UPDATE

It's been a while since I've written anything. A couple of months maybe. I'm here to tell you readers, if there are any, that this story is temporarily on hold. It is undergoing MAJOR revision. I'm doing it to make the plot better and add more depth to the storyline. I want this to be a successful novel. I'm tired of writing just to pass time. This is going to be a more serious project, though I can't guarantee that my writing would be so good for you to notice that. Anyway, I'll be uploading new chapters when I'm confident and happy about them.

Expect a new Shattered Wings soon.

Complete novel due: Q3 2011.

Author's Notes: Now, this Act is supposed to replace the Prologue. This happens right after the Introduction. Well, I hope this turned out to be a good decision. I wanted this novel to be an epic. And epic it will be. Hopefully. =_= High hopes much?

Act Zero

Opus de Exitium

Several hundred human years after the Exodus...

Eisengard, one of the four cities that angels built and governed after the Exodus.

"Close the gates!"

Imperial guards rushed to the first castle wall.

"Close the gates! Hurry!"

The guards took their positions and started turning the metal lever to shut the massive wooden doors. Amidst their efforts, they were too late.

Black fire blasted through the opening of the castle gate. The poor guards screamed as their charred skin peeled off and permitted the fire to eat them alive.

"God dammit..." King Keinsley cursed as he watched his men burn to their deaths. "Captain Osmund."

Osmund, the captain of the nation's elite knights, the Crusaders, stepped forward and humbly bowed. "Yes, sire?"

"Call the Crusaders. It is time for battle."

"As you wish, sire."

Hands behind his back, Osmund called forth his men. "Crusaders!"

The six royal knights stood rigidly in attention, wearing red crosses on their armors and shields.

"We have conquered Orcs ten times taller than us. We have fought against a thousand enemies and emerged victorious without a single scratch. Again, we are called by fate to defend our people. Our foe might be powerful, but together, we are invincible. Brothers, do not lose heart! Courage!"

"Courage!"

"Forward, march!"

Osmund joined the line of crusaders and completed it to be the Seven Crusaders of Eisengard. Passing by the main hall, the captain noticed a shadowy figure lurking behind them. He turned. He saw a glint of gold from the corner of his eye. It disappeared in a fraction of a second.

"I feel a presence..." He looked left and right, searching with his eyes.

"Captain!" one of the royal knights called.

Osmund took one last look before dropping it as just his imagination. "Forward, Crusaders!"

When their footsteps could be heard no more, the cloaked figure appeared from behind an ivory pillar. Making sure that no one was watching her, she made her way into the castle exit with perfect guile.

BHAG.

The loud crash made the angels cringe. The castle gates were torn down. Out of the darkness behind the first wall emerged a dragon as tall as a tower, the legendary dragon that the devil created from his own bones – Belial. With its seven heads and ten horns, it put to death the courage of those who were faint-hearted.

"Crusaders, battle positions!" Osmund shouted as the royal knights entered the scene just in time. King Keinsley was watching the event unfold from two castle walls away, a distance that a soldier would take half an hour to travel but also a distance that a dragon could pass within minutes.

"CHARGE!"

Belial released a deafening roar. Glass shattered. Nearby objects were lifted into the air. Osmund and the Crusaders clasped their hands on their ears.

"C-Captain..." One of the knights called.

Osmund didn't even look. "What?" he asked in irritation. When he received no response, he decided to face the knight. He spun around. Then he looked down. The knight was on the floor, lifeless, with blood coming out from his ears.

Osmund cursed and spun back. His heart skipped a beat. As fast as his limitations could make him, he threw himself to the side as an unimaginable force drove by. As if time slowed down, Osmund was a spectator to the death of three more of his knights. Belial swooped down with godlike speed and tore apart his men.

Senses kicking back in, Osmund's perception of time returned to normal.

"RETREAT!"

Another swoop. He didn't even have to blink for it to happen. The dragon was too fast that it seemed to be teleporting. One more fell. Only one was left.

Osmund turned and faced his last surviving Crusader. A single step for him was equivalent to a thousand meters for the dragon. Belial swiped blindly at its prey. Its claw ran through the Crusader's head, tearing it from the body. Osmund was smothered with fresh blood – the blood of his own troop.

Devastated, King Keinsley stared as his royal knights fell in a matter of seconds. There was only one option left for him.

"Archers!"

The second castle wall of an impressive one thousand feet was filled with archers. United they stood, arrows in hand.

"Aim!"

The bows were raised. The strings were drawn.

Belial flew back and sat on the ground. It watched Osmund with its dark eyes.

"You fiend!" Osmund screamed as he took flight with his white wings. He unsheathed his massive blade and swung it at the dragon.

Belial moved away to avoid the attack, but it didn't attack back. It continued to observe its prey, seemingly mocking it. Osmund somehow sensed this. "You putrid dragon! Come and fight!"

"Osmund! Flee at once!" rung a voice inside his head. It was King Keinsley. He obeyed and started flying the opposite direction.

"FIRE!" King Keinsley shouted.

Osmund looked upward. How terrifying of a sight it was.

The arrows rose like hornets, thickening in the myriad of flight. Many arrows there was, so much that the sun was obscured and the sky was blotted out with darkness. At the back of his mind, Osmund knew he wouldn't make it.

An angelic choir ensnared the captain's attention. His eyes widened. At once, he stopped and sought for the source of the sound. From about fifty meters away was a cloaked figure wielding a bow. Blue light arranged in heavenly insignias was surrounding her.

"NO!"

Osmund pulled everything he had left and flew to the cloaked girl.

"Sire!"

King Keinsley narrowed his eyes to get a better view of the battlefield. He saw Osmund dashing toward a cloaked angel with gold hair. "Gold hair," he thought. He discarded the idea. "It couldn't be."

"Sire!"

"What?"

"The P-Princess! She's on the field!"

The King fell of his chair. He was right. "WHAT?"

"The cloaked angel appears to be Her Majesty... We only found out that she sneaked outside of-"

"GET HER HERE, NOW!"

But of course, that was impossible.

"Your Majesty!" Osmund cried out.

The cloaked girl turned her head. She saw the arrows in the sky and stared in panic.

Osmund reached her and tackled her. She lost balance and released the string of her bow. The angelic choir stopped and a blue arrow glided past the darkness and into the sky. The dragon tried to deflect it with its claw, but it penetrated and cut through its flesh.

Then, like spears the arrows rained down, killing even the soil where they fall. The arrows bursted into flames on contact.

Hands clenched against the stone wall, King Keinsley waited for the smoke to clear. Wings came out of the smoke. Then a head. Then another one, and another one.

Belial.

The King choked on his own spit. Impossible. The arrow rain didn't even harm the dragon.

Belial flew upwards as the rest of the smoke went with the wind, finally revealing the entire scene. The grass and trees were set ablaze by the arrows. The fire was spreading at an insane rate, and the second castle wall was near its reach.

On the ground was an indistinguishable angel burned beyond measure. In the angel's hand was a bow.

"Oh my God."

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