The Child of Prophecy
In a time of great darkness, when evil sweeps the land, a prophecy foretells the coming of a savior, a child that will defeat the forces of evil and save the world. She is Kyria, the Chosen One.
Fleeing from their homes, the survivors of the once mighty Madrew are refugees searching to rebuild their civilization. The Elders have prophesized one individual, a child that will defeat the threat of the tyrant Zoldex and return the Madrew to their former glory. This child is Kyria, the Chosen One.
Follow Kyria and her friends as they experience adventures like no other. The first book in the series for younger readers begins with Kyria in her home, dealing with everyday life, until the mysterious change in behavior of the adults in her small village, and their eventual disappearance. Follow Kyria as she helps her friends struggle to survive and uncover the true threat behind the corruption of the adults: none other than her prophesied nemesis, Zoldex.
The Child of Prophecy continues the adventures in this powerful and exciting new fantasy realm, The Imperium Saga. This spin-off series written by Clifford B. Bowyer is geared towards younger audiences as readers follow the adventures of the twelve-year-old Kyria. Through tragedy and triumph, she will fight to find a way to persevere and become the savior that she has been prophesied to be.
In a distant land lived a vicious and cruel leader, considered by many to be a god. He surrounded himself with a dozen of his own kind. Together they ruled the land with an iron fist, making those that served them little more than slaves, all the while maintaining a life of luxury for themselves.
For almost eight thousand years these men claimed to be deities, with large temples designed and built to pay homage to them. In truth though, they were not gods, but exiled visitors from another land. This was a truth that their subjects had one day begun to question.
With this question in their minds, a race of elves, known as the Madrew, rebelled against their gods. They no longer wished to be controlled by heartless men that took everything and gave nothing.
The determination and skill of the Madrew was inspiring, and many other races joined them to help expel the gods from their land. Ultimately, the thirteen gods fell from grace, and for the first time in over eight millennia, the people of the land found happiness and contentment.
The recently dispelled gods though were angry. Demanding retribution from those they ruled for so long, the leader of the group, a man named Zoldex, initiated a ceremony in the dark arts, summoning a very powerful demon lord.
The ceremony had a price though. With the arrival of the demon lord, the souls and lives of Zoldex’s twelve companions were absorbed, and they became mere shadows of the men they once were, bound to their leader as undead spirits that could never truly rest.
The demon lord grew quickly in strength and power with each moment he remained in the realm. In time, he became too powerful for Zoldex to control him, and the displaced god was forced to flee once more. This time, he returned to the sea and to a land he had once called his own, long ago.
Lacking the restrictions imposed by Zoldex, the demon lord led a horde of demons and the aligned forces of evil as they swept across the land, destroying all in their path. Few escaped their onslaught; soon the entire realm was a smoldering ruin.
Not all were lost though; a small band of Madrew survived the raids and fled to the sea. This group contained the oldest and wisest of their order, and these elders spent several weeks in isolation on a barren and lifeless island searching for the answer to their plight.
An answer presented itself, though in a most unlikely source. They prophesied the coming of a hero: one who would become the greatest warrior of all time; whose exploits would be famous, not only in her own realm, but throughout the world. A savior who must be found and protected: for this child of prophecy was a young girl who knew nothing of her true heritage, or of her destiny.
From that day forward, the Madrew knew that their lives would be dedicated to finding this child of prophecy, protecting her, and helping her to meet her true potential. If they failed in this important task, then the world as they knew it, would be lost forever.
From the darkness, a blinding light burst as a new figure emerged. A peculiar elf, the like of which had never been seen in the Seven Kingdoms before, stood poised and ready. Unlike most elves, his skin was a dark pink tinge. His hair was the shade of the purest silver with light blue strands trailing back like a comet splitting the night sky.
He was not garbed in the typical greens, whites and blues that elves normally adorned themselves with. Instead, his garments were quite dark, with tight pants and a sleeveless shirt, both constructed of black leather. His right arm was mostly wrapped in the black leather, but only a bracer around his wrist protected his left. A pair of light brown leather straps crossed his chest; the same material used for his belt and knee-high boots.
The elf quickly scanned his surroundings, his eyes searching the landscape like quicksilver, his expression stern and predatory. He was standing upon a walkway, high above the ground, connecting various portions of a majestic city spawning through the trees.
The city itself was entwined and built around and within the trees. Each structure was detailed with the finest designs the warrior had ever seen. The city was truly magnificent.
Other elves, all of which lacked the pink pigmentation of his skin, stood staring at him, awe-struck. He considered each in turn and knew that he was far from the land he called his own.
Disrupting his concentration, a flaming arrow streaked past his head and impacted one of the structures close to him. Eyes widening, the pink-pigmented elf glanced down and saw a sight much more familiar to him.
Below was a rampaging clan of hobgoblins, a force of evil that he knew well. This particular band of marauders had their hairy reddish-brown hides and bulky bodies clad in black leather shirts and pants, similar to his own, though they also had chainmail draped over their chests. Their shoulders and torsos were adorned with the pelts of various animals, ranging in colors from spotted to golden brown. Iron helmets with spikes protruding from the top pushed their bat-like ears down so that they stuck out by their sides. As they looked up at the city in the trees, their bright yellow eyes appeared to glow in the flickering flames.
As more flaming arrows pierced the night sky, the pink elf scanned the city once more. Buildings were aflame. Elves that had stopped to regard him before were now fleeing for their lives. Children were crying over their fallen parents, their lives forever altered by a stray arrow.
Enraged by what he was witnessing, the warrior reached behind his back and drew two curved swords, scimitars, both engraved with intricate designs and writing upon the blades. Smiling at the marauders below, he leapt from the walkway and hurtled through the air.
