Prologue
A woman's low chanting could be heard as the king made his way up the narrow, winding staircase. It was dark, dank and musty smelling in this part of the old castle. A place he hated to visit and rarely did. He wouldn't be here today if she hadn't sent him that frightening message.
Come to me, oh Faerie King.
I have seen the future in my visions.
Our world is to be no more.
As he puffed his way up the stairs, he worried. What could the Oracle, or Tári as she was known in the Elvish tongue, mean? The old woman only broke her silence when a true vision occurred. Otherwise, she was content to stay here in the highest part of the castle, murmuring spells and incantations.
The king stepped up the last stair with a sigh of relief. He was an old man. His son would soon be taking the throne and he would be glad to rest. Stepping through the arched doorway, he saw her.
She was old. No one knew how many years she carried on her bent and withered form. She stood over the small altar, a thin stream of wood smoke almost obscuring her shadowed face, a face the king had never seen. A tattered black cloak covered her nakedness. Gnarled hands moved in rhythmic motions over the fire. Her aged voice muttered even older words.
When the king had caught his breath, he spoke in a sharp voice. "You sent for me?"
The movements of the old woman didn't change. Her voice didn't stop its chanting. The king watched for several minutes and then tried again, addressing her by her name in a politer tone.
"Tári ... please. What have you seen?"
This time the old crone went still. "I see the future, King Daralis, of the Calen'taur Elves. I see your future."
"Speak of what you see."
The Oracle of the elven people bent forward into the smoke and spit into the flames. The fire sizzled and changed color to a deep, dark blue. "I see the end of the world, my king. I see the end of our people."
The king staggered and put a hand to his heart. "What say you? Our race dies? How can this be?"
"I see a war. A war to end all wars. It will destroy our kind. The elven people will be no more."
"When?" the old king croaked out.
The crone shook her head. "I do not know. The time is not given in the vision. It may happen in your time or your son's. It could occur a millennium from now. Our race will end."
"Is there nothing that can be done?"
The woman chuckled and reaching down, pulled a knife from her cloak. "Give me your arm. If you truly wish to know the answer to your question, you must give the goddesses something in return."
"What?" the king asked warily.
"Just your blood, oh king. The blood of royalty. If you want to find a way to protect your people, I must have your blood."
The old king hesitated. It wasn't that he minded giving his blood. He'd given much of it on the battlefields. He just wasn't sure he trusted the old crone, Oracle or not.
"Decide quickly, my king. The fire burns low."
Swallowing, King Daralis lifted his arm and reached to the Oracle.
Grasping it in a surprisingly strong hand, she pushed back his sleeve. She quickly made an incision just above the vulnerable spot on his wrist. The blood began to flow in a steady stream into the fire. It sputtered and belched smoke, before finally the flame leapt up almost singeing the hairs on the back of the king's outstretched arm. He cried out and tried to jerk away, but the old woman held him firmly, her skinny fingers circling his still-bleeding wrist.
The fire continued to burn, the smoke pungent and thick, turning the color of the leaves in early spring. It filled the room.
"Your offering is accepted, oh king." The woman released his arm and he stumbled back from the fire.
Sinking to his knees, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to bind the wound as the smoke became even thicker. He could barely make out the elderly woman beyond the altar. Her mumbling and chanting grew more urgent.
Suddenly, she pushed back the hood she wore and showed her face to the king for the first time. Even though she was his elder by many centuries, her lined face still carried the beauty of the ages. He gasped when he saw her eyes were covered by a thick white film.
The Oracle was blind.
Slowly, the old woman raised her arms over her head and began moving them in a circular motion, causing the swirling smoke to follow. Soon all the smoke in the room was spinning, as she stood in the center. The king could feel the wind as it lifted his long hair from his shoulders. He braced himself against it as the Oracle turned her sightless eyes on him.
"You ask for help, I give to thee,
a message from the goddesses three.
Spears without, a knife within, treachery will seek to win.
Death, despair and pain will come, all your work will be undone.
A mighty war, your people's end, will come, on that you can depend.
Unless true passion can guide the day, and give to you a stronger way.
A human female will be the one, to save the kingdom, you've begun.
She will be the first of three, to break the hold fortune has on thee.
Varol thysi ... passion's force come true,
breaks through traditions old and new.
Only in acceptance can salvation be, one of your blood holds the key.
An heir to the throne will this create, he will win out over fate.
His father's heart, destiny will kiss, he will carry your mark upon his wrist."
As suddenly as it began, the wind ceased and the smoke disappeared. The oracle slumped, exhausted, to the floor, while the magical fire extinguished itself in a flash of light.
The king was left with the stench of burned blood and the bitter knowledge his people's worst enemy ... was their only hope.
)
The Mylari Chronicles Book 1 An ancient prophecy comes to life in an erotic tale of forbidden love. Talia's visit home turns upside down when dark, frightening creatures appear seemingly from nowhere and transport her to another world. The faerie world. In this mystical paradise, she finds her life and honor threatened for reasons she does not understand. When Calion Saralonde, Prince of the Calen'taur Elves, rescues the human female from an orcan stronghold, his attraction to her is immediate and strong. And the feeling is mutual. Though their love is sardai--taboo--Calion can't bring himself to send her back to her world. Her presence sets a fire in his soul only mating with her can tame. And their passion could be the answer to an ancient prophecy that saves his world. This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release. Warning, this title contains: Scorching Hot Explicit Sex Scenes, Forced Submission, Adult Language, Violence and Interspecies/World Sexual Situations
