Hello folks. I’ve decided to finally do some more creative writing, and create my own story. Below is the first chapter of it so far. No doubt there will be edits and revisions of it, but so far, this is what I’ve come up with. I’m not sure if I’ll be posting every chapter up here, but only time will tell. I hope you enjoy it. Please offer any feedback you have for me.

Chapter 1

The scream of a newborn echoed through his ears.  Suffocating darkness surrounded him.  A pulse vibrated slowly, seeming to fill his body with newfound life.  The sound of the newborn screaming seemed to die down to only a whisper.  He felt pain.  He felt a loss of a life.  Not his life – someone else’s.  Push through, his instincts seemed to whisper to him.  He moved his arms around only to find that he was constrained.  Try harder. Reaching his hands out, he felt the texture of bark, and wetness.  Where am I? Tiny, vein-like roots seemed to cover his entire body, piercing his skin.  He struggled.  As if in response to being acknowledged, the roots slowly untangled themselves from him.  One by one, it felt as if tiny pinpricks were being pulled out of him.  The life he felt being pulsed into him was no longer there.

A loud snapping noise echoed around him, followed by a slow, tired groan.  A crack formed in front of him, letting a bright light into the small alcove he was in.  Daylight.  His mind seemed to tell him.  Have I ever seen something like this before? He did not exactly remember, but it seemed familiar to him.  He reached his hand through the crack and gripped the rough edges and pulled, ripping away pieces of bark until there was enough space to walk through.  Uncertain of what to expect, he walked out into the daylight.  Dizziness struck him hard.  His vision began to blur, and the scream of the newborn ripped through him once again…

“Another one has died, Arthnarin,” a tall robed man said, scowling.  The one named Arthnarin looked up from his scrolls and gave a troubled sigh.  They are Ambrosai, like you. “The Blodwyn’s antidote has obviously failed us.  Alchemy was never the answer.  We should’ve let nature run its course, but you had to step in, it’s our turn now.”

The warm sun washed over his naked body.  What was that?  Who were those men? He stood warily, breathing in the fresh air for the first time.  Turning around, he eyed what he had been held up inside of.  Heul Tree, his mind seemed to tell him.  The tree was a pristine white, with leaves of the same color to match it.  The beauty of it took him aback.  The trunk of the tree was fairly wide, obviously wide enough to entomb a person such as himself.  The tree towered over him, but it was far from ominous.  The wind washed over it, making the swaying branches and the rustling leaves seem to say, “hello, and welcome back,” to him.

What is this place? Tall trees surrounded the glade.  They almost looked like the Heul tree, except for the fact that their bark was a light brown, their leaves a crisp green.  He would’ve almost felt alone if it weren’t for the chirping of a few birds.  Once in awhile, he would catch a glimpse of a small critter scurrying from tree to tree, but never once entering the glade.  He was in no danger here, he decided.  For the first time since coming out of the tree, he felt at ease in this newfound sanctuary of his.

Confusion still prodded his mind, however.  Grass tickled at his bare skin as he sat down.  Everything seemed so familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.  He had no personal memories at all except for waking up inside of a tree.  He thought back to his vision and sighed.  He hadn’t moved far from the Heul.  The sun was just beginning to set now, casting a yellowish tint on everything around him.  Knowledge about the world was slowly coming to him, but the answers he sought were not coming quick enough.  Closing his eyes, he tried to think about what his purpose was, and the same feelings that had hit him before his vision last time hit him again, but this time he was prepared…

The Ambrosai named Arthnarin now stood over a female Ambrosai corpse.  Arthnarin loomed over the corpse, inspecting it.   He frowned deeply, furrowing his brow.  His hair was long, black and silky, matching his black fingernails.  He had long, almost lanky arms, and stood around six feet tall.  He was shorter compared to others in the room.  His eyes were a bright teal that seemed to dissect the corpse before him, as if an answer was hidden there – something that would give him the clues he needed.   A small newborn, also lifeless, lay next to its mother.

“This antidote was supposed to preserve life, not take it,” Arthnarin said solemnly.  He rubbed his tired eyes and cast a quick glance at the man standing next to him.

