Elven Dawn

NOTES/Prologue I

Hi! I'm Andrew Park, otherwise known as DivvyHD and this is my fantasy story-in-progress, Elven Dawn. I'm just here to warn you about some things that will happen in the story. This will definitely include romantic content and possible mature scenes. Probably this would be 10+ to 12+. Please comment you have corrections of any type or suggestions! Have fun reading!

Christian

1855, July 1st.

Ottoman Empire

Istanbul

I walked on the dusty road, lined with buildings as I lightly stepped over a pile of maps and papers, yellowed with age. I saw an old man in the distance, looking seventy, shedding a few tears. My whole family had fallen to the Ruska hordes. The town was large and gracious, teeming with people. Yet, it had been reduced to dust. Istanbul was the strongest city, built on the strongest foundations, it would never fall, mother had told me. Nary a stone's throw away from the old man, I saw what the old man was weeping of. Wiping his blood-drenched face once, he laid down his blood-stained rifle and fell. I looked at the fallen man with a face carved of shock and horror. As I walked into an old shop, tiptoeing with my heels over the cold limp body. As I stepped over the pile of papers, an old and damp calendar dropped, most of it scribbled over with a pen. It marked 1855, May 24th. I clutched the calendar in my sweaty hand, damp with the toil of summer. As I thought, I felt like disappearing. Sono importanti? Possibilmente.

{♕-===-♕}

Remembering the warm, dandelion fragrance mother gave, I thought of my mother as I remembered our happy moments. One drop fell, and another. I sobbed quietly, crystal tears pouring down my face. Lifting my head, I saw a figure looming over me. Twisting around without a moment to waste, it vanished. I coughed as I got up and walked around the shattered town. Small fragments of brick dropping on my head, I realized all of the buildings were deserted with the brittle windows broken and food left out gone rotten. It began to rain as I walked inside a small shop, despite the possibility that it could collapse. Suddenly, I saw it again.

"Sei autorizzato qui?", it asked.

"No, ho bisogno di un riparo adeguato per sopravvivere la notte."

As I entered the shop, it disappeared. I slept lightly, after eating my last rations. I opened my eyes as I heard the soft trodding of footsteps. Holding my rucksack tightly, I turned around quickly. I saw a girl about my age, walking towards the shop lonely and solemnly. Whispering a few words and drenched by the rain, the girl lay down silently without a word. As I lightly dropped her down onto the dry, musty floor, a howling voice filled the air like an omen of death. I shuddered as the girl rose and faded into the dark, stormy clouds. Lightning struck, and I saw a cloaked figure, black-eyed and dangerous.

Annette

1855

Ottoman Empire

Belgrade

Pulling my thick, leather coat over my cold body as my parents quarreled on and on, I dragged my feet outside my house. Greeting me goodbye with a warm kiss, my mother went off to work. Walking to my new school, I saw other kids playing hopscotch on the street, skipping left to right. After the government closed our schools, there was only one school left in Belgrade. After a short stroll, I arrived at my school, looking new and shiny.

"Look, we have an Ottoman here!"

Hearing echoed laughter in my ears, my cheeks turned scarlet red, with hands crunched in a fist.

A boy was left on the ground with a dark, damaged eye. Gaping, the kids around me stared at me in shock. I didn't waste a moment, sprinting as fast as a horse. My legs pulled me as hard as I could, pumping like a bicycle. Leaving my rucksack behind, I ran mindlessly until inevitably, I crashed into a little girl. She looked at my dirty, mud-covered face and cried. As I attempted to calm her down, a large Serbian boy, ran to the girl and began to yell,

"Baba!"

A man with a dirty moustache came running, spared a look at me and said,

"Ne oldu, ha?"

By the look of it, it looked like I had done the wrong, which I didn't. The man grabbed my throat, trying to strangle me. Desperately grasping for my throat, the boy jumped on me and scratched me with his sharp and long fingernails. Kicking both of them, they were knocked back for the blink of an eye.

Growling at me, the boy got up. I ran without looking back, to arrive straight into my home, just to see it a daunting pile of rubble. Looking, I saw French troops in the distance. Jumping at a piece of exploding flak, I saw people lying on the floor, dead. Suddenly, a man grabbed me from behind. Tying me up and throwing me on the ground like a sack, he propped a gun at me, and he asked with a dry, toasty voice.

"Are you Ottoman? I want the truth or you shall die."