Hi there!
My name's Akitsune Lune, but most people know me as Akila. Welcome to Into the Fire, book 1 of my fantasy AU of The Prophecy Begins that parallels Into the Wild. This will be both an adaptation and partially a rewrite; no massive changes until later down the line, but bear it in mind.
This is a self-rewrite of the prologue since it was mostly written when I was 13 and I've evolved way past its quality and I don't want to lose potential interest just because the writing isn't as good as it is now! First, an enormous thank you to my beta reader, aer-of-ice. She is downright saintly in her patience and has helped in myriad ways beyond just grammar fixes, so accredit the missing enormous mistakes to her, and blame the existing ones on me.
Allegiances:
Kingdom of Thundria
Queen Bluelianna Star—tall woman with long, gray-blue hair and blue eyes (Bluestar)
Captain of the Guard: Redde Tayle—lanky man with white and black streaked hair, a red braid going down his back, and brown eyes (Redtail)
Court Healer: Spottalia Lief—small, young woman with white, black, and brown hair and amber-brown eyes (Spottedleaf)
Knights:
Liyon Hartef—tall, muscled man with long, thick blonde hair and brown eyes (Lionheart)
Tigre Cawle—enormous man with short-cropped brown hair, amber eyes, and broad shoulders (Tigerclaw)
Whit Strommer—tall, white-haired man with strange hazel eyes (Whitestorm)
Darriek Styrp—slick man with gray and black streaked hair and dark eyes (Darkstripe)
Liang Teyl—thin, young man with long blonde hair with streaks of black and blue eyes (Longtail)
Rynnin Wynnd—short, wiry man with sandy brown hair and blue eyes (Runningwind)
Willowamina Peilte—graceful, ash-blonde haired woman with long limbs (Willowpelt)
Mauzian Fyrra—wiry, spry woman with short, light brown hair (Mousefur)
Ladies of the Court: (Pregnant or raising children)
Frostialla Fuor—tall, beautiful, long white-haired woman with bright blue eyes (Frostfur)
Brindellia Faise—pretty, chubby woman with creamy brown-blonde hair and green eyes (Brindleface)
Goldanna Flourer—gorgeous golden-blonde haired woman with light blue eyes (Goldenflower)
Speikellan Tiall—short woman with oddly specked long hair that she keeps in a long braid, stern hazel eyes (Speckletail)
Squires: (in-training to be knights)
Duss—short boy with dark brown hair and amber-brown eyes (Dustpaw)
Graie—short, chubby boy with fluffy gray hair and yellowish-hazel eyes (Graypaw)
Ravne—tall, skinny boy with messy black hair and one white stripe and big blue eyes (Ravenpaw)
Fiyr—short, skinny ginger-haired boy with bright green eyes (Firepaw)
Samn—lanky, strawberry blonde-haired boy with greenish-gray eyes (Sandpaw)
Elders:
Heff Tyle—tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair and one missing arm (Halftail)
Samal Eyre—wizened old man with gray hair (Smallear)
Wonn Eie—short, wise woman with graying hair and an eye-patch (One-eye)
Dapplianne Tayel—once-beautiful tall woman with long, shiny dark brown hair and golden-blonde highlights (Dappletail)
Kingdom of Wynnd
King Tahliorius Star—tall man with long, black and white hair (Tallstar)
Captain of the Guard: Daede Futt—wiry, tall man with black hair and a twisted foot (Deadfoot)
Kingdom of Rivier
King Crukkedaro Star—tall, broad-shouldered man with short brown hair (Crookedstar)
Captain of the Guard: Oeak Hahrte—tall, broad-shouldered man with long brown hair (Oakheart)
Kingdom of Shodawa
King Braukkiniaum Star—broad-shouldered, battle-scarred man with close-shaven brown hair (Brokenstar)
Captain of the Guard: Blayke Fouhte—short, broad-shouldered man that always wears black boots and gloves to hide hideous burn scars from when he was a child (Blackfoot)
Court Healer: Raninn Naos—grizzled, slight man with patchy gray and white hair and cloudy brown eyes. (Runningnose)
Knights:
Stoumpei Toile—short, gray-haired man without a hand (Stumpytail)
Boldair—tall, thin, dark gray haired man (Boulder)
Clehw Fiace—short, brown-haired man (Clawface)
Nait Pault—thin, black-haired man with asthma (Nightpelt)
Ladies of the Court: (pregnant or raising children)
Dawhnnea Clouhd—small, brownish-gold-haired woman (Dawncloud)
Braighttia Fluwr—tall, heavy-set woman with blonde hair (Brightflower)
Squires-
Broewen—small, mousy, brown-haired boy (Brownpaw)
Weayt—tiny gray-haired boy (Wetpaw)
Laitlte—thin, sickly boy with white and gray patched hair (Littlepaw)
Elders:
Aish Faor—thin, haggard old man with graying hair (Ashfur)
Prologue.
