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Message from the Sky
Dark clouds covered the sky as droplets of water fell hard and fast on the land below. The rain hit all on the land, soaking the six inch long blades of grass, normally a bright vibrant green in colour, but due to the dousing of water from above, the grass was dark as opposed to its usual bright colour. The grass covered over 50% percent of the Island's landmass, 2% percent was covered by sand that made up part of the beach and the beach itself made up 20% percent of the island, a huge mass of it concentrated to the eastern side of the Island. As for the rest of the Island, it's surface was laden with rocks, stones and boulders.
The Island itself is 1.5 miles long from it's western most point to its eastern point and is .8 miles wide from north to south. The Island used to be much larger and was originally shaped much like a human eye, but after decades of erosion and landslides, the Island's shape had changed dramatically and diminished in size, now it is shaped like a rectangle.
Most of the Island sits 100 metres above the surface of the sea, it's lowest point was the beach, which is connected to the rest of the Island by a rocky slope that starts at the beach and then slithers like a snake up the cliff-face to the rest of the Island.
The highest point on the whole Island that is none other than the Island of Iris, is the Watcher's Summit, an inactive & dormant volcano that sits squarely in the middle of the Island and at the very top, in the very centre of the crusted over volcano, is a wooden house, standing two stories high. The house was built centuries ago and was made out of wood that came from the trees grown on the Island.
On this darkened night, as the rain continued and the weather seemed to be getting worse, a lone figure stood out in the rain, wielding a sword as he slashed out at wooden targets that he had built. As he stood on top of the World, or at the very least, on top of the Island, 1900 metres above the Mares Sea, he was soaked, his violet coloured tunic & white tights clung tightly to his body. The man stood at a height of 5'9 and had greying black hair and a jet black goatee sitting on his chin, which is connected to his black bushy moustache.
The aged swordsman of Iris was the sole human inhabitant on the Island and it was not because he chose to live like this, but because Tradition & Protocol dictates a life of solitude, unless of course a child of worthy has made their way to the Island.
Taking another swing, the swordsman strikes his wooden man-shaped target again. The lone man if Iris was the Chosen Guardian of the Island and one of the last few remaining Watchers in modern times. For a long time he has served as the Iris Watchman, the most skilled Watchman in all of the Mares Realm. His duty was to discover and educate all future Guardians, teach them the Watcher's Code and train them into highly skilled warriors.
Swinging his weapon again, the Guardian of Iris was growing weary, not because he was feeling tired from four hours of arduous training, but because his age was soon catching up with him. He may have only looked like he was in his late forties, but in reality he was much older.
As much as he wished to stop, call it a night and go to sleep, the Guardian wouldn't allow himself to, instead he willed himself on as he continued to swing. He was cold, tired and hungry, but still he fought on, battling through his rumbling stomach, craving for anything to eat and his aching muscles, crying out for a break. This was the way of the Guardians, the Watcher's, even at their weakest or most tired state, they were required to give their best, always 100% percent and never 99% percent or anything less
This Guardian, a man who had taught so many, so used to being around people, having company, a social man, had spent the last 23 years in isolation, living alone without another person to talk to. His only friend during that time was a loyal and dutiful Raven, but on this rainy night, things are about to change.
Even with the sound of rain hitting the land and a sword striking wood repeatedly, the bearded warrior could still hear a single caw as a bird, off in the distance, made a sound. The skilled sword wielder paused in mid-swing and turned to his right, facing east.
"Izal! Is that You?" The Warrior had spoke in a strong powerful baritone voice. Deeply masculine and authoritative and yet, it was so full of wisdom from his years of being a Watcher.
"Izal?" He repeats, calling out to his feathered companion.
The man turns again, this time facing north. This time he had definitely heard a bird calling out, he was positive his mind was not playing tricks on him.
"Izal, I can hear you my friend, where are you?" He calls out into the night, not hoping but knowing his winged friend could hear him.
Again a bird had called out, but this time it was a lot closer for the animal had just landed beside it's Master.
"Izal! I'm so pleased to see you!" The swordsman exclaims, as he turns to face the black feathered, three foot high Raven and reaches out with his free hand to stroke his pet.
Izal the Raven enjoyed this display of affection from he's Master, it had been two years since they last saw each other.
The two of them had parted ways at the end of a special ceremony, just as the Code dictated. Izal's return could only mean one thing and one thing only.
"Izal, am I dreaming?"
The Raven looks into the eyes of the Guardian before its eyes turn green, shining like emeralds as it begins to speak telepathically.
"No Master Mako, you are not dreaming!"
Master Mako is stunned.
"Your return can only mean one thing!" Mako states.
"Yes Master, there is a boy on Dead Man's Beach."
Without another telepathic word said, the winged creature took flight, flying to the silvery moon, heading east.