PROLOGUE

Torches blazed fiercely in the ceremony hall, casting dancing shadows about the spacious room. Crystal boxes engraved with swirling patterns lined the walls of stone and clay. Stationed within them, hundreds of Nova Flies flickered on and off asynchronously, giving off an eerie and mysterious golden glow. The hymn sung by elderly humans and Blood sounded coarse, yet dignified. They stood at the back of the stage, draped in maroon ceremonious regalia embroidered with black swirls. The Blood were of various heights, shapes, and shades of chrome. What genuinely set them apart were their unique beast-like features: mammalian, reptilian, and insect, to name a few.

Timothy Thompson, sixteen years old, gulped as he tried to calm his nerves. He shifted uncomfortably in his own similarly coloured, but less decorated robes. Tim stood awkwardly on the stage behind a table with a flying phoenix encircling a human warrior delicately carved into the polished wood. His dark-brown eyes darted around the numerous rows of people who faced him. Though they were all blurred, he could easily distinguish the hundred or so pairs of eyes observing his every move.

In the background, a hammering sound echoed throughout the hall. Its steady beat sounded as though it were part of the hymn. The clanking sound abruptly stopped after another minute. The stage shook as a massive figure approached Tim with heavy footsteps, claws scraping the mosaic stone-tiled floor. A helmet made of polished walnut covered its head and long, curved horns, with a single blood-red ruby situated in the center. The Blood wore a maroon hooded poncho-like robe with winding black patterns creeping across the fabric. Polished walnut bangles, lined with rubies, twisted over its forearms. Its bear-like hands, with an opposable thumb and three fingers, grasped a small crimson-red cushion. A silver-chain necklace supporting a crescent moon shape was laid upon it, sparkling as it reflected the flaming torches illuminating the stage. Large pitch black eyes contrasted with radiant golden irises peered down at Tim, who returned a determined gaze.

As the singing subsided, the Head Elder stepped forward, elaborately decorated with gold embroidery which formed a human warrior; not a single wrinkle was present on his perfectly ironed robes. The corners of his eyes and mouth exhibited a lifetime of frowns.

The Head Elder eyed Tim’s messy black ponytail, not bothering to hide his discontent. “Candidate, you may recite the Blood Oath,” he announced in a stern, gruff voice.

What were the words again? thought Tim, quickly reviewing them in his head to ensure no mistakes would be made.

The Head Elder cleared his throat, signaling him to begin.

In the front row, Tim’s little sister, eight years of age, beamed up at him while giving a double thumbs up. Her caramel-brown hair was tied into short, curled pigtails today, and her large, round hazel eyes shone like twinkling stars. Simply adorable.

Tim returned a slightly crooked grin, suddenly feeling more relieved and confident. He took a huge breath before reciting his oath in a silvery voice:

“*Ik, Timothy Thompson, solhume swah tae bay
Ah p’seery oh teer sacry,
Ah coniclay oh teer culltar,
En ah gudrine oh teer fae.
Witl ousakeh leyota,
Opah Kapuah’s neme te,
Ik selel foolhe hiz undios paku,
B’lode Uat Te*”

*[I,           , solemnly swear to be
A preserver of their secrets,
A chronicler of their culture,
And a guardian of their fate.
With unshaken loyalty,
Upon the Keeper’s name,
I shall follow this undying pact,
The Blood Oath]