This movie is so amazing!! I just discovered it yesterday, and the spirit moved me. So see if you like the Sapphire Mage…

Ch 1: Traveller

The small town of Luxton didn't see much. Not much action, not much boredom. Not much hate, not much love. It was a quiet place that trundled through time with dogged singularity. Cradled in a curve of the northern border, Luxton was a chilled stretch of land that depended mainly on hardy livestock and wrinkled, tough potatoes as staples of commerce. If you were born in Luxton, you often died in Luxton. It was a misty place, the fog sometimes so thick that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. There were stories of the Lost—men, women, and children swallowed by the vapors. It was said that their spirits roamed the land, forever trapped within the confines of the mist.

So when a tall figure, draped in a long, black cloak appeared on their frosted horizon, the people of Luxton were gripped by a shiver of fear. It was an instinct to think of him, for his stride was a masculine one, as one of the more vengeful Lost. But the stranger proved human, relieving the ones who caught sight of his pale, human face under the shadows of his hood.

Making his way down the deserted main street, the visitor stepped inside the quiet inn with a sigh of relief. Tossing back the deep cowl of his cloak, the young man brushed back his untidy hair as his eyes searched for the proprietor. The inn was still, but much warmer than the damp, determined cold outside with its moderate blaze burning in a small hearth. There was bitter, snapping air out there, a climate no mortal relished to be exposed to for long. He had been raised in the cold of the Waste, but this little town was farther north, just on the border of Calimar.

"Hello?" he called, unaware of how the deep timbre of his voice was beautifully similar to his father's. Moving to the front desk, he gently ran long, clever fingers along a string of bells. They jingled cheerfully, echoing far back into the halls of the inn.

Although the owner didn't respond to the summons, something else did. The man had to gulp back a gasp when a huge black and white cat, about the size of a small dog, leapt up on the counter, landing with the agility of a hunter.

"Well, aren't you a handsome thing?" he murmured as he stroked the cat's large, splotched head. Arching like a bow, the cat started to purr, his throat rumbling like an engine.

"I see Sierge has made a friend, something he's not apt to do. You should be honored." The young man glanced up from the twisting cat under his hand to the middle-aged man stumping down the set of shadowed stairs behind the front desk.

"Then Sierge seems to be an excellent judge of character," the young man said with a smile as Sierge bumped his large head against his waiting hand again. The inn-keeper grinned as he hefted a giant, dust-coated ledger up onto the counter.

"That he is. Sierge is something of a guard dog around here. He must see something in you." The young man signed his name in the ledger, shifting his cloak back to free his hand. He played his free fingers over Sierge's spine as he skillfully and swiftly signed his name on the yellowed page. The inn-keeper raised a brow at the sapphire blue lining of his rich cloak. His eyes then moved to the blue crystal hanging from a slim silver chain, delicate as a child's tear, glowing against the black of the stranger's clothes.

Despite his failing eyes, the inn-keeper had spent many years reading names upside-down, and the man's name was not one he'd seen often.

"Felix? I can't remember where I've heard that name before." The young man's smile was slow, and a little glittery.

"The only Felix I know of is the son of Howl, the Wizard. Looks just like him supposedly." The inn-keeper let his aging eyes flash over the man standing on the other side of the counter again. This Felix's tousled black hair was so dark, it was almost blue, rippling in the faint candlelight like the wing of raven soaring in the sun. His well shaped eyes, ringed with long lashes, shone the blue of a misted mountain sky. From his left ear hung a dark blue, almost black stone. His clothes consisted of a black, simple waistcoat over a loose white shirt tucked into black breeches. His tall boots were mud-spattered, but of good quality. And of course, that cloak that seemed to be soaked in magic. Meeting Felix's grinning eyes, the inn-keeper smiled warmly.

"Welcome, Felix, son of Howl. It is truly an honor." The inn-keeper offered his hand, and was a little surprised when the young man took it and shook with graciousness. Immediately, the man insisted on giving Felix his best room free of charge. Glancing around at the room that was entirely too empty and the floor that was a little too rough, Felix denied his generosity, and insisted on an average room at full price. The inn-keeper worked him down to ¾ of the original price before leading him up another set of stairs.

Both stairs and banister were a rich chestnut hidden under a thick layer of dust. Their footsteps were almost silent but the squealing of the beams was plaintive. The man insisted on opening Felix's door himself, and then settled into regaling Felix with his memories of the many tales surrounding Felix's father.

It took some convincing, but Felix was finally able to rid himself of the inn-keeper. As much as the man's attention was flattering, Felix was desperate for some time alone. He had just broken with a group of gypsies, and as fascinating as they were, it was difficult for Felix to spend a prolonged amount of time with such boisterous people. Felix had grown up with minimal human contact from those outside his family.

An extended amount of time with many people often left him with the sensation that a family of birds had taken roost in his stomach. He had learned long ago that the only cure for these spells of restlessness was a long interlude of solitude. Felix had stopped in Luxton intending to stock up on supplies before traipsing southward again through the Ruby Forest.

But before he began that leg of the journey, Felix was going to rest on a real bed, an anomaly he hadn't seen for months. It had been a while since the feel of feathers under his spine. Shedding his boots, cloak, and waistcoat, Felix tumbled into bed, his eyes already drifting close. Curled on his side, the strangely glowing crystal managed to land in the curve of his palm. Waving a sluggish hand toward the foot of the bed, Felix drew up the homespun quilt of maroon and green pattern without actually grasping the cloth. It was simple magic, but enough to drain the last of Felix's energy. As his eyes slid close, the crystal in his hand flashed once before it, too, fell silent.