Oeak Hahrte is on his back on the cave's floor, and Tigre is tremendously unsatisfied.
He presses the tip of his blade ever-so-slightly closer to the man's throat, but the towering, handsome, seemingly-unflappable captain of Rivier's guard doesn't squirm. Tigre bites off a growl, reminding himself what this battle is actually for. This is not about the man strewn out in front him like an abandoned toy that a child left on the floor of the nursery.
"Thundria! To me!"
It is about the man who shouts, his hoarse, low voice ringing through the cavern that demured undisturbed until Rivier and Thundria's latest clash spilled over into its dimly-lit stone grotto. Tigre doesn't move his blade a hair, knowing that Oeak, who gives him an affable, self-assured smile, will be on him in an instant if he allows his guard to laxen. His eyes, though, shift imperceptibly, flicking up to take stock of his captain's state. They have been fighting since midnight, since the queen discovered Rivien plans for a night invasion, and he knows not even a man as young and strong as their captain will escape unscathed.
Redde Tayle, lit only by the faint dawn-light that filters through the cracks in the stone roof, stands in the centre of the cavern that lies next to the real prize; the village of the Sun Rocks. Tigre does not know whether the dark red of his uniform is because of the natural colour of his captain's uniform or if it is stained in blood. He hopes it is the latter; it has been a long fight and he does not have the strength to take on his captain at the man's full strength.
He looks back at Oeak. The man appears to be smothering another smile. How Tigre wishes he could jab his sword into his jugular and be finished with this charade. Thundria has come up against Rivien knights dozens of times in the past months—why shouldn't he take action to end things?
But Redde is still calling to them, and with a great effort, Tigre pulls away and lets the other man up.
As expected, Oeak shoots up, Oakheart lying dull and useless beside him, and the copper band around his finger seems to glitter with unseen light as a length of wood appears in the captain's hand. Tigre is just fast enough to match him, knocking the make-shift staff from his grip. He should be more subtle with his life-force, Tigre thinks, staring him down expressionlessly as Oeak steps back, almost laughing. Is this a joke to him? The other man is older than he is, judging by the faintest speckling of gray where his hair meets his carefully-trimmed stubble. Fucking Riviens. Disgust makes him reckless, and he swings again, forcing Oeak to duck away from him.
Then he reins himself in and moves toward his captain, leaving Oeak. Oeak will not attack a retreating enemy. He will, however, give a cheer that the rest of his court takes up, jeering and mocking the retreating knights. Tigre pays attention to how Redde Tayle's shoulders tighten and wonders if the time is right.
Tigre is a planner, to a fault. He has missed opportunities before, and he does not want to repeat past mistakes. Whether it will make him sloppy tonight or not, he does not know, but he knows he must try this time. She has just given me a squire. Her rivalry with Sir Cawle is long-buried. Thinking of the queen's petty dislike of the man who taught him the most makes his knuckles whiten on Tigerclaw's hilt, but he reminds himself, She will not last forever. Her Blessings ebb, and I will be king.
That is why, after he has commanded his squire to leave with the rest of the Thundrian battle patrol, he catches Redde by the arm.
That is why he hisses, "We cannot let them off this easily. They mock us."
That is why he feels as though his destiny is finally coming when Redde turns back, meeting Oeak's scornful eyes, and then turns completely, facing the other captain.
That is why triumph swells in his chest when Redde and Oeak begin a duel long after their courts have disappeared. The cavern is empty, just the metallic clang of their swords bouncing off each other, over and over as they move deeper into it. Tigre listens, anticipation thrumming through him, and flexes his fingers.
The duel will end. Oeak will disappear onto the sea. And then the real duel will begin.
