Guardians of the Elements – Chapter 1 (Early Draft)

This is a somewhat revised but still very WIP draft. It reads pretty cleanly, but there are some lore details that differ from the full story, and the drawings don’t all match perfectly. This is the most polished version I have at the moment though, and I wanted to share what I’ve got so far.

…I also still don’t have a proper working title, so this story is just called “Guardians of the Elements” for the time being. 😝

Prologue

In the days before the first dawn, there were the Guardians of the Elements: beings who were intertwined with the fabric of magic itself, as much a part of it as it was a part of them. They possessed the power to weave it into any form they desired, and together, over the course of many ages, they would shape the land that all living creatures would eventually call home.

Earth, the body of the world, the foundation upon which all else would stand, ever bringing forth new growth.

Water, the lifeblood of the world, flowing through its veins, nourishing all that would dwell there.

Air, the breath of the world, transcendent yet ever-present, reaching a realm of spirit beyond the visible.

Fire, the heart of the world, the light and warmth that touches each part of the land, without which no life could be sustained by the rest.

So long as the Guardians maintained balance and harmony within their own ranks, the balance of all magic would be maintained as well. But should their own balance ever falter, all they had sought to build could begin to unravel; should it ever fail outright, the world would be plunged into chaos.

Chapter 1 – Kyndara

I stand atop the mountain at the center of the world, surrounded by yet unbroken darkness. Even now, I can see the vast expanses of the land below by the threads of magic woven throughout it all: solid and firm in hills and valleys, winding and flowing through rivers and seas, drifting and twirling along the winds.

All around me, the world waits.

At the foot of the mountain, the Guardians of Earth, Water, and Air are waiting, their first steps in shaping the land now completed.

I have been waiting, but that time is at an end.

I stretch out my arms in front of me, summoning the raw magical energy within myself, willing it to weave together into a pattern that I know by heart, but only now have the chance to use. A point of light appears above my palms, and quickly grows as I channel my power into it. I lift my hands above my head, guiding the shining sphere into the sky. It becomes ever brighter as it rises upward, until reaching the final height from which it will provide unending light to the land below.

The world is born anew as it emerges from the shadows, gradually illuminated as the sphere reaches its full brilliance. I blink in wonder at the array of colors revealed before me, the rich brown of the ground beside the soft greys of stone, the deep teal of the distant sea with white flashes glinting off its surface, the pale blue of the sky overhead that almost glows itself in the fresh light.

I feel a rush of pride as I take in the sight. All of this is our world, my world, that I have led the others in building. It is at last fully formed, but still empty, a blank space ready to be filled. My mind leaps to imagining what it could become, what we’ll make to fill that space: structures, vegetation, even creatures. Though I want to linger in the moment, I remind myself there’s still much work to be done, and reluctantly shake myself out of my thoughts.

As I journey back down the mountain, I marvel at all the shades of color that had been invisible on my way up, including the shimmering red and orange of my own garments, and my golden hair. I can still sense the threads of magic present in everything, but I hardly pay attention to them. Everywhere I look, the familiar world has been transformed by the light I created, and I want to see it all.

Near the base of the mountain, the ground begins to change, from plain soil to a thick covering of small green shoots. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m seeing; everything looks so different that I almost didn’t notice the one thing that wasn’t here before! I reach down and run my fingers across their smooth, soft tips: one more familiar pattern, at last made real.

Another voice calls out, “Kyndara, come see what I made!”

I glance up to see Vaniel kneeling a ways away, surrounded by small multicolored shapes—flowers—amid the green stems that blend with the skirt of her dress. She flicks her hand and several more bunches of flowers burst from the ground around her, then gently picks a small pink blossom and tucks it into her braided hair.

As I’m watching her, I spot Ilrian and Mareneth emerging around the side of the hill, talking together.  They spot us too; Ilrian waves and starts running over. His layered tunic is a mix of teal and blue, and as he approaches, I’m momentarily surprised to see his dark hair is also blue-tinted. Then, as he gets close, he suddenly stops, attention grabbed by the same thing that had caught mine a minute ago. Vaniel chuckles as he stares in fascination at the newly grown grass by his feet.

Mareneth finally catches up, and continues past the others to meet me. His sky-blue robes and pale hair float around him in the swift breeze. “It is beautiful, even more so than I imagined,” he says, surveying the landscape, face filled with awe that mirrors my own.

I follow his gaze. “That it is. And to think, this is a mere fraction of what it will be! Speaking of, we ought to get moving.”

Mareneth doesn’t answer. He kneels at the edge of the flower patch, where Vaniel hands him another blossom that he tucks in his own hair. Ilrian joins him and does likewise. They beam at each other, in shared delight over Vaniel’s creation.

