ALTOR The Shadow Rebellion (The Chronicles of Ageron)

ALTOR: 

The Shadow Rebellion 

For information about The Chronicles of Ageron, or to contact 

the author, please visit: 

www.ljdevet.com

The Chronicles of Ageron 

ALTOR: 

The Shadow Rebellion 

L. J. deVet

Copyright Notice: 

The Chronicles of Ageron 

ALTOR: The Shadow Rebellion 

Paperback Edition 

978 0 9873686 2 1 

L. J. deVet 

http://www.ljdevet.com 

All rights reserved. 

This publication contains material protected by Copyright 

Laws. Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is 

prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced or 

transmitted by any means, electronic or mechanical, 

photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior 

permission of the author and publisher. 

Copyright © L. J. deVet, 2012.

Dedication: 

For the three who inspire me, 

Khye, Halli and Avhaya, 

and for John, the one who is forever.

ALTOR: The Shadow Rebellion (The Chronicles of Ageron) 

! PROLOGUE " 

Fear is not an emotion I feel very often. Not at all, really. I guess a 

situation in which it has proved necessary has never presented 

itself. Until now. 

I can’t help but feel it surge through me as I stare helplessly 

into the ominous darkness that has engulfed me. Every part of my 

body, both inside and out, is beginning to feel as empty and 

lifeless as the endless shadow I now find myself a part. I feel no 

more than an empty nothingness; unable to see, hear or feel 

anything but the emptiness that surrounds me. I might as well be a 

lonesome star, burning vibrantly in its dedicated place in the vast, 

endless universe, as though possessing some form of purpose 

within it, but illuminating absolutely nothing around me because I 

am surrounded by nothing but darkness. Alone. 

The idea of the darkness alone is not what causes me alarm. 

What type of Guardian would I be if that were the case? Instead, 

its unfamiliarity and apparent endlessness cause a sense of panic to 

surge through me; one I want nothing more than to disappear. I 

! 5 "


can feel no greater urge than to free myself from that which has 

me so involuntarily helpless, but I am able to do nothing. I have 

become nothing. 

Unable to make any practical movement, and remaining at 

the absolute control of the lifeless atmosphere around me, I cease 

any further effort to free myself, knowing perfectly well that any 

such attempt would be futile at best, and allow for the darkness to 

consume me entirely. I release my mind from any further thought, 

and force my mind, body and soul to relax at my will, ready for the 

emptiness to take the control over me that it so desperately wants. 

Ready for my insides to fall into a similar abyss of emptiness to 

that which surrounds me. 

Somewhere within my increasingly hollow being, I can sense 

the panic growing uncontrollably; a sensation of which I am not 

too familiar with. I have never before had reason to feel fear, and 

the onset of this new and unfamiliar feeling is beginning to 

frighten me more so than the darkness itself. I can sense the panic 

growing uncontrollably, prompting my breathing to assume a wild 

and irregular pattern. My heart is thumping erratically, and each 

beat sounds as though my heart is preparing to leap out from my 

chest, sick of ever having been contained within it. With each and 

every breath that I draw, a short, sharp pain manifests within my 

lungs. It’s like my body is trying to tell me something. To warn me 

of an imminent danger. 

As I am forced to stare helplessly into the endless darkness 

before me, my interest is captured by the most unexpected of 

flashes of tiny, almost indistinguishable light in the distance. The 

sudden flash quickly subsides, revealing behind it two similarly tiny 

lights, but of differing colour; one blue, and the other red. 

Although only small in stature, their vibrancy is made more 

distinct due to the fact that they are surrounded by nothing but 

! 6 "


complete darkness, forcing their emanating glow to multiply 

dramatically. 

Drawn into a trance of admiration at the new sources of light, 

I can’t help but watch them. They posses an appeal that is almost 

hypnotising. As my gaze deepens, I notice that the lights are 

progressively growing in size, offering the impression that they are 

gradually advancing towards me. After only seconds, they double 

in size, and are continuing to grow with each passing moment. 

Watching them progress towards me, my one thought is that the 

glows are the oddly discoloured headlights of a car, travelling 

towards me with great speed; oblivious to the empty darkness 

before it, and unaware of my being in its immediate path. 

With each second that lapses, the lights continue to grow. I 

know full well they are gaining momentum, and within a matter of 

moments I will be met face to face with what unknown 

phenomenon is approaching me. Whatever its source may be it is 

headed in my very direction, increasing in velocity to now 

resemble the headlights of a bullet train, more so than a car. This is 

it, I can’t help but convince myself. 

Within only seconds, less time than I am awarded to draw a 

final breath, the darkness surrounding me disappears. In its place, 

a bright, golden light appears, swallowing behind it the blue and 

red lights that had me transfixed only seconds before. Its vibrancy 

forces my eyes closed, and I raise my arm to protect my eyes. In 

one, instantaneous moment, the golden light has taken over. 

My one and only thought is that this is death, and I am its 

next victim. 

! 7 "


! CHAPTER ONE " 

The Worst Day 

I spring upright, drenched in the flood of sweat that coats my bed. 

All other sounds are drowned out by the loud drum of my 

erratically beating heart, each beat resembling what sound you 

would expect a giant’s footsteps to produce. 

The world around me, consisting only of the contents of my 

bedroom at this point, is moving as I do. Everything that 

surrounds me rises and falls with each and every breath I draw. Up 

and down. Up and down. I know full well that my bedroom 

contents are not in fact moving, but they most certainly appear it 

from where I sit. 

With each breath comes an unbearably sharp burn that 

sprouts within my chest, feeling as though it is eating my lungs bit 

by bit. I can do nothing but sit and make every possible attempt to 

correct my breathing, hoping desperately that everything else will 

sort itself out. 

It takes only a matter of seconds for me to begin hearing the 

! 8 "


thumping of my heart subside, eventually slowing to its almost 

regular rhythm. As the beating of my heart weakens, so too does 

the urgency for breath, allowing me to regain some control over 

my breathing, but not all. 

I can’t help but notice my chest, which until this point had 

been bounding up and down, rising and falling at the command of 

each breath, now settling to a regular rhythm and movement. 

Whatever it is that is happening to me, it is beginning to correct 

itself, much to my relief. 

I can feel as my senses become my own again, my vision 

steadying and the drone of my heart reducing to a standard level. 

