Book One : The Prophecy : Prologue

Breaketh,

Thrones of gold and wings of old.

Bend,

Ancient God to ancient foe.

For two kingdoms shall arise and swiftly fall.

Upon Heiden’s stone,

 Traitorous blood shall spill.

Under the stars and timeless trees,

Her eyes of gold and feet so bold.

Cometh she,

Gentle Queen of Aeon.

Bearer of Beren’s stone,

To claim the heart of Gabriel’s blood.

Beware he which walk with troubled soul,

Under wings of death and heart of woe.

For he shall wield a blade of green,

To fell the princely doe.

Prologue

1938

Earth, Keswick.

The waters of Lake Derwentwater were still upon her fair touch as Eveline bent down and skimmed the tips of her long fingers over the icy water, the sound of her wedding party rippling through the warm summer air. The bee’s buzzed merrily as they hopped from one flower to the next whilst across the lake, Eveline observed a great swan span its snow white wings as it took flight from the still waters below, soaring high into the skies above, now marked with pink and red, heralding the end of the long day in which she had married Theodore, her adopted brother and best friend. For all the joy in which the day had brought, her heart lay still, its beat hollow and without mirth.  Pensively, her mind a million miles away, Eveline looked down into the waters and studied her reflection. She had always known that she was different somehow from those who surrounded her, yet lived in relative ignorance of her vivid golden eyes, skin as fair as the winter snow and hair as red as the fires of hell. Lonely had been her existence upon her timely arrival to the town of Keswick but ten years ago, having been abandoned by her first adopted parents, her unusual looks and unusual behaviour having brought a deep shame over their house and an ever ending tirade of abuse. She knew not why she was so very different and knew not why at the early age of eight she began to develop abilities beyond those of any living soul upon the world. Blinking several times, Eveline lifted her hands before her and turned them about slowly. As she studied her long fingers she felt the familiar warmth run through her veins, a warmth which summoned a great power within, a power so strong that she could fell a tree with one wave of a hand, further still she could heal a flesh wound if concentrating hard enough. Turning her hands about she allowed her mind to return to that day. A child she had been, running over the hills of Keswick, her hand within Theodores as they played under the sun. In a bid to prove his strength and valour, being too possessed of a strange magic, Theodore had taken to one of the many beech trees with an aim to climb to the top, so that he may prove himself to the ethereal Eveline.

“Teddy no!” Eveline cried out anxiously as her friend made his way up the tree, the waters of Derwentwater beneath him.

“Hush Evie! I can do this!” Theodore called down to his nervous sister as she paced to and fro beneath the old tree, its great branches curved downwards, their tips skimming the blue waters.

“Why do you always feel the need to prove you’re worth Teddy? I am aware that you are strong and need no further proof!” Eveline barked up at the adventurous boy, who was two years older than she and a great deal different. Unlike her, Theodore was adored by the people of Keswick, his charming looks and charming behaviour winning him the hearts of all those who came into his presence. She, unlike him was without friends and instilled not adoration in the hearts of those of Keswick, but fear, fear of the unknown, fear of her. She was for most part a loner and he gregarious and filled with fun. At times she would willingly admit that she envied him, further yet she found herself hating him. His looks were so that it seemed everyone was blinded to his magical self, whereas her looks only scared people away.

“You don’t look at me in the way that others do Evie! Are you jealous?” Theodore teased as his wrapped his arms about the thick tree and fitted one of his feet to the corner of a thick branch, hauling himself up onto it with ease.

“Why would I be jealous?” Eveline cried up to him, her hands stuck to her hips. He had hit the nail on the head, for despite her love towards her best friend she was indeed jealous that he could so easily captivate the hearts of everyone. Perhaps her jealousy ran deeper than she had initially realised. The truth she acknowledged was that he never made an effort to try and win the hearts of his friends, so that she may also become their friends. He seemed to willingly endorse her lonely existence.

Eveline lifted herself up to her full height and turned to the great beech tree. Her hands falling away from her, she watched on as the conjured image of that scene lay before her. She observed her child like self, thin and uncannily tall for a girl of thirteen. Her flaming hair fell down her long back, her hands clasped before her, her eyes lifted to the figure of Theodore who was now balancing upon a branch quite some feet above ground.

