I have the entire first chapter. Here it is
Prologue: I went to the shaper testing grounds in the White Spire Mountains and succeed. At age 13 I am probably one of the youngest graduates. I learned a lot and started heading to The Storm Plains, which was the region I was assigned to.
Chapter 1: In the Mera Tev
I sat in a cart pulled by a Kyshaak. In front of me were two outsider soldiers. One of them, a woman dressed in purple drove the cart with a venom baton across her lap. The other one, which was a Minhala guardsman, sat with a sword at his belt and a bundle of javelins to his side. At my feet in a basket was my wingbolt named Fiontan. Next to me sat Guardian Hawthorn with the assignment to escort me safely to the storm plains. It was a humid miserable day, so none of us felt in the mood to talk.
The leaves in a tree rustled violently and profane language was clearly heard. The Minhala Guard threw a Javelin in the general vicinity. This was followed by more cussing. Hawthorn face-palmed, “I don’t know how the rebels managed to get so far in this war with all of these military errors. I suppose we should prepare to slaughter some serviles.” I stroked the back of Fiontan’s neck, waking him up. I whispered into his ear. “Go scout around for the enemy number. However, if we are under attack then come back immediately. He flew off to carry out my instructions.
Hawthorn had created three battle alpha to assist him. One of them was very insolent looking. It was clear that he would eventually need a visit to the foundry. Hawthorn said gruffly, “Create some burning kyshaak to surround the cart to support the soldiers for the battle.” I created them.
My Kyshaaks breathed fire at the surrounding trees. Yelps and shouts of pain could be heard from the wannabe ambushers. A group of burning serviles ran out of the trees and fell dead on the path in front of the wagon. “Pleasant,” Hawthorn said dryly. A javelin hit our driver in the head; killing her instantly. A wall of shield-bearing human soldiers walked out of the trees. They blocked the beams of flame from the burning kyshaaks with their shields and continued their advance. I pulled out my fiery double edged rapier named Burn of the Scorch and charged their shield wall. Hawthorn and his battle alpha did the same. Our guard chunked javelins at the soldiers, which distracted them enough for the battle alpha to sneak behind them. They brought their fists on the rebels’ heads; cracking their skulls and killing them instantly. “Hahahaha stupid rebels,” the insolent looking one laughed. Hawthorn looked at me disappointedly, “Unfortunately we didn’t get to chop up anything. Lets continue to the town Alorense.”
At that moment Fiontan flew into view. He was dogfighting a drayk that must have been leading the band of rebels. He shot a white ball of flame out of his tail and burnt off the drayk’s wing. It crashed into the ground and landed in a grotesque heap of blood and gore. It was dead. Fiontan landed back in his basket on the cart like nothing had happened.