Only then do I allow myself to feel even remotely relieved. As 

much as I would love to feel entirely relieved, I cannot help but 

feel apprehensive about the entire ordeal. It was nothing, I try to 

convince myself. It was just a dream. A nightmare. 

Looking up from my sweat-drenched bed, I know that isn’t 

quite the case. I am all too familiar with experiences beyond the 

ordinary, but never have I experienced a dream so vivid; so real. 

Even my strongest of premonitions has never been so detailed and 

lifelike. Thinking about the mysterious events of the dream only 

compounds what confusion I already feel. One that I can’t seem 

to shake off, regardless of how hard I try. It was a dream, I further 

persuade myself. Nothing more. 

In an effort to distract myself from further thought, I decide 

it’s best to withdraw myself from the place in which the strange 

dream took place. I quickly leave what thoughts remain of my 

dream at bay, and twist my legs over the bed’s edge, using every 

ounce of strength that remains at my disposal to heave myself up 

and out of it. 

Every muscle within me aches, searing with intense pain as I 

rise. My joints and muscles feel as though they have just 

! 9 "


undergone several hours of intense training, or at the very least, 

that they have been exposed to the torment of an unending 

marathon. 

Pushing through the sharp pain haunting every muscle of my 

body, I trudge dawdlingly towards my bedroom door. As I 

approach it, the periphery of my vision reveals that I have 

neglected to open my bedroom curtains and window. I first 

consider leaving them untouched, but know all too well that is a 

thought my grandmother would strongly disapprove of. 

As I motion to alter my direction, a severing pain sprouts in 

my legs, which then progresses violently to reach every other 

muscle in my body. The thought of causing any further pain by 

walking to the window is one that holds little appeal. The thought 

alone of doing so causes more pain than it’s worth. 

Instead, I choose the path of laziness and decide to use my 

telekinesis to open them. I know I shouldn’t, but what good is 

having all of this power and never being given the opportunity to 

use them at all? In a slow and steady motion, I raise my right arm 

and stretch it out in front of me. I open my palm, and turn it 

vertically so it now lines parallel to the divide in the centre of the 

curtain’s two halves. Whilst standing several metres away from the 

curtains, I slowly slide my outstretched hand to the left, the very 

direction my palm is facing, and force the left half of the curtain to 

open steadily without ever touching it. As though an invisible 

force is causing it, the left curtain is drawn open entirely, allowing 

what light lies beyond the window to stream through it 

effortlessly. 

I repeat the very same for the opposite half of the curtain, 

and within seconds my entire bedroom is illuminated by the sun’s 

radiant light, changing in colour as it passes through the different 

colours of the ornately stained glass. 

! 10"


Staring at the lock that secures the window, I concentrate 

with all my might, carefully imagining my opening it by hand. As 

though knowing exactly what I am hoping to achieve, the lock 

snaps open with a reasonably loud click, allowing for me to 

levitate open the window using a similar technique I did the 

curtains. 

The very moment the window opens, I can feel the gentle 

breeze that forces itself inside, delicately whisking across my face, 

bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass from outside. As I 

stand admiring both the scent of the grass and the result of my 

telekinetic ability, I can’t help but feel smug with myself. Practice 

really does make perfect, I can’t help but think. 

Practice is something of which I am all too familiar. In fact, 

much of my life has been spent practising. Not so much 

practising, but training. As a Sorcerer, particularly one assigned the 

role of protecting the rest of my kind as a Guardian, I am required 

to train endlessly in order to gain complete control over the three 

abilities I have developed to date; my telekinesis, premonitions and 

envelishment, the ability for us to teleport instantly to any desired 

location. Although seemingly impressive, I should have developed 

further abilities by now. I can only hope that they will present 

themselves soon. 

My favourite ability is my telekinesis. It is also one of my 

more useful powers. Not that that means much, considering 

there’s never really been reason to use it. The only reason I am 

given to use it is for the smallest, petty things, like opening 

windows and doors. I am still developing my telekinesis. At first I 

was only able to lift that which I could physically carry, but since 

then my strength has improved, and I am now able to levitate far 

heavier objects, such as people and cars. 

My kind, Sorcerers, particularly those who are Guardians like 

! 11"


myself, are not exactly supposed to use our powers for personal 

gain. The use of our power is intended only for fulfilling our 

obligations to our people, and protecting all others within our 

world, Ageron, and those on Earth, who we call the Earthly. 

Such opportunity, however, has never presented itself. For as 

long as I can remember, all those who dwell within Ageron and on 

Earth have lived harmoniously, with not much excuse for us to 

put our power into practice. Of course, there have been occasions 

in our history where great evil has dwelled alongside us and 

threatened to take over our land, but I have never been told of all 

the details. It’s as though everybody has chosen to put it behind 

them, and that nobody ever considers future threats a possibility. 

At times, I actually hope for something to happen. That way, I 

would be able to use my powers for something other than just 

training, for once. 

As much as I would love to use my power for everything, my 

grandfather, Cassaius, constantly reminds me of my greater duty; 

all great strength and power can be attributed to an even greater cause. As 

much as I dislike hearing of it, I know it is true. Using my abilities 

for my own benefit is something I don’t particularly enjoy doing, 

simply because I know it’s not really the right thing to do, but at 

the very same time I can’t help myself. Not using my power would 

mean that my abilities are going to waste completely. Something I 

never want to see happen. Ever. 

I know I was given my power for a greater purpose than to 

open curtains, but I can’t live my life knowing I have such great 

power and will never see an opportunity to use them for anything. 

My destiny has provided me with power to protect my people, and 

as much as I don’t want to take advantage of that, I can’t sit by 

and allow for my power to weaken and remain undeveloped. 

With that thought, I use my telekinesis to open my bedroom 

! 12"


door with a wave of my hand. It opens immediately, revealing 

behind it the previously darkened hallway that is now illuminated 

by the light streaming through my bedroom window. 

As I leave my bedroom and enter the hallway, all the while 

feeling my muscles as they adapt to the pain of each progressive 

step, I can’t help but notice the photographs that adorn the wall to 

my right. Normally I would continue down the corridor without 

ever having paid attention to them. The pain they cause every time 

I look is all too much to bear. I’m not sure exactly what makes me 

look on this occasion, but the very moment my eyes meet them, I 

can’t bear the thought of looking away. It’s as though, for some 

peculiar reason, I am particularly drawn to them. 

Staring vacantly back towards me is my father, Lucillius, but 

whom everybody called Lucas for short. Judging by the 

photograph, he looks to be quite different in appearance to 

myself. His thick, dark hair is neatly parted to one side, allowing 

for every visible part of his scalp to remain adequately covered. 

