Chapter One - The Bells of Avarra
One.
Two.
Three.
By the seventh bell, every man, woman, and child in the capital of Avarra knew what it meant.
The old king was dead.
At twenty-four years old, Athelstan stood alone on the eastern balcony of the royal castle, staring down at thousands of people gathered in the courtyard below.
Black banners hung from the towers.
Soldiers lined in the streets.
And above the castle flew the crimson banner of Avarra–the crowned wolf beneath four stars.
Today, one crown would be placed upon his head.
But Athelstan couldn’t stop thinking about the dream.
Again.
The sliver river.
The strange stars.
And her.
The sliver-haired woman stood on the opposite bank, watching him with those pale eyes.
This time, however, she hadn’t smiled.
She had looked frightened.
Athelstan.
He had tried to reach her.
You must wake.
Then–
A distant horn. The dream shattered, Athelstan’s eyes opened.
He was back in his chambers, staring at the gray morning sky.
A servant entered hurriedly. “Your Majesty….the council is waiting.”
Athelstan sat up, groggy, his voice raspy due to a dry throat.
“Already?” he asked.
The servant bowed, “the coronation begins in one hour”
Athelstan looked toward the window, far beyond the city walls, four enormous mountain peaks stood against the horizon.
He didn’t know why…but something about them felt familiar.
As though he’d seen them before.
In another life.
The servant cleared his throat.
“Your Majesty?”
Athelstan stood tall.
“Tell them i’ll be there.”
He reached for his sword.
And beneath the floorboards….something woke.
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