C E I D W A I D

G E N E S I S

950 B.C.

The sun began to creep above the thick patches of plump, emerald alder trees. Flocks of lapwing birds circle the bay, the white of the fur clashes against the milky blue water as if they were clouds in the sky. The rising morning mist explodes with the colour of the amber sun. Crawling across the arable lands and up the hills, snaking through the trees, the mist coated the island of Epidion like a blanket. The island of Epidion is accompanied by the island of Jura and Colonsay in the waters of the Hebrides Sea. Light grey clouds of smoke periodically puff up into the sky across the three islands, carrying the masculine smell of lit coal high into the sky. Across this group of islands, they hid a secret. Roundhouses and Longhouses, each with a thatched roof and walls of wattle and daub.

The islands were divided into ten, forming camps of people. On the island of Epidion, known also as Islay, eight camps stood. Around the hills of Ben Vicar, stood the Dd camp, or Earth. To the east, along the Claggain waters stood the A camp, or Air. To the west of Ben Vicar to the Sorn River, stood the T camp, or Fire. On the Oa peninsula stood the R camp, or Frost. Across the bay, on the Rhinn peninsula, stood the D camp, or Water. Immediently adjecent to the D camp to the Gruinart, stood the Me camp, or Metal. From the opposite bank of the Gruinart to the eastern edge of the Finlaggan, stood the Se camp, or Psionic. Wedged between the Se, T and Dd camps stood the L camp, or vegatation. On the island of Jura, south of the Tarbert river stood the M camp, or lightning. North of the Tarbert stood the Ta camp, or thunder.

As the sun continued to the climb, the rays shot across the horizon like arrows, casting a shadow upon a lone figure, who was standing at the edge of the cliff. The waters crash down on the cluttered, acicular rocks. The sun brought light to the face of the figure. He was six feet tall and boasted a marvellous mop of hair, predominantly black with five parallel streaks of ash grey embedded within his hair. His pupils glowed a vibrant emerald. His gaze pierced the land in front of him, across the bay. Inside his head was a typhoon of blood curling screams, the gasps of the wounded and suffering pounded his ears repeatedly. A solitary tear fell from his left eye and splashed against the waves below. A soft wind brushed his face dry and restored his mind to a calm state

"D'dew?" a voice calls out from behind him. "Is everything okay?"

The man turned around and brushed his left eye dry.

"I'm fine, Dylan. And it's not D'dew, just Dewydd. My parents gave me that name and I shall die with that name." The figure spoke

Dewydd turned to face Dylan, almost towering over him. His hair was almost indistinguishable from the tree line behind him and his eyes were as pale as the tumbled, hazel stone below them. Dylan, however, was not one to be fooled. He stared at the face of Dewydd before stepping closer.

"You need not lie, is it the terrors again?" Dylan asked, taking a seat on the damp grass in front of Dewydd.

Dewydd nodded before joining Dylan on the grass.

"They're getting worse, lasting longer and more intense." Dewydd said, rubbing his temples. "Sometimes I think I'm going insane.

"Any idea what could be causing it? Have you spoken to one of the priests?" Dylan asked nervously, trying not to upset the emotionally unbalanced man.

"There is a man, across this bay in the artificial snow. He was there on that day, it's been worse since I found out." Dewydd replied, his voice now resonating with anger.

Dylan scratched his head. "Well, does he have a name? Perhaps we could go see about solving this?"

"Elisedd." Dewydd spoke. "And that's a name I'll take to my grave too."

---

The faint bell rang out across the island, echoing across every field. Alerting all the residents that it was time for their studies, the entire island was after all an academy.

"You coming Dewydd?" Dylan asks, stretching himself above the grass.

"It's our final month, can't miss anything now!" Dewydd replies to his friend, quickly rubbing his eyes once more. "If anyone asks, it's hay fever."

The two share a laugh before walking up the winding, dirt path. The path snakes through trees, singular standing stones and waves of grass. The trail eventually leads to one of the many settlements on the islands, this one was part of the D camp. In the centre of the chaotic gathering of settlements stood a mass of eager students, Dewydd and Dylan merged into the crowd.

