Arcadia

Highschooler Avery Warren is torn from his home and into the world of Aanda by the terrifying, dragon-like Wurms. Before they can reclaim the power in his blood, stolen from them by his ancestor, he’s freed—allegedly, anyway. His rescuers are human, and still celebrate what his ancestor did to free them from the Wurm empire twelve hundred years ago; in fact, he’ll be doing that again, please and thank you. Though the people around him are kinder than the Wurms (mostly), it’s clear to Avery that in return for saving his life they expect him to master the power in his blood and use it to exterminate the last of the Wurms’ dying empire. If he can actually master that power. If the Wurms don’t find him. If the warring factions among the humans don’t tear him to pieces first. Avery’s not the only one stuck in a web of everyone else’s plans for him. Back in the last surviving city of Wurms, a talented alchemist named Rilus is named heir to the throne—a move nobody was expecting, not even Rilus. He’ll have to prove his worth, to both himself and the disenfranchised nobility of the old Empire, if he wants to survive his promotion. If he wants his baby sister to ever get to see the outside world. If he wants to get back what was stolen and save his kind from extinction. The fate of two civilizations, it seems, rests in the hands of a teenage boy—if he can keep those hands attached to his body long enough to use them.

ARCADIA PROLOGUE The world of Aanda; a world of blue oceans, vast forests, towering mountains, scorching deserts, and plains of grass. For over one hundred and ten millennia it has been our home. But we are not the first people to call it such. Before us came the Dragons: our ancestors, the mighty creatures blessed with great longevity and intelligence. They pioneered the study of magic, enjoying a stronger connection to it than any that has been seen in Aanda’s history since. As a result, Dragonkind thrived for eons. But it would not last. The birth of the Dragon Golgotha was accompanied by a mysterious plague, one that neither magic nor medicine could cure. For years our home was ravaged. Nothing was safe as the plague ran its course; hundreds of thousands of Dragons died, and those who survived were irreversibly changed. The greatest of these changes stripped our ancestors of their ability to produce true Dragon offspring. From clutches of Dragon eggs hatched the first generation of our kind, the Wurms, whom so many of our Houses are named for. As creatures born from its consequences, even we did not escape the touch of the plague. On us, the vibrant colours of our ancestors have been replaced with the white of bleached bone. Our statures are minuscule compared to our forebears; we stand as little more than ants next to them. Even our connection to the Well, primeval source of all magic, was weakened. One might claim a Wurm is nothing compared to a Dragon. Dragonkind’s numbers had never been large, and the plague and its lasting influence might have otherwise doomed our ancestors to extinction. If such beliefs had prevailed, then perhaps our people might have never stepped beyond the shadows of the Dragons. Perhaps we would have been regarded as merely hatchlings; hatchlings destined to never truly grow up. But such thoughts could not take root in the minds of Dragons. For in Wurmkind the Dragons saw potential; not merely the potential to equal Dragonkind, but to grow beyond them. For ten thousand years our ancestors, the first generations of Wurmkind, worked together to heal our ravaged world. Wastelands were remade as gardens, violent seas were tamed, and new lands on which to live were sculpted from rock and soil. The extinction of Dragonkind became a laughable subject, for we had proven ourselves beyond any doubt. Wurms were not merely hatchlings or victims of circumstance; we were the next stage in the evolution in Dragonkind, destined to thrive as the new rulers of Aanda. But some did not share this optimistic view. Golgotha had survived the plague he had unleashed, growing to become a sorcerer of horrific power. Where other Dragons saw Wurmkind as the future of our people, Golgotha saw it in the power that had brought Dragonkind low. Tragically, Golgotha was not alone in this belief or curiosity, recruiting a cabal of followers. The Dragons Lilithim and Kotus were first, followed by four Wurms whose names have been erased from history for their betrayal of our kind. Together, the cabal delved into the mysteries surrounding the great plague. Through this research, Golgotha and his cabal discovered not only the true cause of the plague, but a power capable of rewriting the meanings of life and death itself. The benefits of such a power could have been immeasurable, but what should have been a gift to the world was poisoned and twisted into something far worse. Together, Golgotha, Lilithim, and Kotus bred new generations of Wurms to provide raw materials for their experiments. Tens of thousands of our brothers and sisters died at the claws of the cabal, their bodies harvested and dissected, only to learn that not even death could free them from their suffering. Carefully concealed by the cabal, these atrocities went unnoticed until a young Wurm named Tenebrae escaped Golgotha’s lair. Speaking of the horrors he had witnessed to all who would listen, Tenebrae quickly attracted the attention of the other Dragons. Unable to ignore the accusations against members of their kind, the Dragons confronted Golgotha and his cabal. But the greatest calamity was the reaction of the cabal when ordered to cease their activities. They attacked. The remains of Dragonkind were split in two, and for the first time in history Aanda was gripped by war. To protect Wurmkind and save the victims of Golgotha and the cabal, to end the threat they posed, those opposed to them united under the leadership of the Dragon Galarung, the Red Lady. Because of the role he had played in bringing Golgotha’s crimes to their attention, Galarung appointed Tenebrae as the overseer of our people, naming him their Grand