The Chosen Ones
Part One
PROLOGUE- Immortality
Disclaimer: I own absolutely NOTHING. NOTHING, ok? So don't sue. I have a phobia of Court Fairies.
Summary: What is immortality? Why is the Wizarding World falling? Why are people talking about the World's End? The Chosen Ones are dying, dying of their gift. 'My gift is my disease. I shall die of prophecy.'
A/N: THIS CHAPTER IS UNN-BETAED. PLEASE DO NOT FLAME ME FOR THIS! If you wish to be one of my betas, please email me at Hope You Enjoy.
Sera
Ik'Raetlam, Kaireka and Farael'dur as well as The Chosen Ones are copyrighted to Serafina Jayne Elvin-Fae and anyone who uses these characters without her knowledge and content is breaking the law.
He lay on his deathbed with the only two people in the world he trusted. He was a tall man, very tall. 7"3 standing, but his shoulders were bent with age. His skin, even though he was millennia old, was shining, nearly silver in the light of the full moon. You would think that he was a young man, if not for the well-worn battle scars that slitted down his cheeks, marring otherwise perfect beauty. His flowing blue-black hair remained silky. His stunning golden-amber eyes were still sparkling. There were two others in the cave with him- a girl who looked no older than 14, though in reality she was more than 200 years old. She had blonde, shining hair with red lights, and lilac-blue eyes which usually danced, but today were sad although they still shined. The only thing that distinguished her from the grandeur of the others was a necklace, a blue gem studded silver necklace. It was too close around the neck to be a free woman's necklace. It was a chain of slavery, a beautiful prison, and this was reflected in her eyes- the suppressed feelings, the fear. Yet they still danced on.
The other was a man, clearly in his prime, looking about 16 although he, like the others, was a lot older than he looked. His chestnut brown hair was threaded with gold braid, his red-gold eyes were dancing, a fiery passionate tantaraza. Even his costume was fiery- dark red that looked gold when you looked at it in a particular way. The others' costumes were unusual too- the girl wore what was at first glance a simple black dress. But looking closely, it shimmered with black, silver, green, blue and purple. There were catches at the side, a low neckline and the sleeves were flowing and transparent, made with the same shimmering colours as the dress. The dying man, Ik'Raetlam, Master of the Universe, was wearing a green robe, but it was dull, almost muted, as if there had been colours once, had been life once, but they had died like their owner was dying now, slowly and torturously.
"Fetch him. Bring him to me…" he said, his voice catching in the back of his throat, his old throat worn out by his gift struggling to say the words.
His daughter, Kaireka, the blonde, enslaved girl marked with the necklace of the King, nodded, wiping her lilac eyes. "He shall come, Master. He is young, yet, but he shall come."
Kaireka's betrothed, Farael'dur, stood solemnly.
"Is it time, Master?" he asked.
"Yes, son- it is time. Tell him, when he comes, what he has to do. You shall both live long enough for the ruling. But you know that though you are Chosen, and you shall live for eternity, it will not all be spend in this gateway. Soon enough, you will, all four of you, enter into Garral's kingdom and rule on high there."
"Yes, Master." Said Kaireka. "Sleep now. Garral will come for you, soon enough."
"You have done well, my child." He smiled, his battle-worn face run down with scars, yet he still smiled.
"Thank you, Master. You must close your eyes now, rest in eternal sleep. We shall see you off, then we will begin our search."
The old man closed his eyes for one last time. His breath hitched, just once, then he was still. A single tear ran down Farael'dur's cheek, and then he turned on his heel and faced the crystal moon, tilting his face so that the moonlight caught it.
"We who are left behind guide you on your way," he sang. "Your spirit is free now, free to guide others as they guided you." Then Kaireka joined him, their voices soaring with Ik'Raetlam's spirit, up towards Garral's kingdom.
"Leona, leu mheria tobai, veriay toa zarit. Leona, calitd bai Ik'Raetlam, takil Ik'Raetlam et aldor prote uti du harrd out mar."
Then Kaireka on her own, singing the old tongue into the world's language, sending it to the two others, the unborns who they would wait for. "Leona, hear our cry, heed our calling. Leona, called by the Master take Master's spirit and protect it until we meet."
Then Farael'dur chanted the old tongue underneath her refrain. Ik'Raetlam's body began to glow, black, lilac, gold, red, green. Then with a flash, it disappeared and the two living ones fell back with a cry, landing on the floor, sent into a slumber that would last for a hundred years. The time of suffering had come, but after was the time of a new dawn. With Kaireka and Farael'dur by their sides, the two new Chosen Ones would rule, until the immortality was over, and the time came for the circle to begin again.
The first generation of sufferers had begun. At the turning of the year, they had fallen, The Chosen Ones had fallen, and when they woke up, Drao and Leona would come, and they would know what to do.
And what happened inbetween would affect them naught. It was all for the cause, all for the new dawn.
And they slept on.
