Destined

Prologue

The book trailer above is a little mood creator for you ...

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I followed my grandfather through the streets of Gordan, my head hanging low and hidden in the cap of my black woolen cloak. My hand was holding the leather case with all the needed medical equipment in a firm grip. I shivered. The winters in Gordan were glacial cold ... and I really hated the cold. No, I loathed the cold; the ice, the snow, and the freezing feet. The other creatures living in town were tough and resilient to the harsh weather and living conditions of our world, but we Daonnachd were not.

Living in a safe city and not in the wide dangerous plains of Desa we paid a high price: with our dignity. We had to endure the humiliation and the contempt of the stronger creatures that despised us Daonnachd because of our "weakness". But what was the alternative? In a world full of predators we were too weak to live amongst our race outside of the big towns, so we gulped down our pride and took the daily disdain the other creatures showed towards us, although we raised their children, cooked their meals, built their houses and healed their wounds.

Again, I shivered, my teeth chattering. I loved sitting in the well-heated living room of our cozy little house, reading the old books of our race, the Daonnachd. We may not be big, strong, have fangs or claws like the others, but we were the smart ones. We Daonnachd were the brain of this lands. Without us the other creatures couldn't survive. They couldn't build or engineer new things, repair something, they couldn't treat their wounds or help bring children into life.

And this was the reason, why we were on our way to the castle. One of the high families of the Creachadair sent for my grandfather to come immediately because one of their women was giving birth and had difficulties to deliver. Something wasn't right. My grandfather was a well known and respected healer...well...respected for a Daonnachd. Our race was the bottom of the social food chain in Gordan. Nobody really respected us, unless you were special in your abilities, like my grandfather. We weren't strong warriors like the Creachadair, always on edge to show their power. We were the opposite – a race of peaceful thinkers.

My fingers felt heavy inside my gloves while carrying the case. I couldn't let grandfather carry his countless medical instruments on his own. He was getting old and a little frail, but his mind worked unerring like a clockwork. I was his willing apprentice, learning his ways to heal all races of Desa. In my 15 summers I had learned quite a bit and could treat a lot of illnesses on my own. But I still had to learn. Healing was a never-ending lifelong learning process.

As we reached the gates of the castle, two big and bulky Creachadair were waiting impatiently for us at the main entrance. "At last, if my woman dies, I'll behead both of you and let your heads rot on the gates of your district. Follow me", one man commanded growling. My grandfather and I exchanged a look of worry. The Creachadair were never joking. Every word counted.

As soon as I passed the gate something weird happened: A scorching heat started in my head. "Aaah, granddad", I whimpered lowly. „My head hurts...", I whispered, trying to suppress the pain.  My grandfather Ascan immediately took my hand to stabilize my tumbling feet. "Dear, what's ...." He stopped his sentence abruptly with a look of worry in his eyes. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Granddad?", I whimpered again. He only watched me sorrowful. "Oh no, my dear child, my poor sweet girl...you are too young", he whispered, closing his watery eyes.

"Move, you fools", one of the two men demanded. "What's going on here?", he bellowed harshly, when he saw, that we didn't follow his command. He grabbed my shoulder forcefully but as soon as he touched me, he let go, as if his fingers caught fire. "Look at her eyes, Dragan ...", he called the second man, who turned impatiently around. His eyes snapped open, shock and curiosity clearly written on his features. "H ....her eyes are yellow...", he stuttered. 

"She is a destined...", he whispered, then shook his head, as if he wanted to shake himself out of a trance. "l'll bring her to our Protos, he knows what to do. You walk the old one to your wife." I was grabbed and dragged through the corridors, regardless of my situation. "Granddad, granddad", I shouted, but was to weak to continue my cry for help. The man caught my weight and carried me the whole way.

After what felt like forever, we stood in front of a big wooden door, decorated artificially with carved dragons, bears, wolves and lions. He knocked three times. I felt utterly ill, ready to throw up, fear creeping its way through the heat and the pain. Behind that door I would meet the most dangerous man of Desa: the Protos, the Lord of all creatures living and breathing on this lands - his lands.

"Enter", I heard a strong manly voice through the door. The man dragging me turned the handle, holding me in a firm grip, but now with more care. His face morphed into a guarded and fearful expression as we entered. I raised my eyes. As soon as I did, a bolding string of light left my heart, leading its way to the man a few feet in front of me, landing on his chest, where his heart was located.

I never witnessed anything like this...This was against all I believed in: science! Yes, I heard stories about „destined", but never met ones. Although I wanted to cry and shout, that this must be a mistake, there was no place for doubts - the Lord of Desa was my destined.

"No, no, no NO...?, my whimpering evolved into a cry full of agony. In front of me stood a giant, full of muscles that poked through his black leather outfit. His blank face devoid of any emotion, his cold, green-yellowish eyes of a predator taking me in. His blond hair was cut short. All in all, a sight, that could make the knees of a grownup man tremble. Slowly he neared me, stopping a few inches before reaching me. "Hello, my little destined", I heard his deep but smooth voice say ... and then my whole world went black.