Prologue
A note from BattleCryLioness
This saga was born in 1987, inspired by the music and brotherhood of a band that showed me what five men standing together, despite all odds, looked like.
Dedicated to the original Brotherhood:
The Brotherhood of REO Speedwagon
Neal Doughty, Kevin Cronin, Bruce Hall, Alan Gratzer, Gary Richrath, Bryan Hitt, and Dave Amato.
Since 1987, you gentlemen have inspired the magic that became Battle Cry. Thank you, and may God continue to bless you and your families…always. I love you guys!
PROLOGUE
THE CHILD OF LIGHT AND THUNDER
July 17, 1958
Aelin was holding its breath.
Dawn light washed the cliffs gold, the forests still, the sea below the Veil a flat and glittering silence. In the high tower of the Castle of Elders, Guardian Seamus Greene opened his eyes with a sharp, inward gasp.
He felt it. Not the whisper of a storm. Not the stirring of the Veil. Not even the soft quake of an approaching vision. This was deeper—older—woven into the marrow of every Guardian who had lived before him.
Somewhere on the island, the next Guardian had drawn his first breath.
Seamus rose immediately, heart pounding with reverence and urgency. He crossed the tower floor at a near run, the air around him shifting as the stones answered his energy. Behind him, two members of the Brotherhood followed—Miles Corrigan, the Sentinel, and Albert Oksana, the Warrior of their generation—each sensing the same tremor in their bones.
“Who is it?” Miles asked quietly, voice trembling.
“We will know soon,” Seamus murmured. “A child of blessing has come.”
They left the Hall and stepped into the morning sunlight, the path leading down toward the modest birthing house nestled near the Cardinal Point. Midwives stood outside the door, awestruck; the Guardian never arrived this fast unless fate itself had intervened.
Inside, the room was warm and dimly lit. Katherine Elias lay resting on a woven cot—tall even lying down, willowy, her features fine and almost elven in their delicacy. Medium auburn hair, damp and wavy, fanned across the pillow. Her sage green eyes found Seamus immediately, alert despite her exhaustion. At her side stood Thomas, broad-shouldered and well-built from a life of hard work, his long brown hair pulled back from a face of strong Paiute lines and quiet dignity. His amber-gold eyes—the same amber-gold the child would carry all his life—were bright with emotion he was working hard to contain. He held their newborn son against his chest, the baby squirming, tiny fists curling, voice soft with confused murmurs rather than cries. Pressed against Thomas’s leg, half-hidden in the fabric of his father’s shirt, stood Tobin. Three years old, sage green eyes—his mother’s eyes—watching everything with quiet intensity.
When Seamus stepped into the room, Katherine and Thomas both froze—not out of fear, but in reverence. Every Aelinian knew that the Guardian’s arrival at a birth meant something extraordinary.
Thomas stood carefully, cradling the infant.
“Guardian,” he whispered. “This is our son, Jason Beannú Elias.”
At his side, Tobin stretched up on his toes to peer at his brother, then looked to his father with a question in his face. Thomas shifted the baby just enough for the boy to see, and said the word he had been teaching him since the morning Jason was born.
“Wanga’a,” Tobin said carefully, getting it right. Little brother.
Thomas’s jaw tightened with the effort of not breaking.
Seamus approached slowly. His breath caught.
The moment his hand hovered above the newborn, light rippled across the child’s skin—a soft, opalescent shimmer that touched the air and dissolved.
Miles inhaled sharply behind him.
Albert whispered, “Lord preserve us…”
Seamus sank to his knees.
“Father help us,” he breathed. “The dragon stirs within him.”
Not all Guardians possessed the inner dragon. It was a gift of terrible power and terrible cost—to be awakened in a time of great need in the world. The last Guardian to possess this gift was the very first Guardian in the line, King Daeron the Dragon-Hearted. There had been no others since. Even Seamus himself did not possess it.
Seamus bowed his head over the child, eyes stinging.
“He carries the Guardian Dragon within him,” he whispered. “This and more. Much more. I feel strength in him beyond any Guardian before. He will lead a very powerful Brotherhood. The most powerful.”
Thomas held his son closer. Katherine reached out to rest a hand on her husband’s arm, her voice trembling.
“So, you felt it?” Katherine asked, “You felt his birth? Is he to follow you as Guardian?”
“Yes,” Seamus answered softly. “But the road before him will be treacherous.”