“The Gwlledig have asked the Conclave for the Blodwyn to hand over the operation.  You have made the matter worse.  Yes, not intentionally, but it is obvious that this has spiraled out of control.  The Gwlledig will find a way to preserve as much as they can,” the man whispered, frowning at the bodies that lay before them.

“Druids,” Arthnarin mumbled, and then sighed, almost as if in defeat.  “Very well, Gyrnon, tell the Conclave that the druids are more than welcome to lend a helping hand.  Also, send the Conclave my apologies, this is my fault.”

“Nobody foresaw this, my friend.  You were only trying to do what was best for your people,” Gyrnon said, his tone soft and forgiving.  Then, in an instant, it changed, “Though, you have damned our race,” it was harsh now… darker, “that’s not something many of our people take lightly,” he paused.  “There is one way, however, that you will be able to repay the debt you owe.”

Arthnarin’s once calm, pale face now had a red complexion to it.  “And what would that be?” he asked, barely containing his composure.

The druid laughed.  “I will tell you all you need to know in due time, my friend.”

The dimly lit room faded away, reality replacing it.  It was night now.  The stars twinkled above, casting an eerie white light into the small glade.  The vision had left him with more questions than answers .  Sure, he had found out who the robed figure in the first vision’s name was, but that wasn’t of much importance to him at the moment.

He looked over toward the Heul tree.  It stood out at night, being the only tree of its kind, at least nearby.  The white tree seemed to drink in the twilight and act as a sort of beacon of hope in the pitch black of the night.  He stood up and walked over to the tree and put his hand on it.  He ran his fingers over the smooth, yet strong bark.  The crack that had allowed him freedom had somehow healed now.

“Who am I?” he desperately pleaded to the tree.  As if in response, the part of the tree where his hand rested became warmer.

“You are Caemgen, first of the Ysdeinol,” a voice said.  Surprise spread across Caemgen’s face.  Had the tree responded to his question?  The spot where his hand rested grew warmer.  He felt the slightest touch of life tickle his finger tips.  The feeling was similar to the one he had first felt when he was inside the tree, but it was not as powerful.  “You must have many questions, Caemgen.  Some of them you will learn for yourself soon enough,” the voice continued.  Caemgen waited for the voice to say more, but it did not.  He opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could ask, the once comfortable warmth turned into a blazing hotness.  He screamed out in pain, unable to remove his hand.  “First, there is more that you must see.” Instead of his vision blurring and a newborn screaming, like he expected, his vision seemed to intensify, as if the sun was directly in front of him.  His sense of touch, smell, and hearing was enhanced dramatically.  He could smell the dew on the grass, feel each individual bead of sweat forming on his cold skin, and hear a leaf from a nearby tree be swept away in the night time breeze.  Just as quickly as it came, it had left him.  The shock of all the enhanced senses being stolen from him threw him to the ground trembling.  It was quiet now.  A slow darkness engulfed him…

Caemgen opened his eyes, standing in a large antechamber made of marble.  Everything was a pristine white.  Vines of ivy crept along the walls as if trying strangling them.  Large marble braziers marked the entrance of another room which he assumed, upon entering it, was a place of power.  Like the rest of his surroundings, it too was made of the white pristine marble.  The room was a shaped in a circle, and there were seats that went around the room.  In a part of the circle, the seats were raised and cushioned, perhaps for people of greater power than the others who would sit here.  There was a circular hole in the roof, letting the sun amplify the white marble.  Directly below the opening was something that he did not expect to find here.  A Heul tree. The whiteness of it blended it in with its surroundings perfectly.  It was smaller than the one he was familiar with – perhaps only a few years old.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance.  Caemgen stood there, frightened, not knowing what exactly to expect.  The footsteps grew louder, and the amount of them started to multiply.  White robed figures entered the room from the left side, black robed on the right, and five entered from an entrance oppose of where Caemgen stood, wearing robes of red with a green cloak wrapped around them.  Caemgen was ignored.  These were Ambrosai.  Like the ones he had seen in his previous visions, they were very tall, with long, lanky arms.  The silky hair on some of them went down to their waists.  The Ambrosai carried themselves with pride and dignity, and they had an air of wisdom about them that was indescribable.  A quiet murmur danced across the marble floors as they took their seats.  One of the red robed figures sitting in the high chairs cleared his throat, silencing any chatter that was left.

