City of Fate

16 years ago

     A women holds a baby wrapped up in a small bundle. They sit on a firm, black sofa in a well appointed waiting room. As she looks around she notices that the style of decorations and furniture in the room are modern, almost futuristic, and of a design she's never seen before. She stares blankly at a stack of magazines on a low glass table in front of her and  bobs he leg with nervous energy as well as to soothe the sleeping child. 

Behind her a door opens and the man she has been waiting for silently calls to her to come into his office.

The man is Salazar Frost, he is the CEO of the High Directorate and, as she knows, he is essentially the ruler of Fionandor.  His face has the hard coldness that only lurks behind the eyes of men who are in positions of great power. A fire burns in a oversized fireplace, as Salazar walks over to sit behind his ridiculously opulent desk. Salazar lays his hands on the desk and steeples his fingers. Sandra can do little except stare at his silhouetted features as he stares back with measured stillness.

"This is the child." He said, not a question, with both awe and venom. His voice sounds like a snake, quiet but with a hint of menace.

Sandra did not speak, nor did Salazar give any indication he expected her to.

"You have done well, You will be given the reward that you deserve for your troubles." The man  said with more mischief then anything else.

Sandra is this child's caretaker.  A royal caretaker to the oldest and most powerful family of which Salazar is blood born into. The phone call had come a few days ago, and Sandra was to be rewarded if she could  secret away the child and bring her here. She accepted.

The child isn't just any child. She would be queen one day. She is the last daughter of an ancient bloodline, the same bloodline that Salazar is born of and the only heir that stands in his way of becoming the supreme ruler of the world.

"Thousands of years ago there was a battle, between the elf Alana, Duggor the white dragon and  Krabloch the troll and his hoard." He began. "Stop me if you've heard this." he paused for dramatic emphasis. "The battle raged for days and days, blah blah blah." He swirled his hand around in a circle gesture. "Until, on the fourteenth day, the Troll managed to rend a scale from the dragon and slay it with a powerful jab from a spear. As the dragon lay dead a river of dark blood ran from the wound. This sent Alana into a rage and she destroyed the Goblin hoard singlehandedly and nearly slew the Troll, but not without suffering grave wounds herself." Salazar stopped at a table on top of which was a beautiful crystal decanter and he poured a small amount of some sort of brown liquor and swallowed it in one gulp. "The Troll managed to escape, with the dragon's scale still clutched tightly in its giant claw." He walked around to stand in front of Sandra, buttoning the single button on his immaculate, tailored suit jacket. She said nothing, letting the man speak, knowing its never a good idea to interrupt an elf who is half drunk on dwarven spirits and, possibly more importantly, completely drunk on power. "Later he died of his wounds and no one knows what happened to the scale for sure. It has been said it was taken by a Majai and infused with power beyond comprehension. " The high Elf leaned in closer and Sandra could smell the liquor on his breath and something else, something like flowers or herbs. "Alana, dying from the wounds inflicted during the battle, made it back to her castle and called on her most trusted sorcerer. As she lay dying, the two devised a spell to try to hide all of the Elves from the Trolls, creating the Blind, a sort of blurring of dimensions. They soon found out that the Blind only hid their world, our world, the world of the Fae and the dark ones, from the humans." Salazar crouched down and stroked the head of the would be queen. "Then Alana, with her last dying breath, delirious from fever, spoke of a prophecy." He spoke softly almost soothingly. "We all know the Prophecy by now, don't we." Salazar stated as he stared at the child's dark hair. "Speak the words caretaker." He nearly whispered these words. Sandra said nothing.

He stood quickly and his thinly held calm demeanor changed just as quickly. His eyes turned completely black and an unfelt wind blew around him, it made his clothes flap and his hair whip around wildly. "Answer me caretaker!" He growled, malice and venom evident in his tone.

Sandra stood calmly, the child still in her arms and ran.