Author's Note: For those of you who are actually familiar with my other two attempts to write this story, this is the latest version. I've finally come upon a brand new way to write the story that's been floating in my head on and off for the past four years. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope this story continues to the end. Thank you.

Kingdom of Nightmare

Prologue

The owl opened her eyes and stared deep into the night. Rain was pouring and the winds howled, forcing trees into a haunting, swaying dance, yet the great pine tree she had chosen as home protected her and her young from the wrath of the elements of nature. Her mate was firmly perched – or so she assumed – on one of the higher branches in the tree, huddled close to the tree trunk to shield himself.

She felt her young stir beneath her mottled gray wings but neither began the cry for food. Their last meal was sustenance enough to help them weather this storm, yet another in a strange series of weather changes. The month of the Hunter was often lazy and warm but since the month began, a sequence of cold Winter Bloom storms swept through the coast, knocking over fishing boats, merchant ships, and wrecking docks. What the winds could not do the rain did, softening the earth and forcing homes into sinkholes. It was reported that a mudslide had nearly buried the town of Twisfault several miles north of where the owl was nesting with her young. Luckily the people in the nearby town of Avlonne were adverse to the notion of knocking down as many trees as possible for profit, therefore preventing the topsoil from rushing away in the heavy rains. They had also saved the owls.

She blinked once more and peered into the howling maelstrom. Her bulbous golden eyes studied the darkness with calm ease, her beak clicking together at short intervals to reassure her two owlets. She shifted slightly on her feet, then cocked her head towards the opening into the violent world. She heard something moving in the night, something other than the thrashing of branches against the mighty tree trunk.

The owl knew it was fleeing something, perhaps the storm, perhaps the faint sound of hooves pounding through the forest. The prey was obviously more adapt to hiding in the dense cover of the forest; at times the hoof beats haltered, then started again, while the prey continued its steady escape towards the town of Avlonne. Why it would run in such a night like this the owl could not begin to fathom.

The owl withdrew into the warmth and safety of her nest, soothing her owlets and letting sleep come to her despite the wild night. Whatever was happening out there would trouble her mind no more.

""

" The winds ah blowing ha'd," Aina murmured as she continued to scrub the tabletop clean with the loofah scrub. " Tha's much danger fo' travelers on the road t'night."

" No one in their right mind would be out in miserable weather like this," Jorman corrected as he tussled with the newspaper in his hands. Once he finally got the top half to stop falling over the bottom half, he resumed reading while rubbing his large nose. He then turned the page.

" I'm only sayin'," Aina stated, " that thar's storm's not in its raight mind. We shan't ever got wetha' like this!"

" Aye, that I know," Jorman agreed, looking at his wife solemnly with his umber eyes.

The couple's two-story townhouse creaked, holding up in retaliation to the pounding winds. Husband and wife looked up at the ceiling, watching as the small brass chandelier over the oak dining table swayed slightly. After a few minutes, the winds abated and all returned to the eerie calm of a storm at night.

" P'haps…" Aina breathed softly, her voice nearly lost in the ceaseless rain.

Jorman looked at the flaxen-haired woman, wondering at what she was going to say.

"…p'haps it's the king's doin'-"

" Aina!" Jorman barked, shocked. He looked around warily, then hissed," Don't speak of such things! The king will never unleash a storm upon us, never!"

Aina frowned. " Have y'not listen'd to the telecast? The onlay city untouch'd by strange wetha' is Cahdas Urû-morgas-"

" Aina!" Jorman cried out again. " Do not call the city by such an evil tongue! That name's been forbidden for generations in this land! You know this as well as I."

The woman was miffed. Tossing the rag into the tile-lined sink behind her, she glared at him. Her emerald eyes flashed. " Y'know I will say what I laike an' I will say whot is true."

Jorman pleaded again. He wasn't sure if his wife knew but he knew the king had wizards scattered throughout the land, keeping track of conversation amongst the regular people. One heretical word and that person would be arrested and sent to the capitol city within hours. The few times that ever took place, the apprehended heretics were never seen again.