Although he has similarly piercing eyes as I, his are a slightly softer 

tone. They are not necessarily a lighter colour, but are not quite as 

vibrant as my own. Like in every other photograph I have seen of 

him, his square-shaped face, which features a strong, slightly 

hooked nose at its centre, is covered generously with facial 

stubble, hiding behind it the faint skin that is universal amongst 

our kind. Although his skin appears slightly darker than my own, it 

remains very pale nonetheless. 

As I stare carefully at the photograph, I notice my own 

reflection on the glass panel of the photo frame, made possible by 

the background light that enters the corridor via the light 

streaming violently through my bedroom door. My every feature, 

with the few exceptions of my skin and eyes, is completely 

opposite to that of my father. My eyes are a more vibrant blue 

! 13"


than my father’s, and are more piercing than any others I have 

seen, made to look even more that way due to my pale, almost 

glowing skin. Although my hair matches my father’s in colour, 

mine is not quite as thick, and is far scruffier, made worse by the 

fact that I have only just woken up. My face is relatively long and 

defined, and adorns a small button-like nose in the centre. I really 

couldn’t look any more different to the man staring at me in the 

photograph. 

Stealing what attention I’d been giving my own reflection is a 

beautiful woman standing directly beside my father; my mother. 

Long, dark hair, not quite as dark as my own, dangles graciously 

from her head and almost reaches her waist. Like my father and I, 

her eyes are a sapphire-like blue; not quite as piercing as my own. 

In the centre of her perfectly symmetrical face sits the most 

elegant, straight-edged nose I have seen before, which only adds 

to her beauty and makes her even more deserving of her name, 

Mirabelle. 

As my eyes move towards the final figure of the photograph, 

I can’t help but flinch, knowing full well whom my eyes will last 

gaze upon. My baby sister, Anabelle, the only one of us I would 

have considered to have a remotely normal name, lay peacefully in 

her gleaming mother’s arms. My gleaming mother’s arms. She is 

the only one I barely had a chance to meet. I have often overheard 

people commenting that she looked exactly like my mother, but 

how anybody can draw similarities in appearance between a baby 

and a full grown adult, I will never understand. Whatever 

comparisons people might make, she looks nothing but beautiful 

and content in the photograph. 

The gaze I have been offering to the photograph of my 

family is abruptly interrupted by a slight tickle racing down the 

side of my face. As I motion to flick whatever its cause away, I feel 

! 14"


the warmth of a moist drizzle, only then realising that I have been 

crying. For how long I cannot say, but I most certainly know the 

cause. 

My parents and sister died in a fatal accident when I was only 

five years old. On my fifth birthday to be precise. My parents were 

both twenty-six when they died, and Anabelle only six months old. 

Their lives had been prematurely stripped away from them. From 

me. 

I’d always thought of my parents as invincible, a thought I 

know perfectly well is impossible, but it’s how I considered them 

nonetheless. I don’t remember much at all about that night. 

Instead I must rely on what information I am told. The story I 

have always been provided is that there was an explosion caused 

by a gas leak, but I’ve never believed that for a second. No gas 

leak could have killed my parents. Of that, I’m sure. 

My grandparents raised me from that night, and every time I 

question them about what happened they either repeat the same 

story, or refuse to explain it again. It has become quite the touchy 

subject, as any topic involving lost loved ones is. But I have 

promised myself I will find the answers to the questions that haunt 

me. One way or another. 

Unable to bear looking at their smiling faces a moment 

longer, I begin to move off. As I walk away, I turn around a final 

time and take one last glimpse of the family I once belonged. The 

moment I do, a crushing thought strikes me. Today is my 

birthday. My fifteenth birthday. Ten years to the day my family 

was so undeservedly taken from me. A once happy occasion, now 

overcome by sadness and loss. A day I have grown to hate. 

As I distance myself from the photographs, I straighten one 

of the crooked frames using my telekinesis, before turning right 

way round and bowing my head, allowing the tears to fall freely 

! 15"


down my face. I don’t look up until I can feel the tears 

disappearing, and when I do I find myself standing at the bottom 

of the grand staircase, not noticing I had walked down it. 

I continue down the hallway that leads off the staircase, 

relieved that the pain that had been haunting my muscles has now 

almost disappeared completely. 

‘Aurellius,’ I hear the familiar voice of my grandmother 

emerge from the dining room I’d just passed. 

I carefully backtrack the few steps I’d overshot the dining 

room, and turn into it, where I find my grandparents sitting at the 

table, sharing a pot of their daily morning tea. 

‘Ajay, Gran,’ I correct her. 

Only my grandparents ever refer to me by my birth name, 

despite my making it perfectly clear how much I hate it being 

used. My full name is Aurellius Jay Samuels. Who has a name that 

bad? I do. Everybody who is not my grandparents knows me as 

Ajay; a name I much prefer. 

My birth name isn’t exactly something I’m entirely proud of. 

That being said, it does hold meaning, as do all other names for 

Guardians. A meaningful name is said to set us apart from those 

Sorcerers who do not bear the added responsibility of protecting 

our people. According to my grandparents, my name means The 

Golden One. Something I am yet to see for myself. 

‘We thought you’d never wake up,’ my smiling grandfather 

says sarcastically. 

I look a lot more like my grandfather, and even my 

grandmother for that matter, than I do my parents. Judging by the 

photographs, at least. Although he only stands slightly taller than I, 

he has a presence about him that makes him appear ten times 

larger than he actually is. As with any other Sorcerer, he has 

piercing, almost glowing eyes; his a vibrant shade of blue like 

! 16"


mine. 

Although the colour varies between each of us, we all share a 

similar piercing-quality to our eyes. Much like humans, though, 

our eyes are entirely unique to us. No two Sorcerers have identical 

eyes, no matter how similar they may appear, and our eyes, as well 

as the paleness of our skin, clearly set us apart from the Earthly. 

‘Happy birthday,’ my grandmother interrupts the silence I 

hadn’t realised developed. 

However greatly I despise being wished a happy birthday, 

purely because I could never be happy on such a day, I force a 

smile to show at least some gratitude. No matter how obvious I 

make my displeasure of my birthday, my grandparents never allow 

it to stop them from doing the one thing I wish they wouldn’t. 

Making a fuss. 

‘Thanks Gran.’ 