“Please come down Teddy!” her young self cried out in vain as she used her right hand to play with the leaves at her feet. Eveline watched as her past self ordered the golden, yellow and red leaves into a line and swirled them up above her head. It was beautiful and haunting and her eyes seemed to illuminate a golden hue as she twirled around, the leaves twirling about her thin self. In but the flash of light, the branch upon which Theodore stood arrogantly suddenly broke and with an almighty crash he fell to the ground below, mere inches from Eveline who jumped away in shock. Stepping forward, Eveline watched her past self crawl across the muddy ground to where an unconscious Theodore lay, his body broken and positioned in a haphazard way, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Theodore!” Eveline cried out in muffled groans as she brought back locks of his blonde from his face. The grown up Eveline walked over to the pair of young teenagers and looked down at her past self, her feet bare and her body only covered by a thin green dress which fell to her knees. Sweeping away her own thick locks of auburn hair, the young Eveline pressed two hands upon Theodore’s back, tears falling down upon her pale cheeks. “Wake up!” she summoned Theodore. Nothing happened and for a while, Eveline sat back, her head in her hands as she wept uncontrollably.

“Touch him again,” Eveline whispered to her former self as she bent down over the lifeless Theodore, a cold hand falling upon his forehead. She looked to the young girl, her hands falling away from her wet face. Finding her striking gaze of gold, Eveline smiled across at her. “Touch him again, this time with feeling and intent,” she ordered her, her voice light and airy. The girl blinked twice, her thick red brows furrowed in confusion. “Like so,” Eveline went turned her gaze down upon her own hand. For a moment she caught sight of her new wedding band, shimmering against the light and with anxiety threw it back, no longer in sight. Beside her, her young self now crawled upon the earth until she met with Theodore, her eyes upon Eveline. Eveline stared into her lonely face, her marvellous eyes pained and deep with sorrow. “Give me your hand,” Eveline asked gently, holding out her right hand. Nervous and a little pensive, her younger self lifted a shaking hand and placed into the folds of Eveline’s. “Don’t be scared,” Eveline said with grace as she placed the small hand upon Theodore’s head. “Just close your eyes and will him back to life.”

“I can’t,” her younger self groaned as she sat up and straightened her back.

“You can, you know you can,” Eveline said with confidence. “Together yes?”

“Yes,” the girl whispered as they both closed their eyes tightly. She felt the familiar warmth course from her heart to the tips of her feet, her head and fingers. Suddenly from her fingers came a great burst of light. She felt herself blinded by the power as it radiated throughout her and flowed into the body of Theodore.

“You must will him to wake,” Eveline went on, her hands suddenly moving over Theodore’s head and down across his back to where his hear lay. Under their touch, his skin turned to liquid and their hands melted down through his bones and flesh, finding his still heart which fitted perfectly within her palm. She could feel her smaller hand shaking beneath her own as she held the heart and willed it to life, a sudden thud pulsating through her hand. “That’s it,” Eveline whispered as they massaged the organ, feeling it come to life once more. “Now let it go and draw your hand away from him.” Together they let the heart go and lifted their hands away until they left his body. For a moment their hands hoovered in mid-air, the tingling sensation of electricity dancing about them like bolts of lightning.

“Can I open my eyes?” a trembling voice asked from beneath the light.

“Yes, you can open your eyes now Eveline.”

Eveline opened her eyes and looked down into her younger gaze, a smile forming upon her lips.

“How can this be?” her young self asked, a golden light enshrining them both.

“I am as mystified as you,” Eveline returned as she watched the golden hue fade into the present.

“Are you from the future?” Eveline whispered as she wiped away her tears, her innocent eyes painful lonesome.

“Yes,” Eveline whispered quietly, Theodore now beginning to awaken.

“Shall I be alright?” the girl asked with urgency, her beautiful eyes, possessed of desperation growing large under her future self’s gaze. “Shall I be safe?”

“I believe so,” Eveline returned with little confidence. She wished not to further her younger self’s fears of the unknown. As she remembered clearly, the scene around her began to fade and with it the connection to her past. Eveline stayed upon the ground as the scene faded into nothing but a memory.

“Eveline?” a male voice spoke aloud from behind. “What are you doing?”

With a lingering smile, Eveline felt Theodore standing behind her, his scent now surrounding her as the light had. Laying a hand upon the soft ground below, Eveline turned her golden eyes to his own blue gaze. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed in a black suit and navy tie.

“You will ruin your dress if you linger any longer upon the ground,” Theodore said with a note of concern in his voice.

“Of course,” Eveline returned as she brought herself to her feet and turned to face her new husband. The once pink skies above seemed to darken as she held her husband’s vivid blue stare. The hem of her ivory dress blew about her ankles, the air chilling slightly.

“Why did you leave?” Theodore enquired with suspicious eyes as he stepped forward, coming to a halt before her. With expertise he caught a stray lock of her hair and dutifully placed it behind her right ear. Running his eyes over her, he smiled with pleasure. She was beautiful and never more so than on this day.

