The Infinity Chronicles Volume 1

Act-1: Setting the Stage...

Act 1: "Setting the Stage.."

Windier Temple, Planet Marrok, 417 Light Years from Earth, 13-March-230AD

Ashia woke with a start from her sound slumber and looked at herself in the steel mirror beside her bed. Her soft, tanned fur, and long auburn locks of hair were both clean and smelling fresh as a summer's garden. The small wound on her side, compliments of a run in with the war goddess, Loci, was slowly healing.

Loci, who had been at odds with the slave girl over her visions of Marrok's future, took offense that Ashia had questioned her abilities at leading their warriors, and in a fit of rage, stabbed Ashia with her spear. Because she coats her spear with a local poison, toxic to Garshans but just annoying to her fellow Marrokians, the wound was slow to heal.

Looking into the small mirror, her puma-like features curved lightly into a smile, her piercing blue eyes shining with the knowledge of what she had to do, and of what she had already done.

The vision had again returned. She saw her people dying, her world dying. Quickly she dressed and went to the main chamber of her temple. Several acolytes were in meditative states, no doubt praying as she entered the chamber and looked about. Out the windows she could see a brilliant sunset, as Marrok's sun dipped low on the horizon. She moved quietly, with the grace of a ballerina, toward the main doors and stepped outside.

Walking the short distance across Temple Square, she looked around the square and became immediately concerned. There was scarcely anyone around, despite being one of the most populous places on all of Marrok.

"Must be a battle somewhere." She said aloud as she made her way to Primus' temple. Four stone columns rose arrow straight holding up the overhang of the temple. Between the inner most columns were two ornate doors, each carved of wood from the Sacred Forest. Slipping up the steps, she took stock of herself: Slaves robes, a shiny steel collar, and slave sandals were all she wore. Chewing lightly on her lower lip, she moved through the doors.

"...And I say we handle this problem ourselves!" Loci argued, slamming her spear butt into the floor. There was a murmur from the assembly of elders around her, as Primus, Lord of all Marrokians, weighed the arguments before him. Ashia slipped quietly to her seat, trying not to draw angry stares from the assembled lords and ladies. Primus seemed to be the only one to note her presence.

"Ashia? Why aren't you resting?" The powerful lord asked, his jewel-encrusted canines gleaming in the light of sunset. Looking at the small wounds on her side, she saw that they were nearly healed.

"I'll be all right Master." She said as she knelt at her place at the council table.

As Mistress of Love, Marriage and Slaves, Ashia had been busy these last few years, as Marrokian and Garshan alike had become slaves, usually one to the other, and vice-versa.

"Very well. You look beleaguered by some inner demon. Please, share with us this demon that attacks your well being." Primus asked, looking at the slave girl.

"I have again had the vision. The vision of our people's demise, if we continue to do nothing." She began, but got cut off quickly by Loci.

"That is but one possible future! I say, that if we rally our forces, we can win this accursed war!" She bellowed, as again several of the lords and ladies gathered murmured their support.

"No Mistress, it is our ONLY future. Too many of us have seen it to be fooled into thinking it is only a possible future." Ashia said, knowing she would draw the wrath of the war goddess if she continued.