lola, my dear. Where is it?”
Lola’s eyes fix on the case. “Just what you ordered.”
Marion walks over to the case, her eyes glowing with excitement as she cautiously opens it. A golden light seeps out, illuminating the space around the case. Soon it is nearly blinding, and Lola needs to shield her eyes. “Honey, don’t cover your eyes. Accept it, loathe it, be it. The Orb of Vamo.”
Lola slowly lowers her hand and gingerly opens her eyes. She allows herself to be immersed in the energy flowing from the case. She finds that she can’t move, and tears fall freely from her eyes. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Asks Marion. “This is why we are here.” Lola’s eyes slowly widen as she hesitantly steps toward the case, entranced. Without warning, Marion closes the case. She smiles. “Addictive, isn’t it?” Lola, confused, shakes her head, trying to snap out of her trance.
“What was that about?”
Marion whispers, “Power and power only. You may return to Lordess Semelia. Thank you.” Marion smiles, closes the case and exits the room without another word.
Viscera exits the building and walks to the bottom of the stairs, seemingly in a daze. He pauses to stare out into the distance when he is shoved from behind. “What are you doing here?” asks Monoia. Monoia is another Guide from Volonia. Like Viscera, he is tall—six-foot two and good-looking, with pale skin and chiseled cheekbones-- everything a woman would die for.
Viscera playfully shoves Monoia in return. “This is a pleasant surprise!” The two friends share a quick hug as they make their way to a bench where they sit down. “So where are you now?”
Viscera, a bit reluctant, says, “Promise you won’t say anything.”
“I promise,” replies Monoia. He waits patiently, anticipating Viscera’s answer.
Viscera holds up his wrist. “Swear on it.”
“You can’t be serious. We’ve known each other for over thirty cycles.”
Viscera stands with a look of uncertainty on his face. Monoia stands too, and places his wrist in front of Viscera. “Okay, you got it.” The two cross wrists and an electrical current bonds their hands. Their eyes glow for a moment, then return to normal. Viscera sits again, followed by Monoia. “Where are you? Tell me! It can’t be that scary.”
Viscera crosses his legs. He glances out into the busy Volonian street. “The Cutters.”
Stunned, Monoia yells out, “The Cutters?” Viscera rushes to cover Monoia’s mouth.
“I knew you couldn’t handle it.”
Monoia leans toward his friend, their noses almost touching. “Are you talking Lord Roman Cutter?” Viscera assents with a nod. “That is big. What’s it like?”
Viscera uncrosses his legs and stands. Monoia excitedly ushers his fellow Guide to sit again. “Spill it. Is it fun? Boring? I know you’re getting top Volo, right?”
“Yes, yes and yes,” replies Viscera. “The family is great, but it’s a lot of responsibility.”
Monoia pounds his hands excitedly on Viscera’s chest. “Are you kidding me? You’re set for life!”
“That’s not the point,” replies Viscera. He slowly starts to walk away, then turns back to Monoia. “This isn’t the life I chose, and I’m sure you didn’t wake up one day and say, ‘Mom, I want to be a Guide for the rest of my life.’”
Monoia shifts his weight as he listens. Then he takes a step towards Viscera, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We can’t turn back the hands of time bro’. We are Guides. It pays well, and I’m making the best of it. If things change, great. If not, life goes on.” Viscera listens before conceding. His shoulders drop as he exhales.
“You’re right. It’s just that at a younger age I had big plans for my life.
Monoia gives Viscera’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “Be life bro’. Stop waiting for it.” Viscera smiles weakly as he lifts his hand. Magically, a Volonian timer appears. “I guess there are some perks to the job: magic on a premium.”
The two share a parting hug. “I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Monoia reassures his friend as Viscera tightly shakes his hand.
“Count on it,” smiles Viscera in reply. Then, he dashes over to a stoop where a few people wait. Above the sign reads Upper Volonia Transit Portal System: Quicker than the use of magic. With a solemn wave, he bids a final farewell to Monoia. The portal opens, and he rushes in along with a dozen other busy Volonians. Within seconds, Viscera pushes out the other side, exhaling before walking on.
Straight ahead is an expanse of amazing, castle-style homes, each with its lawn manicured to perfection. Some exhibit moats in front, and all display flowers along their walkways. It is a wonderland of beauty. The homes stand three or four stories high; the decorative exteriors are colorful and modern. A few children romp in the street. They are all draped in identical but differently colored attire. Viscera waves to the smaller ones who ignore his friendly gesture and continue playing. A few of them disappear then reappear. Viscera shakes his head in disapproval, as he walks toward one of the homes. Approaching the bottom of a short hill, he waits. He stares into a metal box attached to the castle. He places his wrist near it, and then waits for a response. The petulant voice of an adolescent boy announces, “You’re late,” followed by a teasing chuckle. Viscera glances up at the house.
“Broc, open the portal.” Viscera waits patiently.
A playful voice returns, “What’s the magic word?”
Viscera puts his hands in his pocket before responding hesitantly, “PLEASSSE.” The boy laughs and a portal appears. Viscera steps inside.
A circular foyer welcome
s him. He pauses, admiring the rounded 20-foot ceiling adorned with masterful, detailed moldings. He notices a fragrant bouquet of flowers on a nearby table. He turns and bends down to smell them. “We like fresh!” Viscera yells out, his voice ricocheting off the walls. “Varah? Broc? Shenzara?” Viscera walks into the living quarters, which are massive. A few loungers are set in the center of the room, inviting a conversational mood. A few family photos magically float to adorn the walls.
