Prologue: A Trip Through History
The night was dark, and it was raining…
Okay, it wasn’t just raining. It was pissing Satan’s tears outside, as what appeared to be a mini monsoon ripped over the surrounding hillsides and through the city streets below.
What a welcome home party.
It had been more than 5 years since I had last been here. Honestly, I had hoped to never set foot in this god forsaken place again. The buildings that surrounded me were dark and cold, the streets were filthy and deserted. On nearly every available surface there were large splashes of randomly placed graffiti and gang tags, which decorated the eerie streets with a laughable pop of colour.
Home sweet home.
Tamaran used to be beautiful. The city had been a genuine utopia of sorts; that near perfect place you see on T.V. where everyone wanted to move to. A place everyone aspired to be. Clean, comfortable, rich, and safe. Like an episode of ‘Leave it to Beaver’.
Or at least that is what my memories were trying to tell me.
That is probably why it was chosen as ground zero for the preternatural war that had literally ripped our reality apart. It’s a wonder why anyone still wants to live here.
No one ever expected those mutilated and deranged creatures to spill out from the Carpathian Mountain range and spread across Europe and Asia like a disease. In no time at all they had crossed the ocean and were on the shores of North America silently invading Canada and the United States before making their way south. By the time anyone realized what was happening it was already too late. Humans and supernatural creatures alike were thrown together into a boiling pot of chaos; fighting and dying alongside each other for the basic privilege of all life: to survive.
We should have expected it though, we should have remembered our history. Once upon a time, thousands of years ago, before the human race began to deny the existence of the supernatural, we had lived peacefully beside each other. We built cities and infrastructure, created governments and laws, we married and procreated, and we fought and died beside each other.
It was then, during the greatest war known to the world at that time, that the human race and supernatural community banded together to beat back a tide of darkness that had been slowly threatening to swallow the world whole. Together the races of the world suppressed the darkness, trapping it in misery, and then we did it the greatest dishonour: we forgot about it.
Today we call that darkness the Carpathians, after the mountains they had been exiled to all those centuries ago. A vicious and dangerous mutated race of vampires driven crazy by their own corrupted genes and centuries of surviving in the dark under the mountains. Pale and gaunt, all spiny limbs and sallow skin, they look like demons that had emerged from a person’s worst nightmare.
So how does the entire world forget about a race of creatures that nearly destroyed it? A good question you would think, but honestly I have never found it surprising. People, no matter what race, have always had the habit of erasing from history that which we didn’t like. Even if it was crucial that we should remember it.
Humanity and supernaturals alike owe their continued existence to the one group of people who never forgot: The Council of Delphi. The organization originally set up to govern and protect the infamous Oracle of Delphi, known through Greek mythology as the voice of the god Apollo. Made up of philosophers and historians, doctors and teachers, warriors and assassins who heralded from both human and supernatural backgrounds, they had spent the better part of two thousand years preparing for the return of the Carpathians. They were instrumental in ensuring the worlds survival in the beginning of the war, known now as the Second Carpathian War.
Falling fast under an onslaught of destruction that they were completely unprepared for, the human governments of the world handed power and authority regarding anything to do with the Carpathians to the Council. I am pretty sure it was the only smart decision they ever made during that time. To this day, 3 years later, the Council is one of the most powerful influences in the world. They run both the human world governments and play a heavy influence on the governing bodies of the preternatural communities. They are a symbol or order, peace, and discipline for the once again merged races.
And that is why I am here in my once home town, soaking wet and looking like a windblown drown rat. I work for the Council. I am leading the fight in this war.
My name is Azmaria Belvoir, and I may be one of the only people in the world that truly understands what the hell is about to happen.