" Aina, dear, please. If a king's magician heard you, he'll have you taken away from me, and I'll never see you again. Please, for my sake, do the king's bidding and don't speak of such heresy, even if…eve if it seems wrong."

The poor fisherman's face was twisted at the words and Aina knew how much he fought with himself to speak of such things. Jorman loved, feared, and hated the king, and it was this complicated, contradicting mix that kept him in one place, unable to speak out when more than half of his day's catch was carried off to the military trains, when the king raised taxes on the usage of docks all around the realm, when he found patrolling soldiers loitering amongst the boats, slashing at carefully hand-woven fishnets and smashing cabin windows and portholes. He had been raised to see the king as a glorious god who led his people from the backwards rural age of chaos to the orderly kingdom of magic, technology, and the now. He could not see otherwise, not as his wife could.

She sighed, studied her dark-haired husband. " Valez Grisdaen's bin spa'd of such wetha' laike the ones goin' thru the coast. Then thar's the blights in the fa'mers' lands. The telecast says…says the rebels ah behind it."

" Those yellow-bellied traitors!" Jorman exclaimed, banging a fist on the armrest. The other hand clenched the newspaper tightly. " How dare they do such a cowardly thing to the people of our king's empire."

Aina nodded slowly, obviously agreeing with him. " Aye, no good comes from hurting the innocent. If onlay they accept the law of our king."

" I warrant they've been using magicians to send the storms over."

" They ah wizards. Don' call tham by such petty naimes. Y'know that."

Jorman stopped himself from an angry retort, and looked at his wife sharply. She had gone over to the small, oval-shaped radio sitting on the small table next to the telecaster, and was scrolling through the official stations with a small button on the side of the thin radio. From each viable station she received a haze of static.

" If tham storms were wizard-born, the radio would function p'fectly," Aina murmured, switching off the radio and banishing the painful static sounds. She then turned to her husband. " This I know. I have wetha'd storms laike those…the ones from the mages of the king-"

" Aina!"

" Jorman, this ain't the work of the rebels! P'haps not even the king! Somethin' mo' sinister's at work, somethin' far grander and mo' dangerous. This must be a storm of a different kind, p'haps an omen of sorts."

" Well, if it is an omen, it's not a very reassuring one," Jorman muttered, as he put down his papers and unconsciously made a simple sign of an upright triangle with his hands. " Still, if you are right, then this would be a sign from the gods…and that is not a good thing. They may strike us all dead-"

" Them gods ain't that cruel!" Aina exclaimed, shaking her head emphatically. Her hair, neatly tied up in the bun of a married woman, was coming loose but she didn't bother to adjust the hair tie. " Nay, onlay one god would do such things an' he is still 'prisoned in that realm he was cast into by the good High King Ahkira-"

" Aina! Don't speak of his name! Ever!" Jorman had jumped to his feet, the papers falling to the floor. His eyes flashed dangerously; Aina backed up quickly into the small round table, nearly knocking it over. She was able to catch the table but the small radio slid off and clattered to the floor. Husband and wife stared at each other, then Aina looked away and sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

" The wetha's simply odd. Jorman, love, let us retire. I am tired, and sleepin' will wetha' out the storm."

She leaned over and picked up the radio. Jorman nodded and retrieved the dropped papers as she placed the radio on the table, and walked to the kitchen counter to remove the apron she was wearing.

" I only hope the weather abates for a day's worth of fishing. Another day like this, and we may need to do something other than selling fish to make a living during the Star Springs."

Aina nodded, then reached over to switch off the lights in the kitchen and dining room as Jorman started towards the stairs. She jumped with a half-scream, though, when a horrifying screech rose from the maelstrom outside. It was high-pitched, sending chills up their spines as they rushed to each other and held each other's hands out of pure fear. What kind of creature would make such a noise in a night like this?

" What-what creata' could that be?" Aina whispered shakily, her eyes straying to the varnished oak door in front of them. Her hands shook violently and Jorman held them even tighter.

" I-I have no idea," Jorman admitted. " I thought…I thought all the Children of the Gods died long ago…besides the knights of the king."