I walk over and offer her a hug, at which she smiles 

appreciatively. My grandmother, Mildred, is always smiling. I refer 

to it as her trademark feature. Her eyes are also unique, even as far 

as our own kind is concerned. They are an emerald-like green; 

deep and mesmerising, unlike any others I have seen. As they gaze 

into your own, you can sense that she doesn’t just see into your 

eyes; she sees what lies behind them. It feels as though she is 

reading your every thought, which proves difficult to hide 

anything from her. 

Everything else about her is not quite so unique. Her dark 

hair, which is a few shades lighter than my own, is always held in a 

neat bun at the rear of her head, revealing a youthful looking face 

as pale as my very own, appearing only forty, although aged sixty. 

Both my grandparents look much younger than they really are. It’s 

a quality our kind possesses. Our life span extends to one hundred 

and fifty, and at our eldest we can appear as young as fifty to those 

! 17"


who wouldn’t know any better. 

‘How are you holding up, kiddo?’ my grandfather asks 

concernedly, and the very moment the words leave his lips, I 

know exactly what he is referring to. 

‘I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘As good as I could be, I suppose.’ 

A short silence fills the room. A silence I wish would 

disappear immediately. I despise silences on days like today, 

regardless of how brief they may be. They allow for nothing more 

than the one thing I am so desperately seeking to avoid today; 

time. Time to think and remember about what it is that I lost. It’s 

not at all that I want to forget my family. That is something I 

would never allow myself. It’s that I want to forget the fact that I 

ever lost them. 

‘So, what’s on the agenda for today?’ my grandfather asks, 

clearly understanding my uneasiness based on the expression I’d 

produced. 

‘Uh, I guess I’ll invite some friends over?’ 

The way I say it sounds as though I am answering, and asking 

permission at the same time. 

‘Just as well we won’t be here to get in your way, then,’ my 

grandmother says. 

‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Where are you going?’ 

‘Some of the other Altor have decided to call a meeting about 

new Ageronian Legislation they are wanting to introduce, so we’re 

needed at Sægon,’ my grandfather answers. 

My initial reaction leaves me wanting to join them, but at the 

same time I’m not quite fond of the idea of attending a meeting 

today. Sitting in silence will provide far too much time to think 

than I’d like. 

Sægon is a building within Ageron that is used as the base for 

governing our land, almost like a house of parliament. A place so 

! 18"


dull and uneventful would surely leave me with more thinking 

time than I’d like. 

The rulers of our land are given the name Altor, and consist 

of all members of seven separate family groups that are direct 

descendents of the very first Altor elected to govern our land. It’s 

much like a royal family, only there are seven of them. 

My family is one of those seven. I am an Altor. Not only do I 

possess the responsibility of protecting my people, I have the 

added responsibility of governing them when I become of age. In 

three years to this very day, on my eighteenth birthday, I will 

become an active member of the Altor, and will be required to 

attend these boring meetings my grandparents so often visit 

Sægon for. 

As an Altor, I will be responsible to make sure all Guardians 

are fulfilling their obligations, and will be required to uphold the 

law of our land; the many laws my ancestors had helped to create. 

Although a daunting prospect, there is comfort in knowing that 

Altor are said to be amongst the most powerful of our kind. 

Something I am yet to see for myself. 

‘Don’t let me stand in the way of your fun,’ I say sarcastically. 

‘Try and stop us,’ my grandfather says, prompting a slight 

pause. ‘No, seriously. Please stop us.’ 

I can’t help but laugh. I know the meetings are dull, and I 

know my grandparents would rather be at home with me today, 

but we all know how important they are to all of Ageron. 

My grandparents stand, and leave the dining room for the 

kitchen with their empty teacups. I am left alone for a few short 

moments, but am joined once more as they return to the dining 

room. As they return, they both approach me and offer a hug, 

before whispering a final ‘happy birthday’ in my ear, and walking 

to the opposite side of the room, where they turn and face me. 

! 19"


‘Don’t you have too much fun while we’re gone,’ my 

grandmother says with her trademark smile. 

‘I’ll try,’ I add jokingly. 

Before I have a chance to do or say anything more, a gentle 

breeze fills the room, and my grandfather offers a wink before his 

entire body is replaced with nothing more than a bright, blue light; 

one that complements the colour of his eyes, and illuminates every 

corner of the dining room we stand. The shape of the light still 

matches that of his body, but it is beginning to reduce in size, as 

though sucking itself in at his chest. 

With each progressing moment the light is drawing itself 

inward, now becoming no more than a diminishing glow of light 

hovering unaided in the air, continuing to decrease in size as it 

progresses inward. In less time than I have to realise what is 

happening, the entire glow that has replaced my grandfather has 

become nothing more than a ball of blue light, still hovering of its 

own accord in the air. With a soft slurping sound, the light is 

sucked out of the air, removed from it as though being sucked in 

by a vacuum cleaner, leaving nothing behind but the empty space 

my grandfather had stood only seconds before. 

Although I’ve witnessed an envelishment many times before, 

and perform it almost daily myself, it is still a concept that I find 

absolutely remarkable. Not all of my kind has the ability to 

envelish, but those of us who do are able to roam freely between 

both Ageron and Earth. Those who lack the ability to envelish are 

unable to leave Ageron, and are forced to remain within it for life. 

Our envelished form, or how our envelishment looks from 

the outside, depends on what Ageronian species we are. All 

Sorcerers take form of light, one that complements the colour of 

our eyes, but other species can simply vanish, or are replaced with 

a shadow. This makes it easy for us to identify who it is that is 

! 20"


envelishing. 

Although not an entirely pleasant experience, having your 

body break down into tiny pieces of light just to have it sucked out 

of the air and be reassembled moments later, it is one of our most 

vital. I have grown used to it with more use of it, and it has now 

become second nature. 

Just as the glow of blue within the room vanishes, it is 

replaced by a bright, green light that begins to swallow my 

grandmother behind it, bringing with it the familiar gentle breeze 

that whisks through the air. Within seconds, my grandmother is 

replaced entirely by her blindingly green light, which then begins 

to reduce in size, eventually becoming no more than a ball of light, 

just as had been the case with my grandfather. A fraction of a 

second later, the ball of light is sucked out of the air, and I am left 

alone in the room that had seconds before been occupied by three 

people. 

The very moment I know I have been left alone, rather than 

stand in absolute silence, I leave the dining room in search of a 

suitable distraction. The only place I can think of that could offer 

such a distraction is the living room, which I find myself entering 

only a few moments later. 

