Okay, so it’s the beginning of the month again which means that another reveal in the book comes. Well, I have a special surprise for you today. Firstly, I would like to say that I feel comfortable saying that the title of the second book in the Guardian of the Core series is: The Curse of Pirini Lilapa (although I am going to keep you waiting for the cover).
Anyways, what I decided to share with you today is the Prologue to the story told from Guardian of the Core, Edwyrd Eska’s perspective. I hope you enjoy it. Comments and critiques are always appreciated as it is not set in stone yet.
The strong breeze that had awoken the Guardian of the Core, Edwyrd Eska, died to sporadic, light strokes that massaged his neck. It was the grave of night, though a gloaming roamed, not willing to give up an inch more of territory to darkness. So sands glistened in the light and Eska could still see the mountains off in the horizon from the perch of his veranda.
A slap of wind hit him.
This is how it always happened when she wanted to see him. Eska clutched the gray orb necklace at his throat, remembering her present. It had come at a time like this 150 years before, when the suns were overhead just as they were now, in an event known as Pirini Lilapa or the Great Inferno. It had marked the fourth anniversary of the Great War, a war that had been so violent and terrible the Ancients themselves disappeared.
Another gust. Almost a howl as if she were growing impatient.
Why this night? Eska did not know. Perhaps it was the closeness of the suns. Perhaps it seemed only right after a day such as Coronation. His apprentice lay exhausted in his room as were the others. Eska turned around and looked at Tundra’s naked body, covered by sheets, lying in his bed underneath the gloaming light. She wasn’t pretty, there was a scar on her face and wrinkles and age took her beauty from her, but she was loyal, and to Eska that was beautiful. He maneuvered past his bed dragging his gloved hand along the bottom portion, feeling the rise of her legs as he passed her to exit his chambers.
Outside his estate, he walked upon the vast empire of dirten terrain. Only the stars gazed down upon him, only they watched him skulk through the night, guided by the faintest breeze. In this midway between dark and day the stars looked more like jewels. Perhaps godstones. Out of the billions of stars, one was his. And from that star he could make a wish. Any wish. He knew which one was his for over fifty years now, but he had never called upon it. What could he wish for that he didn’t already have?
When he took his eyes from the sky, he realized he was at the face of the Gamrol Cliffs. This is where the wind led him. This is where she called to him.
Eska climbed the boulders before him that secluded the entrance to the cave. Even though the area was isolated, here at the base of the cliff, the breeze intensified. It wrapped around him, billowing his cape and ruffling his silk clothes. Inside the cave the wind pushed him and heeded him down a path lighted with yellow moss and slimy with wetness.
“He’s here. He’s here,” the wind seemed to whisper.
Eska knew it wasn’t the wind though, it were the windies that floated by him, giving the illusion of wind. Berol, their leader, found him after he had traveled a quarter mile in and now found himself in a gigantic, spacious dwelling with stalagmites dripping cool blue in splats on the floor.
“He who can hold wind, what do you want on this late of night or early of dawn?”
The windy was a size and a half of the others but Eska still had to squint to make visible the fairy-like creature. Translucent wings and the pale blue body made him blend in with so much of the cavern. “She called me here. She wishes to speak to me. Let me see her.”
“As you wish, Guardian. The one who can hold wind.”
Berol let his mouth form into a type of howl and soon the whole cavern echoed their leader. Windies flew all around him in a blue tornado of action. For anyone not used to it they would have been thrown back by their raw power, but not Eska. The man who could hold wind only stood and watched as out of the tornado stepped a translucent woman of a flowing white robe, and blue curls that hung past her shoulders, bouncing with every step she took. The cavern was almost a vacuum now. The sudden change left Eska breathless. Although not as breathless as the first time he saw her. All the air had been pulled into creating her—Zeph. She was wife to the Ancient Bane, sister to Anemie of the Twelve and mother to Naydeia, rumored to have started a bloodline with Galan that merged the blood of both Ancients Lyoen and Bane.
“Guardian Edwyrd Eska…It has been too long.”
Her lips were lush with light blue, and her skin pale as moonlight. She was there, not physically, but through the power of her windies. He did not have time to go to her floating isle on Mistral tonight, but he needed to see her.
Eska used the necklace he wore to control what little air remained. Once he found the cadence to his breaths, he talked. “Yes, much too long.”
“I believe the last time we met under these circumstances was during Pirini Lilapa.” Zeph shuffled around him, walking on air.
“I suppose that is the reason you called me here tonight?”
“Yes. The fifth anniversary of the Great War arrives.”
“Last time you called to me as I sat alone in my room. A new Guardian of only thirty-five years to tell me and warn me and give me…” Eska pinched the necklace between his index and thumb to show her.
“And this time is not much different. Except for your age and experience. Deimos came into the world during that month…I only gave you the tool to stop it.” She walked around him, her white robe dragging on the air as if it were earth.
“The other Guardians…did you see them as well?”
“No. My eyes have only laid sight upon you Edwyrd.” She stopped in front of him and looked at him with dark blue eyes. A hint of purple hid in them as well. “And you wonder why that is?”
“Yes,” Eska admitted. He stood hands behind his back, not removing his gaze from hers until she started around her circular path again.
“They did not need the help which I bestowed upon you.”
“Why was I chosen though?”
“The Third One himself birthed a demon and only Ancient Power can fight Ancient Power.”
The Third One that is what he had heard sparsely from her the last time. Never once was the real name mentioned. Not once was it written in the history of books. Never once was it allowed to be said if myths were true. It referred to one being—The Third Ancient. Guardian Eska stood in silence as he let her thoughts sink down into his core.
“Some names are sung for sorrow. Others given for greatness. And yet there are those who are merely fit for fate,” Zeph said.
“And which of those am I?” Guardian Eska did not like the question, and knew he would like the answer even less.
“Fate,” Zeph responded cold and isolated.
“Is there anyway someone can change their fate?”
Zeph laughed, and twirled. Her gowns caught on her body and before he knew it she immediately stopped in front of him. “You who says you must learn to accept death. You ask this?”
“Death is not fate. So I ask you again, is there anyway someone can change their fate?”
“Everyone must die eventually, Edwyrd.” Her smile fell to a grim line. There was tension. And pause. Just long enough for him to feel his own mortality in the rise of his skin and the lack of air. Then she continued, “Unlike death, however, every man can mold the clay of his fate. Nothing is ever set in stone. The question lies in, why would you want to?”
“My role began with Deimos then?”
“No, no it did not. Your role is just beginning, Edwyrd.”
“And this?” Eska cupped the necklace in his hand, laying it out for her to see again.
Zeph came closer and laid her transparent hand on top of his. Somehow Eska could feel her. Perhaps he was the only one that could. He saw through the white her ghostly hand offered. He saw straight through her eyes that stared at him.
“The necklace is how it will begin.”
***No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission in writing from the Publisher.***