I give them a brief smile, but remain standing. “The next phase of our work is even more important than the last. Vaniel’s already started on the plant life that the rest will need to survive. Any water-dwelling creatures fall under Ilrian’s domain. Mareneth—” I stop midsentence, sensing a subtly growing tension among the others. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

 “If I may, I think we should take a moment to consider,” Mareneth says, “We finally reached the first major milestone in our work; surely that merits some celebration. We have all the time we want.”

“True, but that’s no excuse to waste it! There’s nothing alive anywhere else in the world yet, except the Guardians who shaped it. That won’t change without us. Why wait longer? Don’t you want to see the final world that we’re building?”

“Of course, but that will come either way. I only meant that this is a moment to be proud of, to acknowledge our achievement, not to let slip away in pursuit of another distant goal.”

I turn to the others with a skeptical look. “Vaniel? Ilrian? Your thoughts?”

“Doing something to mark the occasion sounds lovely,” Vaniel says. “Though, since the plan is that this mountain is where we’ll build our home for the ages to come, wouldn’t it be nicer to have finished that first?”

Mareneth and Ilrian both make noises of agreement. I raise a disapproving eyebrow, though I can tell they’ve already made up their minds.

“Our next steps have to start somewhere anyway,” Ilrian points out. “Might as well be here.” 

I glance up the mountain again, tall and majestic, but bare. I let out a small sigh. “You’re not wrong. I still think delaying isn’t the best move, but if it’s really what you all want, I can allow it, provided it doesn’t last too long.”

The other three immediately gather together and begin sharing ideas. I catch pieces about a gleaming white hall at the mountaintop, vast gardens covering the mountain’s sides, and a stream with sparkling waterfalls flowing down the slope, but my mind is elsewhere. I stare past the mountain into the distant lands, feeling a swell of disappointment at the prospect of waiting even longer before I could fill them with new life as well.

I suppose I could go on my own. It’s tempting, but I know we’re all meant to work together. Whenever we split up, it’s always with a specific collective purpose in mind. Even my role as Guardians’ leader was mostly assisting or directing the others in forming the world according to the patterns of the natural order—those that the magic flows into most readily, instinctively known to us all. Bringing the long-awaited light to the world was the first time that I’d made something that was solely my own, and even that still followed a predetermined template. The others seemed perfectly happy, but I’ve always felt something was missing. I wonder what it would be like, if did step away, even just for a little—

“Hey, do you want to help plan this, or what?” Ilrian’s voice breaks my train of thought.

“Oh, yes. Just got distracted.” I quickly brush aside my musings. Building our future home is also something I’ve looked forward to, and don’t want to miss.

Ilrian holds out a translucent image of the mountain he had conjured over his hand, with glowing lines and shapes marking a building and other features. “Here’s our outline so far. Anything you want to add?”

I study the image for a few seconds. Its simplistic lines and markers look rather underwhelming, but an idea begins to form in my mind. “It’s a start, but we can do better. We needn’t limit ourselves to one building; we could have tiers of different structures all the way from the mountain’s base to its peak. The gardens and waterfalls could make up the lower two-thirds, with our palace above that, ending in a single tower at the top.” I conjure my own image of the mountain, including the layered gardens, waterfalls, and numerous connected buildings wrapping around the mountain, all in shining white, silver, and gold, culminating in a pointed spire rising above the peak.

The other three gaze at my image with wide eyes.

“I admit, I was expecting something less grandiose,” Mareneth says, “but that would be a wonder to behold.”

“Let’s get started. Vaniel and Ilrian, I presume you’ll want to focus on the lower tiers with the pieces you suggested. Mareneth, you’ll work with me on the upper tiers with the buildings; you’ll start with the spire at the peak and move downward, I’ll start with the bottom and move up, and we’ll meet in the middle. Sound good?” The others agree, and we each make our way to our specified area, in my case the lower edge of what will be our palace. 

I call upon my magical energy and release it in surging waves around me, weaving its strands into solid forms: a white marble floor, a circle of swirling columns of silver and gold reaching to the roof, a ceiling of translucent crystal that catches the incoming light, splitting it into rainbows that dance across the floor. I take a moment, but only a moment, to admire it before moving on. I sculpt room after room, each slightly different from the last, the designs growing in complexity as I develop and refine new ideas.

After some time, I notice that the intricate decorations I make aren’t quite appearing the way I envisioned them. The general structure is right, but the small details are misaligned or misshapen. I try to correct an uneven lattice of gold filaments along one wall, but whenever I fix one spot, another falls out of place. Creating from raw magic has always felt intuitive and effortless, but to my great annoyance, it becomes rapidly apparent that certain finer details require greater precision than what my innate abilities provide. After several more unsuccessful attempts, I let out an exasperated sigh, and begrudgingly move to the next room.

