Children of Diezor

Chapter 2

The three of us ride home together. Back to the palace. Our route into the city is the detour we usually take. It is a course meant to keep us out of sight from all citizens. And even though the palace lies right in the center of the city, it usually does the job.

Within no time we can catch glimpses of the grand construction. The palace is far taller than it is wide. It's beautiful and magnificent. Our history books say it was built a thousand years ago, by the same number of slaves.

All slaves had been human. They were the humans who lived here before us, many generations ago. Before Diezor had been deserted for two centuries and before the people who lived here now came to find it.

The slaves of ancient Mitera had been humans who were not allowed to rule themselves. They had been captives of the witch tribe who had reigned over Diezor before the desertion.

Luckily for us, the witches left over four hundred ago.

The witches are a strange people. All of them insane – or so they say. They live in a constant dreamlike state. Messing up each other's minds with overpowering visions and overwhelming emotions. And let's not forget the herbs. They grow all kinds of freakish plants themselves. Once they're plucked they're turned into strange drinks, pastries, and powders. The witches take from them every day. Which makes their spirits go up high, to some other world.

They say the witches mostly live at night. Feasting for hours every time the moon rises. And when light returns they rest. Their whole life revolves around feasts and rituals. Around their own circle, and nothing else.

Mostly the other species, and especially humans, avoid any contact with them. Everyone knows they can't be trusted.

In war times their circles could prove valuable assets though. To anyone who would dare to ally with them and use their power. Witches are powerful enough to turn anyone into something greater than they are. With the witches' help they could doanything they wanted, create anything they wanted, and change anything they wanted. As they had proven many years ago, when the War had barely even started.

One circle – the largest there is, from the Old Lands – had made a deal with the Emperor. In exchange for his protection, and quite a sum of money and other riches, they did magic for him they hadn't done in centuries. Such a long time had passed, that all people had believed that kind of magic was just legend. Tales about it had seemed more fantasy than truth, 'Of course, the witches had a little magic, but those tales must be exaggerated, surely.' Or so everyone had thought.

As it turned out though, they weren't exaggerating at all. They were truth only. The tales of the Children of the Moon.

Real people. With an even more real curse. All because of the witches.

And with an army of people who would transform into ravenous beasts every time the moon rises; the Emperor had made sure the odds were in his favor once the War was officially declared. Something his niece, the oracle, had foreseen months before.

The Children of the Moon, the werewolves, were the strongest army anyone had ever seen or heard of. And they won more battles than the Emperor could have ever even hoped for.

Still, our enemies proved to be just as strong. And so, the War kept on and on as the years passed by.

I shudder, thinking about it, hoping with all my might that the fighting will never reach our borders. There's nothing worse for a human kingdom in this empire than to have to make allies during wartime. Allies can prove just as dangerous as enemies here. Humanity's ability to better maneuver and outwit all of the species aside, we would never outlast the war for long if we actually had to choose a side.