PRISM

PROLOGUE

Fourteen billion years ago the universe was once a single kingdom. Ordinary Human Beings, ohb(s), and Mystical Oriented Beings, mob(s) lived as one unit. Little did they know that the matrimony was only temporary, a rebellion was brewing!

“Lady Zoya will not rule us any longer. Her ways are not our ways, and our ways are the ways Pamola!” Up in the mountains an uprising had begun. The people of Pamola, the god of Thunder, were plotting and planning the mortal queen’s, Lady Zoya’s downfall. Gathered around a fire, they all did their worst to keep warm as the snow decorated the ground. Des spite the lack of feathers, the men had the spirit of the bird in them, and the coldest temperatures did not phase them.  As well as being gifted with the power of flight, the people of Pamola were able to manipulate the weather by casting cold storms and destructive rains. Not everyone had the latter gift, the minority that did, took up the leadership positions amongst their kind. Raul Oswego had the head ruling position, a man of a few words and a few tastes. Oswego’s men surrounded the fierce some half man and half beast leader. They chanted glory and praise to Pamola as their leader pondered in thought. The next train of events were pivotal, gone was the change in era for the era in change had begun. Even though the celebrations were roared across the mountain tops, not everyone was pleased.

“Why did you agree to a Treaty if this was your ulterior motive all along? Not only is this treason, but if all fails the price is death! Are you willing to risk that? Risk us all? And for what? Your impoverished ego.”The potency in the woman’s voice instantaneously seized all celebrations to a halt. Like the parting red sea, the men separated to reveal the woman that had the audacity question their master. Every knee simultaneously went to the ground at the unveiling of Lady Marianne. Her eyes were a piercing blue, illuminated by the moonlight, darkened by the woven scars piercing her soul. Her lustrous golden locks flew backwards as she made each purposeful step towards the man she once loved. Paying no mind to the daggers being shot in front of her, she did not care to register the gawking eyes and gasps from the audience surrounding her once she revealed the baby bump hiding behind her loose linen clothing. It was no secret who Marianne Montague was. At the tender age of eighteen she was a strong willed, bold and beautiful, the only individual notorious for her refusal to be intimidated by the beast that was Raul Oswego. Today was the day her people will bear witness to it in the flesh.

A hushed voice in the crowd whispered, “I thought it she was unable to bear children.” “Silence!” The voice sounded like the ravenous roar of thunder. Nobody dared to blink an eye after that. Raul stood up from his chair, his face a mask of terror, “You dare speak about traitors traitor!”