The Time of Renewal approaches, and the stirrings of magic long buried cracks the doorway to unimaginable horrors. A Guardian is needed to protect the lines of reality, but who will dare undertake such a task?

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Author's Notes:

This is just a teaser to let everyone know that I'm still around and thinking about ToR. I hope to begin posting regularly again in the near future; starting with these (and some other) characters and bringing the Heir to a Species characters in, a little ways down the road. Without further ado, enjoy your tease.

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“Quick, get around that corner!” my brother, Samuel, shouted at me. His hope was quickly disappointed as the incoming missile nailed my avatar right in the middle of the screen.

“Aww...okay my turn!”

We were enjoying a quiet summer’s afternoon; the last before I was to go to college. Somehow it felt very bleak, as though the solid relationship that we had as two brothers was suddenly going to end in a month. It was complete bullshit, of course. My brother and I had been inseparable for years, and it was going to take a hell of a lot more than college to break that friendship.

I smiled, and abdicated my computer chair to give him a shot at the boss that was kicking both of our asses all over the place.

“I’m going to go and grab a drink, you want something?” I asked as he sat down.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks though, John,” he replied.

As I walked to the kitchen, I reflected on the slight melancholia that I was feeling. My brother was two years younger than I was, but in a way, he was the only family I had left. My mother had died giving birth to Sam, and my father was so often out of town for business that it felt like I only saw him once or twice a month.

Despite that, we’d turned out fairly well, if I said so myself. We weren’t the kind of teens that randomly got in trouble once a week, and we kept our noses out of the stupid crap that everyone always feels like trying in high school. Neither of us were particularly well-liked, but neither were we often the target of the usual assortment of bullies and socialites.

I reached down to grab a can of Pepsi out of the fridge, and a random gust blew through the kitchen, scattering papers all over the place. The kicker: none of the windows were open.

“Sam!” I bellowed. “Shut the damn window!” Our house was located on a mountainside in New Hampshire, which translates to random winds that do whatever the hell they want. Having windows open is a dangerous proposition, even on a calm day.

“I didn’t open any of the windows,” he yelled back.

“Well, prepare for a in-house thunderstorm then.”

Pepsi in hand, I stamped back to the computer, fully expecting to see Sam closing the window as I got there. Instead, however, I saw him furiously clicking and pounding on the keyboard in a fevered attempt to not get hit with a missile to the face. The window was closed.