A Fate of Seas and Stars Prologue

A dark-haired man slowly climbed the winding staircase that led to the storage space above the servants’ quarters. The old stairs crumbled beneath his feet, but the man trudged on. The flame on the candle in his right hand flickered, and shadows danced along the surrounding walls in response. This, the man ignored. His focus was only on what awaited him at the top of the stairs. 

The key in his left pocket seared his skin through his thick black denim trousers as the top of the staircase came into view. Pulling the key free, the man approached the rotting wooden door and inserted the key into the lock, easily twisting it open. His hands moved with an ease that suggested the action was familiar to him. 

Without a moment of hesitation, the man entered the storage space and looked around. Silver moonlight filtered in through a broken window and illuminated the parts of the room that were beyond the reach of the candlelight. 

The man quickly stepped forward, and with practiced ease, made his way toward a dusty trunk sitting in the middle of the room. He paid no mind to the stacks of boxes and linen covered furniture that filled the sides of the room as he rummaged through the trunk with gentle hands. 

 Silently, another figure appeared in the room, materializing out of the shadows. It wore a tattered black robe that completely covered its body, and lightly dragged along the splintering floor as the creature glided closer to the man. 

Finally finding what he was looking for, the man stood straight, and walked over to a low, lined covered table. In his hand, he carried a rectangular black velvet box, which he carefully lowered onto the table and opened. From it, he drew a silver dagger, engraved on its handle with two snakes, and a sun being devoured by the moon. 

“If you wanted to sneak up on me,” the man said in an even tone, swiftly taking a rag out of his back pocket to polish the knife, “I would have worn earplugs and sewn my eyes shut. Maybe then you would have accomplished it, Kedem.”

“Marcus.” The creature kept moving forward towards the man, completely untouched by the words. “It is rare that one should know my name. It is even rarer that one should speak it out loud.”

The moonlight pouring in from the broken window shone directly on Marcus now, and he lifted the dagger to inspect it in the light, making the silver glow. He continued inspecting the dagger as he spoke. “Yes, I suppose the fear of summoning you would keep your name off the lips of many. But, as you know, I live with no such fear.”

“It was he who summoned me here tonight,” the creature said, hovering just a few feet away from Marcus now. The hood of the creature’s robe turned slightly toward the broken window, but its face remained hidden within the shadows of the fabric. “I had long been awaiting his call. The year of the prophecy is well among us.”

Marcus turned the blade over again and again in his hand, inspecting it thoroughly. “I know this, Kedem. If it was he who summoned you, why make yourself known in my presence? What do you require from me?”

“It is said that you are familiar with those we have been awaiting,” the creature said, watching Marcus closely, waiting for any sort of reaction. However, Marcus simply continued to busy himself with the dagger. 

“No, I can’t say that is true. My apologies for disappointing you.”

“It is not I who will be disappointed.” A pause, then: “What is her name, Marcus?”

“Why is it that you are always in search of a name? What power can a name simply hold? ‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’” Although his face was the picture of ease, Marcus’s voice suggested he’d rather drop the topic.

“A name is everything, my boy. A name is the difference between the destiny of a peasant and the destiny of a king.” Meeting Marcus’s eyes from the beyond the shadows of his robe, Kedem pulled his hood closer around his face, and stepped away from exposure to the moonlight. “The prophecy calls for a girl - a queen - who will fight and win back our glory. Every destiny has a name. Tell me hers.”

“Catalina,” Marcus spoke, his accent coming alive for a brief moment. 

And then he threw the dagger.