Bellica, Prologue

[maitressekatje]

As promised, here is the prologue! There may be some changes between now and it being published on the site, but they will be minor.

~~~~~~~

4750, The First Age

Midnight darkened the corridors of the Temple. The few remaining lights let out a gentle hum; most flickered, deteriorating with age. Hidden in shadows, Estela stood in an alcove, waiting for the Watch to walk by, to pass her unnoticed. She hoped.

Soon her wish came to pass–a priestess, already Dedicated, walked by, in robes black as night. They were all black as night. This priestess must not be in direct contact with the Deity, or she would have noticed Estela where she hid.

The woman gone, Estela darted out from her alcove, headed for her destination, the center of the Temple. The holiest of holies, where only those ready for Dedication to Umbra could go. Never mind if they’d been Called or not.

The holy center of the Temple was empty. Here were no artificial lights; the flames of candles and torches flickered, reflections dancing on the black stone. She’d read in a history book the stone used to be multicolored, millennia ago. Worship of Umbra had darkened it.

Her heart pounding, Estela approached the altar. It had been dedicated to the worship of Umbra as long as she had lived. Truly, it was not suitable for anything else, and she knew this. And Umbra was the only Goddess honored in Athering. She knew this as well.

But one cannot control her dreams, she thought, finding the sacrificial knife. And I have been Called to Another’s service.

The flames cast enough light for her to see her reflection in the knife’s blade. She looked young and terrified.

She was. She knew what would happen if they caught her. But when the Goddesses Called, one answered.

She held her hand over the altar and slit her palm with the knife. Blood flowed over the smooth stone.

“Great Kore, Goddess of Light and Prophecy, You have Called me and I answer,” she said, her voice shaking. “I Dedicate my life, my soul, and my blood to You. I pray that I am found worthy.”

A low laugh echoed through the room, from behind her. Estela whipped around. At the entrance stood the Mother Superior, Maga Domina, and several High Priestesses. They were all full servants of Umbra. She swallowed nervously. This was it, then. It was over. She hoped Kore had accepted her offering, or it would be a horrible afterlife indeed.

The Mother Superior stepped forward slowly, a terrible smile on her face. “Hm. Estela,” she spoke slowly, savoring the girl’s name as if it were a tasty morsel. “Somehow I always knew you would be one to betray the Order.”

Estela found her voice, buried in her chest, cowering in fear. “You’ve no right to be the Order anymore, Beralyn. We turned away from Aradia long ago.” If I am to die anyway, I’d rather go out with a show of courage.

Beralyn laughed again, coming inexorably closer to where Estela stood. “And you think you’ll suddenly change everything by Dedicating to a long-dead Goddess?”

“Kore’s not dead,” Estela said, holding her head high.

Beralyn scoffed, but Estela thought she saw a flash of uncertainty in the older woman’s eyes. “You think She lives on in your stupid little books? Oh, I know,” she added at the surprise Estela could not keep from her face. “I know about your trips to the forbidden section, deep within the castle library. I know about your fascination with a time that’s long-forgotten – as well it should be.” She made a signal with her hand then, and the high priestesses came forward. They grabbed Estela by the arms and pushed her brutally to her knees. “You’ll be forgotten, too, little girl,” she said with cold menace.

“No,” Estela whispered. “I won’t. Not by you.” A bright light had begun to shine in Estela’s chest; now it grew until it occluded all else. She felt absolutely at peace, and knew in her heart that Kore has answered her. When she spoke again, she knew the words came from some place other than her mind. “When the Dark One rules, all falls to ruin in this world and the other. Her Chosen takes the Sceptre, and compassion is forgotten. But another shall arise – a Chosen of Juno, of the Line of Aradia – a Child of Light to balance the Dark. And thus shall the Dark One’s rule fall, and thus shall compassion take the Sceptre again.”

Beralyn continued to smile, but it was tinged with doubt. “Well, I hope you weren’t referring to the Queen’s firstborn. That girl’s already been sacrificed, just this morn.”

At any other time Estela would have felt sick to her stomach, but she only smiled in return. “The time is coming,” she said, and knew the words to be her last.

Beralyn snapped her fingers; the Maga Domina brought forth an axe, and then Estela’s head was bent forward, her hair moved to the side.

A sharp pain, the beating rush of air, the feathery presence of wings, the warm embrace of darkness. Estela was no more.

[zDave40]

That is great! In some ways, the story seems old and used, but you have made it fresh. I liked your style on Islands of Fire and Water, and you have improved here. I'm interested enough to want to read the entire book.

[phoenix.writing]

I found it really interesting as well--it definitely makes me want to read more, to get to that time where I hope we see the child of Light and Estela's prophecy coming true.

[maitressekatje]

Thank you!

I know the story of Light vs. Dark is old and used in many ways, but I'm hoping to put a new spin on it (which will become apparent as the story goes on). It's an archetype that's important to me, for whatever reason.

Definitely glad to hear my style has improved. I'm very critical of my own work, and sometimes I can't see the improvements (other times, it's very obvious ).

[phoenix.writing]

In a great deal of spec-fic, some sort of light vs. dark seems to happen--I think it's all in what you do with it after that.

I, too, have trouble telling if my style has improved at all (except, as you say, when it's glaringly obvious), so it's always interesting to get an outside opinion.