SWNOVELS Chapter Prologue (Redrafted)
Second day, Februadu of 5032
Western Faelios
The first streaks of dawn brought forth chirrups of small-winged creatures and woodland beasts. Mora Evergreen, a would-be seer of Sereia, bolted from her rickety bed. With a spiked heart rate, she dashed to a small alcove bathroom of her tiny room. Splashing ice-mountain water on her milky pale face, Mora tried to gather her thoughts.
She was surrounded by flames. They shot down from the heavens like fallen stars. Once they touched the cold earthen floors, flames erupted and circulated shards of ice. Each crystalline jagged piece illuminated with every fiery swirl until it aerosolized and dispersed into the winds.
And then eerie silence.
Until...Until the rumbling of the earth began, bringing teeth-jittering jolts; faces new and old appeared in the shadows.
When this vision ended, Mora was met with a dark, wrenching emotion. The most prominent notion was, her homelands were in trouble. She didn’t know who or what had the power to disrupt the already fragile peace in Edonia, but it was enormous. This new development was so vast, that she was afraid not even her Majesties could defeat it.
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With gathered courage, young Mora decided it was best to tell her majesties in person. Better than chancing it with a letter or it being intercepted with the new gear, HyTech ProWatch. She made way to her sparse belongings, packed them in a patched-up satchel, before marching out from the cottage. Nearby, a low whistle-like bellow revealed a stout, low-to-the-ground boarish creature straight from legends. It was amass cloud of shaggy and disheveled fur. Weaponized horns sprouted to and fro like a strong oak tree from the Melancholy Forest in Aethia while thick tusks curved outward.
“Baok!” Mora called out. “We must travel to Central City. Immediately! No time to dally about!”
Baok grunted his distaste, bringing a smile on the fraught faeling. He never liked to leave Faelios and all its wintry wanders.
Mora, with her thick fur-hide boots and clothes, traveler’s cloak and hat, stamped to the small thatched barn to retrieve riding equipment. Turning back around, she was met with heavy huffs from Baok.
“You sill, silly bhorl. You are excited, aren’t you?” Mora giggled as Baok gave a warm and slimy kiss from his tongue, and nudged her with his thick skull until she fell to the cold ground.
He knelt to the snowy ground next to her so she could place the riding equipment on his dorsal side. Despite his gentle nature, Baok rode as wild as the mustangs in the southside of Balendros.
Mora placed her small traveling gear in the saddlebags and leapt atop Baok. Baok stopped his heaving breaths. The Faelion birds went silent, as did the creatures who braved the freezing temperatures.
“Baok, you remember the last time-” Mora began, but belted out shrieks as her four-legged ally shot up from the ground.
Mora’s vision was filled with barreling hills covered in dense snow. Grey skies had begun to fill earlier in the day and the sharp bite of what’s to come crept into the faeling’s bones with each bountiful strides from Boak. Her sturdy steed exhales clouds of steam with each snort, its breath mingling with the Mora’s in the chilly air. Her layered clothing was no match for Sereia’s frigid grace. As they ride, the creak of leather and the crunch of hooves against frozen earth are the only sounds that break the silence.
The landscape around them is a study in monochrome: fields blanketed in snow, trees stripped bare, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers toward the leaden sky. The cold bites at exposed skin, turning cheeks rosy and noses numb. Yet, despite the harshness of the weather, there’s a quiet beauty to be found in the starkness of the winter landscape. The world seems to slow down, as if holding its breath in anticipation of the coming thaw.
With each mile, rider and bhorl press onward, their determination a shield against the biting cold. They are a lone traveler in a vast and unforgiving wilderness, braving the elements with stoic resolve. And though the winter may be harsh, there’s a certain poetry to the way they navigate its icy embrace, a testament to the resilience of the inhabitants of Faelion spirit in the face of nature’s raw power.
Finally, Mora reached the main city of Faelios. This city held the only way in and out. Pale blue and almost clear iced buildings molded within the mountains. Arched walkways criss-cross throughout the cities. Fluffy white snow cascades gently to the cold ground. In the distance, rolling hills dotted with smaller towns and even smaller homes can be seen.
To avoid any and all interaction with kinfolk, Mora gently pulled the reins to circumvent the city. Boak, needing no further encouragement, eagerly reached the formidable barrier. Its imposing presence heightened by the shimmering sheen of ice that encases it. Each metal bar and hinge is coated in a thick layer of frost, lending an ethereal quality to its structure. The gate stood tall and imposing, its silhouette stark against the wintry landscape.
As the cold wind whispered through the surrounding trees, it carried with it the faint sound of creaking metal, the gate’s frozen joints protesting against the weight of the ice. Jagged icicles hung from its edges like crystalline teeth, ready to ensnare any unwary traveler who dares to approach too closely.
And there, blended into the environment, was a lone guard. Hidden by a long thick cloak, and their face barely visible, the guard slowly nodded to Mora as she exited Faelios.
Mora stroked her companion’s coarse fur. “Are you ready, Boak?” Boak snorted and chuffed his keenness.