This was the first time Jorman ever truly feared the unknown. He had heard stories, of course; who wouldn't hear of wild tales in a fishing village that also sits on one of the major roads that made up the Merchants' Network? But his world was small, enclosed in the tiny seaside town of Alvlonne, and he had never ventured outside, not even to the neighboring town of Twisfault. He had never even dreamed of meeting the dreaded Dragon Knights, the king's elite soldiers who were said to kill without mercy and could level whole cities with their might and power. A wailing screech in the midst of a night storm was more than he could bear.

Through the pounding rain, husband and wife suddenly became aware of footsteps, light pitter-pattering over the cobblestone road in front of their small two-story house. It was faint, grew stronger, then suddenly disappeared. A ghost?

Jorman and Aina looked at each other, wondering at the source of those footsteps. Were they real or were they simply imagining things?

" Then…then who was screaming?" Aina wondered.

Suddenly they heard boots striking the stone walkway towards their house.

" Oh gods…" she whimpered, grasping Jorman's arm. " Oh gods…it comes…"

Jorman held her tightly, grit his teeth as they both listened to the boots drawing near. Then, as the boots began a painfully slow descent up the steps of their porch, Aina cried out, " Help us, Father Oran! Save us from the madness of the sorcery an' the evil at our door-"

" Shh!" Jorman replied. " He's already watching us, Aina. He's already-"

Knock, knock, knock.

Jorman and Aina froze, held their breathes, and simply blinked. They felt themselves grow cold as the knocking continued, this time quickly. The knocking seemed frantic, seemed to call for help, for mercy, for something

Then, despite the house's creaking, the peach trees around their house lashing against the windows with their branches, and the rain's howling fury, they heard a soft word.

" Please."

There was something in that voice that touched a cord deep in Aina's heart, and she quickly moved out of Jorman's grasp. Before he could protest or even demand what she was intending to do, Aina moved forward swiftly to the door. She undid the lock and flung it open. Then she was standing there, staring. Jorman slowly joined her, realizing that whoever it was standing there wasn't as dangerous as he assumed it to be. He found himself staring at a tall young woman in the dark coat, her hood thrown back and her long black hair rippling and flying in the violent wind of the maelstrom.

Her face was oval and very slim, revealing prominent high cheek bones and the dark curving mark that crawled its way from above her fine eyebrow to inches under her left eye. Jorman found himself entranced and fearful of the mark on her face, with its series of perfect curves warping in and out along the line. She was deathly pale, making every other feature on her face all the more obvious and frightening. Her eyes were almond-shaped, with long dark lashes that curved around her deep red irises. He shuddered.

Her forehead was mostly shrouded in straight bangs that made a clean cut across her head, giving her an even more ghostly aura. Her hair was very long and as it curled and whipped about in the wind, he found himself imagining black claws reaching out for him. Then he became aware of the purple bruise on her right cheek, as well as the small cuts around her face. Some were seeping droplets of blood.

Aina, though, was aware of her stance underneath her black cloak. She was holding something. From the stance, the size of that something, and the way it moved, she realized it was an infant. This woman was walking around with a baby in this nightmarish weather. Why?

But she felt a shiver run up her spine as she let her eyes wander back to the young woman. Aina could feel a frightening power within her, something impossible for mere humans like her to understand. This woman, she knew, was not a human. She couldn't understand why but the ghostly spectral with the red eyes and the whitish face was definitely not of the race of Men.

" What-what do you want?" he asked. His throat went dry and he swallowed nervously.

The woman slowly turned her head to him. Her red velvet eyes bore into his mind, and he shook even more violently. Then her small mouth, with its pale pink lips, moved, and a detached, feathery voice spoke.

" I have chosen your house, no other. A burden shall be placed upon your shoulders, a burden far greater than it appears to be, a burden far greater than any mortal of this time shall face and bear. If you turn me away now, there may not be enough time to save this world. If you accept the burden, you will give us time to find a way to save all from ruin."

" Whatever do y'mean?" Aina whispered, staring at the bundle underneath her cloak.

The woman slowly turned to Aina. " You will not understand. And time is lacking. Will you or will you not take the child?"

