Chintarkah had faced peril for centuries.
First came the raiders, who pillaged the village and burned homes to the ground. Then came the Great Plague, which changed the natural world forever. After that were the beast incursions, followed by the brigands who discovered that a weakened Chintarkah made easy prey.
Each disaster took something from the town.
Lives.
Land.
Hope.
Worst of all, fewer people Awakened with each passing generation.
Once, Chintarkah had produced enough Rangers to protect the surrounding wilderness. Now the town increasingly depended upon Rangers sent by the Kingdom. The ordinary guard had become a far more common sight than the green cloaks of the Ranger Order.
That frightened the older inhabitants more than they liked to admit.
Rangers weren’t merely soldiers.
They were guardians of the natural world.
In the year 234, the Great Plague had ravaged the known lands. Rivers became poisonous. Lakes turned black. Forests twisted into unnatural shapes, and enormous stretches of once-fertile country became wastelands inhabited by creatures warped by the plague.
Centuries later, the Rangers were still trying to repair the damage.
Jason had dreamed of joining them for most of his life.
Unfortunately, dreams didn’t cause an Awakening.
Jason was a man of few words and possessed what his younger sister affectionately—or perhaps maliciously—called the moustache of insanity. She despised facial hair, which was unfortunate considering nearly every grown man in Chintarkah wore either a moustache or a full beard.
Jason had waited years for his Awakening.
It never came.
So he learned other skills.
He became an excellent rider and an even better archer. Whether using a longbow or crossbow, Jason possessed remarkable accuracy. If the Rangers wouldn’t have him, he intended to join the town guard as a bowman.
It wasn’t the life he’d wanted.
But it was something.
During his youth, brigands had besieged Chintarkah after deciding the town was easy prey. Jason had watched the guards stand beside the Rangers and eventually drive them away.
That battle had cemented his desire to become a Ranger.
But Rangers were Awakened.
Jason wasn’t.
Most Rangers Awakened an affinity connected to Water, Air, Earth, Fire, or Beast. A rare few possessed more than one affinity. Stranger abilities existed, according to whispered stories, but no one spoke openly about them.
Jason didn’t personally know anyone who had Awakened.
He had never even been permitted inside the Ranger Sanctuary.
So eventually he stopped waiting.
Or at least he told himself he had.
—
The Poisoned Forest
Jason was walking along the edge of one of Chintarkah’s damaged forests when nausea suddenly twisted his stomach.
He stopped.
Something was wrong.
Ahead lay an uncleansed region that the Rangers had repeatedly attempted to restore. The soil remained toxic and the nearby pond was poisonous enough that villagers avoided the entire area.
Jason should have turned around.
Instead, he stepped closer.
Something shimmered around the pond.
Jason blinked.
Green.
There was green everywhere.
Faint streams of light drifted through the soil. Sickly wisps hung over the water. Threads ran through the trees like veins.
Jason rubbed his eyes.
The colours remained.
“What in the—”
Movement caught his attention.
Tracks.
Dozens of animals had passed through the area, but one trail was different.
It glowed.
Jason crouched beside an enormous paw print.
A greenish light rose from it.
Against every sensible instinct he possessed, Jason followed.
The tracks continued deeper into the damaged forest.
He became so focused upon them that he didn’t realize he had stopped looking ahead.
Then he noticed the shadow.
Jason slowly raised his head.
The creature standing before him was nearly seven feet tall at the shoulder.
At first glance, it resembled an enormous wolf.
The resemblance ended quickly.
Coarse black fur covered portions of its body while thick plates of grey-green bark formed natural armour across its shoulders and flanks. Yellow-green veins glowed beneath its flesh, pulsing rhythmically.
But its mouth was the worst part.
The creature’s jaw split unnaturally far back along its skull, allowing its mouth to open impossibly wide. Crooked black teeth filled its jaws.
Thick green toxin dripped from them.
Jason took a step backwards.
The creature stared at him.
Pain exploded through Jason’s skull.
He nearly collapsed.
When his vision cleared, the world had changed.
Everything carried a faint green tinge.
And suddenly Jason could feel something that wasn’t his.
Pain.
Fear.
Hunger.
Recognition.
Jason froze.
The creature stepped towards him.
Not aggressively.
Tentatively.
Jason raised one hand.
“Stay back.”
The beast stopped.
And somehow Jason knew its name.
Blightmaw.
The knowledge hadn’t come from words.
It simply existed inside his mind.