Despite the frustration of realizing it’ll take practice to create certain things exactly as I desire, I’m soon fully immersed in the work at hand again, though it hardly feels like “work”. In all the past ages, even my more enjoyable tasks never felt like what I truly wanted or what I was ultimately meant to do. But this—imagining every detail of each room, corridor, terrace, and balcony, and molding the fabric of the world around me to bring those thoughts to life—this is different. I feel like I could keep going forever, and never get tired.

By the time I meet up with Mareneth, I’ve covered well over half of our area. He hurries over. “Kyndara? I thought you would still be busy; is everything alright?” Then he looks past me, and his concern changes to amazement. “Wait, did you already complete that much of the building?”

“And here I was about to ask if you were alright; I expected you would’ve made far more progress by now! Did you spend all your time on interior decorating?”

“No, I did not,” he says, almost awkwardly. “I can show you what I do have, if you like.” I accept, and he leads me into a high-ceilinged, rectangular hall, also made of white marble, with arched, open windows edged in silver, but few additional ornaments. “Most of my rooms are similar to this. What do you think?”

I lean out a window to look up the mountain. Sure enough, his other rooms are all simple rectangles or squares, with the same windows and silver accents. My first thought is that it’s quite bland, though I’m hesitant to say that aloud. I look over the window again, trying to buy time to come up with a suitable response. But when my gaze falls upon the windowsill, I completely forget my previous dilemma. The decorative trim had looked simple from a distance, but up close I can see it’s covered with intricate designs, sequences of miniscule swirls and lines repeating all around the edges of the window. “These patterns in the silver, and carvings in the stone, they’re so small! How did you do that?”

He gives me a confused shrug. “The same way I did any of this. Should I take that as a positive or negative comment?”

“It’s a serious question! I tried that, but it never came out right! How did you keep all those tiny curves so neatly aligned?”

He opens and closes his mouth, struggling for words, before blurting out, “I don’t know, how did you make all those rooms so quickly!?”

We stare at each other for several seconds. I try to wrap my head around what I had just seen. I’d assumed that since I’m the Guardians’ leader, if I couldn’t make things like that, neither would the others. Yet Mareneth had not only succeeded where I failed, but had done so without any extra effort or special technique that he was aware of.

Mareneth scratches the back of his head. “So… did you want me to actually try to show you how I made those carvings?”

I almost say yes, but the word sticks in my throat. Whatever he did, I’m sure I can figure it out on my own, I tell myself. I’m the most powerful out of all the Guardians; there’s no way I can’t learn whatever trick he used, given some time. Besides, there are more important things to be focusing on. “Maybe later. Right now, I’ve got dozens of accents that didn’t quite come out properly. Can you fix those up?”

“I expect so. Lead the way.”

I show him to a room where I’d tried another wall laced with delicate gold filaments. This one was better than the first, clear enough to show what I was aiming for, but still haphazard and messy, especially next to the impeccable detail in his room.

Mareneth holds his hand out over the wall, and the strands of gold shift into perfect alignment. He walks the length of the wall, smoothing the uneven lines, until the pattern appears exactly as I’d intended. Despite another small flare of annoyance at not having been able to complete it on my own, I can’t help being impressed by how easy he makes it look.

 “Is that better?”

“Yes, though I still don’t understand how you did that.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “The feeling is mutual regarding how you did so much, so fast, with such variety. Before now, I had the impression we all shared the same abilities apart from specializations related to each of our Elements.”

“So did I. Perhaps there are more differences than we’d thought,” I say softly.

My words hang in the air between us. If our intuitive knowledge of our world’s magic and our own capabilities was inaccurate or incomplete, it could completely change how we approached our individual roles, and our ultimate goal. The notion should be disturbing. The idea that the others could have powers outside elemental domains that I genuinely lacked didn’t sit well with me. Even so, I feel a little spark of excitement at the possibility that there’s more to our purpose than we’d thought.

Mareneth furrows his brow. “Or, perhaps this is merely another aspect of those specializations, which we had not encountered in the first stages of our work, since those had no need for such fine precision. We know we have distinct roles; it seems reasonable that our abilities would differ along with them.”

“I suppose so,” I say, though I’m doubtful of his dismissive explanation. I turn back to the wall and trace my fingers along the gold lines, remembering the bare walls of Mareneth’s rooms. “You know, I could add some more decorations like this to your rooms, if you can tidy those up too.”

“Absolutely, those rooms do look rather empty by comparison. Meanwhile, I can fix the rest back here. Meet you at the top afterward?”

I agree, and we part ways. But as I go about enhancing his rooms, I’m repeatedly distracted by Mareneth’s remarkable detail work. He has the innate skill to make anything imaginable but copied the same design dozens of times over, while I lack the ability to properly create my far more varied ideas. At least we can combine our talents, but I still wonder why? I’d never seen the others express the same intense joy while making things that I had felt while I was creating our palace. Why don’t I already have those skills, if any of us do?

What am I missing?