The same boy’s voice startles Viscera. “VU VOSAY, Viscera.” Viscera glances around the room, yet sees no one. Then comes the familiar chuckle. “V, you fall for that every time.” A boy twelve-cycles old magically appears behind Viscera. He wears a fitted, black robe lined with gold embroidery. His youthful, bronze skin radiates underneath the natural light that spills down from the sky light in the ceiling. His smile is big as can be. He’s a few inches shorter then Viscera, though, and a gold streak distinguishes the top of his head.
“VU VOSAY to you as well, Broc.”
Broc lifts to his tiptoes. “Well?”
“Well what?”
Broc stands side by side with Viscera, playfully jumping up and down. “Am I getting taller?”
Viscera smiles. “You look the same as yesterday and the day before that.” Viscera, obviously annoyed, glances around the room. Broc playfully waves his arms in front of Viscera,
“Are you sure?” Broc brings his hands together into a ball and conjures a spell. “VCO VU CON VCO.” A stool appears under his feet. He now stands face to face with Viscera. “How about now?”
“Funny. Someone has finally got that one down,” replies Viscera.
“Yes, I’ve been working hard in school on my spells. My Auduit Alexander is fantastic. You want to see another?”
Viscera shakes his head. “Where’s Varah?”
Broc yells out, “MOM!” forcing Viscera’s hands to his ears.
An adolescent girl’s voice responds in the distance. “Why are you yelling?” Suddenly she appears, the spitting image of Broc. She is petite, with a similar gold streak parting her hair. She wears a black sundress with the same gold embroidery embellishing it. She is the twin sister of Broc. “VU VOSAY, Viscera.”
Viscera walks over to the young girl and extends his hand. “VOSAY, Lady Shenzara. Where’s Varah?”
She shakes his hand before pointing to the stool on the floor. “Why is that there? I just cleaned in here.” Broc laughs as he disappears into another part of the house. “Broc, Broc!” Shenzara lifts her hands and pronounces, “VCO VU CON VCO.” In a blink, the stool disappears. “Mom wants you upstairs, Viscera. She’s in one of her moods.”
Viscera exits the room and walks to the foot of a massive, winding staircase. The handrail is meticulously carved with what appears to be an ancient script. He steps cautiously towards his unknown fate.
At the top of the stairs he hears Broc’s voice followed by the usual chuckle. “Don’t be scared, Viscera. I have your back.” This puts a smile on Viscera’s face, and he turns down the long hallway.
Large, double doors await him at the opposite end. Similar to a museum, the ceiling is grand and lofty. Bouquets of flowers are arranged on tables leading up to the double doors. Viscera takes one reluctant step at a time. Magically, Shenzara appears, startling him. “Don’t do that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Did you get my dress from Vameek’s?”
“No, I didn’t.” Viscera cautiously points to the double doors ahead.
Shenzara rolls her eyes. “What did she say?”
“She wants to help you pick it out. It’s a big moment.”
Shenzara shrugs her shoulders and sighs, “I just can’t win. We do this every four cycles. For once I want to make the decision about what I’m going to wear.” Viscera barely listens as he hurries away. “Go ahead, take her side.” Shenzara disappears.
Viscera yells in the distance “…and I’m not on her side!” He whispers to himself, “I don’t even have a side.” He walks towards the door and reaches for the knob. But, the door opens effortlessly. He steps into a dimly lit but spacious room. Candles burn, and a trance-like harmony plays softly. A huge byan dominates the room. A byan is a piece of furniture that Volonians sleep upon. Everything is elegant, and everything is in its place. Viscera walks to the center of the room. “Varah, I’m here. But surely you already know that.”
The harmony stops. A stunning, middle-aged woman enters from a side room: Varah. Her bronze skin is silky and rich. Her fitted, mocha dress hugs her perfectly, its train flows gracefully behind. Her earrings and necklace are made of crystal, and they shine brightly against her dark hair, which drapes beautifully down her back. A wide, gold streak cascades through her dark tresses from the top of her head. Her hands slide down the side of her curvaceous body. “Why those shoes, Viscera! VU VAMM VU VOLA.” Viscera’s shoes are magically replaced by a pair more to Varah’s liking. She smiles as she walks away. “Much better. You’re late.”
Viscera opens a folder and gets down to business. “Varah, the Shifting Ceremony is all set. The family is expected to arrive at three, dinner at four, mingling at five, The Shifting at six. She and Lord Roman will share a table with you and the twins and Shenzara needs a dress.” Viscera closes the folder. He picks up a vase on a table, holding it up to examine its exquisiteness. Varah places her hands on her hips and walks over to Viscera.
“What was the last thing you said?”
Viscera quickly replaces the vase and takes a step back. “Shenzara needs a dress.” Varah folds her arms. She waits silently. Viscera takes another two steps back. “Oh that. Yes. She and Lord Roman are going to share a table with you and the twins.”
Varah smiles and says, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, “Have it changed.”
“But the ceremony is in a few days. It’s not possible.”
Varah walks away. “VU VOLLA VACASA VU.”
Suddenly Viscera is suspended several feet above the ground. “Okay, okay! Put me down.”
“VU VOLLA VOO VU.” Viscera free-falls, stopping only a foot from the ground.
He concedes, “You’re a mad woman, but I’ll get it done!”
Varah curls her lips into a beautifully sadistic smile. “I’m happy now. See, you do have a side. See you in a few days, Viscera.”
Viscera exits the room, closing the door behind him. “I just love being a Guide.”
Varah’s voice echoes from the other side of the door, “I heard that.”
A defeated Viscera retreats down the long, empty hallway.