"Settle down everyone, we'll be able to finish this quickly." A gentle voice is heard. An elderly man shuffles onto the stage. His robes glisten in the sun as streaks of gold reflect around the village, his beard is illustrious and reaches down to the dry, crackling mud on the floor below. This man was a member of the prestigious Heulogau priests. His eyes scan the crowd before continuing.

"As you are aware, this is the final year of your training. Ahead of you lies a three thousand year long journey that will test your might and mind, your honour and your faith. Yet do not get comfortable, there is still work to be done. Rest and meditate, for soon your trials will begin.

The elderly priest steps down from the platform and walks off, leaving the sea of students in suspense.

"So Dewydd, what do you think the trials will be like?" Dylan asks, trying to keep up with his marching friend.

"I don't know" said Dewydd, "I just hope combat won't be involved. I've seen enough of it." Dewydd continues.

"I find it funny in a way." Dylan said, zoning out. "You have all the qualities for a soldier, strength, martial prowess, loyalty."

"I thank you, Dylan. But I'm pretty sure I can serve the Faith in some other way than physical confrontation." Dewydd said, admiring the coast line.

"Aye, I'm sure. You can be a fireman, or help with crops!" Dylan replied with, holding back his laughter.

"Very funny Dylan." Dewydd said, exasperated. "I'm off to go prepare for the trials." He continued with, walking down towards the bay.

Dewydd extended his right arm as far as it could go, hanging over the dark sand and sea foam that gathered by his feet. He closed his eyes and focused. His face twisted and contorted with determinate as his brifen spat out rays of blue light. Yet nothing happened, the waves in front of him were calm and there wasn't a rain cloud in the sky.

"Damnit!" Dewydd exclaimed, kicking over a rock with his foot. "Why isn't this working?!"

"Everything okay?" A feminine voice asks, calmly from behind.

Dewydd quickly span around on his heels.

"Miss Delyn!" Dewydd says, calling himself to attention. His pupils widen from shock

A middle aged woman walked closer, her white robe brushing the sand away and leaving a semi-circular trail behind her. Her hair was like steel, in shape and in colour.

"Having troubles with your powers?" She asked, standing near Dewydd.

"I'm afraid so, miss." Dewydd said, his head declined towards the sand in shame.

"You are filled with hot anger, Dewydd. If you got any closer to the sea, you'd boil it away!" Delyn joked.

"I can't get over it, miss. I can quench the Sun if I tried, but not the anger inside me." Dewydd said, turning his back to her, staring across the azure waters.

"You use your raw anger as a tool, not as a resource." Delyn said, extending her own arm over the waters. "Channel it into patience, the hunter must wait, and so should you."

---

Dewydd extended his arm once more, in union with Delyn.

"Now, Dewydd. Focus on your anger." Delyn said calmly.

Dewydd closed his eyes and focused once more. His face became contorted, his grip tightened and his veins bulged, the red blood turned to blue, then to black. The screams started once more and circled his head.

"Good, good. Now keep that anger simmering. Think about how you would resolve it, how you would be the deliverer of justice upon those who have wronged you." Delyn said, eagerly watching, yet marching backwards.

Dewydd's mind was a sea of uncertainty. It had parted in two, one voice wailed for revenge, the other for peace. A lone whisper floated amongst the brainwaves, a voice that carried a message - "Forgiveness."

Dewydd's brifen flooded the beach with a strong, dark blue light before he pealed his eyes open, the time was right. With a single thought and with his arm stretched out, the waves before him parted like ripped cloth. The waves retreated from the rocky face of the island and took the wildlife with it.

"Impressive, Dewydd. Most impressive." Delyn said, watching the water forming a wall, 20 feet high. "Just be careful with letting go. It needs to be controlled and at the right time." she continued.

"Patience is key." Dewydd thought, slowly letting the water down gently, curving the waves down to make sure the waves wouldn't flood the beach.

"Now then, Dewydd. Do you wish to tell me what's troubling you?" Delyn asked caringly, sitting on a rock near Dewydd.

"Very well, miss. Someone I loathe is here on this island. I come from the tribe of Tegeingl, before I went through my transformation, I was caught up in a raid from the Cornovii tribe. I can't recall much of that night, but I can remember a man with our markings involved in the chaos. I saw him in my house, by my dead family." Dewydd said, choking up towards the end.