Blightmaw.
Jason could feel the creature’s emotions more clearly now.
It wasn’t hunting him.
It was suffering.
Something had wounded it.
Jason’s strange new sight moved through the creature’s body until he discovered a concentrated mass of black-green corruption buried deep within it.
That corruption was different from the plague toxins surrounding them.
Wrong.
Without understanding why, Jason approached.
Blightmaw growled weakly.
Jason extended his hand.
“It’s all right.”
He touched the creature.
The corruption moved.
Jason watched in horror as black-green tendrils crawled through Blightmaw’s veins toward his hand.
“No—”
They entered him.
Jason’s veins turned green.
His heart hammered violently.
I’m dead.
Except he wasn’t.
Something extraordinary happened inside him.
Jason could feel the corruption.
His body instinctively separated it from the natural toxins carried within Blightmaw.
One was poison.
The other was something worse.
The corruption burned.
The usable toxin remained.
And somehow—
it obeyed him.
Jason stared at his glowing fingertips.
“I should be poisoned.”
Blightmaw suddenly relaxed.
The pain disappeared from its emotions.
Jason stared at the enormous creature.
He hadn’t commanded it.
He had healed it.
Then he heard horses.
Blightmaw’s head snapped toward the sound.
“Go.”
The creature disappeared into the trees moments before several mounted Rangers burst into the clearing.
Their captain stared after it.
“You let that kadiliman escape?”
Jason stepped backwards.
“It was wounded.”
“It is dangerous! That creature could destroy an entire village. How dare—”
She stopped.
Her expression changed.
The other Rangers noticed it too.
Green light burned faintly within Jason’s eyes.
The same colour glowed along his fingertips.
The captain stared.
“It didn’t attack you.”
Jason said nothing.
Her face went pale.
“Awakened?”
Every Ranger suddenly became still.
“What is your name?”
“Jason.”
The captain dismounted.
Disgust crossed her face.
But Jason saw something beneath it.
Fear.
“You aren’t poisoned.”
Jason looked at his hands.
“No.”
“You took its poison into your own body.”
“I suppose.”
“That’s impossible.”
One Ranger whispered something.
The captain heard him.
“So did I.”
Her eyes remained fixed upon Jason.
“Anathema.”
Jason frowned.
“What?”
“There was once a Ranger sect capable of doing what you just did. They were called Blight Rangers.”
Nobody moved.
“They haven’t been seen since the Great Plague.”
“Captain?” one of the younger Rangers whispered.
“Don’t touch him.”
Her voice cracked like a whip.
Jason looked from face to face.
“Why?”
The captain gave him an answer far more terrifying than anything Blightmaw could have done.
“Because the last men who carried that light nearly ended the Kingdom.”
A Ranger raised his crossbow.
The captain immediately motioned for him to lower it.
“Don’t mistake this for mercy.”
She made several quick hand signals.
The Rangers descended upon Jason.
Chains were wrapped around his wrists and torso before he was placed upon a spare horse.
Jason struggled briefly.
The chains didn’t move.
A young Ranger rode beside him. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen and hadn’t participated much in Jason’s capture.
“Your fate will be discovered soon enough, Awakened,” he said quietly. “Sanctuary must decide.”
Jason eventually learned the young man’s name was Randall.
Randall was a Beast Ranger and already possessed several animal companions despite his youth.
Their captain was Lyra.
Captain Lyra wasn’t merely a Ranger. She travelled throughout the Kingdom as a minstrel, telling stories of terrible creatures, ancient battles and the horrors created by the Great Plague.
Jason wondered how long it would be before she wrote a song about him.
Assuming he lived long enough to hear it.
—
Sanctuary
Sanctuary was enormous.
It was less a fortress than an entire community built for Rangers.
Large enclosures housed horses and stranger beasts claimed or bonded by Beast Rangers. Training barracks dominated one section of the grounds while small individual cabins were scattered throughout the surrounding woodland.
The Rangers were military in organization.
But there was something religious about them as well.
They served nature as much as they served the Kingdom.
At Sanctuary’s centre stood the Keep.
Senior Rangers met there to make decisions affecting the entire Order.
It also contained holding cells.
Jason discovered that personally.
The Rangers tossed him inside one.
Randall was gentler than the others.
“You shouldn’t have been chained so tightly,” he muttered while removing one restraint.
Lyra appeared behind him.
“Leave.”
Randall obeyed.
Lyra stared through the bars.
