Dare to believe- 'A new world is born' - The way is open.

Magician, Man and Beast by Daniel Williamson
*To read more chapters visit www.worthyofpublishing.com

Prologue: The Cycle of Life

Armored knights trampled the village green into mud. To those caught in their path, they appeared to be bizarre monsters, their humanity hidden beneath hard, chitinous shells. Their razor-sharp swords were gilded red in the most precious of substances – life’s blood.
All around, the air was thick with an invisible torrent of despair, as the wounded and dying desperately reached out to one another with open hearts. The dead pretended to ignore their fate. Some lay with their ears pressed to the ground as if listening to the slow heartbeat of the earth. Others directed their eyes upwards, watching glowing cinders trace a lazy arc through temperate skies.
Suddenly a shrill cry cut through the clamor of battle. An arch-mage dressed in bright ceremonial robes, gave a renewed call to arms. An animalistic scream took to the air: a symbiotic blood-cry fashioned out of living souls, savagely pried loose from their corporeal holdings.
The invaders moved in a slow, grim dance as they engaged the armed villagers. Each wore a filthy white surcoat emblazoned with the twin signets of faith. The ancient symbol comprised of two interlocking rings, enclosing a complex stylistic pattern, represented the link between heart and mind. Some of the village elders recognized it for what it truly was; a powerful sigil designed to unify the men in single-minded combat. Such tactics rendered them virtually unstoppable – it was far easier to control men through magic than the archaic bonds of brotherhood and loyalty.
Men marched inexorably towards their unsuspecting foes. Their gazes were filled with righteous indignation, their cold hearts ablaze with lust for battle.
Death – it seemed now -possessed its own voice. Its horror rent the still morning air. Everywhere there were images of beauty overlaid with those of horror; a grotesque juxtaposition of life and death. Then the wheels of time unfurled a new day – a day as bright as the blood spilled freely beneath it.
As one the invaders came to a complete halt. The only visible movement was that of the crows, their beaks stabbing at the gelatinous eyeballs of the dead. Ragged silk flags, flapped lazily in the breeze. The soulless invaders coldly perused the battle field. Bloodied and battered helms concealed dead-pan faces and unseeing eyes.
As a new and monstrous future was ready to be born,

*To read more chapters visit www.worthyofpublishing.com

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