Delyn cringed, aghast at the history of Dewydd. She was robbed of words, dumbstruck on what to say.

"Is it revenge you seek?" She managed to ask Dewydd.

"I do not know what I seek, miss. Every night and every day, the screams of my people echo throughout my head. I need to put them to rest, I need to cure myself of this plague." Dewydd replied to Delyn, before walking away. "Excuse me, miss."

Dewydd walked off into the fields to be alone. The afternoon sun basked him in warmth as he stretched his arms out, high above his head. He created six orbs of water and span them around him, they rotated and revolved in all angles and at all speeds. He commanded them to combine into each other and split continuously, he threw them out at the gaps in the flowers and into the far treeline. Beyond the treeline, the crackles of thunder could be heard, to the east, the ground shook with ferocity. Two figures entered the field, emerging from the trees. Dewydd paid them no heed, until one of them walked up to Dewydd.

A female, her height rivalling a short spear. Her hair was blackened with soot and tied back. Her face littered with sparks. Her eyes were a dirty blue. Her friend, the male was a great lump of a man. Solid in size and stature, his hair had all fallen down into a beard and his face was littered with little cuts and nicks, it was nearly impossible to tell what colour eyes. The female stood infront of Dewydd.

"Hey stranger." she asked, waving her hand in front of his eyes.

"Hello." Dewydd replied. "Do you need anything?" he asked.

"We're just wondering if you needed anything. You're in our grounds, after all. We don't get many visitors. Not many people are appreciative of us." she said

Grasped by curiosity, Dewydd raised his head and stared at her left cheek. On it, was an intricate design of three balls, connected by spokes with swirls on the balls, these people came from the Metal camp.

"Ah." Dewydd said, standing up. "Synthetics. Nothing to be ashamed of." Dewydd said. "Well, I'm Dewydd, of the Water camp. You?" he asked, extending his arm forwards."

"I'm Nynniaw. The shack of a person behind me is Meirchion." the female replies once more, shaking the hand of Dewydd.

---

Dewydd turned his arm to Meirchion, a decision he'd soon regret. Meirchion's grasp was like a steel vice, clamping down on the bones under the skin. Dewydd's face wrinkled with pain and his mouth was pulled taut. Meirchion could see the agony in Dewydd's face and quickly released with a laugh.

"Sorry my friend! I forget my own strength." Meirchion laughed, dusting his hand off, leaving streaks of dust down his clothes.

Holding back the water in his eyes, "No worries!" Dewydd spluttered out. "I've always wanted to ask, why do people treat those belonging to the Synthetics with disrespect?" Dewydd asked.

Nynniaw spoke, "It's because unlike the most of the elements, ours weren't divinely created. We got the short end of the stick, as a result of that some people see us as unpure."

"So where did they come from?" a confused Dewydd asked.

"Around a hundred years or so, a few of the Power Patriarchs rebelled. Creating new elements and dispersing them. They were stopped, of course but their influence has 'stained' the cosmos." Nynniaw said, slumping on the grass.

"That'll teach me for zoning out in the History classes." Dewydd joked. His mind raced with an idea as he stood up. "I want to see what sort of skills you two have."

Nynniaw and Meirchion's curiosities are sparked. They get very little visitors and the one time they get a new face, he wishes to duel with them.

"Of course! It'll be a great exercise of strength!" Meirchion shouts, his voice roars throughout the plain.

Nynniaw's face goes red with shock. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Meir? You know there's rules on unregulated training." she says.

Meirchion's face drops with disappointment. "Come on lass, you're the prefect. Your word is second to only the priests." he said

Nynniaw grits her teeth while rubbing her head. "Fine. Alright, but if I end up in trouble, you're joining me in detention." she says, pointing at Meirchion.

Meirchion smirks with a mouth full of pearly teeth before turning to Dewydd. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." replied Dewydd, unsheathing a knobbled, wooden staff, some two metres in length.

