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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/654303
Rated: E · Book · Sci-fi · #1570855
Prophecies, Secrets, and Alien Planets. Oh My!
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#654303 added June 13, 2009 at 12:41am
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Prologue
Prologue


The Planet Alothia:


The Ninth Galaxy















“She’s dead!”


The messenger burst through the wide doors of the palace, shouting the dreaded news.  His voice carried through the main corridor and the men that had crowded the hall fell silent.  Only the king’s soft, despaired sigh could be heard.


Several minutes passed.  No one spoke.


The counsel, who had gathered in preparation for this eminent news, stood silent with their heads hung and soft frowns on their faces.


The king sat at the head of a long table near a bank of tall windows, his hands curled into such tight fists that the usually tanned skinned on his knuckles was a stark white.  His head too, was hung low and his eyebrows drew together, creasing his forehead.  His mind was racing, but seemed unable of forming a coherent thought.


She was dead.


How would his people survive?  There was no way.


The entry of the High Spirits claimed the attention of the silent crowd.  Every set of eyes lifted and turned to the three, tall, cloaked figures floating into the hall.  The priests’ faces were sunk into the dark hoods, but their sparkling eyes reflected the bright blue light that flooded through the windows.  The High Spirits made their way gracefully through the crowd until they had reached the table where the king sat.


“She’s dead.”  The king’s hoarse voice repeated the news that he had received only moments before as he stood to meet the priests.


“We know,”  the first of the High Spirits responded.


“All is lost.”  The king said.


“Not entirely,”  another priests said.


“How can you say that?”  The king roared.  His anger blended with his hopelessness and his face twisted into a tortured grimace.  “She was the last female on all of Alothia, and she is dead.”


“There is still hope.”  Replied the third priest.


The king had no hope.  Neither, did it seem that any man in the hall have hope.  The last Alothian woman had died.  There was no hope for their people to survive this tragedy.  There was no one to bear the children of their people.  They were a dying race.


“We have seen a testimony,” the High Spirit explained calmly. “And we believe with all our hearts that we are not yet at our end.”


The king said nothing, but his frown relaxed.


“A queen will come.”  The first priest explained.  “A woman of remarkable spirit and love, descended from the heavens and born from the sea, she will marry the King of Alothia and will save our people from a forgotten existence.”


“You are certain of this?”  The king asked the priests as soft murmurs and whispers from the crowd spread.


The priests nodded in unison.


“When will this queen come?”


“That is uncertain, but know that she will come when the time is right.”


The king nodded and turned his back on the room.  The High Spirits prophecies had always been accepted as fact. He stared out the windows into the blue evening of his kingdom.


Perhaps there was hope after all.





© Copyright 2009 Stephanie Black (UN: wookiesgirl at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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