For the first time, Jason saw her mask of disgust disappear completely.
What remained was fear.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Blightborn.”
Then she walked away.
Jason sat against the stone wall.
He had spent his entire life wanting to Awaken.
Now that he finally had, everyone seemed determined to kill him for it.
—
The Ranger Council
The Council chamber had been constructed to resemble an eternal campsite.
Log chairs formed a circle around a large central fire pit. Water flowed continuously through a stone fountain along one wall, while vines and roots grew naturally through carefully placed openings in the chamber.
Lyra entered alone.
She bowed her head and offered a silent prayer to the First Ranger.
Then she approached the fire pit.
Blue flame erupted from her fingertips.
The Council had been summoned.
The first to arrive was Elowen Briarthorn, the High Greenwarden and highest-ranking Ranger in Sanctuary.
Her gown was the deep green of evergreen needles.
“You summoned the Council, Lyra, Captain of Rangers.”
Barrick Wolfscar entered next.
The enormous BeastWarden carried scars across his body from an encounter early in his life when he’d foolishly attempted to tame an entire wolf pack.
He had nearly died.
Years later, he became master of that same pack.
“We have come to hear your tale, Minstrel.”
Thunder cracked.
Kaela Stormborn entered.
“The storm has arrived. What news do you bring, Captain?”
Her voice carried the promise that the metaphor could become literal very quickly.
Heavy footsteps followed.
Brom Stonehand entered without speaking.
The Earth Ranger’s every step seemed to receive an answer from the stone beneath him.
Then the fountain moved.
Seraphine Clearwater emerged directly from the water.
She was completely dry by the time her feet touched the floor. Armour resembling brilliantly coloured scales covered her body.
“We have come at your request, Captain. What frightened you enough to call all of us?”
The blue flames suddenly surged.
Darrius Emberfall stepped through them.
He walked directly to Lyra and embraced her.
“Welcome home, Flame’s Glory. We stand with you.”
Finally, the door opened.
Mara Farstride entered.
Youngest among the Council, she represented the Trackers.
“Welcome home, Captain. The Council is ready for your report.”
They sat.
Lyra began her tale.
As always, the minstrel within her emerged. Her voice found its rhythm, rising and falling as she described finding Jason beside the kadiliman.
Barrick interrupted.
“You said the kadiliman was wounded?”
“Yes.”
“And after the boy touched it?”
Lyra hesitated.
Everyone noticed.
“It wasn’t.”
Silence.
Seraphine leaned forward.
“Then why isn’t he dead?”
Nobody answered.
Brom quietly placed his palm against the floor.
His eyes closed.
Then opened.
“There is something all of you are missing.”
Elowen looked toward him.
“What?”
“The earth where the Awakening occurred.”
Brom lifted his hand.
“It is clean.”
Elowen stood.
“What?”
Every Ranger knew that region.
They had attempted to cleanse it repeatedly.
Every attempt had failed.
That was precisely why additional Rangers had been dispatched there.
“Bring him,” Elowen ordered. “We will pronounce judgment upon Jason.”
—
The Test
Jason was dragged before the Council still wearing chains.
Seven powerful Rangers stared at him.
Some looked curious.
Others suspicious.
Elowen looked at him with open contempt.
Arguments began almost immediately.
Some wanted Jason imprisoned.
Others wanted him studied.
Elowen wanted the threat eliminated.
Then Seraphine stood.
She produced a small sealed vial.
The water inside was nearly black.
Even Jason could feel something wrong with it from across the chamber.
“This was taken from one of the oldest plague zones,” Seraphine explained. “Water Rangers have attempted to cleanse it for generations.”
Lyra immediately stood.
“Absolutely not.”
Seraphine ignored her and placed the vial before Jason.
“You brought us a Blight Ranger. I intend to discover whether you brought us a monster or a miracle.”
Jason stared at the vial.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Nobody answered.
Then Jason saw them.
Black-green strands twisted through the water.
He looked around.
Nobody else reacted.
They couldn’t see them.
Jason reached toward the vial.
“Don’t—” Lyra started.
His fingers touched the glass.
The corruption reacted.
Jason gasped.
Whatever existed inside that water was ancient.
Centuries of corruption twisted within it.
And it recognized him.
The black-green strands surged toward Jason’s hand.
He felt them enter him.
His fingertips glowed.
Then his hands.
Then his eyes.
Jason staggered.
His stomach twisted.
The corruption fought him.
Jason clenched his teeth.
“No.”