“The Conclave is now in order,” said the Ambrosai who had cleared his throat.  He was standing now, gazing across at the attendants.  The figures robed in black would not meet his gaze.  One of them was Arthnarin.  On the opposite side of the circle, he assumed, was Gyrnon.  “Today we discuss the failure of the Blodwyn.  It has become clear that the alchemy order has lost control of the situation, and that the Gwlledig, the druidic order, will now step in to save and preserve what they can.”  The Blodwyn representatives bowed their hands in shame while the Gwlledig glared at them from the opposite side of the circle.

“The services and lives of the Blodwyn are in the hands of the Gwlledig, Iau Kai,” Arthnarin said, standing up.

“Does the Gwlledig accept the services and lives of the Blodwyn?” Iau Kai said, sitting back down in his high chair.  Gyrnon walked to where Arthnarin was standing and extended his hand, speaking loudly, “The Gwlledig do accept the lives of the Blodwyn, however, Iau Kai, you can rest assured knowing that we will not be using their services.  We have all seen what little good that has done for us.”  The white robed figures behind him nodded in agreement behind him.  Arthnarin bristled.

“There was no way we could have known this would happen!” He shouted, “We were only trying to increase the life expectancy of our loved ones.  Yes, it is us to blame, but do not damn us.  We have done many great things for our people, never forget that.”

“That is enough, Arthnarin,” Iau Kai shouted across the large marble court.  “This is not how we conduct ourselves in this Conclave.  Seal the offer.  Take Gyrnon’s hand, or your order will be banished from our society.  I am sorry to offer such black and white choices, but the circumstances are dire.”  The room stood eerily quiet.  All eyes were on Arthnarin, anxiously awaiting his decision.

“I am sorry, Iau Kai, for my outburst,” Arthnarin said slowly.  He took Gyrnon’s hand and embraced him.  “As long as you save our people, Gyrnon, I, as well as the rest of the Blodwyn, are at your command.”

The noise of the ceremony and the sight of the grand marble walls seemed to fade away around Caemgen.  He was lying beneath the Heul tree, head throbbing from the fall he had taken.  Everything in his body ached.  He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of the fresh night air.  The grass beneath him tickled his back.  He wasn’t sure, but it felt as if they too were giving him their life, like the tree had.  He stared above at the Heul tree.  A gust of wind swept through the branches.  “Sleep now,” it seemed to say.  The grass beneath him offered a gentle warmth that wasn’t there before.  Slowly, listening to the gentle rustle of the leaves that were above him, he closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.

The warmth of the sun upon Caemgen’s face was the first thing that welcomed his new day.  Oddly for him, his sleep was a dreamless one.  With all of his intense visions the previous day, he had expected them to continue on and off throughout the night.  He tried to put together everything he knew so far.  He was born from a tree, or at least, that’s what he thought had happened.  He was also a fully grown man.  Something about that didn’t seem right, either, thinking back to the lifeless newborn in his visions.  The Ambrosai had run into some kind of dire problem caused by a group called the Blodwyn, an order of his race dedicated to the study of alchemy.  However, the Blodwyn were only trying to help solve another problem, but only ended up worsening it.  Another group of the Ambrosai society, called the Gwlledig, were pushing the blame on the Blodwyn in order to take control of the situation, having the Conclave give them the permission they needed.  Caemgen could only guess that the Conclave was a higher part of their government.

Somehow Caemgen was all tied to this, but he wasn’t exactly sure how.  He seemed tall, but he didn’t have anything to compare his height to.  His skin was pale, but perhaps that was something that was very common.  He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair.  It was smooth, silky, and long.  He pulled on a strand of it and looked at the color.  White. His fingernails matched the color of his hair.  So far, he seemed to be exactly like the Ambrosai from his visions.   But then why did the Heul tree call me a Ysdeinol?

Caemgen stood up and looked at the giant white tree.  It was so peaceful, but on the inside, it held some truly magnificent power.  Or maybe that is something else that is common? He didn’t know.  He had never ventured out of his sanctuary.  Part of him wanted to set forth out into the endless woods around him, but the other part of him was reluctant.  He had no idea what to expect, where to go, or what he should try to do.  He had a purpose; he just had to find out what it was.