Chapter 1

             I was still a young girl when my life turned upside down. I don't remember the year exactly; nine or ten revolutions of the sun had
 passed since my birth. My life had been a fairly quiet one until that point. My father was a senator in the government, leader of the third 
partition of thirteen there were on the island. I remember he was a powerful and robust man with strong shoulders and dark, graying hair. 
He held a council seat within the senate and was greatly respected among his people.

          My family was a varied one, full of subtle (and not so subtle) differences and variations. 

My mother was a beautiful woman and her beauty had only grown with age. She always reminded me of a tree; graceful, slender, 
and flowing with light brown hair and ivy-hued eyes. She was the storyteller, the altar tender, the religious foundation within the 
stone walls of our home. She knew all the old texts by memory and taught their stories to her children. She always told me I 
would be a special child, but I had not really understood until later in my life. She taught me the prayers and told me to sing them 
as I poured libations upon the altar of our family gods. Even in the first years of my life she taught me the importance of dance 
and beauty. She told me it would please the gods...and men, thus granting me power in their worlds. It would be a lesson that 
served me greatly.

          I had two brothers, their differences astounding. My older brother Lycinius was following my mother's dream. In three moons he
 would leave for the temple in order to study under the priests. He would become a scribe within the inner chambers and decipher the 
ancient tablets and scrolls. He would be greatly respected within Atlantis, (though the land was not known as such then). He and 
numerous other young men and women joined the ranks of the priesthood each day. They left family and friends in favor of candle-lit 
darkness and inkwells that never ran dry. Children were taught to envy these followers, encouraged to become religiously inclined. It 
was a land of born-again believers, people reminded of their past, the prophecies of their ancestors, and the realities of both. My 
brother was one of the enlightened, and we respected him for his commitment.

          My younger brother Nahum, however, was far different from Lycinius. He was slight, taking after my mother with his soft body 
and feminine features. He was joining the military after the next sun revolution in order to attain a higher status. Military rank was 
respected, regardless of the fact our people had not gone to war since their arrival here from beyond. 

          Nahum was a gambler, a wild oat caught in the wind. He slept with prostitutes in shady brothels; he fed like a parasite upon 
those he abused. He rebelled against the gods, against my father. He fought against anything and everything considered peaceful amongst 
our people.

         He scorned the temple and my family's adherence to the old ways. He scoffed at the importance our parents placed upon me. I 
was only the daughter, after all. I would never inherit my father's position or my family's estate. He spoke out against the government. 
He claimed there was a crack in the senate's foundations and that soon it would crumble to the ground. “I will be on the winning side 
when the revolution comes!” He proclaimed loudly at our dinner table on more than one occasion, drunk on my father's fine wine.

          “Stop such blasphemy!” My father would rage and then plead to the gods, begging them to forgive his son for his insolence. 
“Please do not place bad fortune upon our family name because of a bad seed; an ignorant child!”  My brother often stormed out of our 
home on these nights, outraged and offended, claiming our father was “set in his ways and would not listen to reason”.

          Then, there was me. My birth name was Cynara. I was a child of unnatural birth. My mother said that my feet entered the world
 walking, my tongue speaking the old language, singing the old prayers. She said a god had placed his seed inside her through my father 
so that I would be born. She taught me that I was a daughter of the stars, and that one day I would serve my purpose in this world. I 
was a child and did not question her words. Neither did I dwell upon them. I was familiar with the old texts and the old ways: I quickly 
became proficient in my studies under my mother's guiding hand. 

          My father would allow no such talk concerning “daughters of stars” in public. While I believe he secretly shared the same beliefs 
as my mother, he understood the ways of the world he helped govern. He would have no child of his live a life robbed of its innocence 
due to the fanaticism of a devout religious society. As I grew older I began to understand the depth of his concern and the care he had 
shown when he made that decision. However, I could not help but wonder if I had been introduced into society as a child from the 
prophecy would my life have unfolded differently? Wistful memories of someone seeking to change the past.