In the corner of the room, in front of the generously sized 

window that dominates the front of the house, I notice a small 

table adorned with several candles and gemstones, each carefully 

allocated a special place of its own. Instantly, I know it’s the 

memorial my grandparents set up every year in remembrance of 

my family. 

At the rear of the table stands two tall candles, both a deep 

blue. The candles are placed meticulously behind two beautiful 

gemstones of complementing colour, the flickering flame of the 

candles reflecting somewhat weakly on their surface. At their front 

! 21"


sits a much smaller candle and gemstone, one that is a lighter 

shade of blue than those behind it. I know straight away what the 

gemstones are. 

All Sorcerers, even those who are not Guardians, are each 

presented a gemstone at our birth. We call this an illuminatem. It 

is not known where they come from, or how they are able to 

appear out of thin air as they do, but they arrive in much the same 

way as we envelish at our birth. 

It is said that Usellius, one of the very first Altor to have 

existed, and who is allegedly one of my earliest of ancestors, saw 

need for each Sorcerer to possess a symbol. A tool of guidance 

that assists us in the process of developing our power. Some have 

even claimed that the stones are the source of our power and that, 

if destroyed, will see no possibility of any future powers presenting 

themselves. To this day, no illuminatem has ever been destroyed, 

so it merely remains a theory. That being said, we do guard them 

as though they are our most valuable of possessions. 

The illuminatem themselves complement the colour of our 

eyes; our most unique feature, and the feature that sets each of us 

apart. The stones remain with us for life and grow as we do, not in 

size, but in ability. With time, and with the bond that is formed 

between each Sorcerer and their stone, it gradually develops a 

strong glow that illuminates whenever we touch it, and when we 

are in the process of developing a new power. It’s like it warns us 

when we are about to develop a new ability. 

Standing before the memorial my grandparents had set up, I 

run my fingertips gently across the surface of each of the stones; 

my father’s first, then my mother’s and lastly my sister’s. I can’t 

help but shudder at the thought that my sister never had the 

opportunity to see her illuminatem, or even understand what 

significant purpose it had to her. The thought is enough to 

! 22"


produce yet another tear to form in the edge of my eye. 

I reach up to stop it from falling down my face, but I am too 

slow. It slides gently down my cheek before plummeting towards 

the ground below me. I stare helplessly at the falling tear as it 

approaches the ground, plummeting ever so slowly, as though 

trapped in a world of slow motion. 

Before the tear makes contact with the ground below me, the 

entire room, and everything in it, is illuminated by an intense green 

light, one that I know not to be my grandmother’s. I raise my head 

at the interruption, staring blankly at the wall in front of me, and 

immediately a sense of panic begins to swell within me, much like 

that I had experienced in my dream. 

A gentle breeze whisks through the air, and I feel my hair 

fluttering involuntarily, as though in its grasp. Standing still, not 

wanting to turn and face whoever or whatever has invited itself 

into my home, I remain facing forward, looking away from it and 

hoping that it is nothing to be afraid of. Whether it is from fear or 

carelessness, I simply cannot bring myself to look. 

Within moments, both the light and breeze subside, and I am 

left exactly as I was prior to the interruption. Only this time I can 

sense something. I can sense someone. A lengthy silence fills the 

space around me, only this time it is a silence of uncertainty and 

fear. I cannot bring myself to speak. I cannot bring myself to 

move. 

I slowly prepare myself to turn, hoping desperately that I am 

ready to face whoever is standing behind me, the fear forcing my 

heart to beat so violently I can hear it in my mind. 

! 23"


! CHAPTER TWO " 

The Consor 

With one fluid movement, I jump on the spot, twisting midair and 

landing in the same place I’d left the ground, only this time facing 

the opposite direction. I throw my hand out in front ready to use 

my telekinesis, only I stop as I notice the familiar face of the figure 

before me. One of which I am relieved to see. 

Before I have the chance to do anything more, I can feel 

myself being hoisted off the ground, hovering helplessly above the 

floor of my living room. Standing with one arm outstretched, the 

person in front of me offers a single, undisturbed laugh, almost as 

if to say ‘is that all you’ve got?’ 

I roll my eyes in my head, and steady their gaze back on the 

person in front of me. 

‘Did you really think you had a chance?’ he says smugly. 

‘Zaniel, if you don’t let me down now I’ll be sure to return 

the favour next time we train,’ I say threateningly, although I know 

it won’t be enough to convince him. 

! 24"


Zaniel Richards is my best friend. My Consor. Each Guardian 

is allocated a fellow Guardian so that the two, together, can 

develop and master their abilities as they grow, and fulfil their 

destiny to protect Ageron and its people. These Guardians are 

referred to as a Consor. I am Zaniel’s Consor, and he is mine. We 

will remain that way for life. 

We don’t get to choose who our Consor is. It is something 

nobody has any control over. Much like destiny. When a Guardian 

is ready to be matched with a suitable Consor, often just before 

the first of their powers presents itself, their illuminatem will begin 

to flash, almost like a beacon. The flashing does not stop until the 

paired Consor and illuminatem is found. It is a process that often 

takes months. I found Zaniel within a week. 

Consors always remain the closest of friends, and sometimes 

even more than that. Often the bond that ties the two Consors 

together can be so strong that they eventually wed and remain 

together for life, almost like soul mates. My grandparents are one 

of those couples, as too were my parents. It’s for this reason that I 

am glad my Consor wasn’t a girl. There would have been far too 

much expectation if that were to have happened. Either way we 

remain paired for life; either the best of friends, or soul mates. 

‘And that’s supposed to worry me how, exactly?’ he asks, 

clearly unworried about the threat I’d made. 

I don’t justify his question with a response. Instead, I raise my 

eyebrows and stare at him, and allow for the lengthy silence to 

indicate just how pathetic I think his doubt of my ability is. 

‘Happy birthday,’ he breaks the silence, the smirk still 

plastered across his face. 

I offer him a stern look, knowing he is well aware of just how 

greatly I despise my birthday. 

‘Yeah, I know,’ he responds remorsefully, understanding 

! 25"


exactly what the look had meant. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

With every ounce of care possible, he slowly lowers me to the 

ground and releases me from his telekinetic grasp. Before a second 

passes, I raise my arm and lift a nearby pillow without touching it, 

hurling it towards him with the flick of my wrist. It collides 

directly into his face, messing up his neat, brown hair. 