Jorman and Aina stared at each other. A series of strange Winter Bloom storms during the Star Springs, then a wail in the night and a strange woman offering them a child from the gods-know-where? What could they possibly do? What could they do? They were only a simple fishing couple in the seaside town of Avlonne at the outskirts of the empire of the king!

A horrible scream broke their similar trains of thought and they whipped their heads towards the dark road. Then they became aware of faint hoof beats in the distance.

" Now is the hour, now is the minute, now is the time," the woman whispered. " They come. If you take the child, I will lead them away, where they will kill me. But the child will be saved. Tarry too late in your decision, or should you refuse, then they will come upon us, and all of us will die."

" Die?" Aina repeated. " Die? They are afta' you?"

Jorman stared at Aina. " What are you talking about-"

" We will take the child," she said firmly. " Give the child to me and we will raise it. But what will happen?"

Jorman opened his mouth and closed it, scrambled to make sense of what his wife had just done. But the woman simply smiled.

" I will die, but I will live. Once you see me again, you will understand. Tonight you have given us time to save this world. I will lead them away, far away, where they will kill me. But they would never find the child. They would never expect a human family to shelter it. The furor will die away, will sleep for years. But once I return, they will search for the child. Give the child to me when that time comes…and you will be out of danger. But beware: I cannot guarantee that you will remain safe throughout. It has been long since the fires of war have ravaged these lands, and the fuel is building for another."

" War?" Jorman yelled indignantly. " Wait a moment-"

The woman pulled back her cloak, revealing a small bundle in her arms. It was wrapped in an oilskin but they could see the edge of an embroidered cloth within, along with the outline of an infant's face.

" Name the child as you will. Raise the child as you may. Protect the child with your love and fear. The gods will one day bless you for taking upon yourselves the task. When the time comes, perhaps you will understand what had taken place. But not now."

Aina nodded, then stepped forward, her arms outstretched. The woman gently eased the infant into her arms and stepped back as Aina carefully pulled the infant to her and looked down upon its face. Jorman, though, had something else in mind.

" You wouldn't happen to be a rebel, are you?" he demanded.

The woman glared at him, and he immediately regretted his accusation. " I, a rebel? Don't call me by such a mundane name, you foolish human; I work for no Man! Now I will leave. Remember what I told you. Farewell."

She pulled her hood on and turned to leave.

" Wait," Aina began. " Is the child yours?"

The woman paused, then spoke, " The mother is still alive but barely. The father…well, I cannot say. I am only a guardian, after all."

She hurried down the steps and down the stone walkway. Jorman and Aina looked after her, watched as the darkness welcomed the hooded figure in its wet, whip-like arms, and enveloped her. And all that was left was the pouring rain, the howling wind, the wrath of the peach trees around the house, and the distant hoof beats.

Jorman and Aina slowly eased back into the house and he closed the door. He locked it securely, then, for extra measure, he pulled down the steel bar onto its rest on the other side of the door. If someone was able to break through the lock on the doorknob, that person would still have to contend with the steel bar that ran vertically across the door and kept the door from swinging inward.

Aina, meanwhile, pulled back the embroidered cloth to look at the infant. Her green eyes beheld a rounded face, with a small button nose and a bald crown. The child was asleep; she sighed as she stared at its peaceful face.

" Y'don't know what y'put us through, d'you now?" she murmured, stroking the red dimpled cheek. " Y'don't know…"

Jorman sighed, stroked at his chin. He stared at the door, then to Aina and the baby.

" Come, the night has been long. Tomorrow, we will decide what to do."

""

The owl lifted her head up abruptly as a high scream pierced through the night. The owlets stirred restlessly under her wing; she nudged at one gray young as they settled again and drifted away into sleep. The owl then tilted her head to the opening; there were rapid hoof beats again, nearing her tree. They slowed as they grew louder, then came to a stop. Her hearing didn't fail in the wind; she could hear sharp clinking and the snorts of horses disgruntled with running about in weather like this.

She let loose a hoot as something hissed. Then the horses were off again, deep into the forest and the miserable night. The owl blinked, wondering, then tilted her head to each side and closed her eyes.

The workings of the human world were not for her to worry about. Let the humans fret.