Att. /Disclaimer: I do not own the names or facts of the Old Kingdom, Ancelstierre, or the Dead.
Prologue
"Drea, strong and courageous. She is named Drea after the river that flows forever carving its path through the rock. Drea, my daughter, live in harmony with those around you and live with peace in your heart so that when the time comes you will not doubt. Drea, you are strong, you will be strong, and you will die strong. May your life lift you up. Higher and higher until you can see everything as it is, has it has been, and how it will be. Drea, my young, young daughter, remember me in your times of need. I will always be with you. If you call, I will come to your aid. I leave you now, my sweet Drea. Reach for your most wanted dreams. Remember me and I will always be there for you."
Then the lady put the four month old, baby girl into the arms of the waiting servant. "Take her. I will soon be leaving this lifetime, exchanging it for another. Care for her as your own. Teach her. Tell her of me." Then she lay back down, on an old, rusted bed that was near a cradle. The same one she had been standing at just a few moments before, whispering to her daughter. She lay looking at the cradle. "I love you my Drea." And then she took her final breath.
Chapter 1
Life must be pretty boring in the Old Kingdom, thought Drea. The have no automobiles, no modern machinery at all. All things from Ancelstierre turn to dust or rot away there. It must be scary having only a sword, if your lucky, to defend yourself from the Dead. To think I used to hope of going past the perimeter, crossing the wall into the Old Kingdom, and saving towns and villages from the Dead. At least my adoptive parents, Clarence and Georgina Mayrose, didn't mind. They said it was natural to "want to go home as a returning hero". Drea knew this meant that she was born in the Old Kingdom but had been sent for adoption in Ancelstierre for protection. I would have liked to see where I was from. Maybe Mom and Da would know. I'll ask them when I get home.
"Ms. Drea Mayrose! I asked you a question! Drea's cheeks turned a bright red, "Sorry, ma'm. Could you repeat the question for me?" "When you mix these two chemicals, what happens?" asked Drea's chemistry teacher, Mrs. Amy Lynch impatiently. "Those chemicals turns into an acidic solution that can burn a hole through the strongest materials, even diamond," she answered dutifully. "That is correct Ms. Mayrose. I do hope that next time I will not have to repeat the question," Mrs. Lynch said haughtily, as if she expected Drea to have gotten lucky. I think I would take the Old Kingdom over this, mused Drea.
It was a known fact around the school that Drea was adopted. In her old schools, she had been feared and made fun of for the fact that she came from the Old Kingdom. When her parents switched her to Waldo Emerson School for the Gifted, she told no one where she was from and if anyone asked, she didn't know. Things were better and she had made a few friends. The teacher's were nice, even though they all thought Drea didn't pay attention. It was true in a way. Drea didn't have to pay attention. Anything important that was said was written in mental notebooks. Drea could just close her eyes and there it was. Her neat little handwriting, in miniature notebooks that never seemed to end. That is, unless she told it to. Drea had never told anyone about the notebooks and never planned to.