           I had lived comfortably and happily in this environment up until the night in question. I remember it still. The fire had been lit in the 
family hearth and we had begun our nightly activities. Lycinius and I were studying the old language in the flickering light while my mother 
hummed while tending the family altar, lighting incense, placing fruit and wine as offerings upon a bronze plate. My father sat quietly a short 
way from Lycinius and myself. He looked worn and weary. The lines around his eyes and mouth were drawn taut. He had paled beneath 
his dark skin, giving him a wanton and somewhat grayish tinge. Occasionally he mumbled under his breath quietly, distracted and 
preoccupied. Nahum had not come home that night. My father feared that Nahum's boastful jests of governmental instability contained 
some root of truth and not just the wiles of a rebellious boy. Over a succulent feast comprised of lamb, bread, and grapes my father 
spoke with Lycinius worriedly. 

	“We are the minority now. There is someone tipping the balance, someone whose hunger is power and corruption. The decisions 
being made are not keeping the people in mind! They are tearing down homes in the north sector to build another temple! This means more 
military, more priests who claim to speak to our gods yet control our people with material lies and false peace. I fear a civil war may arise. 
Our people are forgetting their gods, forgetting the ancestors who brought us here from The Beyond. These things do not bode well.”

          Lycinius attempted to calm my father's agitation, “Perhaps it is just talk, father. We have needed another temple; we have more 
women joining the military and new sons and daughters ready to begin the studies of our ancestors; ready to receive blessings and 
knowledge from the gods. It could be innocent. It would not be the first time that citizens have sacrificed their homes for the will of the 
gods and the ideal of faithfulness for all, especially in such times when modern notions are arising, when allegiance has grown weak and 
fleeting.”

          “I pray that you are correct, my son. I pray that you are correct.” My father rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and the 
conversation ended.

          But, as I watched him that night I realized that he was still very troubled. The air was tense and dispositions had grown quiet when 
normally there was much laughter and merriment in the twilight hours. Lycinius made numerous mistakes writing a language he had been 
fluent in for many moons. Mother dropped one of our delicate jars of oil that we used for offerings on the altar. Nahum still did not return 
home. I sat quietly, affected by the mood of the others, brushing my hands repeatedly over the soft linen of my evening robe. Something 
was amiss, but what was it? I was too young to understand. But, everything would be revealed to me soon.

	My father broke the silence. “Sing to us one of the old prayers, daughter. Perhaps your childlike innocence and the celestial 
echoes within your clear, unclouded eyes will please the gods.” I smiled in relief at a chance to break the foreboding that rode the air. 
I enjoyed singing the old prayers, allowing my soft voice to lilt higher and higher toward the heavens, toward the land of the gods. My 
gift was that of poetry and music. I was encouraged to pursue the talents the gods had given me upon my birth. It was Lycinius' hope 
that perhaps one day, I too would journey into the temples or the scribe's inner chamber.

	I moved and took my station before the hearth, feeling the fire's heat comfortably against my back. My mother came from the 
altar and curled up at my father's feet, regal and humble in the same breath, and hopelessly beautiful. Lycinius placed the quill and ink 
well down upon the floor, ignoring his scrolls. “Sing, my child.” My mother murmured.

	I breathed in deeply with my eyes closed. I raised my spirits to the stars and offered a silent prayer to be blessed with words 
from the heavens. I opened my mouth and the song that left my lips was mournful and filled with magic, echoes of the past, of the future, 
and all time in between. It was not the prayer I had intended to sing, and it seemed my will was not my own. My voice floated through 
our spatial home and those who heard it became entranced, just as I did as I felt the spirit of the stars speak through me for the first time.

	“Oh, foreign prince of darkness, how he shakes the foundations of earth.
	His love for the golden child makes the ground shake with trepidation.
	Star-lit guardians fall to the soil and light the trees afire.
	Oh! How the mighty have fallen and quake for the rebirth at hand.
	For the old times have come to a close and all the gods weep for Man.
	Shooting star and falling heavens! Boiling sea and raging deserts! 
	Blessings to those who remember and embrace the fire!
	Gifts of eternity to those who stand strong, sword drawn!
	For the winged ancestors are returning, they seek to reclaim their child.
	Stand ready, rulers of falling Atlantis. Our message has come.”