Zaniel looks nothing like I do. He has the standard pale skin 

and piercing eyes of any other Sorcerer, but he is tall and thin. 

Everything about Zaniel is narrow; his face is relatively thin, and 

he has a narrow and pointy nose that meets at its top with the 

ends of his two thin eyebrows. He has an almost fragile look about 

him, but I know all too well nothing could be any further from the 

truth. 

‘Don’t mention it,’ I say in effort to make him feel less guilty. 

‘Besides, it gives me an excuse to kick your keister next time we 

train.’ 

A wide, arrogant grin produces across his face, one I am all 

too familiar with. He does have an arrogant quality to him, but 

that’s just Zaniel. 

‘Where’s Milly and Cassaius?’ he asks curiously. 

‘Sægon.’ 

‘Another meeting?’ he asks, knowing perfectly well how 

tedious and overbearing they can sometimes be. 

I nod. 

Although not an Altor himself, he knows almost as much 

about it as I do. That is the one of the pros of being Consor to an 

Altor, I suppose. 

‘So, what mischief are we going to get up to, then?’ 

Zaniel always has been the more rebellious of the two of us. 

I’ve always gathered it is due to his arrogance. 

‘That depends,’ I say. ‘What mischief would you like to cause 

! 26"


today?’ 

He takes a moment to think about it, raises his hand as 

though he has an idea to share, but lowers it again, suggesting the 

thought he had has passed. 

The continuing silence is one that is beginning to disturb me, 

and I can feel myself beginning to do the one thing I so 

desperately don’t wish to; think. 

‘How about we just train?’ I suggest, hoping to evade any 

further awkward silences. 

As much as training has become more of a chore than 

anything else, purely because of how frequently we actually do it 

and what few abilities I have to use, I know it is the perfect 

distraction for me. Training will keep my thoughts from haunting 

me. 

He offers a slight nod. 

‘I’ll meet you there,’ he says approvingly. 

I can tell the thought of training has him excited. Zaniel loves 

training. He loves any chance to use his abilities. For some reason, 

he has himself convinced that he is more powerful than I, but 

deep down I know he knows that isn’t the case. I’m an Altor. I’m 

far stronger than he’ll ever be. I just may not appear it yet. 

Before I have the chance to say anything more, he is engulfed 

in his green light, sucking itself in at its centre just as I had seen 

my grandparents do moments before. The familiar breeze whisks 

through the room, and the light quickly begins to decrease to no 

larger than a ball. In an instant, following yet another gentle 

slurping sound, he is gone; nothing left but the empty space 

before me. 

Without a second thought, I prepare myself for my travels. 

There is only one thing we really need to do when we envelish. In 

order for us to reach our destination, we simply must think 

! 27"


carefully about where it is we are, and where it is we want to go. 

Once we do this, our bodies do the rest for us. 

I picture my destination in my mind, describing the location 

to myself as though I am drawing a picture, and within an instant I 

can feel a tingling sensation as it overwhelms every part of my 

body. Everything in my presence becomes stained with a tint of 

blue, matching the colour emitting from my now glowing body. I 

can feel myself progressively shrinking in size, the world around 

me appearing to tower around me as I shrink. 

As I begin to shrink, my vision gradually widens to provide a 

complete 360-degree panoramic view of the living room, nothing 

within the room remaining hidden from my view. Before I am 

given an opportunity to admire the view before me, a violent flash 

of bright, blue light swallows everything around me. I am 

simultaneously thrown forward with a forceful jolt, similar in 

effect to that experienced following the slamming of a car’s 

brakes, and I know the air has sucked me in, and is ready to spit 

me back out at a different location, just as I would if being sucked 

into a small black hole. 

In the instant following, the bright light that had swallowed 

my every surrounding begins to subside, revealing behind it an 

entirely new surrounding that remains tinted with the same shade 

of blue as my living room had been. I catch a brief panoramic 

view of my new surroundings, before my vision begins to narrow, 

gradually returning to its standard function as I feel my body 

growing back to its complete form. The tingling sensation that has 

remained with me during the entire process is beginning to lessen, 

and as the blue tint around me begins to fade I can feel myself 

assuming my normal form once again. Just as quickly as the light 

had appeared, it disappears entirely and I know I have been 

revealed in my complete form, but this time in a completely 

! 28"


different location to that which I had disappeared. 

Although the process feels as though it takes several 

moments, it is in fact almost instantaneous, taking only a few 

seconds at most. I have always considered it a useful tool in battle, 

but have never really been provided an opportunity to test that 

theory out. 

The new surroundings I now find myself are not in fact new 

to me. In fact, I am very well aware of precisely where I stand. 

This is the place Zaniel and I frequent whenever we choose to 

train within Ageron. There are places back on Earth that we are 

able to train, but the use of our abilities is limited due to the 

presence of nearby Earthlies. The place I now stand is safely 

tucked within Ageron, away from any prospective humans, which 

is for their own safety as much as it is for our privacy and 

convenience. 

Earth is twice as large as the Earthly know it. An ancient, 

heavily enchanted barrier that stretches across half of the planet 

conceals the half that forms Ageron, leaving behind it the half that 

the Earthly have grown to know as Earth. At its outskirts, the 

barrier meets with several separate masses of land that, as a result 

of the many enchantments of the barrier, make it appear to the 

Earthly as though they have been merged together to form a single 

mass of land. This single landmass is what the Earthly know as the 

United Kingdom. 

The Earthly are unable to see, hear and feel anything within 

Ageron. To them, it’s simply as though absolutely nothing exists 

where Ageron lies. 

The barrier is the only thing separating both worlds, allowing 

only those who can envelish the freedom to pass through it, and 

leaving those who cannot trapped within its confines. Even if an 

Ageronian who cannot envelish is carried in a shared 

! 29"


envelishment, whereby they are piggybacked with another who 

can envelish, the barrier will force anybody who cannot envelish 

back into their physical form on contact with it, almost filtering 

them from passing through it as though knowing they cannot 

leave. 

Ageron’s protective barrier possesses a number of 

enchantments, each cast upon it so that Ageron remains oblivious 

to the Earthly. The most significant of these charms is that which 

conceals it from view of the Earthly. It also possesses other 

sensory incantations to make it feel as though nothing exists 

where Ageron lies. Should an Earthly walk into the barrier, which 

is something they quite frequently do, they will simply pass 

straight through it with no feeling at all, and end up on the 

opposite side of the barrier without ever having entered Ageron, 

almost as though they’d taken a giant leap over it without ever 

knowing they have left the ground. 

