Prologue: Bella
Fate and destiny are never set in stone. We are not bound by any construct other than what we impose on ourselves. No matter how long or short our lifetimes, we each cause an irreversible ripple on the waters of time. Each ripple expanding and colliding with the ripples of everyone we meet. A brief encounter forever altering an endless number of outcomes.
The Volturi won the Last Battle over five-hundred years ago, well before my twenty-two years of existence on this plane began. Yet the decisions made five centuries ago influence the rules and bounds that guide everyone in Welisarde today. They divided the kingdom into five provinces and separated their subjects by family clan loyalty. The four strongest family lines were each given their own province and royal court. They cast out anyone who did not wish to fall under a lord’s rule. Left them to die if they could not survive by their own means. It was a death sentence for those already torn down by the poverty of war. The Volturi crowned themselves to the throne and granted the Cullens, Black, and Swans lordships.
My family, the Swan clan, ruled over Seala. It did not last. Piece by piece, our province fell to roaming outcast clans until only what sat inside our castle was left. The Volturi refused to interject into the affairs of humans, deemed lesser by them because of our diminished magical capabilities. Not everyone living in the Seala borders was human, but the Volturi didn’t care. They left us to fend for ourselves. The Black and Cullen clans sealed their own borders, trapping Seala in with the very people attacking it. Destruction of Seala will eventually ripple out to the rest of the continent. Members of the Volturi clan too soon forgot what started the war all those centuries before.
Our history is painful to remember, but it’s essential to learn and remember the past to keep from repeating it.
