In the seaside town of Marisol within the powerful country of Avalon, a class of sixteen-year-olds stood in a row on the schoolyard, each holding a slightly rusted metallic sword pointed at a target. A man in a suit stood at the end of the line, raised his hand, and shouted, "Fire!"
In an instant, the students launched bursts of energy from their swords: fireballs that exploded against their targets in a wave of heat and light. Every student except one. Tor Fortner stood at the end of the line, gripping his sword tightly, straining to force even a single spark of magic out.
Laughter erupted down the line. Daniel Costa, the star student, smirked the widest.
Daniel was a jerk. He was one of the most gifted in Marisol, maybe even in the whole Sequoia District, but his talent, wealth, and powerful family had all gone to his head. He was the worst bully in town, and Tor was his favorite target. Everyone already disliked Tor because of something his parents had done twenty years ago.
Tor forced a weak smile and gave a nervous laugh.
"Not today either, I guess!" he said.
"Or never! You're just hopeless!" Daniel shot back.
The bell tower in the plaza next to the school rang, and the students packed up their bags and headed home. Tor left quickly; he didn't feel like dealing with Daniel's stupidity any longer.
Tor had bright green eyes, black slightly curly hair, and tanned skin. He stood about five foot ten, fairly tall for his age. Maybe he could've had a girlfriend if people didn't hate him so much.
As he walked home through the bustling streets, he heard someone call out behind him.
"Tor! Wait up, Tor!"
Tor turned to see his only friend, Micah Johnson, running toward him.
"Hey, Tor! My mom invited you over for dinner, want to come?"
"Of course! Your mom's cooking is amazing," Tor said with a grin.
They walked together through the busy plazas and crowded shops filled with laughter and families. It was peaceful, something Tor treasured. The sun shone over the seaside city, built on steep cliffs overlooking the water. High above them, on the peninsula's peak, stood the King's castle, heavily guarded even now. The place had once been a dragon hotspot, centuries ago.
"Did you leave early because of Daniel again?" Micah asked.
"Yeah. He was being a jerk, but whatever. It's only a battle if I choose to fight back," Tor replied.
"Still, you should! You're like, the smartest person in our school, and everyone hates you for something you didn't even do!" Micah said, frustrated.
Tor shrugged. "Too bad we don't even know where the Slayer Exams will be held this year. Mail's been so slow lately, it can take up to seven days to get word from the capital since horseback and ship routes got restricted."
"You're changing the subject!" Micah accused.
Before Tor could respond, the ground began to tremble. A deep rumble echoed through the mountain.
"Ooooh, earthquake!" Tor yelled over the noise.
But it wasn't an earthquake.
Up on the slopes of Mount Sequoia stood the third-tallest tree on Earth, Atlas. And clinging to that massive tree was something that would change the world forever: a two-hundred-foot-long, black, scaly dragon.
The rumbling wasn't the earth, it was the beast's roar, the fireballs it spewed into the sky, and the stampede of demons thundering down toward Marisol.
Fire rained down on the city, crashing into buildings as a horde of demons stormed the city's entrance, blocking the peninsula, the only chance of escape. Tor grabbed Micah by the arm as the snarls grew louder. Tor had read many books, some from the library for which he did not have a pass. Demons were usually normal animals corrupted by a virus similar to rabies. The difference between that so-called "demonization" and rabies was that demonization produced deformities, doubled the animal's strength, and made its eyes glow red. Tor remembered that they also made a distinct noise, a mix between a pig's snort and a wolf's growl.
As they ran back down the street they had come from, Micah suddenly froze. "My family," he said, "I need to go help them, Tor!" Without another word he turned and bolted toward the smoke.
Tor did not argue; he let Micah go. Micah was his only friend, though Tor knew he could not defend him. Tor continued toward the school, past burning buildings, crying children, and families desperate to escape as the stampeding demons closed in. He reached the target range in the schoolyard, smashed open the sword crate, and grabbed one for defense before climbing onto the math building roof.
From the high vantage point, the city looked like a single, roaring wound. Screams cut through the air and the demons' red eyes dotted the streets below. The dragon that had appeared on Atlas had vanished almost as quickly as it had arrived. Even though Tor could not wield the celestial swords, swords forged from meteor ore that let their bearers manipulate elemental matter, he was exceptionally athletic. He leapt across gaps from roof to roof, racing toward Micah's house, which burned like the rest.
By the time he reached the building next to Micah's, it was already too late. Micah's mother and brother lay crushed beneath collapsed walls, and Micah himself was cornered by a demon.
The demon saw Tor and turned. It was different from the others, far more sinister. It looked human but three times larger, and it grinned as it regarded him. "Run, Tor! Get out of here!" Micah cried, injured and distraught.
Tor ignored him. He dropped to the street and charged. "Get away from him!" Tor yelled as heat and smoke made his head swim. The demon smiled and lunged. Tor was unprepared and nowhere near strong enough. He felt foolish, he and Micah might die for nothing. Still, Tor raised his sword and forced a smile.
"If I can't kill you, I can at least chop off a limb!" he shouted. He swung and missed. The demon's claws flashed and slashed his chest. It was the most excruciating pain he had ever known. Three deep gashes opened across his torso and he collapsed.
On the verge of unconsciousness, he saw what might have been a dream: a man appeared, flying in, and cleaved the demon in two. Then Tor blacked out.
THE MARISOL INCIDENT: 30 THOUSAND DEAD