It’s a good thing that Ageron is hidden from the Earthly. 

Although it appears remarkably similar to any other place on 

Earth, with the exception that it is far cleaner and more appealing 

than any other place I’ve seen on Earth, the people that dwell 

within it are far different to the Earthly that dwell outside it. 

My surroundings look much like any other place I’ve been, 

only neater and more inviting. I am standing in the centre of an 

enormous field, which is lined at three of its edges with thick, 

green forestry, and a line of houses across its fourth. Behind the 

row of houses looks exactly like any other neighbourhood on 

Earth, only there are no roads. There never really has been a need 

for them within Ageron. 

I now find myself standing directly beside Zaniel, who I have 

only just noticed out of the corner of my eye, on one of the 

farthest outskirts of Ageron. Immediately behind us, just beyond 

! 30"


the forest that lines the rear of the field we now stand, is an 

enormous, almost transparently glowing light that forms the 

barrier protecting our world, wavering gracefully as though being 

prompted by a gentle breeze. 

From within Ageron, the faint contents of the world beyond 

it can be seen through the barrier, almost like looking through a 

wall of glowing, golden mist. It is particularly funny when 

watching humans walk straight into the barrier, unaware of its 

being there. They disappear the moment they make contact with 

it, and reappear instantly on the opposite side, continuing as 

though nothing ever happened. 

‘So, are we going to do this, or are you just going to stand 

there like an absolute idiot?’ I hear Zaniel taunt, distracting me 

from my admiring trance of Ageron’s barrier. 

Although he’s a year older than I, I am far more powerful 

than he, solely due to my being an Altor. That being said, he is a 

very worthy opponent, even if I’m not able to use my power to its 

full potential when training with him. He knows it, too. He’s 

always hurling insults at me in hope that I might actually become 

more of a challenge for him, but I know very well that if that were 

to ever happen, it could lead to devastating results. 

On very few occasions, as much as I do regret them, I have 

lost my sense of better judgment and left Zaniel more bruised and 

battered than I would have liked. On one occasion his relentless 

insults became so much of a distraction that I raised him a few 

metres from the ground using my telekinetic ability, and hurled 

him towards the nearest tree. It left him with three cracked ribs, a 

broken arm and a gash so deep even the most skilled of Sorcerers 

with healing abilities was unable to heal it entirely. Although he 

was quick to ever forget it had ever happened – in fact, he was so 

amazed by how much damage I’d done to him he felt almost 

! 31"


proud of me for having done it – it took some time for me to 

forgive myself. His taunts have since been to no effect. 

As is normal for any day of training, Zaniel makes the very 

first move. He extends his arm and raises a nearby rock as though 

being suspended by an invisible force. 

‘Watch yourself,’ he says with a grin. 

Within seconds, the generously sized rock is hurling directly 

towards me. With a single fluid movement, I raise both my hands, 

even though I could just as easily do it with one, and flick my 

wrists in the direction of the advancing rock. Mid-flight, the rock 

is redirected, sent soaring uninterruptedly towards a large boulder 

to my right, where it collides and crumbles to create several 

smaller rocks. 

‘Come on,’ I say as I stare at the rocks that now lay crushed 

beside the boulder. ‘You’ll have to do better than that!’ 

I turn back to face Zaniel, only then realising that he is 

speeding towards me at such speed, it appears the world is moving 

around him. Before he comes within reach of me I jump in the air, 

throwing all of my weight forward and flipping midair, 

plummeting gently towards the ground once I’d known Zaniel had 

passed by below. 

All Sorcerers possess great athletic and inter-combat abilities. 

Zaniel and I have developed ours to be able to jump several 

metres in the air. Paranormal athletic ability is something almost 

all Ageronians possess. It’s the only ability that is shared amongst 

all of us, regardless of what species we belong to. Zaniel’s combat 

skills are highly developed. Even more so than mine. But knowing 

so is one of his greatest weaknesses; one of which I constantly use 

to my advantage. 

‘You have to be kidding me,’ I laugh. 

I notice myself sounding as smug as Zaniel normally sounds, 

! 32"


but I’m trying as hard as I can for him to think strategy, more so 

than rely solely on his strength. As I turn to face him, I can’t help 

but grin. Not in arrogance, but to show disbelief that he couldn’t 

have seen that coming. To my surprise, he too shares a grin, 

although unlike mine, his is of overconfidence; one he shares all 

too frequently. 

‘Are you going to come and say it to my face, or are you 

going to stand all the way over there and hide like the girl we both 

know you really are,’ he says mockingly, to which I can’t help but 

laugh. 

With a roll of my eyes, I race intrepidly towards him, charging 

at him like a stampeding bull. Just as I am within arm’s reach of 

him, he jumps swiftly into the air at a forty-five degree angle, 

almost parallel to the ground, where he spins rapidly several 

metres above the ground. He spins so fast he looks like a tornado, 

spinning rapidly at a peculiar angle, not knowing where to go. 

Having predicted he would somehow dodge my approach, I 

too jump in the air after him, grabbing him by his spinning ankles 

and throwing him to the ground. The very moment I motion to 

throw him to the ground, he grabs hold of my torso, and I am too 

late to stop. We are both sent crashing towards the ground, 

wishing we were able to fly, but knowing full well we are not. 

Mere seconds from impact with the ground, I raise my hands 

to my chest, and outstretch my hands so that my palms face the 

ground below me. Using my telekinesis, I create a force between 

the ground and myself that prevents me from colliding with it, and 

am stopped midair, suspended only by my telekinesis just 

centimetres from the ground. The moment I come to a complete 

stop, I throw my arm in Zaniel’s direction and do the same to him, 

catching him mid-fall and only centimetres from colliding with the 

ground below. He is so close to the ground, his nose is actually 

! 33"


touching the grass. 

He turns to face me, and smiles thankfully. 

‘I think this is the part where you release me?’ he asks 

sarcastically. 

Taking advantage of my control over Zaniel, I release myself 

and allow my body to fall to the ground, colliding with it so gently 

it feels as though I’ve landed on a mattress, all the while focusing 

on leaving Zaniel suspended helplessly in the air. 

‘Come on,’ he urges me. ‘That’s not fair!’ 

‘Not fair?’ I ask rhetorically. ‘This doesn’t need to be fair. 

This is payback.’ 

