Quick Glossary

Ailarin - The secluded island which is believed to be the last safe haven where life still exists. A dome of clouds protects the island from the dangers beyond, preventing the inhabitants from seeing the sun, the stars and the moon.

Aleuta - The capital city situated atop of Mountain Teiwaz, established over six-hundred years ago. Permanent seat of the Queen of Veilys, the ruler of the Realm of Ailarin. Its inhabitants are called Aleutans.

Dark Night - The last night of the year. Marks the shortest day and the longest night in the calendar when a frightening storm sweeps through the island. Anyone caught outside their dwelling, perishes.

Eternal Four - Worshipped as the creators of all life. Different creatures have one of the four as their patron.

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Aleuta

Once a year, there came about the misty island of Ailarin a night, longest and darkest of all. And it was known as the Dark Night.

The tormentors of the living descended with vengeance and fury. Frightening was the sight. The wind howled, the lightning burned the ground to ash and gloomy clouds shed black tears; no animal was seen and no bird was heard. The doors of every dwelling were locked and the windows were shut. Now and then, thunder cracked in anger threatening to split the sky into two.

Fear reigned the hearts and no one slept. And it was whispered among the living as they waited for the night to pass, that one day the enchantment that had protected the island for hundreds of years, would fade. And when that day came, the darkness would crash down on them and they would be no more.

But little did they know. This was not like any Dark Night before.

***

A young woman hurried through the empty corridors of the castle, her white dress rustling on the stony floor. Her face was calm and serene and her eyes bore coldness, giving slight grimness to her features. A plump, middle-aged woman, tiny in size, rushed behind her with swiftness unusual for her age. She held the folds of her skirt high and breathed heavily. The noises of the night swallowed their light steps, and as the women entered a large dimly lit hall, they started a group of men and women pacing under the tall arches. The burning wood in the fireplace threw stilts of light and the fickle shadows of people danced on the walls.

"The High Priestess!" voices rang through the hall, bouncing off corners and mingling with the humming outside.

(Source: http://timefortheholidays.net/winter-wedding/)

But there was one voice that was the loudest.

It belonging to a man, known as Minister Hybenlook. He was a man of ambition and his face beamed with overly inflated pride. He was one of the wealthiest men in Aleuta and nothing made him more pleased than seeing other's envy. Several chains of whitest pearls enlaced his thick neck. Ruby and diamond rings glittered on his fleshy fingers. His golden-rimmed tunic reached the floor and was of the finest quality coin could buy. Black pearls decorated its folds and made a soft clicking sound against the stony floor every time the Minister moved.

He rushed forward, anxiety on his face. His dress swept the floor as he bowed as graceful as his stiff body allowed.

Not low enough, thought the young woman.

"What of the Queen? What of the child, Most Reverend?" the Minister cried drowning all other vices.

The High Priestess was not fooled by Minister's pretended worry and neither by the frightened whispers and muffled sobs coming from the crowd.

Every House of Aleuta sent their spies, she thought and lowered her lashes to conceal the anger that burned the back of her eyes. Her mouth drew into a hard line. No words escaped her.

The crowd parted, all smiles and bows, freeing up the path to a large wooden door. Guards hurriedly flung the two halves open and let her through. Once the doors closed behind the High Priestess, she did not hear the low whispers, barely audible through the blood-chilling sounds of the storm.

"Fifty white pearls the child is dead," whispered Minister Hybenlook to the man beside him. A look full of resentment drilled the shut doors.

"Accepted," came an immediate response. A woman beside them coughed, concealing a snicker.

"Thirty, it was a girl," said another.

"A girl it was. My seer said so. Don't you doubt!" reassured Minister Hybenlook.

"Seventy, both are dead. Mother and child! Why else would the call for the High Priestess at this hour?"

"Shhh, don't let them hear you!" cautioned the woman.

"Accepted!"

***

The High Priestess hesitated for a moment when she found herself in a small antechamber. Light stones shimmered along the walls, throwing off grey flickering shapes that reminded her of monstrous shadows that loomed and leaped.

"Stay here," she commanded with a voice used to wielding power. The old woman, panting for breath, did not dare to disobey. The High Priestess parted the thick curtain that led into the private chambers of the Queen, and entered.

Her nostrils flared.

The salty smell of blood, sweat and suffering hung heavily in the air, penetrating the surroundings and sickening her to the bone.  Low fire burned in the farthest corner of the chamber, the only source of light. Her gaze fixed on the large wooden bed and she forced herself to approach it. She looked down at the fragile shape of a woman. Her long brown hair fell in waves over the pillows, her face red from strain and exhaustion, lips cracked and pale.

She heard someone stir and a male figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Is she...?" asked the High Priestess. Her voice trembled and lowered to a whisper.

"She is asleep," the man replied, moving closer. Light fell on his face and the High Priestess noticed hollow rings under his eyes, face wrinkled with exhaustion.

"The child?" she asked, glancing at the bundle in his arms.

"A boy," he said. His voice was composed, but she saw through it. His fear was there for her to see and judge. Her gaze weighted him long and heavily, all the while he did not dare to meet her eyes. He was scared of her she concluded and felt slightly pleased.

(Source: https://scontent-hkg3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/14212132_1767559366863377_1326384224338901262_n.jpg?oh=270d661d96208f4446f41dff3f1a7ef0&oe=58845712)

The High Priestess raised her hand and touched the folds of the blanket, revealing the child's face. A smile touched his lips as he lay asleep. Fire flashed in the High Priestess's eyes for an instant and disappeared just as quickly.

"A mere boy..." she said. The man stiffened and it did not escape her either. In a realm ruled by Queens, having a boy was not a blessing.