“I needed some air and a little space,” Eveline replied with a shy smile.

“Are you worried about my departure?” Theodore quizzed his new wife as he took her hands and placed them into his own, bringing her forward a step, their foreheads now touching. “I won’t be away for long, wars are always over by Christmas.”

“Was that not the promise made during the last war?” Eveline said with unease, her skin trembling under his touch. Barely had they touched in all the years they had known one another. She still knew not what had driven her to accept his rather dull proposal, a sense of duty or a fear that no other man would ever accept her true self? It mattered not now, they were forever bound, even if their love was unequal.

“This war shall be different,” Theodore whispered deeply, his sweet breath running over her face. “I can feel it.”

“All I can feel is an ever-growing shadow, with its arms of oppression reaching across the west and in search of me,” Eveline admitted darkly as she blinked her tired eyes several times. She could feel his easy self suddenly tense under her words.

“Whatever do you mean my love?” Theodore asked his wife, his blue eyes now strained with confusion.

“I cannot explain it Theodore, I only feel it,” Eveline said with a gulp, her hands tightening within Theodore’s. “I am not safe here without you. You know what the town’s people think of me? With you gone they will find an excuse to make my life hell.”

“Not now that you are married to me,” Theodore said with pride, his thin lips lifting into the smallest of smiles. “I seem to have that effect on people.”

“I know,” Eveline said with a sigh of displeasure.

“Eveline, I did not marry you simply to keep you safe, you know this?”

Eveline drew her hands away from Theodore and took a step back. With an anxious smile she ran her eyes over him. He stood but a head taller than she, lean, strong and confident as always. His face, gentle, alluring and handsome was now suppressed, his thick golden brows now furrowed in confusion. He was as beautiful as the morning sun and at times as warm as the setting sun. Yet fear remained as she took him in, for she could not help but fear that he was not as he seemed, a suspicion which now grew with each coming day. Perhaps she thought darkly, it was herself that she should fear.

“I know,” she said with a shake of her head, wishing she could shake of the doubt which filled her. Theodore studied her carefully as she drew in a deep breath.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing,” Eveline returned quickly with a smile, afraid to tell him of her true feelings, afraid to tell him of the nightmares she had been having.

“You love me, don’t you?” Theodore asked gently, his furrowed brows straightening with calmness.

“Yes,” Eveline answered evenly, her cheeks burning under his intense gaze.

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“Truly it is nothing,” Eveline lied as she turned her eyes to the lake. Her body turned away from him, she allowed her gaze to cast itself across the great lake, her eyes roaming over the distant shores.

“Is it him? Have you seen him again?” Theodore asked quietly as he strode over to his wife and stood before her, willing her eyes to meet with his own.

“Only in my dreams,” Eveline whispered, her eyes falling to the various rocks beneath her feet, all of them drenched with the lapping waters of the lake. In the distant she heard the call of lark, its beautiful voice carrying across the lake.

“Then he cannot harm you,” Theodore pushed as he found her hands and caught them once more. “A dream is only that, a dream.”

Eveline lifted her eyes to Theodore, a tear falling upon her cheek.

“Come it is our wedding day and I must leave within the hour if I am to make it to Kent by morning,” Theodore said in a groan of desperation. “I do not want us to part like this.”

“Me either,” Eveline agreed with a smile, her lips turning upwards, her smile reaching her golden eyes, so very large and enchanting. Feeling her enchantment delve deep into his mind, Theodore brought his wife into a firm embrace, holding her tightly.

“I won’t let any harm come to you,” he promised firmly, his arms wrapped about her slim body and his face hidden within her fragrant hair. Eveline held her husband and best friend tightly, her chin upon his shoulder.

“I know.”

“Do you trust me?” Theodore quizzed seriously.

“Of course I trust you Theodore,” Eveline returned quickly. Indeed she did trust him, no matter her internal conflict with their marriage, she would and could always depend upon him to save her if saving she needed. Holding him tight, she felt her eyes lift to find a lonesome figure upon the distant shore, a figure garbed in black. Seizing, Eveline held the gaze of the lonesome man, her body turning to ice as his stare penetrated deep into her soul and mind.

“Eveline?”

Eveline felt Theodore draw away from their embrace.

“Eveline are you alright?”

Eveline drew her eyes away from the strange man and found Theodore’s gaze. For a moment she wished to burden him with what she had just witnessed, but upon seeing his eyes flinch with tiredness she held her tongue and merely nodded.

