The Songs Of The Flames (The Curse Of The Thirteenth Series)

Prologue

" I can assure you sir, the prophecy is merely an untrue tale created by a batshit crazy woman who claims she is a prophet!" Exclaimed a gentleman with thin framed glasses. His black suit fit perfectly tailored to his thin frame. He stood in a long, darkly lit hallway with an older man. The elderly man had just arrived upon hearing the news. He was hunched with age slightly with a long graying beard. 

"Madam Gerard has never told a false prophecy. You know what this means Michael." Exclaimed the elderly man. Michael ran his hand through his long coal dark hair. His once sleek hair now sticking up in tufts. In the closed door to his left he could hear the moans and cries of his wife, and the yells for 'push' from the two midwives. His wife Matilda had been in labor for the past three hours, he was growing worried for her. He could hear her pants and screams become more desperate. The past few births had failed, and Matilda was growing weak.

"It is almost the thirteenth day, Michael, the prophecy is beginning!" warned the old man. He could sense Michaels worries, and they boiled with his own. "They are already on the way. You should remove the other children and save yourself. The woman and her child are already doomed."

I will not abandon Matilda or the baby." Michael snapped. He would not budge before, and he refused to budge now. He stared off at the wall of the hallway beside them. The flickering fire light almost made the painting of the phoenix waver. As if it were alive and would fly off the wall any moment. Michael removed a pocket watch from his front breast pocket- the time read 11:58 PM. Two more minutes and the prophecy will become true. Inside the room he could still hear his wife. He worried about her, but most of all he worried for their new child. Before the child could be born, a ridiculous prophecy from an insane prophet claimed death and destruction from it's hands. His wife's scream echoed through the door. This was her thirteenth time giving birth. If the child waited much longer they were all doomed.

Michael looked back towards the old man beside him, age showing on his face. Downstairs they heard the heavy knock of the door hanger. "It is too late to leave, Andrias. They have arrived." Sorrow filled his heart as he looked down at his pocket watch once more. The time read 12:01 as their thirteenth child took its first breath into the world.

Michael abandoned Andrias in the half lit hallway to see his wife and new child. The oldest midwife held the child in a bundle of blankets, cleaning off the blood and afterbirth. Matilda laid on the mattress, blood soaking the white sheets. Michael ran to kneel beside his wife. Matilda was soaked in sweat and white as a ghost. Dark circles laced her eyes, but she smiled up at her husband like a shooting star. Even now she had a glow to her.

"It's a girl," she croaked. Her face broke out in a smile. Michael could see the light fading from her eyes and knew she would not make it much longer. "What shall we name her?" She asked him. Her light was beginning to fade. 

" Priscilla. After your mother." His voice croaked with a sob. He leaned down and kissed his wife's moist forehead. When he leaned back up, his wife was already gone. A faint smile still was planted on her lips. Michael closed her eyelids, kissed her forehead one more time, then covered her up with a maroon blanket tossed on the other side of the bed. she seemed only to be sleeping.

Michael turned to the midwife that held his new child. He took Priscilla into his arms and stared down at his new child in the blanket bundle. She had her mothers golden eyes. The irises Swirled like pools of honey. He wished he had a moment to spare to study the little girl. To spend years watching her grow. But time was not in their favor tonight.

"Leave out the servants door before it is too late." He told the two midwives. They nodded, gathering their belongings in haste.

Andrias was still out in the hallway when Michael came out, but was anxious to leave. Voices could be heard in the parlor downstairs. It echoed up the grand staircase. "Please, take her. She needs to live. For Matilda." He handed the bundle to Andrias who reached for her, careful to support the newborn's head. "Hide her away from them, please!" Michael turned away from the old man before the plea could be refused.