As he neared the ground, he flipped around and dropped solidly on his feet. Upon his landing, he brought both blades together sharply and dropped his first foe. Spinning around, his blades flashed swiftly as startled hobgoblins fell before his fury.
Dozens of the marauders lay at his feet, slain by his mastery of the blades in mere moments. The warrior paused and looked around with a challenging glare. Many hobgoblins fell back to give him a wide berth, hoping to avoid a similar fate as their kinsmen.
The elf twirled both swords and jammed them into the ground, each standing erect by his feet. He reached behind his back again and removed a longbow of his own design. As with the swords, his arms were a blur as he drew the bowstring and rapidly released arrows at his foes.
Soon, the elves from the city above joined the foray and sent volleys of arrows down at the hobgoblins. With their numbers quickly dwindling, they fell back and fled into the darkness of the night.
Lowering his bow only after the last hobgoblin vanished from sight, the pink-skinned elf looked up at the city above. Though it was well camouflaged and nearly impossible to see from below, there were hundreds of elves dropping down towards him, holding on to thick vines that appeared to be lowering them gradually. A myriad of expressions greeted him: astonishment, admiration, respect, honor, and bewilderment.
One elf approached the warrior, and spoke softly to him, “Time for school.”
Confused by this remark, the warrior looked skeptically.
“Kyria, did you hear me? It’s time for school!”
The images started to swirl, and with a flutter, Kyria opened her eyes and saw the ceiling to her room. Looking around at her surroundings, Kyria felt amazed that what she had just observed was only a dream. The images were so vivid and real. Even now, she could still vividly recall every moment from the dream as if she had really been at the elven city and experienced the battle personally.
Kyria turned and saw her mother standing in the doorway of her room with a stern expression, “Are you up yet? You need to get ready for school.”
“But Mama, I feel like I just went to sleep. Can’t I have a few more minutes?”
“You say that every day. Get up!” She stormed over to the bed and pulled the blankets off of Kyria.
“I’m up, I’m up,” moaned Kyria.
“Well that’s better then,” her mother said with satisfaction. “There is a fresh pitcher of water for you to wash up with.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
Taking a deep breath, Kyria spun her legs to the side of the bed and slowly stood up, rubbing her eyes as she tried to remove the cobwebs from them.
Standing slowly, she walked over to her mirror and for a moment thought that she would see a pink-skinned elf looking back at her. Instead, she saw the same features that were there every morning: long wavy golden blonde hair; light-blue eyes that always seemed to twinkle; cheeks that rounded with her every smile; and a small freckle close to her left ear.
Sighing deeply, she reached for the pitcher and poured water into the basin on the bureau. Reaching down, she took a handful of water and splashed it across her face. Looking at her reflection again, she smiled to herself. “Only a dream,” she whispered to assure herself.
“Kyria! You’re going to be late!”
“I’m coming!” Kyria yelled back. Quickly finishing her morning routine, Kyria prepared for school. She chose a light green blouse, a darker green vest and a matching skirt. Slipping on her sandals last, she wove the laces up her calf.
Rushing down the stairs to the kitchen, Kyria smiled when she saw her father sitting there waiting for her with a plate of scrambled eggs for breakfast. “Here you go, angel.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Kyria responded with glee.
Her father was a kindly man with a sparkling smile and gleeful demeanor. His light-brown hair and mustache were well kept, with barely a hair out of place. Though he had been quite ill for several weeks, he hid it well for her benefit and always greeted her pleasantly in the morning.
“Well, its about time you decided to join us,” her mother stated with a shake of her head. “Hurry and eat your breakfast.”
“Yes, Mama,” Kyria replied as she put the first fork of eggs into her mouth. Chewing, she looked at her parents. Her father returned to reading his daily parchment, and her mother was wiping down the counter after making breakfast.
Her mother was slightly taller than she was, standing almost five and a half feet tall. Like her husband, she too had light-brown hair, though it was worn in the same style as her daughter. Though she was stern and demanding in the mornings, Kyria had always known the love and warmth of her mother.
Interrupting her father’s reading, she asked, “Have you ever heard of a pink elf?”
“A pink elf?” he asked, looking up to regard her.
“Yes, a pink elf with silver and blue hair?”
“Hmm, let me see.” Gently stroking his mustache, he looked into a distant corner as he contemplated. “Nope, don’t think I recall ever hearing of a pink elf before. Why?”
“Oh, nothing, just a dream I had.”
“A dream now?” her mother scoffed. “We can hear all about it after school. Right now, it is time for you to go.”
“Okay, Mama,” Kyria stated as she stood up to go.
“Say hello to Nezbith for us,” her father said.
“I will,” she responded. “See you both later. I love you.”
“We love you too darling,” her mother replied. Walking over to her, she gave Kyria a hug and then kissed her forehead. “Now scat, you don’t want to be late.”
Smiling at both, Kyria waved quickly and ran out the door and off to school. Jogging at a brisk pace, she found her best friend Nezbith shuffling about, waiting for her.
“Hey Nezbith!” she yelled. “Been waiting long?”
“Nah, just a few minutes,” he replied. Though they were both the same age, Nezbith was considerably smaller, at least a foot shorter than Kyria. He had fiery red hair and light-green eyes. His cheeks were covered with freckles and he had a small dimple on his chin.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, lets go.”
Without even taking a step, Nezbith let out a short cry and stumbled to the ground. Kyria spun around and saw one of Nezbith’s older brothers, Nerellin, grinning fiendishly at them. By his side were his two friends, though she considered them more like mindless thugs.
“There’s more where that came from,” Nerellin declared, tossing a rock in the air and catching it again. “Get ‘em!”
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