Prologue
Most babies are born crying but I was born silent. It’s not that I couldn’t talk, or scream, or cry, but more that I knew not to. From the time I was born I’ve known things. Most people called it a wix (That’s how they defined powers) but I’ve always thought of it as something else, something special; it was definitely not something to die over. Too bad I was the only one who thought that way.
~~***~~
Scotland
April, 6, 6881 Arana screamed. "Push ye slow woman!" a hard voice commanded. "Ye are taking too long. The babe will die! You will not kill my heir."
""Ah! Help me I'm t...tearin'...aparahhh!"
"Ye daft woman I waited nigh on ten years for this babe. Ye will deliver me my heir safe and whole!"
"Ayhh help!!!"
“Deliver the babe now.”
“P…pp…please!!”
“Now!!”
~~***~~
My mother died on the day of my birth. My father used to tell me, pride saturating his voice, that it was as if I was a bloody demon tearing through my own mother to reach the clean fresh air. Every year on my birthday he tells me the wonder of it. About how I rid him of a horrid woman who refused to bear children who inherited the Drameir, a power that took various forms in his line. I hate my father when he talks about such things. I've always wanted a mother, a family, and friends. But I'm his heir and I have to learn my ancestors’ ways. To destroy the government. To kill all the normal humans; everyone who has ever ridiculed, and laughed at us will now live in fear. Tomorrow is the first day of a new era, the day that my powers will manifest-my 15th birthday. My name is Ares, and like the Greek god of war my birthright is destruction.
Ch: 1
15 years later…
As I broke out in a sweat, the autumn leaves twirled and spun around me; the red and gold colors mixed and shone like bright stars in the morning sun. How wondrous I thought, that the great leaves of the earth welcome me on this day. To begin the war to kill the bloodthirsty humans. They who have been draining her life force for thousands of years. Today, my fifteenth birthday, I’m inheriting my powers along with the memories of all the other Axdars. I will become the ruler of my people and I alone will start the war for us and our new beginning.
I walked deeper into the forest, my feet bare, the dirt curling around my toes, and I breathed in the fresh damp air. My first rite of passage, to walk to the curve of the mountain and into the Spine—a holy place where my people go to receive their position, in accordance to their power. Being one of the last of a half-breed kind has made my blood weaker. If my powers are not strong then I am afraid the Drameir line will die out completely. I am the last chance to redeem my dyeing and scattered tribe.
When I was finally in front of the Spine I started to disrobe. It was sacred land. Everyone who has ever lived in my tribe was born in the Spine, and so came back into it as they did since their very first breath—naked. Taking the time to catch water from a nearby stream I bathed my body. I then placed my clothes in the shade of a mother oak tree. The only thing that I took with me was my Axdars pack; it was the one thing my people allowed within the shade of the Spine. I was cleansed and I was ready.
I walked into the spine, my feet firm upon the ground, my head held high. Anxiety forced my heart to pound a drum beat against my chest. “Bum, bum, bum!” It grew louder and harder with each step. The wind swirled around me; it yanked and pulled my hair hard-bloodying the roots.
The Spine was a clear meadow surrounded by ancient oaks and firs. Inside it had seven thin long rocks pointed toward the seven great stars, Mard, Leo, Rold, Tera, Forn, Meta, and Crus—the givers of Drameir. I took my sky blue pack and let it fall to the ground. “Plop…” I went to my knees and grabbed the Creia, a ceremonial dagger used on the Axdar blood leaders. I grabbed my long white braid and cut it off midpoint. The braid toppled to the ground, almost as long as I was—we weren’t allowed to cut our hair until we turned fifteen. My dark violet eyes, the tell tale sign of my race, narrowed in pain as I sliced my forearms, then my shins, my lower back, my cheeks, and along my forehead to the bridge of my nose. Blood formed a thick puddle at my feet. Pain laced my body and I wanted to drown in it. I took out a bottle, unlaced the stopper and dipped my head back. My body was on fire. My limbs burned. Soon all there would be of Ares was a pile of ash. Legs trembling I stood up. Gong to each star rock I gave the gods a sacrifice of blood. “Abmallin!” I breathed through gritted teeth. Give me life. “Abmallin!” I cried. I went to the center of the Spine. My Father watched me from the shadows, pride enveloping his features. Pride again I thought viciously. I hate his blasted pride! As I fell to my knees, dropping to the bloody grass like a stone, about to finally receive my powers, a single idiotic thought occurred to me, my father was a mad man; and then I fainted.


Chapter 2
To be continued…