Eternal Series Book 1: Everlasting

Prologue

Prologue

1766

London, England

On a busy street in London, lay a perfectly normal house, with a perfectly normal family. Count Clyvedon and his beautiful wife lived there, along with their twin sixteen-year-old daughters. Emma Blaze and Amelia Marvella had never thought of themselves as anything but ordinary. They lived in a normal neighborhood and went to normal social gatherings with the rest of the young ladies of the ton—well, the certain balls and musicals they were allowed to attend before officially coming out. They were respected young girls with golden blonde hair and unusual silver eyes. Their dresses were always modest, and no one matched their propriety. Every man wanted them, and every woman wanted to be them.

Blaze had always been a spitfire. She was strong, brave, and the most stubborn woman most people had ever met. Even when she was a baby, she barely cried, and she had always been very overprotective of her twin sister. Even with her sarcastic tone and sense of humor, the suitors looking her way were astronomical. No proposals had come her way, but at such a young age, that was to be expected. But, young Blaze only had eyes for one man, a blacksmith's son that her father found unsuitable. Both girls were extremely intelligent, but Blaze's love for books was unparalleled.

Marvella had always been the kind one but had never been very good at keeping her temper in check. She was creative and loved to feel a pencil between her fingers. She was the younger sister—by fifteen minutes, something her sister never let her forget—and was content staying in Blaze's shadow. She tried not to attract too much attention to herself but still had many suitors waiting for her eighteenth birthday. She was very attractive, and she was considered the best dancer at every ball.

Both girls were loved and would be considered the luckiest catch of the season in a few years. Nobody would ever have wanted anything to happen to them.

Then why were they murdered?

It had been a beautiful day, with the sun shining and a light breeze ruffling their fair hair, as they walked from their townhouse. The girls were always escorted but rarely took the carriage, against their father's orders. The two girls had had plans to go to a musical that evening, it was to be awful; they always were. They were just meeting a young man at a gossip-inn before they were on their way. They passed their friends, who all made small talk before they found a table alone. Their ladies' maids were with them and watching a few tables away, as the two sisters sat unaccompanied. They were laughing at gossip shared, and they didn't even notice when the door banged open. A man with dark, curly hair piled on top of his head, slowly pulled a gun out of his trench coat. The room collectively froze, except for the two girls the gun was pointed at. Marvella screamed with terror, seeing that the bullet would pierce into her sister's heart. Blaze trembled in fear, an echoing scream trying to escape her chest. Tears brimmed in her eyes—something that didn't happen often—and she whispered, "Please, don't do this." The tears soaked her cheeks, but she held perfectly still.

"Go back to hell where you belong!" He pulled the trigger, and a bang rang across the room. The women in the room yelled as the bullet hit its target. Blaze's chest. She fell backward out of her chair, the pain crippling her, as blood seeped through her bodice. Her head lopped to the left, and she saw him outside the window. The man she loved but would never be able to share a life with. He pounded the window, screaming her name as she took her final, ragged breath.

Another gunshot rang through the small building, and Marvella landed next to her sister. She had just enough strength left to reach for her sister's hand before the life drained out of her. Many other guns came out as the shock left the onlookers systems. The man was cornered and would have spent the rest of his days in jail, had Blaze's love not burst through the doors.

They called him Alaric, and he was a lowly blacksmith's son. He wore old, weathered clothing that had holes and stains, but the dark color really brought out his light blond hair and sunshine yellow eyes, that resembled a cat's. No matter his status, he would have given up everything he owned just for a chance to be with Blaze. And now, she lay dead on the floor only a few feet away from him. The look in her eyes haunted him and boiled his blood. He wanted to avenge her. He wanted this low life's blood on his hands.

Suddenly, all the guest in the inn toppled over: some landed on the floor with a thud, others slumped down onto the tables or into their chairs. They were unconscious, dropped into a deep sleep that was seemingly something they couldn't be woken from. The man who had killed the Count's daughters lay asleep at Alaric's feet, the gun inches from his fingertips. But Alaric didn't notice as the steeled toe of his boot slammed into the man's gut. He did it again and again until his leg throbbed, and he felt like he couldn't stand any longer. His leg buckled under him, and his fist connected with the man's face over and over until the boy lost count. He felt the cuts and bruises forming on his knuckles, but that didn't stop him. Nothing would stop him, not until this monster took his last breath.

The killer's eyes opened, they were swollen, but he could still see, and only he knew what had just happened as the others began to stir. He had seen things like this before, and it gave him the right to kill the boy sitting across his stomach. Alaric didn't seem to notice as his revenge got the better of him. Nor did he notice that the gun was still in reaching distance. The killer's hand shot out from under the knee of his attacker, and his fingers enclosed around the gun's handle. A shot rang out as a bullet hit the boy squarely in the chest. Pain seared through his veins, and he died with his beloved Blaze the only thought on his mind.