Prologue
Gavreel frowned at the creature that slithered before him, leaving a trail of inky goo on the crystal floor. It was making a terrible mess. He drew his sword; kaleidoscopes of color leapt from the blade and swirled around Gavreel’s tall, shining form, making the cowering creature before him recoil as if in pain.
“What are you doing here, Ponéros, you miserable worm?”
Ponéros, prince of the dark world of Skot’os, did look a bit like a worm that had just been run over by a car. But he had taken an extremely bad beating from the Prince Warriors, so it was understandable.
With great effort, Ponéros pulled himself together, re-forming a head with eyes, a nose, and a squiggling hole that acted as a mouth. A single, tentacle-like arm popped up from the goo on the floor.
“I . . . demand . . . an audience with the Source!” Ponéros’s voice sounded like the gurgles of a plugged-up sink. It made Gavreel’s ears ache.
“Request denied.” Gavreel raised his sword to strike. But then he stopped and turned toward the crystal staircase behind him. The staircase led to an enormous throne, upon which sat a ball of flame so white-hot it looked like a burning star, its light stretching endlessly in all directions. Smaller, twinkling lights spun in the flame’s orbit, each one humming a note that joined the others in perfect harmony.
Gavreel was still for a long time, listening to the glorious music emanating from the throne. A huge golden lion lying at the bottom of the staircase swished its tail and stared intently at the unwelcome visitor mucking up the floor.
Finally, Gavreel turned back to Ponéros and lowered his sword. He sighed. “State your business. You will be heard.”
“My business is this,” said the gurgling voice. “I demand a rematch.”
The lion sat up and licked its lips.
Gavreel almost laughed, his eyes blazing. “A rematch? You are no match for the Prince Warriors. Haven’t you seen that already? There is nothing you can do to penetrate their armor.”
Ponéros made a strange noise that might have been a snicker. “Perhaps not. But this war is not over. In fact, it has just begun.”
“You’re wrong, worm,” Gavreel said. “You have no idea how wrong. You will see. When the time comes.”
“Wrong again. Your time is just about up.”
Just then a great darkness passed over both Gavreel and Ponéros, and the colors ceased to shine. The lion leapt to its feet with a low growl as another figure appeared. It was small, yet it cast a long, dark shadow that seemed to consume everything it touched. Ponéros shrank back as the shadow approached, gathering himself into a ball, so he looked like a slimy armadillo.
“Come no closer!” Gavreel’s voice lost its light tone. He raised his sword. Lightning burst from the white flame on the high throne. The figure retreated just enough so that its shadow did not touch Gavreel or the lion. Yet it remained on Ponéros.
“Does it make you nervous to have that one so close?” Gavreel regarded Ponéros with disdain. “Then you’d best be gone.”
“I’ll go,” Ponéros replied, more than eager to leave now. He uncurled himself and began to slink away from the figure with the great shadow.
“But do not doubt. I will return. In Winter.”