Grave of Stars: Prologue

As wind blew in from the south, embers flickered in the air as they became ash. The smell of smoke hung heavy on the breeze. Beyond the quiet forest scenery, a fierce battle waged on, with an unsure outcome. Rain drops lightly misted the camp that was so well hidden in the woods, giving things a more subtle appearance than what it truly was. Beyond the forest, there was a valley, where a quiet town used to be, settled in on rolling hills. The morning before, as evening had come, the unexpected had occurred without warning. As if drudged up out of the earth itself, a small number of militia had marched upon the town, and easily overcome most of the guards. What used to be the gates floated out along the breeze, landing somewhere in the mountain range to the north.

Flames licked the air as homes were burned, along with anyone inside. Cries went up as the villagers took shovel, sword, and axe to use against the enemy. With an enraged war cry, they managed to overwhelm the enemy and push them back. Tonight, they still fought on, one side fighting for an unknown idealism, and the other for their lives. What the soldiers were doing there was another issue all together. Whether for a good or bad cause, they lost it in the fight, and became overcome by blood lust.

Still in the city, a girl, no more than ten years old stood, clutching her father’s old hunting bow. The ornate design carved into the rare, dark wood, was worn off by use and age. Her indigo eyes watched the gate with uncertainty. Her father was there, she could see him. He had told her to hide, and stay there till she could get out of the city safely. He wielded the old battleaxe with such ferocity. She heard herself shout to him, not recognizing her own voice.

One of the towns defenders cried out in alarm. “Borya, look out!” Borya was built like an ox; his chestnut hair was long and unruly, giving him the look of a savage beast. His axe he wielded with brutish strength, yet when the arrow pierced his chest, he flinched, dropping his guard, just long enough for one of the soldiers to drive a sword through him. He fell to his knees, clutching the axe for dear life, as it faded away. Behind him, his daughter Aleria cried out his name again, and ran towards him. With his last breath, he slew one more soldier as he uttered one more word. Whatever it was, it was lost in the winds as the shouts and the din drowned all else out. As if in a fog, the world around him became murky, and then was cut short by one more blade.

Aleria shook with uncontrollable emotions. So many coursed through her, yet there was no time to act on them. The pain was there, but the shock dulled everything. The soldiers broke through the resistance, and put down those that still stood. It was over. For those that held onto their city, it was over. For everyone else, it was only the beginning of a greater story, one that would be told, and retold for centuries to come.

The great army that swept over the lands soon after had originated from a little island, that was once known to the world as Junas, however it had been claimed by an unknown force, and took the name King’s Isle. From that Isle, a new country had sprung up, known as the Kingdom.

The Kingdom, just as any other, had its army. Yet, this army was unlike all others for reasons that were only to be discovered later on in history; the army, brought along an event that was referred to as ‘The Reckoning’. The King’s army swept across the globe in a tidal wave of proceedings that blew away any country that resisted.

After the Reckoning, a new monarchy was raised; one that was based on corruption, power, and monetary standings, where those in power, stayed in power, through dictatorship, and oppression. However, just as easily as the world powers shift, there will always be a higher force to put it back in place.