She took a deep breath. With each deep inhalation, her heart sped. With each exhalation, her bloodstream slowed by vasoconstriction, her body’s temperature dropped. Jolts of ice shot down her back, producing a groan of pain from Mora. she spasmed and twitched as she brought forth a seedling of power that seemed more so a curse than a blessing.
While Mora tapped into the miniscule power, Boak crept to the edge of the waters. When she took her final meditative breath, she stuck out her hand to the bitter, whiplashed cerulean seas. Gentle blue ice shards fabricated from her fingers, trickling down to the ocean’s surface. Sweat beads at her forehead and her heart beats double time. Boak’s hoof pawed the ground. Broad, thick walls of ice coated Sereia’s ichor-stream to a far distance. Boak began to buck as Mora’s face paled, her eyes listless as cyanosis took over. Giving one last buck, Mora jolted in the saddle, having completed the task.
“Thank... you...Boak” Mora heaved as her blood vessels dilated and her heart slowed to a resting rate. “I hate traveling...”
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Mora’s intention was to travel by ice roads. Seeing as there aren’t many boats that voyaged through Sereia’s choppy sea waters. The distance from Faelios to Central City was a few hours’ journey by boat. However, Mora didn’t have time on her side.
By the time the solo traveler and her companion traveled midway, the sun was at its peak. And by the time Boak’s hooves touched the warm lands of Central City, it was approaching midafternoon. Central City is a metropolitan place, consisting of colossal buildings. These mountainous towers are like shiny clear gems under the sun. This small speck of land temporarily houses representatives of each race. It is surrounded by bodies of water, and in turn, the larger countries border the waters.
Not one to sightsee, Mora headed towards the Citadel. The Citadel held many courtrooms, but the most prestigious room is the Hall of Union. This courtroom The Consul of Concordance. Once there, she ran to the main court, the Hall of Union. Trying to not burst through the doors, she sat in the back row of seats.
But her Majesty saw the faeling’s impromptu arrival.
She is going to have my head for this.Mora thought, fidgeting with her thumbs.
Facing the courtroom stood a woman. A woman who seemed to command the room with her presence. Her aura was chaotic and catatonic. Yet, her face was marred with confusion and anger.
“This rogue has committed treason. She killed two honorable Hunters in cold blood.” a monotonous tone echoed throughout the chamber.
A tall slender man walked around the courtroom, hands out as if preparing to bow. He turned his dark eyes to the woman, eyes lit with malice. “Say their names: Marc Wilson, husband and father; Eric Tyell, young, but with the inspiration to be captain.” He pointed to the confused woman. “You have robbed children of a father, cursed a woman to be a widow, and pillaged the future of a potential Hunters to have a worthy leader.”
Going back to his seat at the podium he adds, “That, ladies and gentlemen, is cause for execution.”
This was followed by a cacophony of roars from the audience gathered at the benches. It appears not all agree.
“There must be a fair trial! You are not considering her personal ailment!” Someone shouts.
“Screw that! She is faking it! Look at her! Would anynormalbeing stand there proud? Surely she should be cowering, begging, and pleading to live!” another argued, shoving the former to the ground.
Mora’s Majesty, Queen Camilla Silverthorne, slammed the gavel down. The court was silenced instantly. “That is enough. We are not rabid dogs, so let us not present ourselves as such.” Nodding to her fellow Consul before catching Mora’s eyes. “It seems we all need a little breather. Court is in recess. We will reconvene in one hour.”
Beckoning the young faeling forward, the king and queen of Faelios descended the podium and ambled to their respective chambers. King Tobias murmured a charm to keep conversations away from unwarranted ears.
“Mora, your presence is untimely, but not unwelcome” Queen Camilla stated while pulling out a tea kettle and tea set from seemingly nowhere. “Please, have a seat.”
Dipping her head low in subservient respect, Mora took the seat offered to her. “Thank you, your Majesties.” Taking a sip of the tea offered, she tried to still her bouncing legs and her patience. No matter how urgent her news was, there was decorum she had to uphold.
Knowing each of their subjects well, the royal couple noticed the action.
“Mora.” King Tobias said. Something in his tone of voice and the warmth of his olive-colored eyes had Mora’s eyes smart.
“I... I dreamt of fire. I dreamt of it overtaking the lands. The skies were dark, but the land was alight with flames..... Screams, so many souls lost.” Mora’s eyes began to water. “Faelios isn’t safe, your Majesties. We are not safe. Your daughters are not safe.”
Queen Camilla patted Mora’s knee. “Do you think Sereia has blessed your eyes, Mora?”
Mora’s heart slowed, her breath caught. “I, I think she has, Queen Camilla.”
King Tobias reached and caressed Queen Camilla’s side. “We will keep vigilant. But we will continue as normal.”
Queen Camilla leaned into King Tobias. “Nerissa and Erin will be assigned guards from our finest. I don’t care how much they will argue about it.”
“So it has begun.” King Tobias concluded. “Thank you, Mora. You are turning into a fine young Seer of Sereia.”
Leaving the building, Mora didn’t have a celebratory bone in her body. Instead, she felt empty and weary. Something flits across her peripheral vision. She couldn’t shake the cold dread that seeped into her bones.
So it truly began.