Of Prophecies and Promises

Prologue

Prologue

2759 A.D./P.E.D. Second Earth, Atlantis Galaxy… The branches of the trees offered the old woman little shelter from the flakes of snow that swirled on the wind. Wrapped warmly, the bundle didn’t understand the importance, or the urgency, with which the crone shuffled through the rising drifts. Belly full, held close to a beating heart, the male child, unaware of his significance, blinked up at the falling white.

Beneath the bell tower, three lights shone through the storm. The walls of the Monastery served not only to protect those within but also to keep the depravity that had developed on that world, out. If the joined races were to have any hope, this child would need to be hidden and given tutelage in the use of his gifts.

As the old women approached the thick wooden doors of the Sanctuary, she glanced back through the surrounding forest and along the stone wall that would protect the package she carried. If the child remained silent, then it would not draw the attention of predators before one of the Order roused himself from his threadbare bed to answer the bell. It seemed that nothing moved, yet she felt uneasy. Gently, reverently, the child was placed on the highest step, next to the juncture of wood and stone, protected from the wind and snow. Muttering a blessing and passing her hand over the head of the child, the old woman moved to the bell rope and pulled. The brass sent out the sound of help.

Once more the woman peered into the forest, then quickly moved back into the shelter of trees, her feet placing themselves in the footprints that were already marked by the rising drifts. There she waited briefly, ensuring that the ringing of brass opened the door of the Sanctuary.

A cowled figure cracked open the door and stood momentarily, a light raised in one hand, the other clutching the front of his robes. The babbling of the child drew his attention. Crouching low for a better view, and holding the light aloft, the Anada glanced into the trees. His eyes fell on the single set of tracks in the gathering snow. Looking back at the child, he noticed the blue-green eyes and a wisdom that stared out of their depths. Gathering the bundle, the Anada retreated behind the door and shut the wood firmly against the elements.

Replacing the light in its bracket on the inside wall next to the door, he paused briefly as the moaning of the Glastons, signaling their pursuit of prey, reached his ears. Glancing over his shoulder at the door, he sent a prayer to Source on behalf of the one who would not return to the village, sacrificing their life for the safety of the infant. With a sigh, the Anada made his way to the chamber of the High Holy One.

From her hiding place in the trees, the woman was filled with relief that the trip was not wasted, that the Anadas had taken the child. Her hesitation, to ensure the child’s safety, cost her time and distance. The moaning stilled her breath and chilled her blood. Turning away from the trunk of the tree in order to hurry to the familiarity of the village, she was stopped by the yellow glow of eyes in the dark and a voice from her past.

“You should not have done that. The child is mine. He belongs with me.”

So, this would be how her life would end. There was no reason for regret. She had done all she could. The child was safe, though it was unfortunate that Kendal knew of the babe’s location. They should have expected this from him.

“I have just offered an opportunity for the Prophecy to be fulfilled,” came her words.

“You are only delaying it by bringing my son here,” Kendal growled at her.

Her eyes narrowed. “He is Satiene’s child. Never yours.”

“Ah, but it is I who gave her the child.”

“Through force.”

“Through Prophecy. The child needs to know his place. To be taught.”

“To hate? To use his words to bring destruction? Satiene would die before she would allow you to have any part in her son’s life.”

“That has already been arranged.” He watched the understanding come quickly, followed by sorrow. “Did you not think I would know when she would deliver? Her powers are formidable. I took advantage of her… weakened state.”

Tears tracked silently down the wrinkled cheeks. Moving her hands, her lips forming nearly inaudible words, the cold began to form a solid wall between the remaining moments of her life, and Kendal, the sorcerer who’d r***d Satiene in order to control the Prophecy.

With a wave of his hand, the wall of ice melted at her feet. “Old Woman, you are no match for me, and this is only an inconvenience.” He hesitated in his command to release the Glastons to hear her final words.

“They’ll come for him. He will forever be hidden from you. Kendal Shakara, you shall never control your son.” She paused to see the fury build in his eyes, then delivered the final blow, her words invoking the Dark One’s protection, an agreement that has been upheld for millennia. It was the only, final act she could perform to ease Satiene’s spirit. “The Night will come, a storm will rage. The bond enforced, the agreement made.”

“NO!!” Kendal screamed, signaling the release of the Glastons. They set upon the old woman, who uttered not a sound as the beasts tore at her throat, her belly, drenching the white with crimson.

Kendal looked skyward and gritted his teeth. He wasn’t quick enough. The old woman had invoked the Protectors. A shower of sparks fell amongst the snowflakes on the roof of the Monastery. They would be able to find the child and dedicate their life to the sole protection of his son, keeping Kendal from meddling with the Prophecy. There must be a way to end the contract, to get to his son. Kendal glared at the remains of the old woman, mounted his casp, and signaled to the hired Tamplians to return to the city, which lay beyond the village in which Satiene thought to hide herself. Once he was aboard the T-37 starship, he’d discover a way to undo the words that had been spoken.

2769 A.D./P.E…. Ten Years Later, Alliance High Council Chambers, Apollo Galaxy… She had never seen the monsters, except in her mind, but knew they would come. Always looking to the sky, waiting for the fire, the metal, the end. Only having the love of her mother and father, then to have that love ripped from her breast as she witnessed her mother’s body crushed beneath the glass, her father’s cut down by the monsters. Her voice left as her world ended.

The Princess with the red hair was not afraid of the monsters. Neither were the three men who protected the Princess. Kiersten was kind and brave and had lots of room in her heart to love the last child of the Future Fae. And there was space for Aiden, too. He was strong and smart and had given her a home. Proud and grateful he was of her when something in her blood saved Kiersten. They had protected her, loved her, given her what she wanted and needed most, the time to heal.

She’d practiced what the instructors had taught her on Windmere. How to control and direct her thoughts, to read them in others, and a method to construct a wall so that none could “know” what she was thinking, unless she wanted them to see or hear. Everything was comfortable in her new home. There were caring people in her life to teach her about Dulsar, the planet where they lived, as well as Kiersten’s planet of birth, Suma. She believed that as long as her voice remained silent, the monsters would stay away. But they came to Windmere. And now they were here.

Feeling ill and not particularly wanting to be held, yet not willing to be let down to wander among the beings who held such importance, she attempted to touch Aiden and Kiersten with her thoughts, in the way they’d devised to communicate with her, but there were too many beings and emotions swirling around and she couldn’t focus enough to help them understand. When they left the room with the transparent ceiling, similar to the one on Windmere, she saw it. The monster. That was the source of her tummy ache. A small sound pushed its way past her lips, drawing Aiden’s attention.

Aiden set her feet on the floor and squatted down so he was eye level with the child that had been agitated all morning. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She pointed at Zondinal, the Vancurelian who was recently declared the High Leader of their race, standing some distance away and speaking with a Council member. Skyler spoke for the first time, and the words chilled Aiden’s blood.

“Monster has the sickness.”

Aiden nodded, scooped her up and held her with one arm, placing the other around Kiersten, as he led them away from all the beings and their thoughts, and the one with the sickness.

The other half of the Prophecy had found her voice.

Part I