You’re almost there. Ezra’s father’s voice echoed inside his head. He glanced down at his glimmering ring. So this is what the Wanderers used to communicate with the king. Since the Wanderers were banished, the king left them a way of communication in the rings. The rings would tap into the nerves of the wearer and allow two-way communication with the king himself. As of now, only a select few were activated to hear the king. Through these Ringbearers, the king had revealed the end of exile for the Wanderers: they would be forgiven and freed if they could remain loyal to the king and retrieve the Jewel of Laridal. Fail one of these two, and they were doomed to exile for life.

Ezra glanced down again at his spotless ring. Thoughts and desires of mutiny and rebellion warred in his mind with his loyalty towards the king. How could the king send you down here? You are royalty. You are far much better than the lowlife scum here. He knew these thoughts were getting stronger.

Ezra whipped his head around. He spotted an Onkron hiding behind a boulder on the foot of the Volcano of Shin. Ezra sighed. Even deep within the Wilderness of Karak, these fallen creatures roamed about. The Onkron gazed at him with its eerie yellow eyes, hoping to seduce him to treason against the king.

You are my son. The prince of the Upper Realm. Sent here for a purpose. Not alone or forsaken. I am here with you. The king whispered comforting words over and over in Ezra’s mind, reminding him of his greater mission. The reunion of his father’s kingdom. As of yet, no Wanderer bore an unblemished ring, so all hope of getting offworld was lost. Even the Ringbearers bore scratches on their rings. Ezra was the only one who could achieve the Jewel of Laridal.

The king’s authority swelled up in him, and he shouted towards the Onkron. “Be gone! The king has said he is with me.”

Unknown to Ezra, a hilt of a sword began to form at his side. Ezra strode confidently towards the Onkron, repeating the king’s commands and wishes to this transformed rebel. The Onkron began to cower behind the boulder, hoping the prince of the Upper Realm would not see him. Suddenly, the Onkron felt powerless in the hands of its rightful ruler. All the while, a gleaming blade began to emerge from the hilt on Ezra’s hip.

Ezra closed the distance in three long strides and grabbed the Onkron by the shoulders. The repulsive thing trembled in the prince’s presence. “Where is she?”

“She’s sealed her fate,” the Onkron whined, its gnarly voice lacking any defiance. “The Hermit’s already convinced them it’s achievable. That they don’t need you.”

The ring on Ezra’s finger glowed as he slid his sword out of his newly-made sheath. The king’s words reverberated in his memory as he stared down this wretched being.

“Where’s the Hermit?” he questioned, his voice singing with power and might and all the power that came with being a royal of the Upper Realm.

The Onkron shrugged. “Wherever he pleases. Just don’t send me to the Dungeons! I’ll do anything not to go to the Dungeons.”

The Dungeons was an isolated system of moons on the far edge of the galaxy, specifically designed to hold and torment the galaxy’s most treacherous criminals. Unlike the Wanderers, the Onkrons were immortal, and their souls would either return to Nev in the king’s palace or the Dungeons.

“Now’s not the time,” Ezra said. “But I will send you back to your headquarters on Oro.” In a flash, Ezra swung his sword. The blade struck the Onkron, and it vanished into thin air with a scream.

Now, train with your new weapon in the Volcano of Shin. You will not rescue the Wanderers unless you do. Fear not, though, I am sending some Elgens to train you in my techniques. As if on cue, three Elgens appeared into the Wilderness of Karak.

“Your Highness, let’s begin your training.”