Way off in the glistening heart of the Upper Realm, the prince knelt down before his father, the king.

“Father,” the prince said. “I wish to reunite the people of Rarogan into the Upper Realm.”

The king nodded. “It would be my greatest achievement to graft the Wanderers back into our kingdom. Ever since the Hermit rebelled against us, attempting to overthrow my rule and seize my rightful authority and power, I’ve wished to undo the Hermit’s lies and welcome them back with open arms.” The king nodded grimly. “But since the exile, none of the Wanderers have been able to complete the tasks necessary to achieve the Jewel of Laridal and find their way offworld.”

The prince patted his trusty sword. “You yourself have taught me in the arts of weaponry. None except you are superior. Am I worthy enough to obtain the Jewel of Laridal for these people and set them free from the Hermit’s control?”

The king looked upon his son in love. “In order to accomplish your mission, you will need to lay aside your identity. Take upon the body of a Wanderer. For only a Wanderer can obtain the Jewel of Laridal.”

The prince nodded solemnly. He understood well the arduous road ahead of him. The king foresaw exactly what the prince would face along the way and perceived the consequences. Laying aside his identity would entail losing all his claim to regality and all the power with it. Including his weapon mastery. No longer would the rebellious Onkrons flee from his presence and techniques, for he would have to relearn all of it. For he could not defeat the Hermit without it.

“I will depend on your power, Father,” the prince said. “It is worth the cost.”

The king raised his hand. The prince’s sword soared up into the air and sailed into the king’s grasp. The royal emblem vanished off his clothes. The prince could feel his regality seeping out of him as his body transformed into that of a Wanderer. His comfort and ease, peace and hope evaporated like smoke, and he could feel the rebellious nature warring on his heart instantly. As a result of their rebellion, the Wanderers incessantly battled a rebellious stance towards the king. Thoughts of questioning the king’s authority or power or justice…thoughts he’d never considered before…shoved their way towards his heart and mind, ready to plant down into the soil of belief if he so chose. Suddenly, the prince comprehended the gravity of the dark path ahead of him a little bit more.

“Go,” the king said. “You must learn everything through the eyes of a Wanderer, for only then can you truly be a Wanderer. When you’re ready, go forge your sword and other weapons in the Volcano of Shin deep within the Wilderness of Karak. Just remember, never forget who you truly are or where your power comes from.”

The prince nodded, his mind marveling at the amount of rebellion he was feeling against the king. How could the Wanderers despise the king so? He has provided them with everything.

“Go, son,” the king said. “Your name shall be Ezra.” With a wave of his wrist, the prince felt a heavy weight grasping ahold of him, dragging him out of the Upper Realm. The king and the palace disappeared, and soon his homeworld of Ven was left far behind. Many different planets whizzed by him in a hurry, each one a different and flawless model of life in the Upper Realm. Rarogan housed the only defiant people of the galaxy, and to this red planet he was heading. A new name. A new body. No sword. No power on his own. With the hellish landscape of Rarogan waiting for him and the many Onkrons hoping to slay him. The path before him bore a heavy burden. But he would bear it for his people. For his betrothed. His beloved had fallen for the Hermit’s lies and abandoned him the day before their wedding. But he, Ezra, would win her back. He would win them all back.