• Prologue

    Drip . . . Drip, drip. Drip. Drip, drip-drip. The clear crystals fell from the heavens in their simple, blissfully erratic pattern. The dark spring leaves bent under the gentle weight, savoring the cool liquid. The air smelled clean and pure.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    The black bell's deadly toll called to those who yearn for light but cannot quite reach it. The darkest of the reclusive citizens gathered secretively in the ruins of the raven-encrusted church. Home to the dead, none but the nightly worshipers and the very foolish visited the old church, especially after the sun had set.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    The old church, rotted with age and lack of care, stood tall and foreboding alone at the city's center. The steeple creaked and swayed with the harsh wind under the weight of near a hundred blackbirds, all of them eerily silent.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    A single blood red cardinal took flight from the razor tip of the obsidian tower of the church. Leading a tornado of blackbirds, the lone cardinal glided through the city, weaving in and out of the tall buildings, over the short ones, all of them in far better condition than the church. The scarlet bird, followed by an army of ravens and crows, flew deep into the thick forest surrounding the city. They left behind a rotting skeleton of what had once been a glorious church.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    Black mud sloshed against the dirty cement sidewalk. Soiled rainwater flooded the streets, pouring heavily now from the angry blue-black dome. The unkempt church reeked of danger, hatred, and worry; it was a waterfall of darkness and despair. The pure light of hope seemed nowhere in sight around the skeletal church.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    A trickle of dark-clad, pale-faced, severe-looking people slipped out of declining tenements and simple homes. The small group grew steadily larger as the sky grew darker, deadlier.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    As the heavens opened up further, dumping their tragedies on the world below, a deep wordless chant began, more like a tuneless song, starting softly at first and then slowly growing louder; the chant fully expressed the moods of the city. Cautious. Worried. Suspicious. Tired. Frightened. Dark. Sorrowful. Outraged.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    People stirred in their sleep, tossing and turning uncomfortably, disrupted with no logical explanation of why. Their dreams drifted to nightmares, creatures of pure insanity haunting their troubled minds.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    A sudden unexplainable sense of desperate longing washed over the citizens of the blackened city, gripping them more tightly than ever before. The odd, overwhelming sensation disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving no evidence of ever having been there in the human mind, shrouded by the heavy veil of disbelief. The city, and the people, was cut off from reality by a thick, beautifully dangerous forest.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    The flooded, muddy streets slowly drained, leaving behind garbage and trash that no one would take the time or effort to pick up and throw away until the morning, which seemed so very far away. Soft, barely audible footsteps pattered and splashed down the puddle-filled sidewalks and potholed streets.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    With the increasing darkness of the night, the mischievous, eager shadows took over to make mayhem with sight. Nothing was what it seemed in the shadows, subtly and not so subtly making minds of incredible structure and strength waver and break down into fear and hatred. The shadows reflected what all awake at that late hour hungered for. Vengeance.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    A secretive silence fell, blanketing the houses and buildings with its excruciating weight. The alleys and roads quieted, barks and meows ceased until the only sounds left were those of the rain and the wordless song.

    Dooonnnnnnnggggggg.

    As the song reached a crescendo, the church doors burst open, silencing the mournful music. A decrepit old man could be seen from just inside the doorway, only inches away form the cleansing rain. He wore a crimson suit jacket over a black button-down shirt and black pants coupled with a pair of black, shiny dress shoes. His pale face was lined with worry, but with a cool, confident determination that could easily be mistaken for arrogance or defiance lay just beneath.

    "We have been found, my brethren."

    "Found?" gasped one stricken woman, nearly falling over in her fright. None of the other black-clad people looked any better, but most stood straight. In response to the stricken woman, the old man nodded gravely. The dark congregation exploded into shocked whispers and hisses of fear and rage. A cold, wrinkly fist was raised, revealing a red cardinal etched into the back of the hand, a bright contrast against the white flesh. Immediately the sanctuary fell silent as if there had been no noise at all.

    "We have been found," he started again, his gold eyes glazing over in the agony of memories long since past, but were never forgotten. "Fleeing is not an option – there is nowhere to run to. Our cousins north of us were slaughtered little over a week ago now. A half a year ago They found Father Sagareth in the far eastern deserts and two years before now, Mother Syeti submitted herself to Them to protect her people – a grave mistake as we all know now." The old man sighed, coming forward and sitting shakily on the cold, wet, broken steps at the front of the church, his slow movements the only thing betraying his frantic thoughts and emotions. "We here in Cerentia are the last of our noble race. We must remain strong! We must not submit! We will survive!" The spark of hope on his people's faces nearly broke his heart but he hid his feelings, as he always had, to keep utter despair from his people.

    If they could just keep strong, just hold up . . . If they could just resist long enough then maybe, maybe . . . Maybe they could live . . . Hope was all they had left. Hope and the strength their ancestors passed down to them. They would survive!

    "The Creator has bestowed upon me the knowledge of five people, four who are not yet part of us, who will bring revolution to the land of Azagarith." The ancient man continued, golden eyes flicking around the crowd, perhaps searching for one particular face, the one that would help bring around the revolution he spoke of. A woman near the back coughed and a neighbor patted her on the back until the woman straightened, teary-eyed.

    "I suggest we resume usual activities. If, indeed, there is a spy, we must not allow them intelligence of our own knowledge of them. Things must remain as normal as usual. There must be no hint, no trace for them to track." His commanding voice lulled the mass into peace and the all shuffled into the church as they always did on the half moons of the year.

    The ancient leader nodded to a young man with longish, black hair, fixing him with his wise golden eyes. Obediently, the young man shuffled toward him, the crowd splitting apart and reforming behind him to allow him passage to his destination. The young man plopped down beside the old man as only the healthiest can and stared at the old man with admiration akin to hero-worship, pale sapphire eyes aglow with pride.

    "My dear boy, I will need your help tomorrow. My old bones can barely make it up to the surface once a fortnight, let alone two nights in a row. Tomorrow morning, just before noon, a girl will come, a girl just around your age." The man smiled wanly, memories flooding his mind, memories he quickly discarded and continued. "You need to lead her to me when she arrives, but do not openly await her. I'll help you partway. Do not worry about exposure, my boy. That will be handled for you." The young man, who was merely a child compared to the ancient man before him, nodded solemnly.

    "Why?" he asked, his voice barely heard above the whisper of a breeze that toyed with his mid-neck, black hair before moving on to a more desirable victim. "Why me?"

    The old man almost smiled as he answered, "Well, it certainly isn't for your obedience!" His face returned to the all-too-familiar somber expression he had worn for weeks on end now. "No, dear boy. I have my own reasons. Reasons I choose not to reveal just yet for other reasons." He paused, both men silent. "Go now. Join the others. I will be along shortly." The young man nodded and left, sinking into the broken and battered skeletal church.

    The old man stayed, peering sadly into the woods. A simple cardinal joined him, landing expertly on his shoulder. As he reached up to stroke the red bird, he looked into its golden eyes and sighed. "This is just another beginning, my friend. A beginning I will start, but not stay to finish." With these words, he walked silently into the church, the cardinal rubbing its scarlet face against his wrinkled cheek empathetically, as if he understood what all had been said, as if he agreed.