	My voice faded away and I felt as though I would swoon as my eyes reopened. My mother gazed at me with slack jaw and my 
father lowered his face into his hands. “Oh! How far our people have fallen! Please have mercy upon us, old ones!” His voice was nearly 
a sob. My mother's hand reached to caress my father's hair, but her eyes did not leave mine. 

	“My daughter whose words carry the voice of the gods, you are truly both damned and blessed. May they spare you in 
whatever future Man is bringing down upon himself.” My mother's sweet, melodic voice was sorrowful and she paled as she gazed at 
my flushed cheeks, the sweat beading on my forehead. It would be the first of many ominous prayers and messages issued from my 
mouth. As the sensation left me I felt suddenly empty, as though the light of the sun and the stars had passed away from me and left me 
with a dark, impenetrable void. It threatened to consume me, but movement from Lycinius as he stood shook me from my preoccupation. 

	He came to me and brushed my golden hair from my face, stared into my clear blue eyes. “Sister? When did you write those 
words?”

	My mother spoke before I could answer. “She did not write them, nor was it her soul in them. The gods have spoken through 
Cynara, a warning to the leadership of this land that there is a change coming.” Her voice was strong with fear.

	“Nahum was speaking the truth.” My father whispered. His eyes lifted and met Lycinius', who shook his head, still refusing to 
believe. 

	“Surely not, father. He is a headstrong youth with grand ideas of rising above his physical shortcomings with wit of mind and 
liberal ideals.” My brother's words sought to persuade my father otherwise, but as I looked into his haggard face and dark eyes, I 
knew that he would not heed his eldest son's words. He believed in the words that had been uttered within my song, he believed the 
faith my mother placed within them. There would be no convincing this aged politician otherwise, and the expression within his tired 
old eyes was crestfallen, the breaking and loss of hope. It was resignation that soon something would occur, something that could be 
terrible and damaging to the people he had strived so diligently to lead.

	He stood and went to the table, taking up a bottle of wine and mixing some of it with water, then lifting it to his lips. He drank 
deeply and when he placed the empty vessel down upon the table again, a slight flush had entered his cheeks. He placed his hands 
upon the smooth wooden surface and bowed his head for a moment with eyes closed. The regal crimson robes of a Senator adorned 
his shoulders, but the care of a concerned husband and father were worn upon his features.

	I opened my mouth to speak, to perhaps give some clarity, some sort of reassurance to my family that maybe it was just an 
idle burst of morbid creativity that had caused the words to float from my mouth. But, I was unable to say anything, unable to ease the 
hearts and minds of those I loved before it was too late. For as I opened my mouth to speak there came a crash against the door 
and voices on the other side. There came another crash and with that came the sound of splintering wood. My breath and heart 
caught in my throat as my mother grabbed my arm and began dragging me toward the garden at the back of our home. Someone 
was invading.

	“Father!” I cried out as I saw him and Lycinius take up swords to face those who were breaking through the front doors.

	“Get out of here!” My father cried and my mother's tugging became insistent. She dragged me through to the back gardens 
and slammed the final door, bolting it. Her hands were shaking, a delicate willow tree caught in a merciless wind. 

	“Mother, what is happening?” I asked in a breathless whisper, feeling faint and terrified as only an innocent child can.

	She ran fingers through my hair as she pulled me into the thick throngs of ivy that clung to the stone walls surrounding our 
garden. It was cool and possessed of a damp, earthy scent. It was comforting and for one moment I wished that I could forget why 
I was hiding behind the leafy throngs. “Be very quiet, my daughter. Evil men walk the floors of our home.” She whispered in my ear, 
placing a kiss against my forehead.

	“But mother, what happened?” My voice was frightened and small, but even as a child my need to know was greater.

	“Nahum's talk of governmental unbalance is true, my daughter. Your prayer this night sealed the certainty in your father's heart 
and mind. A foreigner was brought into the Senate a short time ago and the balance scales have been tipping. There has been rumor that 
an overthrowing of the government is imminent. I fear that time has come, my child, and when such imbalance takes control, no one is 
safe.” The words were whispered near my ear, soft and shaking. Her arms held me close against her, her chin resting on the top of my 
head. I felt tears fall upon my shoulder, soaking through the delicate linen of my gown. She was whispering a soft prayer, and I felt hope
slipping away.