‘Payback? What for?’ 

‘For charging at me when my back was turned,’ I answer. 

I can see him close his eyes as if regretting ever having done 

it, but then he produces a smile that I know means he’s expecting 

a challenge; a challenge I’m not willing to give him. 

I turn the palm controlling Zaniel towards me, and with a 

backward flick of my wrist, he is sent soaring across the ground, 

bouncing helplessly with every moment he collides with it. He is 

brought to a stop beside the boulder that had crumpled the rock 

Zaniel had thrown at me earlier, and he stands slowly, dusting 

himself off as he does. 

Barely able to see Zaniel due to the distance he stands away 

from me, I instantly reduce myself to my bright glow, and vanish 

from my spot, reappearing instantly only a few metres in front of 

where Zaniel stands. I arrive to find him leaning arrogantly against 

the boulder with one leg resting on its side, his elbow resting on its 

edge and supporting the weight of his head as it lay on his hand. 

With a laugh, I race towards him, preparing myself for the 

hand-to-hand combat I am expecting to follow. Within seconds of 

having begun running, Zaniel pushes himself from the boulder 

! 34"


and extends both hands in front of him, overturning them so his 

palms face upright. With a gentle flick upwards, I begin to feel the 

ground below me shake violently, trembling at the request of 

Zaniel. 

In the midst of trembling, the soil and grass begin leaping 

violently from the ground, as though small explosions from below 

are forcing it up. Before I have time to react, partly due to my 

shock of witnessing Zaniel’s newly developed ability I had known 

nothing about, I am thrown forcefully into the air, forced up by 

the explosion underneath the ground below me. 

Without so much as another second passing, Zaniel appears 

midair, his arm raised above his head. With one sudden and fluid 

movement, he slams his elbow into my stomach, and I am sent 

falling to the ground once more, this time winded and unable to 

stop myself from falling. 

Plunging helplessly towards the ground, I can do nothing but 

watch as the sky above me distances itself from me. I can see the 

clouds above me, which are only just visible through the wavering 

barrier of light, getting smaller and smaller as I further myself 

from them. As I feel myself nearing the ground, I am stopped 

midair with a powerful jolt, and am lowered gently to the ground 

below me. My only thought is that Zaniel has stopped me from 

falling, knowing he has emerged as the winner for this training 

session, and not wanting to cause me any further harm. Or 

humiliation. 

As I lay, still winded, on the ground, staring blankly through 

the barrier at the sky above me, Zaniel’s face appears staring down 

at me. At first, it looks as though his head is hovering above me, 

but as I catch my breath I realise he is simply leaning over me, his 

outstretched hand gesturing for me to take it. 

‘Sorry,’ he says as he hoists me up. 

! 35"


‘What was that?’ I ask enquiringly, confused at not having 

known of his latest power. 

‘My most recent ability,’ he responds, clearly impressed with 

himself. ‘It only arrived yesterday, but I’ve already been able to 

control it.’ 

Abilities can often take weeks, or even months to master. I 

have been relatively lucky with mine. The longest it has ever taken 

for me to master a power was a week, and that was for 

envelishment, but I have never been able to control a power 

within a single day. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

‘I was going to, but I didn’t think the timing was right,’ he 

says. ‘Besides, I wanted to surprise you by kicking your butt.’ 

I offer a laugh, but it emerges as more of a cough than 

anything else. 

‘That you did!’ 

‘You don’t need to tell me that,’ he responds with a smile 

wider than I have ever seen him produce. 

I can’t help but laugh. It’s not often that I am taken by 

surprise during training, but today has most certainly been an 

exception. 

‘I really am sorry,’ he offers, interrupting the short silence that 

had filled the space around us. 

‘Don’t mention it. You’ll get yours!’ I say. 

‘But, I don’t understand?’ he asks mockingly, prompting a 

short-lived silence. ‘How am I supposed to defend myself against 

a girl?’ 

I reach out to grab him and place him in a headlock, but 

before my arm reaches him he reduces himself to a ball of green 

light that vanishes instantly from in front of me. 

Just as I prepare myself to envelish and join him back home, 

! 36"


the hairs on the back of my neck stand suddenly, and immediately 

I know I am about to have a premonition. My premonitions are 

far unlike those the rest of my kind experience. I do not really see 

anything in my premonitions. Instead, I feel it. In some ways, it is 

more reliable than a vision. What can be seen may be easily 

changed, but what is sensed is far more reliable and unchangeable. 

I’ve often found that those who have visions rely far too much on 

what they see. I guess it’s for this reason that my premonitions are 

more reliable. 

Opening my mind to my imminent premonition, I close my 

eyes and block out everything but the thoughts that now fill my 

mind. Instantly, I am overcome with a flood of sensations that are 

not my own. I have become somebody else, and am feeling his or 

her every thought. I am sensing their every feeling. Emotions of 

varying kind bombard my mind; fear, anxiety, relief, arrogance and 

finally triumph. Alone, they are nonsensical, and I know I must 

concentrate harder to make sense of it all. 

Determined to further understand its meaning, I concentrate 

harder than ever before, releasing any other thoughts from my 

mind and focusing on what sensations are to follow. The moment 

I empty my mind, I can sense far more than I had been presented 

before. I can sense a cold, dark atmosphere. An atmosphere filled 

with emptiness and despair, much like that I had experienced in 

my dream last night. 

Slowly, I can feel my thoughts beginning to fade, my senses 

becoming less and less with each progressive moment. Knowing 

my premonition has revealed very little detail of any sense at all, I 

use every ounce of mental strength I have to search for one final 

detail; one that might help make sense of everything. It takes a 

couple of moments, but I can feel my mind become as one with 

the person in my premonition. I am now thinking what they are 

! 37"


thinking. I am now feeling what they are feeling. I have become 

them entirely. 

It won’t be long now, I hear their thoughts. They will be here soon, 

and when they are, nothing will stop me. I will be freed, and once I am, I will 

take all that is rightfully mine. Nothing will stop me. Nothing. 

The thoughts leave me there. 

I am released from the premonition, and regain control over 

my thoughts. Immediately I know something is wrong; all is not 

well. I know a danger is looming, and it is my responsibility to do 

everything within my power to prevent it, whatever it may be, 

from ever happening. 

With that final thought, I reduce myself to my ball of blue 

light, and depart Ageron for home quicker than I ever have 

before. 

! 38"

ALTOR The Shadow Rebellion (The Chronicles of Ageron)

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