Marshal. Tenebrae accepted this position, raising armies of our fellow Wurms to fight on behalf of the Dragons. The war that followed was vicious, with many Dragons and Wurms losing their lives, and countless works we had created together were destroyed, but it was short. Together, Galarung and Tenebrae pushed Golgotha and his followers steadily back, finally cornering them at Engbad, Golgotha’s primary lair. It was there that the full extent of Golgotha and the cabal’s crimes were exposed. Even before the final battle began, Galarung and Tenebrae arrived to find that the Wurms they had come to rescue had already been killed by the cabal; not in the name of any research, but merely to spite their would-be rescuers. Millennia earlier, Dragonkind had dismissed the very concept of evil. But through the actions of Golgotha and the cabal, that concept was made manifest. Utterly horrified, Galarung demanded the cabal’s surrender. When the demand was refused, these Dragons, the last of their kind, slaughtered each other until Galarung and Golgotha stood alone. They clashed viciously, with Golgotha even dealing a mortal blow. Despite that, he was overpowered by Galarung and was reduced to begging for her mercy. Forced to surrender, Golgotha was imprisoned in the crypts beneath Engbad. Once the seals were in place, Galarung, Tenebrae, and his army travelled to the fields east of Engbad. There, Galarung succumbed to her injuries. Knowing that Golgotha’s escape would be inevitable without her maintaining the seals holding him, Galarung, in her final moment, used her magic to preserve her essence, forsaking whatever might come next in favour of safeguarding our people. Galarung named the power she created from herself the Light and entrusted it to Tenebrae along with the promise: “While you hold the Light, your people have a future.” With Galarung’s death, the Age of Dragons concluded, and the Age of Wurms, our age, began. Once again, Aanda had been scarred. In the absence of our ancestors, our people now turned to Tenebrae for leadership, naming him our first Emperor. From the Lieutenants who had served him during the war Tenebrae created our Nobility, tasking them with ruling on his behalf. Now the potential Dragonkind had seen in us was realized; Aanda was once again healed, lost wonders were restored, and new ones, ones wholly Wurm, were created. First and foremost was the city of Elease, constructed around Galarung’s grave to serve as the seat of power for our new Empire. From there our people spread to cover all Aanda. The world was now ours to make into whatever we chose, and under Tenebrae and his successors, Aanda, our Empire, was made into a paradise. And for one hundred thousand years we thrived. But like the Age of Dragons before us, our age did not last. Throughout our reign, another people began to emerge on Aanda: Humankind. In many ways, important ways, Humankind proved themselves to be like us. They understood mortality and the value of life; they conducted themselves in accordance with codes of morals and ethics; they expressed themselves through art and literature; and they pursued studies of magic. But while our Empire is a single nation united in culture, human society is fractious, with many cultures arising across Aanda, with countless customs and beliefs. We were optimistic, eager to share the cultures and knowledge of our human neighbours, and to share ours in return. Some humans proved amenable to what we offered and found common causes with us. They became our friends, partners, even new brothers and sisters. But more humans, far more, saw the prosperity of our people and envied us for it. Rather than share it with us, they resolved to take it for themselves. The evil that Dragonkind had recognized within Golgotha and the cabal now revealed itself through humanity. On the darkest day of our history, armies of humans materialized to storm Elease. In an instant our great capital was transformed into a battleground where humans killed without discrimination or mercy. Our Emperor and Empress, my father and mother, were killed that day. Not even the Light, Lady Galarung herself, was safe from the predations of Humankind; she was stolen and hidden away from us. But it was soon revealed that this was only the beginning. Across Aanda the fractious human nations now united under the rule of a new Dominion, behind the common purpose of our destruction. For the last twelve centuries this period of war, this Decay, has eaten away at our Empire as though it were a rot infestation. Many great cities of our Empire have been reduced to dust and rubble; great works, both our own and those that we inherited from Dragonkind, have been destroyed; and our people have been slaughtered in the billions. We were not a people suited to war, and while countless among us fought bravely in our defense, there were many more times when retreat was our only option. With the deaths of our Emperor and Empress, the rule of our people fell to me, the next heir of House Tenebrae, and it was on my orders that seventeen strongholds were constructed across Aanda as sanctuaries for our people. It was my hope that such a measure would allow our people to endure the wrath of Humankind. But one by one, sixteen of the strongholds were breached, their defenses overwhelmed, and our people trapped within were slaughtered. Only the city of Barcka, the new seat of Imperial power, remains. One might think that, like our ancestors before us, Wurmkind faces our end. But one would be wrong. Here in Barcka we have not merely endured the Decay but thrived once again. The Empire’s resources and power have been gathered, and through the efforts of several extraordinary Wurms, we have achieved not only the means to survive, but to truly restore our Empire. Tonight, the final piece we require has been found. Golgotha’s defeat together with Galarung’s death, then the theft of the Light, have all marked the end of a chapter in the history of our people. Now, as the Decay enters its final days, the time has come once again for us to begin a new chapter.