Prelogue Novels & Stories

' the seer said her eyes blazing . ' What do we do now ? ' Basil asked . ' Whoever did this has messed with destiny . He has messed with the prophecy and the consequences will be dire . Be prepared . ' the seer said angrily them left the room . Amarok and Nephele looked to each other in fear . ' Nothing will happen . We will find him . ' Amarok whispered then pulled his mate closer . Nephele breathed a sigh of relief and turned to her husband's arms . He was safe. For now .

Those years of waiting for his arrival never seem to end. It’s been five years now. The alpha is yet to be found, neither could Imogen find a way to lift the curse nor did she forget how Braylon was swallowed by a dark shadow right in front of her eyes. She is yet to discover what that shadow was. And she will stop at nothing to look for a way to lift the curse. ***

**This book is a prequel to the Guardians Trilogy. However, while it starts before the first book in the Trilogy and can be read as a stand alone, it will span the timeframe of both Books 1 and 2. This book will contain spoilers and references discussed in the other books. It is recommended that you first read Book 1, The Broken Warrior’s Daughter, and Book 2, Alpha’s Guardian Angel before reading this book.

The black type of witch is a race, while the change of blood color – purple to black – is a consequence and a curse that cannot be broken forever. I closed our main gate and went back to my bedroom to get my big black backpack. While Jennifer is not home, I decided to go for a hike on Mt. Labo to collect special ingredients or different kinds of herbs and flowers that can only be found in remote mountains. I’m going to use it for the products of my company. I opened our gate once again, headed straight to my McLaren F1 and drove it out of my garage. Then I got out of my car again and closed the gate again.

She collapsed into her chair, her chest rising and falling in an unnatural rhythm as she looked around the room, and at the wolves who were now staring at her. King Tobias’s body filled with rage, and his soul felt as though it plunged into the depths of the icy lake of the Underworld as he realized what had just happened in his dining room. The gods and goddesses gave a prophecy, a warning, to the royal coven, a prophecy that seemed to threaten to unravel everything that he had worked for over the years.

Though her predictions were not always accurate, a sense of foreboding gripped me, as if this prophecy was already unfolding. "The prophecy stated, 'Your true form shall only come after your first test. The enemies shall rise against you in the world's four corners, and death shall give birth to a greater evil. You shall run wild, and only the kiss of the purest wolf shall restore you.'" Though the events appeared out of sequence, they were undeniably unfolding. Tears blurred my vision, cascading down my face as I succumbed to grief. Cupping Slade's face in my hands, I pressed my lips to his, desperately seeking any flicker of life.

How soft those words were, yet they bore much weight in my ears. She was my only comfort at this point. My only push. And in her arms, sobbing my heart out, I had soon fallen to a night, I hoped would drown my pains. NOTE: A prologue is an introductory section of a piece of literature, especially of plays, that precedes the inciting action of the story. The prologue is often designed to explain background or reveal context to the audience, so they better understand the story that follows.

sharp and final: "Prep for extraction... we’re ending this—for good."

The words weren’t meant to wound—but they did, precisely because they were true. The seal cracked at the center, a fine fissure spidering outward like lightning in reverse. Calem shouted her name—but again, it wasn’t the name she claimed anymore. She raised her hand, not to stop him, but to tell him it was already too late. The gate split open with a soundless breath, releasing a torrent of stillness so complete that it silenced even thought. The world behind the mirror was not just another realm—it was before realms. It was pre-being.

My hands trembled as I unrolled the ancient parchment and read the prophetic text aloud, my voice barely above a whisper in the sacred silence: "When the moon burns gold and the sky weeps tears of violet light, twin blood born of sacrifice shall split the eternal Veil that separates all realities. The Bridge Builders shall awaken dormant doorways between all things that are, were, and ever could be, bearing in their innocent hands the power to bring lasting peace or ultimate ruin to every realm that exists. Dimensions shall bleed into one another. The balance shall tip toward chaos or harmony. And through their choice made in love or fear, wisdom or folly the entire multiverse shall discover