Story of Izaac Chapter 1

Chapter one: The Past


My name is Izaac, I was born in a beachside village. Its been three years since that fateful day. Its best I start my story from the beginning. Three years ago before I was put in jail I was training under the eye of my father. Training was normal, it started with post jumping a technique that helped coordination. Then we moved onto running up the temple stairs, which ran up the side of a mountain. We ended with magic lessons, magic was used a great deal in our village. Few know of my fathers magic, in the world there are two ways to use magic. One with a gather stone which harnesses an elements power temporarily, or two you use one of the legendary Dragon Stones used only by the chosen ones. My fathers way is a thought of myth, he uses the bodies natural energy to conjure up the element wanted, so naturally we stay fit so we can use this magic method. Sadly my magic skills are not as controlled as my fathers, so when training comes along I lack the ability.

It was after practice that day my troubles started. My father had gone back to town after getting message of some suspicious people docking their boats. I was in the middle of lunch when it happen. With out warning I heard a massive explosion and large black clouds billowing from my village. I ran as fast as my legs would take me, but upon arrival I was already to late the village council building was decimated as was a section of town leading to a strange black boat. I feared where my father had been during the explosion. As a approached the charred ground in front of the docks I saw what no one should. My fathers body lay sprawled on the ground, heavily beaten and bruised. I ran to his side, as I further inspected his wounds I realized there was no hope for him to survive. I heard a faint voice come from his dieing lips.

“My son you are the chosen go to the temple…”

His eyes glazed over as death took him. Looked toward the black boat in tear filled eyes. I swore I have revenge for this, I ran toward the boat in blind rage ready for anything. I remembered what my father had taught me about magic and fighting hoping it would be enough. A man in a black cloak watched as I charged him, I leaped into the air and felt the heat of fire in the palm of my hand. As a came down on top of the cloaked figure a could only say one word “FIRE!”. A burst of flames lashed out of my hand and stuck the man but to my surprise it didn’t leave a scratch. I continued my assault with a flurry of punches, all of which the man blocked with easy. My pain would not stop until he was dead, but my sad attempts of even scratching him was dim. The man stopped my attack with a few hits of his own. The last punch sent me to the ground holding my stomach. It felt like an eternity had pasted until the man finally said something. His voice was strange as if every word he spoke was thousand of voices at once. He said only this.

“Your fathers sins have been purged.”

Then in one swift motion a kicked me which threw me to where my father was laying. I woke up to the voices of the town. Their faces were all the same, sorrow struck. I felt shame fill my heart, had I worked harder in training I could have killed that man. I rose to my feet, every movement was a new suffering. My arm was broken as was a three ribs. I felt blood dripping down my face, I knew I was to badly wounded to be up and moving but I need to get away from town I failed in protecting it thus leading to banishment. I made may way toward the temple, the memories of my father and I training brought tears to my eyes. No more would I see his welcoming face at the temple gate in the morning.