	I cried out softly when I heard Lycinius scream. I wanted to run to him, to protect him with my body, with my prayers.  I sought 
to control my sobs. I heard the clanging of swords, of voices raised in argument. Lycinius was silent and my father's voice was muffled 
but still enraged as the battle ensued. There was another voice in the din: melodic, deep, and menacing. My hands tugged at my golden 
curls, ripping them from their careful and delicate casement. My nails tore into my hands and I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I could not 
scream out. They would find us both. I threatened to collapse as I heard my father cry out in agony. My mother's slender arms held me 
and she too was shaking with unvoiced sobs. 

	The sound of splintering wood reached our ears as the door leading to the garden was kicked open. My mother moved me 
behind her, protecting me with her body. Men were filling the garden, hacking at the beautiful foliage and flowers we had tended so 
lovingly. They were dressed in the garb of our very own military, swords stained in blood as crimson as the short cape that trailed 
from their shoulders to their knees. Several different partition insignias were embroidered in gold upon the sturdy cloth, separating 
each man and showing from where he hailed. A man entered behind the soldiers dressed in the battle armor of a Senator, a spatter 
of blood streaking across the pale flesh of his cheek.  He bore the insignia of the north sector, where the homes were being torn 
down for a new temple. His dark hair was loose and tangled, falling down around his shoulders. His appearance was lovely, and it 
was formidable. He barked out orders. “I want this entire garden searched! I know they are here and I will not rest until they are 
found!”

	My mother made a small sound low in her throat as the man with dark hair and Senator's robes moved nearer. He went to 
move past where we were hidden, then stopped, tilting his head to the side. That deep, menacing voice spoke and I recognized it to
 be the one that had been conversing with my father. “Pitter pat, pitter pat. Your hearts, they beat so loudly they cause the leaves to 
rustle.” My breath caught in my throat. The man reached forward and grabbed my mother by the shoulders, pulling her out into the 
open. By some miracle of movement I was not revealed and I cowered back against the damp wall, feeling the cold and the moisture 
sink into my flesh, into my bones.

	“My, but they did not tell me how lovely you would be, Mynaras. If all the Senators' wives and daughters are so lovely, my 
men and I shall be blessed assuredly for our endeavors this night.” His face was close to hers, his hand firmly grasping her thick hair. 
He lowered his face to hers and forced his kiss upon her, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Her dainty teeth bit down as hard as 
they could on the intruding object and he cried out. With a curse he jerked back, his hand coming up simultaneously to strike her 
across the face. He wiped the blood away from his lips, cursing several times beneath his breath. “Feisty woman perhaps, but you 
will be broken.” He gestured with a hand violently and two men came forward. “Do what you will with her.” He said with a dark 
laugh.

	I felt something within me harden and die as I watched what occurred next, and it took some miracle of the gods to keep 
me from emptying the contents of my stomach or run from the concealing ivy screaming and embracing waiting death. One soldier 
was barely older than Nahum, with strong build and chiseled features. He ripped my mother's dress from her with vicious slashes 
of his sword, catching her flesh in the process several times. Strong, proud woman that she was she made no sound of torment, 
no murmur of pain. She stood there as she was disrobed with defiant dignity, her chin raised high and her eyes meeting those of 
her foe. He flashed a feral grin at her and it was apparent he enjoyed the strength she displayed, and I knew then he desired the 
breaking of her will more than he desired her pale flesh.

	And she continued to stand before him in all her nude glory, pale flesh criss-crossed with rivulets of blood, seeping wounds. 
She was of a terrible but strong beauty and my breath caught in my throat even as my heart broke. For such a delicate creature she 
held the power of the stars within her ivy-hued eyes. She faced death with dignity and grace, and she would not fall. “Xenos?” The 
young soldier's eyes were questioning, his body poised with lust and greed. The dark-haired man said nothing, but gave a short nod. 
The young soldier placed his knee between my mother's legs, forcing them wide. I swallowed the growing scream that was building 
in my throat. I knew if I were to release it I would never stop until a blade silenced my cries. If I uttered it I would go mad, and there 
would be no redemption for my mind and soul. 

