In the far land of Asxairo, off the distant ruins of the Rovien Sea lives a damnation to the kingdoms. She is something beyond the great bounds of the ancestors and the Gods. She is an unstoppable force and she has a mission to complete.
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The night was lonely and quiet, the soft crunching of footsteps echoing throughout the empty space.
Ruins of the war and murder coated the gravel streets, the dark crimson hue of the blood coloring the streets and sidewalk. Weapons, once a symbol of strength and wisdom, laid dead and abandoned on the floor.
Gnarly dark branches covered with the softest coating of a new snowfall gently intertwined together, blending and casting shadows upon the ground. Leaves fell swiftly to the floor, rustling underneath a stranger's heavy boot.
Beneath all the fallen branches and dead leaves laid bodies, hundreds of bodies, harshly dismembered. Some wounds inflicted on their dead flesh were still bleeding, the complexion of corpses dulling with each passing second.
Innocent lives were taken, their hearts bleeding on the floor and their wings were torn and shredded to thousands of pieces. The slightest curve of black feathers mixed with the sickly color of blood splattered across flesh, leaving marks that would remain forever.
The wind howled, the growling cry of a beast singing into the quiet night. A ballad, a sad symphony. Somewhere between the soft singing of the wind and the quiet howl of the moon came a more vulnerable sound.
The sound was quiet, too pure for the gruesome scene. A silent lullaby. The footsteps quickened, ragged breaths meeting the gentle rustle of dead leaves. A happy gurgle came from the same source, a happy cry.
Running, she was running now towards the sound, her eyes looking and searching for the sound. Nearing the end of the gruesome scene, in an abandoned corner, the hulking silhouette stopped in front of a child.
An infant swaddled and cuddled with knitted blankets laid in a woven basket, two dead bodies surrounding her. The infant's eyes were wandering, its tiny fingers covered in the slightest coating of saliva.
The silhouette gasped. No, they couldn't be dead. The king and queen couldn't be dead. Who would take care of their poor princess? Who would protect her? Who would show her who she truly was?
It was obvious from the way the infant looked around that she was lost, looking for a familiar face. A soft sigh came from the silhouette's lips, her figure sinking to her knees to swaddle the infant in her arms.
A beauty she was, golden eyes ringed with the slightest tint of green. Her skin was so smooth, her tiny fingers curling. Thick, dark curls coated the princess's head, long lashes surrounding her large eyes.
Another soft gurgle came from the infant's lips, her eyes cautiously looking up to meet the shadow. Somehow, a smile curled on the young princess's lips, her fragile hands reaching up to the touch the tip of the silhouette's finger.
Cautiously, the silhouette brushed her fingers against the princess, caressing the young princess in love. In the distance, a snap was heard, voices blending in as they neared the battleground littered with bodies.
Panicking, the shadow gently placed the young infant in the woven basket, wrapping her with the blanket her mother had knitted. Reaching behind her, the silhouette pulled out a golden sword, crafted and sculpted for only the purest, cruelest, and royalist of the bloodlines.
The sword gently clattered to the floor next to the young princess and her dead parents, sealing everyone's fate in a dangerous future. Without a word, the silhouette stood up and ran, leaving nothing but the cold, the shadows, and the uncertain.
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A/N: Alright everyone, that was the prologue for the Catalyst Oath. Mysterious isn't it? I definitely like the vibe I am getting from it. Man, I'm pumped for this story/series. Well, stay tuned for more Lovelies!