“Come let us return to the party,” Theodore said after a moment’s silence. Eveline drew her gaze to the distant shore to find it now free from whomever stood upon its shores. Her heart calming significantly, she took Theodore’s arm and allowed herself to be drawn away.

*

Palace of Meerin,

Kingdom Of Meer

The very High King Ballour of the northern Kingdom of Meer stood upon the royal steps of his palace, his eyes cast across the island of Meerin and Lake Meerethe, finally settling upon the distant mountains of Calnuthe to the south, hidden within the kingdom of Galgor, seat of his second born, Beon. It was the year one thousand, two hundred and forty three moons, nearly two thousand years after the fall of Nathaniel from the Kingdom of Aurelius after the great battle of the God’s and much, Ballour reflected had changed. The ancient ones, the elders of the world now lay beneath the great tree of Meer within the forest of Dulga, located within the southern kingdom of Galgor. The blood of his ancestors now dwindled and but a few could trace their line back to the first men who walked the northern plains, the lands of his forefathers. The crown of Meer has passed between those of Gabriel’s blood and those who wished to see the ancient house of Meer fall, in particular the house of Gaul, who had long ago reigned as sovereign over the western kingdom. Before the great battle of Kings in 756 moons, the kingdoms of Galgor, Dulthe and Fiar where ruled over by different houses until the year of seven hundred and fifty six moons, the year in which King Gudbran, King of Dulthe ruled victorious and took the kingdom of Galgor from King Alfir. Fifty years later after the death of King Gudbran, his son Gudorr upon his coronation waged war against the last lone kingdom, that of Fiar. In 809 moons, Gudorr invaded Fiar and took the throne of King Baran and united at last the northern plains of Meer and placing the house of Meer back into its rightful place as ruler of the three kingdoms. Much had changed in the years since his forefather’s victory and much now was threatening to change, the throne of Meer once more tossed into peril. It was true that the house of Gaul had plunged the north into another catastrophic battle of power, his second eldest son marrying the treacherous Lady Turtha, daughter of Lord Dara. Upon finding out that his daughter- in – law had been poisoning him over a period of time, Ballour had her exiled back to the city of Gaul, high seat of Beon. To his great misfortune, she and her unborn child died some months later. Beon had attacked his father and blamed him for his wife’s death and that of his unborn child and pulled back his men from Meerin and taken up arms with his father and brothers. His misfortune grave, Ballour found himself alone in his son’s revenge, his eldest long parted from the world of Unas and serving under the great angel of Aurelius’, Gabriel. The kingdom of Dulthe vulnerable and his youngest son, Prince Loaki of Fiar too soft-hearted to fight a great battle, Ballour now found himself at odds, the future of his forefathers lands now in peril.

As the High King looked out of his blood-stained lands, he heard the footsteps of his eldest son as he stepped out onto the palace steps, bringing with him a cool wind.

“What can you see?” Ballour asked aloud, refusing to turn his eyes to Galean, his eldest and heir.

“The great mountains of Calnuthe father,” replied Galean as he strode onwards, coming to stand beside his elderly father, now in his one hundred and eight-fifth year, the line of Gabriel bring gifted with long life.

“Do you know what I see?” Ballour said coldly, his heavy cloak of red fur bustling about his legs. Galean looked across at his father, his hair still as golden as the sun, upon his head the crown of his ancestors.

“What?” Galean returned, his blue gaze now resting upon his angered father.

“I see war and an end to the world which our ancestors had fought so hard to build,” Ballour said with a pro-longed sigh of discontent. “My throne and your heritage is about to come to an end and here you stand beside me, about to tell me that you have been exiled by Heiden himself. You wish to leave me and your kingdom to seek out a myth?”

“She is no myth father, I brought her from the garden of Calhuni myself,” Galean argued lightly, seeing the displeasure and disappointment in his fathers’ silver grey eyes. “If you wish to preserve all that your fathers before you built, then she is your only hope.”

“You wish to leave your people to the mercy of the savage men of Galgor to cross through time in order to save a child in which you have but only seen once in your lifetime?” Ballour said with anger, now turning to his son and looking down into his youthful face.

“It is my duty father, though it greatly displeases you,” Galean said quietly as his bent his head low. “Heiden has instructed me to find her and bring her home. I cannot go against his orders, not since he spared me death.”

“Son, I know that you have suffered greatly,” Ballour said as he took a step forward and placed a hand upon Galean’s shoulder. Galean felt his father’s touch keenly and bite down upon his lower lip.

“I do not wish to leave my people unguarded and our kingdom so troubled, but I have no choice,” Galean pleaded, his throat filling with an unspoken emotion.

“How long till you return?”

