Daughter of Kronos

Chapter One

  I don't remember much of my childhood. It was mostly all blurry. My mother was the daughter of a grain farmer. She was the youngest daughter.

  One day when she was walking through the fields, she met my father. She said it was love at first sight. And then I came along. And her life couldn't have been more perfect.

  My father left before I was born. I never saw his face, or heard his laugh, or even get to know him. All that I had of him were the stories my mom told me.

  And I hated him. I hated him for leaving her. I hated him for leaving me. I hated him for only caring about himself. He could have just stayed around long enough for me to see his face and hear his laugh, but NO. He had to go away to do something else. And I hated him for it.

  My grandparents had given my mom a small house on their land for her to raise me in. They didn't really want to be a part of my life, and I couldn't blame them. My life was so messed up, that if they came any further into it, they would be affected.

  When I was nine, my mom got in a car accident that took her life. The only things I could remember about that day was that my mom didn't come home, and my grandparents came over to tell me what happened. That was the first time I had ever seen my grandparents. I didn't even recognize them.

  They told me that my mother had died, and that my uncle would be staying with me. They said that next week there would be a funeral, so I could say goodbye. Then they left. I never saw them again. They didn't even go to the funeral.

  I loved my uncle. He was like the father that I never had. He would tell me stories, and play games with me, and he knew a really cool card trick that amazed me every time.

He would tell me stories about my father. Stories that my mother never told me. He said that my father was evil, and came from hell just to be with my mother. He said there was something different about him. Time always seemed to slow when you were near him, and the few months that he was with my mother, the crops thrived.

A few weeks after my mom's death, a boy knocked on the door. He said that he needed to talk to my uncle. Immediately.