"Ashaya, please," the man said. She watched large drops of sweat run down his temples like thin silvery snakes. One of his hands flew up and fidgeted with his chin.

How weak he is! the High Priestess thought, aware of her own power over him.

"Children with cursed destinies are born on a night like this, Daryan," she replied with barely contained harshness.

"Our Creators willed it so..."

"Or someone... something more powerful..." she trailed off. The windows rattled dangerously and thunder cracked in the distance. The man stiffened and pressed the child closer to his chest. "The wind howls louder than on any other Dark Night. Our people will see a boy as a bad omen," she added more out of the need to torment him further, and backed away from the child.

But such is the curse of the proud. What one sees is not what is there. What she recognized as fear of her and her power over the faith of his child, was fear emanating from someone new to lying. The pearls of sweat, the quivering voice, wandering eyes – all signs at plain sight.  And there will come a day in a not so far away future when she looks back and calls herself a fool and Daryan the greatest liar that had ever lived.

Meanwhile, Daryan urged her, "Ashaya, he is what was given."  The High Priestess saw the determined tightness around his mouth. He was a father now and there was firmness to his eyes that was never there before.

Her gaze returned to the sleeping woman and she raised a hand to remove a strand of hair from her face, surprising herself with the tender gesture. Her hand followed the contour of the woman's body. The High Priestess felt the Queen's chest rise slightly underneath the palm as she searched for the promise of a future life.

(Source: http://sarawolvin.tumblr.com/)

The man beside her held his breath.

There was nothing to be felt. The Light of Life was gone. The High Priestess hid a spark of joy deep within the layers of her heart and slowly moved away from the bed.

"You will never have another child," she told the man with cold certainty and watched his chin tremble.

"It's him or no one," he said, raising his weak chin higher. The meaning of the words hang between the two of them. A Queen must have daughters or else another female royal must be chosen, that was the way. Yet, a prince had been chosen by a High Priestess before.

And tragic was his end.

The High Priestess looked from father to son. The boy, still sound asleep, was unaware of the battle within her that decided his future. Resentment flashed in High Priestess's heart at the sight of the perfectness of the boy's curled lips, his tiny nose and delicate features.

Even your child is healthy and beautiful. Not red and wrinkled as other new-borns! The High Priestess raised her head higher, the decision made. Taking the child into her arms, she touched his forehead. The boy sighed in his blissful sleep. A shimmering four-pointed star appeared where she traced her finger.

"In the name of the Eternal Four, the Givers of Life, the Watchers of the Past, Creators of the Future, may you be the saviour that will return the sun to the day, the moon to the night. May the fire gift you with courage. May the water bless you with perseverance. May the soil give you strength and the wind wisdom. May your life be that of sacrifice in service to the Realm of Ailarin," she pronounced and heard the man exhale in relief.

She handed the child back to its father and moved to leave. Her thoughts were grim, You always got it all. Now reign with a son, you foolish Queen!

**************

A dark still figure stood silent and sullen on the edge of a cliff, staring ahead where the thunder and lightning waged their gloomy battle. Cold fiery wind splashed rain into the man's face, drenching him to the core.

Two smooth and polished blackwood sticks tucked away underneath his old cloak clattered in the wind like two trapped angry animals. The water shimmered below, changing from silver to grey under the moonlight, crushing in waves against the sharp slippery rocks. Separated by the ocean, somewhere behind the fog and the clouds, lay the island, he knew.

(Source: http://wickedseductive.tumblr.com/post/26627299072)

And they knew.

He could almost taste their rage and anger in the salty gusts. And the night had only begun. They will be out there for a long time. It was their feast of fear. It was their night.

He had seen more nights like this than he could count and the Dark Night held no more terrors for him. He watched and waited.

He felt the tension abruptly rising in the air. Then he saw it.

The sky lit up with bright luminous light parting the darkness like a sharp edge of a sword. Its glow expanded until it encompassed everything in sight and beyond, revealing dark burned stumps behind the man where a mighty forest once stood.

The man stiffened, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, yet the burst of light lasted only for the briefest of moments, a mere blink of an eye, and disappeared just as quickly.

He held his breath as a new-born star came into sight. It shimmered down on him brighter than any other, with a luminous sparkling edge to it.

For a moment all went quiet and the wind howled no longer.

They had seen it too.

A blood chilling scream echoed through the night and the thunder cracked again. Louder and fiercer than before. The man's cloak billowed behind him, the laces cutting deep into his neck.

"It is time," said a voice next to him, the words almost swallowed by thunder and wind. He did not have to turn to know who she was. The wait was over and she came for him just as she had foretold.

He gave the young star one last look and adjusted the drape of his cloak. He will never see it again, he knew. His gaze fixed on the storm ahead and he thought of the island that lay behind the fog.

It had waited for him for too long.

The woman motioned with her hand and strong gasp of wind encircled him, raised him high above the ground and then threw him down into the clutches of the ocean.

When the lightning struck again in the distance, only a hunched old woman stood solemnly on the cliff listening to the darkness.

(Source: http://www.olhosdebastet.com.br/textos/MULHER%20MUTANTE%20ou%20ESTSANATLEHI.htm)

**************

Note from the writer:

Since I am being asked a lot what the connection between the first and the second part of the prologue is, here are a couple of hints:

1. Both events happen on the same night, which is the Dark Night, and it only occurs once a year. The Dark Night is also the last night of the year.

2. In the first part a child is born, in another a star is born.

3. The story is set on an island protected by a shield of clouds. The fact that the man can see the moon and the stars, indicates  that he is not on the island. :)

On the topic of stars, do please consider voting for the prologue if you liked it. It's the little star below :) Thank you very much!