Galean lifted his eyes to meet with his father’s. He wished to lie and sooth his father’s fears, but upon looking into his ancient eyes, found he could not.

“I am unsure,” Galean said plainly.

“And what of this prophecy? Is it true?”

Galean turned and walked away from Ballour, shaking his head in defiance.

“How can you ask me that?” he growled loudly, his eyes cast across the island below, now sleeping and quiet.

“Because if it is true, then the fate of my kingdom is in further peril. You know that you cannot marry the grand-daughter of Heiden?”

“I am marrying no-one father,” Galean said with sorrow, his eyes spotting a great agel spiralling above the distant trees. “And if there is any truth in the prophecy, I doubt that either of us has much of a say when against the wheels of fate.”

“If you find Celestine and return her to Unas and if she regains her father’s throne and you both marry, what then? What will happen to your own kingdom?” Ballour quizzed his son seriously, a rough wind sweeping its way across the palace steps which led down to the gardens and overlooked the great river which ran beneath the castle and to the south.

“Father there is no need to speak of things we are yet to see happen!” Galean said loudly as he flung his heavy cloak from him, his eyes perilously angry. “I need no other wife!”

“That is what you think now,” Ballour said slyly as he stood defiant before Galean, refusing to bend to his sons will. “But you know better than anyone that the future often stands against our wishes and it is we who must bend the knee.”

“Father, I promise you that I shall not bend the knee to Celestine,” Galean said calmly, laying a hand upon his father’s arm. “My people…our people shall always come first.”

“If you return they may not be your people any longer, already those who have grown tired of your escapades are rising up against those still loyal to your house and seat,” Ballour said, a flash of desperation sparking through his eyes. “The end of a great age is before us. Who else can bring the people of Meer into a new age and promise them peace and stability?”

“Father you are still strong and still hold the favour of your kingdom, all is not lost and I believe you would never allow your Kingdom to fall from beneath you,” Galean replied in earnest. “Beon though his will is strong and he is greatly influence by the black witch, I believe when it comes down to it, that he will not touch you nor the throne upon which you sit.”

“Then you have grown weak Galean,” Ballour said quietly, his eyes now closing briefly against another rush of wind. “He is not my son, he bares the body of my second child but not the heart nor the mind. He is gone from us and his men wage a bloody war upon those loyal to his father. Hundreds of innocent lives have been taken and hundreds more shall perish before a great a bloody battle take place.”

“War is the last step, father. We must seek diplomacy and we must find a way in which to appease Beon,” Galean argued hotly, for he did not want to see the fall of his brother no matter his actions. “We cannot always lean to the sword for aid, we must show to our people that we do not just live by the blade but by the law in which you have so ardently tended too in your time as King. There are others way in which to wound an enemy and we must seek out those routes before that of battle and death.”

“Beon is beyond listening,” Ballour said as he ran his long fingers through his hair. “Galgor has lost touch with the law and has in its stead created its own rules. The time for talking and making deals has long past.”

“I do not agree,” Galean returned curtly. He folded his arms before him. “I do not agree father.”

“It seems we do not agree on many things,” Ballour returned coldly, his eyes away from his eldest. “You would leave me with Loaki? He wouldn’t dare kill a fly!”

“You have always been wrong about him father and yet I dare say you will learn to late just how great a man he really is,” Galean returned with a sigh. “He may not wield a sword, but he commands the respect of his kingdom and has proven time and again just how important he is in war. He brought an end to the warring wolf tribes and sought peace between them and the people and now they live together, free of blood and war. He will prove useful when I am gone and I shall miss him greatly as I will miss you.”

Galean and Ballour stood in awkward silence, the winds of wintur now rolling down from the Calnuthe mountains and making their way north.

“I must leave now,” Galean said quietly, taking a step towards his father. “I must leave before the sun sets.”

“Then go Galean son of Ballour and Methal, Lord of Meer and Lord of the dragons,” Ballour exclaimed regally, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I wish you goodwill and safety. May you wear the armour of your ancestors with pride.”

Galean knew his father was dismissing him out of anger and turned upon his feet, looking up once more at the grand palace built by the ancient King, Gabreene, and son of Nathaniel, blood of his own blood. As he made his way through the great southern doors he stopped.

“Galean!” his father cried out. Turning he saw his father stride over to him with open arms. With energy and force he clasped Galean into a tight embrace. “You promise that you shall return?”

“I promise father,” Galean almost cried into his father’s silken hair. “I shall return and I shall stand by your side in the times to come.”

“Then go with my blessing,” Ballour commanded as he drew himself back and kissed his son’s brow one last time. “And my love.”