Kirjahaku

It was an art through which men and women were able to realize their own will, an art by which a person could exert control over themselves and their surroundings. It was an art that enabled one to become a master of self, and this art, this magic, was once seen as a gift. As the ages progressed, understanding of magic grew, and it steadily turned from a heavenly blessing into a man-made curse. The Saline Realm, latest inheritor of this art, formed as a beneficiary of its power, but it also attracted the ire of the Outer Realms as a result.Cited as an affront to the laws of nature, war erupted among the seven realms as six united to destroy the nation of Salia. Surrounded by enemies, the Saline Realm contracted and fought hopelessly for survival, but during a season of abject desperation, a figure rose to prominence whose influence and strength would turn the war in their favor. His will leveled cities, his enmity burned legions to ash, and his wrath formed craters in the landscape. He became known as the Great Destroyer, and after two centuries of fighting, the war ended with the Salians claiming victory.While returning to the Saline Realm, her champion hoped to be acknowledged as a person. Through no will of his own, he was brought into the fight. Through no desire of his own, he became a weapon of war, but the bitter, prejudiced words of his compatriots marred this hope. Comforted only by his captain, he came back to a people ambivalent to his humanity, and he left the battlefield of nations to be embroiled in a new struggle at home.

The indomitable strength and power of the Legion were once a source of pride for the Firan people, and those who heard of their deeds in battle once cowered at the news of their coming. Their numbers were without peer, their endurance for hardship was without equal, and no one among the other realms could match their ferocity and determination in combat. They had once been divided, and then they were united, and for a time in history, their dominance was unchallenged, but pride preceded their fall as they were torn asunder at the coming of the Great Beast.Its shadow of death swept over the Firan forces in a tidal wave of war, and the blast from its nostrils incinerated men and consumed their bones reducing them to ash. Its talons were like a blade on the wind, and its roar was like the sound of a thousand thunders, and the heavens themselves were commanded by its fury, and no one could stand against it and live. It had taken days to gather the Legion and years to unite the tribes, but in a single night, the Great Beast came and destroyed all the Firans had hoped for.Fifty years followed this tragic event, and the people of the Burning Realm lived in relative peace. The war was over, the population was healing, and unification seemed once again to be within reach. Though rumors of evil floated about, and though the tides of destruction were felt by some, festivities and celebrations were carried out to herald the season of joy they were in, but on their borders was a darkened figure whose presence would soon be felt by all, and the Great Beast watched the glow of the horizon and rose to return to the Burning Realm.

In the Stony Realm, the worth of a man was measured by the size of his account and his relationship to it. Pius or agnostic, virtuous or vicious, ethical or otherwise, the scales of the economy had but one dichotomy. One was either valuable or worthless. Everyone from the richest merchants and their whispering advisors to the poorest beggar and the vermin they lived with understood this system. They lived under it, bargained from within it, and though many were sacrificed for it, not everyone agreed with it.The winds of change were blowing, and what was once a pleasant breeze transformed into a raging tempest. Militias grumbled with discontent over the terms of their contracts, and the powers of the realm, still reeling from the drain of the war, squeezed as much as they could from the denizens. The transactional nature of their relationships became a focal point of contention, and then there was news from the north. The Great Destroyer was loose in the world.Investors placed their bets, and the wealthy built what hedges they could against potential losses. Friends became acquaintances, competitors became adversaries, and the companies they employed remained as tools for their self-centered avarice. The name of the game became survival of the fittest. Such was the state of the realm, but this was a game the Destroyer had no interest in playing. The once great Commonwealth of Associated Interests incurred a debt, and the time had come to collect.

Nestled within the early pages of the Aural Realm's exalted history was a period of tribulation and heroes. These heroes fought authorities and powers to unite a region in disarray, and to save their people, they established orders and founded a hedge of guiding principles around the emerging kingdoms. This foundation took years to build and was made of the blood, sacrifice, and toil of noble souls. It was intended to grant security for centuries to come but was undone by one generation of fear. Aghast at the rapid growth and development of a new power in the Saline Realm, the royals and ideologues of the Eight Kingdoms condemned the budding nation's existence. They rallied allies, stoked the embers of resentment and conspiracy, and loudly proclaimed the practice of magic as nothing less than an affront to the very divinity of God. War broke out, and for two centuries, the Kingdoms fought to cleanse the world of an unholy taint, but for all of their dogmas and beliefs, the war ended in a resounding defeat. Though shaken in their conviction, the institutions of Crown and Church held fast to their respective faiths. Within the castles, kings and their courts were encouraged to exercise their sovereign rights, and on hallowed grounds, congregations were soothed by assurances of divine protection over their souls. The war was over, but unbeknownst to them, the silver tongue of a new devil infiltrated the land, and the Demon instrumental to the Salian's victory returned once more to settle an ancient wound.

"We were called The Little Potatoes and Hard to Peel . . . we were smaller than the other kids and maybe not as talented, but we always played with our hearts. So, it didn't matter if we won or lost, we never got down, because we knew on the inside . . . we were tuff and hard to peel."This is how David's grandfather, Pop Pop, begins a legendary story about his little league baseball team during a family reunion in Kentucky, along the winding Ohio River. As the tale unravels, David starts to think Pop Pop might be teaching him more than just the rules of baseball. Back home in Georgia, David is embarking on a new adventure as he begins middle school, a time of exciting changes that he will navigate single-handedly. David was born without his right hand, a "glitch" that allows him to adapt differently to all experiences. Soon, he finds himself wondering if he can follow in his grandfather's footsteps and join his little league all-star team with one mitt. Full of vulnerability and despair, humor and hope, we learn the universal power of his grandfather's story as it echoes in David's life, reminding us to not let challenges, obstacles, and perceived limitations peel away the core of our humanity.