Albert stepped forward, jaw tight. “Because of the Conqueror.”
The name fell like a stone into still water. The air shifted, cold for a moment.
Aldus the Conqueror— almost lost to legend, but quietly a presence that always menaced The Brotherhood of Aelin. He was whispered of in prophecy. Visionary Alen had the same prophetic word land into his own mind, the same one as prophesied by previous Visionaries:
“A brotherhood five, tied empathic three, to destroy The Conqueror will be destiny.”
Aldus was no myth. He was over 900 years of chaos and mayhem who never had any intention of letting Aelin and it’s Brotherhood have any real peace.
“The Conqueror will return,” Seamus murmured. “And when he does, this child will be all that stands between Aelin and ruin.”
Silence settled. A sacred understanding.
Looking at Thomas and Katherine, Seamus said, “Your son will be powerful and strong, and he must be raised as ordinarily as possible. It would not serve him well to fill him with his destiny at a young age. Let him be a child. Allow both of your sons to grow up with love, laughter, and happiness. Tell Jason of his destiny when the time is best. When he is a young man, he will be better able to prepare, though I have to say from my own experience…there will never be nearly enough to prepare him completely.”
Thomas swallowed hard but didn’t flinch. “Then we will raise him as you suggest, Guardian.”
Katherine nodded. “And teach him to walk in the Creator’s light.”
Seamus smiled gently, warmed by their courage. “Today, he shall receive his first blessing—and the Brotherhood shall stand witness.”
They carried the newborn to the Cardinal Point, where sunlight filtered through the canopy in radiant shafts. Members of the Brotherhood gathered—five men standing in quiet reverence.
The Visionary, Alen O’Leary, stepped forward. His emerald pendant glowed faintly as he studied the child. His breath wavered.
“I see—fire.”
He blinked. “A young man grown. Strong. Burdened. Standing among four others. Warriors. Brothers.”
His voice softened. “And beside him… a woman with hair like flame. Her presence steadies him. Strengthens him.”
Katherine’s brows rose gently. “Is she… family?”
Alen smiled faintly. “In a way that matters most.”
Then his expression shifted—years beyond his own.
“I see my successor,” he whispered, voice taut with awe. “A child not yet born. A boy of strong heart… powerful and steadfast. Fighting with the strength of a tiger and with Aelin in his heart.”
His gaze turned distant, as if he could see across time.
“He will walk with the Guardian when the shadow returns. It will be a dark path they travel. It is a path that leads to victory.”
Seamus placed a hand on Alen’s shoulder. “The Visionary line will rise new and loyal.”
The Visionary bowed his head.
One by one, the five men approached:
Warrior Albert Oksana stepped forward first. He placed a broad hand on one tiny leg, his jaw set with quiet reverence, and murmured strength and courage into the child’s bones.
Sentinel Miles Corrigan touched the other leg, his eyes closing as he breathed a blessing of protection and vigilance over the child’s path.
Visionary Alen O’Leary laid his palm over one small arm, the emerald at his chest glowing faintly as he whispered insight and clarity into the infant’s future.
Conjurer Ronin Langsley rested his hand on the other arm, his garnet amulet catching the light, and pressed a blessing of creativity and balance into the child’s open hands.
Finally, Guardian Seamus Greene placed his palm gently on the newborn’s head. He did not speak. He did not need to. The white opal at his chest blazed, and what passed between Guardian and child was older than language.
All five amulets glowed at once.
Light spread like dawn breaking—rising, shimmering, enveloping the child. Jason’s eyes fluttered open. Instead of crying, he stared upward, quiet and curious, as if recognizing something only he could see.
Katherine gasped softly. Thomas bowed his head, tears in his eyes.
The glow faded slowly, falling like motes of stardust onto the forest floor. Seamus stepped back, voice steady.
“He is marked by destiny. And by love. And he will never walk alone.”
As the ceremony ended, silence held the grove for a long moment—the kind of silence that feels like an answer. Then a cool wind swept through, unnatural, carrying the faintest echo of distant thunder. Seamus stiffened. He recognized that sound. Aldus’s promise from the ancient texts:
“When the child of opal light is born, the Conqueror shall turn in his sleep.”
A shiver crossed his spine.
“Let him rest while he can,” Seamus whispered to the wind.
“For one day this child—Jason Beannú Elias—will rise to face him.”