He didn’t understand how he knew what to do.
He simply knew.
Separate it.
Hold it.
Destroy it.
The corruption screamed inside him without making a sound.
Jason exhaled.
The black-green energy vanished.
Jason collapsed.
Seraphine rushed forward and grabbed the vial.
Lyra nearly drew her weapon.
Seraphine broke the seal.
She touched the water.
Her eyes widened.
She touched it again.
Then stared at Jason.
“The water is clean.”
Nobody spoke.
Seraphine’s voice became a whisper.
“It is true.”
She looked toward Elowen.
“The Blight Rangers have returned.”
Then her expression changed.
“The corruption. Where is it?”
Brom knelt beside Jason and placed one hand against the stone.
“The corruption is gone.”
He frowned.
“No. Not entirely.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“A sliver remains inside the man.”
Elowen surged to her feet.
“How dare you use these powers! You corrupted yourself and spared a creature that should have been destroyed!”
Jason’s eyes opened.
Anger overwhelmed his exhaustion.
“It was in pain!”
The Council fell silent.
“It was dying,” Jason continued. “I helped it because no one else was going to.”
Elowen stared at him.
“You know nothing about what you have done.”
“Then tell me!”
The chamber erupted.
Arguments came from every direction until Elowen slammed her hand against the table.
“Enough!”
Jason was barely conscious.
“Return him to his cell. Keep the chains on him.”
Randall and two Rangers removed Jason from the chamber.
When the door closed, Brom spoke.
“The corruption entered Jason, but the taint disappeared.”
Elowen turned.
“What?”
“He isn’t controlled by it.”
Brom’s expression remained unreadable.
“It is simply gone.”
Even Seraphine looked stunned.
Elowen stood.
“He must remain contained. If his abilities cannot be controlled, he will be destroyed. We cannot allow that power into the wilderness.”
She looked around the Council.
“Leave me.”
Nobody argued.
One by one, the Council departed.
Soon Elowen Briarthorn was alone.
—
Never Again
Elowen remained beside the dying fire.
The others believed she feared Jason because of history.
They were only partially correct.
Elowen was much older than anyone realized.
And she carried secrets few Rangers alive knew.
The Blight Rangers hadn’t caused the Great Plague.
They had fought it.
They had been its greatest healers.
When other Rangers encountered corruption they couldn’t cleanse, the Blightborn absorbed it.
They took plague into their own bodies.
Again.
And again.
And again.
For decades they saved forests.
Rivers.
Animals.
People.
But corruption always demanded a price.
Eventually the Blight Rangers began losing their battle.
The healers became infected by the very corruption they had absorbed.
And when Blight Rangers fell—
they became monsters.
They could poison entire landscapes.
Infect animals.
Transform people.
Create horrors that ordinary Rangers could barely contain.
Jason wasn’t evil.
Not yet.
That frightened Elowen more than anything.
Because neither had the others been.
She crossed the chamber toward an ancient bookshelf and removed a heavy volume.
Ranger Sects.
Elowen already knew which page she needed.
She had read it hundreds of times.
Still, she opened the book.
There it was.
The Fall of Elwar
In the fifty-second year following the Great Plague, Elwar became the last known Blightborn.
Elowen continued reading.
Elwar had once been among the greatest healers the Rangers had ever produced.
Then the corruption consumed him.
He killed fifteen Rangers.
Not simply killed.
Infected.
The plague he placed within them changed faster than their healers could respond.
None survived.
It required powerful Wardens representing every Ranger sect to destroy Elwar’s creations.
Then they hunted Elwar himself.
His death marked the end of the Blight Rangers.
Or so everyone believed.
Elowen closed the book.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
There was one fact the history deliberately omitted.
Elwar was her great-great-uncle.
His blood was her blood.
His shame had followed her family for generations.
And now, after centuries of silence, another Blightborn had appeared.
Jason.
A man who had cleansed land no Ranger could cleanse.
A man who had healed a kadiliman instead of killing it.
A man who had absorbed ancient corruption and somehow destroyed it.
Perhaps Seraphine was right.
Perhaps he was a miracle.
But Elowen had lived too long to trust miracles.
She slammed her fist against the table.
A glass shattered beneath the impact.
Elowen slowly raised her hand.
Tiny cuts covered her palm.
Droplets of blood rolled across her skin.
She stared at them.
Then she whispered the words that had guided her family for generations.
“Never again.”
Ranger
Crazy Canadian Writing 