Each move Sir Cawle has ever taught him circles in his mind, every move he has resisted using in this fight and every single one before it… Press your blade into his jugular. Redde will be named for more than just his rust-alchemy, and his blood will soak into the stone floors. Tigre will feed the court a lie, and then he will wear the bloody uniform.
He listens to the swords again, trying to regulate his breathing and take stock of his own injuries. If he does not overpower Redde, then everything is lost. Everything Thissel imparted onto him will have been useless. He will be a failure. But I am not a failure. I am a planner, and I will win.
Then he hears something unexpected.
A great groaning of earth and stone, like the very cliffs themselves are shifting. A crumbling noise, like sand being poured out onto the floor, and then cracking. He hears a shout. Is the Starlaxi helping me…? he wonders, unable to believe his ears. A cave-in? He is nearly giddy. I will not have to lie! There will be no chance to fail if a fortuitous boulder crushes his skull. He will not have the satisfaction of taking what is his, that's certain, but this could make things easier.
But then he reappears.
Redde Tayle is streaked in blood, sweat, and grime, and breathing heavily. His eyes are wide, wild, and Tigre knows that he will have the satisfaction after all. Well, no matter. That was the plan.
"Oeak is dead," Redde cries, his voice too ragged to carry, but Tigre knows what has happened in an instant.
Good. No witnesses.
He unsheathes Tigerclaw.
"Put your sword away, man," Redde gasps, "the fight is lost. We have to tell the queen what happened. Rivier will be furious."
"I don't think you understand," Tigre murmurs, and finds his own mocking smile. "Our fight has only just begun."
Redde doesn't understand. Tigre steps toward him, savouring the way the other man takes a half-step back, confusion and uncertainty plain on his face, and knows this will not be much of a fight. Tigre has been conserving his energy, knowing this moment will come, and Redde has been reckless with his own life-force. Because I am a planner, and I deserve the position more than he does, he thinks.
"Tigre, what are you doing…?" Redde asks, finally seeming to understand the danger he's in.
"Taking what is mine," he answers softly.
And he pounces.
Redde is quick, competent, and has just realized his death is imminent, so Tigre isn't entirely surprised when Tigerclaw becomes brittle and sheathed in burnished flakes of rust. Redde does not have much life-force left, though, and Tigre's own alchemy surges like an ocean beneath his fingers, ready to see him through to the end.
He throws Tigerclaw aside and finds everything he needs within his own body. As his hand lashes out, fingers flaring like the claws of a cat, life-force shoots through his arm, down to his fingernails. He does not need to use it to dull Redtail because Redde doesn't even have time to get his own sword out before Tigre's nails fasten themselves at his throat.
Long, knife-sharp, white nails dig into his quick-pumping neck, then rip. He is finally, finally living up to his name, that accursed thing that a man undeserving of the name 'Father' forced on him, and he is no longer a man. He is a beast, singularly focused on his prey, and feeling primal glee as blood pumps over his hands.
Redde hits the cave ground hard, flailing all the way. He is not dead, but no healer in the four kingdoms can help him now. He is making a terrible, helpless keening sound. A wounded animal. As he has done so many times before, Tigre bends over his prey, ready to help him to a quick death. He feels his life-force still, too much adrenaline to banish in an instant of battle beneath the surface of his skin, and before he can think it through, he bends over the scarlet meat of his captain's throat with an open mouth and tears it wide. His sharpness-alchemy turns his canines to fangs, his flat teeth sharpening into points, exacting enough that his prey's skin is pierced with so little pressure that Tigre is granted a mouthful of blood. It is heady and so salty it makes his tongue curl, but he lets it drip over his chin as he pulls away, rocking back on his heels.
The captain is dead. Long live the captain, he thinks, and starts to laugh.
…
Spottalia Lief feels a shudder shake her body.
She blinks to herself, uncertain of what brought on the sudden spasm, and casts her eyes back up to the stars. She is up in the northern tower, the part of Thundria's castle that is the closest to the Starlaxi, because she is desperate for their guidance. It has been years since she has heard anything, the pages of their book of prophecies empty, and she is afraid. Med Vhiskar's body has been cold in the earth for a long time, during which the entire court has been forced to put their faith in a sixteen-year-old girl.
The old swell of fear presses against her ribs and she regulates it with a deep breath.