Meirchion's cheeks lit up in the colour of an off yellow as his hands transformed into gauntlets of gold and silver. His footsteps drove into the ground like a herd of bulls, carving out channels in the dirt with each mighty stomp. His grand body caused a shadow to dangle over Dewydd. With one quick swoop Meirchion swung his arm down, causing hot metal liquid to bead off. Dewydd evaded it, splitting from his position as if he were a wave in the water. He spun his staff rapidly, with his power, four tendrils of water gushed out from the top of the staff, swirling and combining into one another to drench the puddles of metal that had dripped from the arm of Meirchion, he quickly focused the spray of water onto the mud, quickly combining it with the burning metal to lock his arm in the ground.

"Hey!" shouted Meirchion. "No fair" he growled before swinging his free arm at the torso of Dewydd.

"Oof!" exclaimed Dewydd, being flung back several metres into a tree.

The metal mass of Meirchion was free from the ground and began forging a metal hammer in his hands, before manipulating his muscle into punching the hammer down into the ground. The force shook the dirt apart, the insects jumped and the soil had began to rupture apart. Massive spikes of metal tore through the ground, hurtling towards the dazed Dewydd. The metal began to split off and form a cage around the solitary tree and Dewydd. Not wanting to get trapped, he quickly stood up. Spinning his staff around, he shot out multiple orbs of water, slowing the advance of Meirchion, but it was not enough to stop him. The two quickly became locked in physical combat, Dewydd fidgeted around, dodging each strike, before allowing himself to get caught up in the moment. He looked to the sky and saw omminous clouds floating in from the other camp.

Dewydd span his staff and tripped over Meirchion, who fell into the great chasm he had created with his metal shards. Dewydd looked back at the clouds and focused. His face froze and lost all emotion, in the heat of battle, he closed his eyes and exhaled. He thought deeply on whatever emotions he was feeling at the time, the anxiety of something going terribly, even fatally wrong, the surge of adrenaline that stems from physical conflict and the slight drop of satisfaction originating from the fact he was winning. Condensing all of those into a single breath, he sighed and raised his staff into the air and spoke.

"Rain, come forth from your clouds and fill the void in the Earth."

The rain water lashed down and turned the dry dirt into thick, clumpy mud that hugged the soles of shoes all around, this sickly concoction dripped into the ravine along with the torrential waves of rainwater, rocketing out of the sky. The edges of the void had become slippery and sticky, climbing out was impossible and the rain wasn't letting up. Meirchion had become submerged with the mixture. A mind already plagued by guilt, Dewydd leaped into the chaotic quagmire and dived down. The void was some 4 metres deep but he quickly found Meirchion, struggling to breath near the bottom. The metal gauntlets of his had weighed him down and he was too swept up in panic to get rid of them. Dewydd grasped the chestpiece of Meirchion and caused a large blast of water that shook the sediment to the surface before creating additional pressure to surface, clinging onto the panicking Meirchion.

"Argh!" cried out Dewydd, as all his strength was spent as he slung Meirchion into a small puddle.

Nynniaw rushed over, skidding around the water and forced herself onto her knees, dirtying her clothes. She leant by Meirchion and slapped his face.

"Come on, wake up." Nynniaw said, inbetween slaps.

Meirchion snaps awake, coughing and spluttering before speaking.

"That was great!" Meirchion said, groggily. "Can we do it again soon?"

Dewydd looked on confused. The man had almost drowned in a ravine of dirt, mud and metal flakes, he was sat in a marshy puddle of soot and grass and yet he shouted with enthusiasm to do it again.

"Perhaps another time." Dewydd said, picking up his staff before looking up.

Frantic galloping echoed out through the plains as the rain cleared up, on the white stallion was a man in a red robe. His horse pulled up next to the trio and the rider didn't even dismount. His face was obscured by the hood of his robes and tossed a scroll at Nynniaw before riding off.

"What's it for?" Dewydd asked crowding around Nynniaw.

She unfurls the scroll and begins to read from it, the parchment is brand new, leaving a sweet smell waft past their noses.

"You are to report to the proving temple immediately for the grand ceremonies. In which you will finish your training as adepts and become full fledged members of Ceidwaid." Nynniaw says, reciting from the scroll.

"We best get moving then!" Meirchion shouts, dashing off into the forest before Nynniaw and Dewydd can comprehend.