Ezra gazed down at the Wanderer village. Nestled deep inside the Macari Mountains just past the Volcano of Shin, the jagged rock faces surrounding the villages fortified it against invaders. High lookout towers deep inside jutted up into the air, providing a vantage point for the watchmen. So far, no one had spotted him, or else, they felt no need to sound the alarm.

As Ezra descended the narrow pathway towards the village, he could hear his father’s voice echoing in his head. You will need a team to retrieve the Jewel of Laridal completely. Do not go for the most skilled or powerful, but look for the outcasts, the ones who’ve lost all hope.

Outcasts? Ezra shook his head in amazement. To him, the Prince of Nev disguised in a Wanderer’s body, all Wanderers were outcasts. Exiled here on Rarogan until someone retrieved the Jewel of Laridal. Where are the outcasts among the outcasts?

As if hearing his unspoken question, his father instructed him once more. You’ll know them when you see them.

Ezra shrugged. He didn’t understand, but he trusted the king. Evil, rebellious thoughts nagged at the back of his mind, doubting the sincerity of the king’s words. Swift as lightning, Ezra drew his sword and whirled around. An Onkron crouched on the boulder nearby, trying to cast him under its spell with its eerie yellow eyes.

Ezra didn’t waste a moment. He flung his sword like a frisbee, and as the sword flew, his flawless ring illuminated the dismal night around him. The spinning blade soared through the air and severed the Onkron in half. In a puff of smoke, it vanished. The sword returned to his hand, but he didn’t sheath it.

“The Asynier?” a ragged voice breathed out behind him. Ezra turned. A gnarly old man, bent over from many years of being under an Onkron’s spell, staggered towards him. Another Onkron, burly as can be, dug its talon into the man’s back, trying to keep him under its spell.

“Your ring,” the man struggled to utter the words under the pressure of the Onkron, “It shone. Shone with the power of the king. Only the Asynier is prophesied to have a glowing ring.” The Onkron screeched horribly at the name of the person prophesied to curse it once and for all.

Ezra knew well who the man was talking about. “Do you believe I am the Asynier?”

The Onkron howled all the more, trying to drown out Ezra’s words. The Onkron knew as well as Ezra did the Asynier had come to Rarogan.

Tears trickled down the man’s face, and Ezra knew instantly. These were the outcasts. The beaten and broken Wanderers their own people had cast out of the village.

“I believe.”

Ezra’s ring glowed with the passion of the king as he released his sword. The blade darted straight for the Onkron, sinking deep into its head. In a painful screech, the Onkron vanished, and the man collapsed to the ground. His ring still aglow, Ezra touched the man’s shoulder and let the power of the king flow into the man.

“Rise,” Ezra said. “And follow me.”

Strength streamed through the man’s body, and his back straightened. All the wounds on his face and back from carrying the Onkron around healed together into soft scars. The man struggled to his feet and rose up to his full height.

“What is your name?” Ezra asked.

“Collin, Asynier.”

“Follow me, Collin, I am garnering a team to retrieve the Jewel of Laridal.”

“But, sir, my ring prevents me from touching the Jewel,” Collin said. He held out a ring crusted over with black grime.

“Join me, and the king will expunge your criminal records forever, wiping the ring clean.” Before Collin could respond, Ezra waved him forward. “Come. We have one stop in the village before we hit the Dark Woods and the Swamp of Sudura.”