Another battle with Rivier in two days. More injuries to patch up. She has not lost anyone yet, but she fears it is a matter of time. Should I tell the queen to broker peace? It is at once both her place and not her place; she is the healer, but she is young—uncomfortably, self-consciously, terrifyingly young. Queen Bluelianna Star is more than halfway through her life and seems impossibly controlled. Spottalia doesn't presume to know better than her, and yet wishes the Starlaxi might move her to tell the queen that they cannot fight again.
She has a terrible, terrible feeling. The queen is too intelligent and occupied to hear out the gut-feeling of a child, though, she knows, and so she keeps it inside. She looks up at the night sky. I would tell her if you tell me that I must, she silently urges the stars. Please. Please guide me in this. I'm afraid.
She closes her eyes, slipping into the Trace, and feels the Starlaxi's presence. It is a balm to her fraying nerves, comforting in a way she has never been able to find in the members of the court, and she breathes out. They are particularly close tonight. Will I hear from them, at long last?
A greeting is spoken, and not spoken. She feels it reverberate in her chest and ears, and blinks her eyes open to see a woman standing in front of her. For an instant, she thinks it is not a woman at all; her brown hair is too perfectly silken, cascading over one shoulder, her skin far paler than the even brown of Thundrians, and there is some… lingering light behind her, like a second presence.
Spottalia blinks, and the presence is gone, leaving only the woman.
"Lady Lief," she says.
Spottalia steps back, a little confused. This is not how the Starlaxi normally operates—she has never spoken directly with one of them like this if it wasn't in a dream. Is she dreaming? She presses her fingernails into her palms to confirm that this is real, and the woman smiles. There is something very familiar and altogether stranger about her.
"Who… who are you?" Spottalia whispers.
"Someone that lived a long time ago," she says simply. Spottalia is again confused; this woman is not speaking the language of their ancestors. She speaks common, in a lilting, warm voice that is almost accented in a way that Spottalia has never heard.
"Are you from the Starlaxi…?"
"Yes," she replies, and from the glittering points of light that cling to her white dress like dew, Spottalia believes her. "I've been sent to give you a prophecy."
Spottalia cannot help thinking Finally, and sagging a little bit with relief. This is all in their plan, she reminds herself. There is a reason they have not spoken until now. It is so much easier to believe now that they have finally broken their silence.
"Solo el fuego salvará nuestro reino," the woman says, her pronunciation of Old Thundrian words slightly faltering. Then she dips her head. "Have faith in yourself."
Spottalia stares into the woman's comforting, familiar eyes, and works to translate the stilted words. Fire alone can save our kingdom…? It is cryptic, but she will welcome any shred of guidance. It is more than she has had for years, and it is enough to make her weep with relief.
"I'll find out what it means," she promises the woman, who smiles again and reaches out to her, as if to clasp her hand in her own.
But when Spottalia stretches out her hand to meet it, the woman fades, so fast that there is hardly an instant between the woman being solid and the dark foliage behind her being visible. She is left with her arm outstretched into darkness, tears drying on her cheeks.
We are saved, she thinks. Fear for her older brother and sister, so brave in battle, fear for her niece (nephew, she reminds herself), and fear for every member of the court loses its grip on her insides, washed away by her renewed faith. Saved by fire.
"Lady Lief?"
It is the queen. Spottalia turns, feeling more tears of relief and joy welling in her eyes.
"The Starlaxi has spoken," she says with feeling. "Fire alone can save our kingdom."
The queen's eyes, turned dark, sapphire blue in the moonlight, flash with some unknown thought, but the rest of her face is utterly impassive and she dips her head. "A prophecy."
"We must seek out fire," Spottalia tells her, urgency and euphoric reassurance making her bold. "The fire that will save Thundria."
Queen Bluelianna nods again. "Yes."
Spottalia senses there is something the queen is not speaking aloud, but in the radiance of the Starlaxi's message, she feels that it cannot be too terrible for them to bear. Fire alone can save Thundria, she thinks, and thanks the stars.
This is going to be told in alternating point of views between Firepaw and Sandpaw for the first book (Into the Wild). The POVs will change over the course of the arc (though it'll be Firepaw in all of them).
Please leave a review, follow/favourite, and… add it to your community, I guess? I'm a little shy about answering reviews but I do love to read them, and if you want to chat with me or ask questions, I have a tumblr blog dedicated to the series: warriors-kingdoms on Tumblr!
~Akila