	The soldier lifted his tunic and I lowered my eyes from the sight of his throbbing and perverted desire, but my eyes would not 
allow me to stray away from the disgraceful act unfolding before me. He forced himself inside of my mother, his hands pulling mercilessly
upon her hair. He bent her forward as any forest animal might do, and he raped her just as savagely, his body pounding against hers. Her 
brilliant eyes met mine for one moment during this horrible act and I saw they were empty and filled with tears. All the strength she had 
instilled within me during my childhood, all the lessons and the careful prayers, they were all meant to prepare me for this moment, for the 
moment when she would be taken away from me and I would be forced to become a woman without her.

	I watched the soldier as he raped her, my heart hardening. I memorized his features, the color of his heavy-lidded eyes, and the 
small scar on his chin. I committed to memory the expression that washed over his features as he reached the peak of ecstasy and 
spilled his soiled, putrid seed within my mother. I was not unwise of the acts between men and women, but never had I seen such 
horrors as that before me. The soldier pushed her away, stumbling back, his perverse lust having been placated.

	Xenos lifted his hand and gestured again, and another soldier came forward. He too raped my mother and as before I 
memorized the face I saw, memorized every detail. Hatred began to build in the pit of my stomach, and amongst my terror a purpose 
began to form, one that would haunt me the rest of my life. The rape of my mother continued for what seemed hours as each of Xenos' 
soldiers came forward and satisfied their lust with my mother's pale flesh. Yet, she never spoke a word, she made not a sound. She 
merely closed her eyes and sank somewhere deep inside, a place where there were no sweaty, thrusting, invasive bodies. At last there 
was only one man left there who had not invaded her body with his own. Xenos. He circled around her and knelt before her where 
she crouched, body trembling. “You are a strong willed one. I fear I may not be able to break you, after all. Unless…” And his lips 
twisted in a menacing smile and he turned his head, looking straight at where I had remained hidden all this time. I felt my heart 
pounding so loudly I thought surely he could hear it. Then, with a smooth and quick movement he leapt forward, grabbing hold of me 
and pulling me forward violently, dragging down strands of ivy in the process. He threw me down to my knees and a broken sob 
escaped me as my hands were scraped by the tiny stones in the earth I struck.

	The first sound since these events had begun escaped my mother's mouth. Xenos turned that dark smile upon her once again. 
“I see there is still a soft spot in that strong heart of yours, Mynaras: the beautiful golden child, creation of your pretty flesh and your 
husband's strong seed. Perhaps I shall take my pleasure with her, then?” He reached forward and grabbed me, pulling my back 
against him. I could feel his filthy desire pressed against me and I made a sound that bordered on the edge of madness, my eyes 
wild, my body fighting tooth and nail, attempting to escape. He lowered his mouth to my flesh, his eyes watching my mother. He 
breathed in deeply. “Oh yes, Mynaras. Her skin is so fresh, young, and pure. Her body will be so tight. I shall enjoy ripping her 
child flesh apart as I steal from it Chastity.” I writhed against him, his words throwing me into a fit of fear. Flashes of my mother's 
rape ran through my mind and a scream escaped me then and as I knew, it did not stop. I screamed again and again, tearing at my 
hair. I would have collapsed had he not been holding me so tightly against him. Each touch of his body enraged me, incensed me 
further. I felt I would topple over the edge of darkness never to awaken.

	Xenos ripped at my linen gown and tore it from one shoulder. At that moment my mother cried out, “Stop! Do not harm her!” 
Tears dropped from those jade eyes, her hands clawed at the earth, staining her flesh with soil mixed with blood.

	He chuckled slowly, pushing me from him. “That is more like it.”

	“Do not harm her. Let her go.” I listened to my mother sob, groveling at the warrior's feet. I drew my torn gown around my 
shoulders, terrified of what would happen next. Hope had left me. I knew there was no escape, I merely feared how terrible the 
horrors would become before this twisted tyrant would wield the sword of death and release us into eternal darkness.

