The Knights of Time and the Forgotten Book

Prologue: the Memory

Prologue: the Memory

The strong wind howled against the cottage which stood in the middle of nowhere. It was a common wintry night. A young mother and her daughter were alone in the cottage since the child's father had gone on a business trip that weekend and left them to fend for themselves. Whenever he left for work the mother would get busy and bake pies and cakes for the father's homecoming and the little girl enjoyed assisting her.

She was four.

Despite the fact that she was young, the little girl remembers this memory as vividly as if it happened yesterday, and it haunted her dreams whenever she felt troubled. It liked to chase her when she needed a reminder of a time that was; a time of happiness and innocence; a time which stopped existing.

They were huddled up in front of the fireplace as they did almost every single night. The mother, who was called Mary, with her dark and beautiful eyes which were like the night sky, twinkling in their deep blue colour and hair which was almost always clumsily tied up in a bun with a few strands of dark brown hair falling around her face, smiled at her daughter and cuddled her. The mother's life, at that point, couldn't be better.

They were in a little world of their own in their little house with their little garden and their little rooms. But, like every story, their life wasn't a fairytale with a perfect ending. If it was, you wouldn't be reading this.

Mary read 'Cinderella' to her daughter when she dozed off and silently drifted into dreams. Mary carried her to her room where she covered her in blankets and kissed her forehead.

That little girl dreamt of the past and the future and the present. She saw herself doing fantastic things and running for her life. She could almost feel the rush and a shiver of excitement as she ran in her own fantasy world, holding hands with her green eyed boy, and dragging him towards places they've always dreamed of. The mother was never aware of these wonderful dreams.

Mary peacefully made her way down the stairs into the living room and sat there, staring at the flickering flame in the fireplace and drinking a cup of tea. She was thinking about her life, but mostly, about her own daughter. The month before that she had made a dangerous pact with a secret society made up of only eight people. The danger wasn't there because these people were dangerous, but because her daughter had special talents, whom the wrong people would even kill for. The choice of whom the mother chose to trust her daughter's future upon determined whether she would have to possibly give her life for her daughter, and to prevent the wrong people to train her to use her power. Mary knew it was too late for her to turn back. The decision of whom she wanted to trust was made.

She knew she trusted the right people. Catherine had told her so.

Mary remembered the day of her daughter's birth. It had been over four years before then. She remembered; a nurse who worked at that same hospital called Holly came to visit her. Mary had never met her before, and the only time she saw her again after that was last month.

Holly had come to bring her news.

She made it straight to the point and clear.

"Your daughter is special," she said. "Not in a way that each parent thinks their child is special than any other kid. More than that."

She sat down in the armchair next to Mary and watched her cradle her newborn baby girl. Then, she explained.

Every fifteen years three English children, two boys and a girl, are chosen amongst many to bear talents and abilities which only a few people in the world are chosen to hold.

Time chooses them and marks them as its own.

These special children each hold three specific talents. The girl usually holds the power of sight, which is why she's called a Seeker. She can get visions of the future and go deep into a person's emotions. One of the boys holds the power to move from one place to another with the use of teleportation, and he's called a Lint. The third child, a boy, is given the talent to move himself through the ages and time travel. He's called a Quart.