	“Oh, your daughter will die, Mynaras. Rest assured of that.” He whispered into her ear. But, first, she will watch as you die. 
You will look into your daughter's eyes as I please myself with you.” Her eyes widened and tears continued to drip down her cheeks.

	He forced her to stand before me then and just as the other men had done he bent her forward and proceeded to rape her, 
primal grunts issuing from his mouth as he watched me while he thrust within her, laughter escaping his lips more than once. “I love 
you, Cynara.” My mother whispered again and again, sobbing as he took her. I was frozen in place, horrified, and I felt my soul was 
dying with each tear that fell down her streaked cheeks. Xenos' movements became more frantic, wilder and untamed. He cried out 
and as he did I saw the silver blade come forward, his other hand reaching forward to jerk her head back by her hair, revealing her 
throat. As he spilled his seed inside her he brought that silver edge across the tender skin. I screamed as I watched the pale flesh 
separate; saw the pure white of bone for one brief moment before a flood of crimson flowed forth, coating my hair, my flesh, and 
my clothes. My mother's blood stained my hands and I screamed again and again as I watched the life in her eyes fade away, leaving 
empty shells of green.

	He tossed her lifeless body aside as though it was nothing more than garbage. Rage overtook me and I rushed forward, 
beating my small fists against his armored torso. He laughed at me and caught my hands in his much larger ones, pulling me to his 
chest. “You are a pretty and indignant child. Fiery. I like that. I envision that perhaps one day I will have a daughter much like you.” 
He chuckled and tossed me away from him. “It is a pity that you must die, little one.”

	I knew that this was the last moment I would be given to attempt escape. There were no soldiers guarding the broken door, 
and I saw my chance. I bolted for that splintered opening, hearing Xenos yell out an order behind me. I did not look back nor did I 
stop running. I ran through the back room and on through the main living area, not pausing to grieve over the slaughtered bodies of 
my father and brother. I ran wildly on, my tears falling as I went. I fled as quickly as I could, as fast as my feet would carry me.

	“Get her!” Xenos screeched, swinging his sword wildly in my direction. Soldiers gave chase, but my nimble feet carried me 
further, faster. They were inhibited by their armor, the weight it placed upon their bodies, regardless of how well-trained they were. 
My light body and terrified adrenaline carried me faster and faster as my panic increased.

 	I ran until the voices faded, until those who gave chase broke away. I was deep within the woods when I finally stopped 
fleeing, feeling as though the muscles in my legs were torn,  convinced that my lungs were going to burst. There I collapsed sobbing 
and I beat my fists against the trees, unleashing my fury to the heavens, my sorrow to the stars. There I remained in my misery until 
my tears finally drew me over the edge into exhausted slumber. But, there would be no rest for me there either. The images within 
my nightmares were those of my beautiful mother's empty eyes, my father's spilled blood, and the dark, dancing eyes of the man who 
was responsible for their deaths.
~*~
	“Go after her!” Xenos berated the soldier who had returned empty-handed. “I do not care if you have to tear this island apart! 
I will not have the child of prophecy left living. It must be her, for there is only one Senator's family left and they have only sons. Do 
not return until she is dead, and bring to me her heart as proof or I shall have yours with my supper!”

	“Yes, Senator.” The fair man of blond hair and blue eyes stated, bowing, fist clutched to chest in a solemn expression of 
allegiance and respect. With that he left at a fast pace in the direction the young girl had fled.

	“She was a pretty thing, wasn't she?” Xenos mused to the rest of his men. “She would have made a suitable prize and almost 
of age to be betrothed as well. Ah, the price we pay for power, men! Remember that. No bride or temptress of the flesh will ever 
please you the way power will. Power is a seductive mistress and far more entrancing than any simple wench.” The soldiers murmured 
statements of agreement, chuckling together over thoughts only men within the military understood while one of their own sought the 
golden-haired and skinned child in order to defy the gods, to take their promise and warning away from the world of men in the hopes 
that it would be forgotten.



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