As a gift for those who just can’t wait until I can release it, I am presenting the Prologue of the third book here in its entirety. Needless to say, this is all copyright by me.
Now remember, as a prologue it doesn’t give much away at all of what will be in the book. It merely sets some things up, plants ideas in the reader’s mind, and gives a little background.
Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!
“Did you have a vision?”
Dellia turned to her husband. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He blinked in the light of the small lamp. “What was it about? Should I send a message to someone?”
“No, no. It was a fairly pleasant one, actually.” She turned back to the small desk and slid the shield on the lamp a little more closed. “About Ulthis, I think. There was a crown of lightning.” She shrugged. “I’ve just been trying to get it down on paper.”
“Some of those poems you’ve written about the visions are pretty good, at least to my mind.” He yawned and turned over. “You should think about publishing them.”
Dellia blinked. Publish them? She glanced at the small leather case where she kept all her scribblings.
It was easier to record the visions in poem form, because they were as enigmatic as poetry could be. The ability to record shifting ‘scenes’ and link them into a whole served her well when trying to make sense of them. Though, if she were to publish the poems, they would need titles.
She looked down at the sheet of paper before her. What would this one be called? The other poems she could name later. She and Methon were at their home, the caravan wasn’t on the road during the winter, so there would be plenty of time for that.
What to title it? How about, Dellia’s Dream? Yes. That suited it well.
In a luminous ocean of brilliant stars,
‘Neath a halo of lightning—his silver-forked crown,
A mysterious figure watches and waits.
Will the bestowal be accepted or at all found?
Seemingly cold, impossibly distant,
Yet passion exists, joyous mirth to relentless fury.
So dread looms large. Would there be thunderous ruin,
If the gift be cast off in its glory?
Seekers of hope, knowers of hearts,
The pure, blazing truth theirs to see.
So avail you not of masks, hoods, or cloaks,
Nay, revel in who you’re meant to be.
Fill your head with boundless dreams,
Of futures perfect, bright and bold.
Be true to your center, be true to yourself,
And the soul-bound gift you’ll hold.
But remember this, and remember it well,
His boon brings with it a price.
Should you be one whom the glorious gift chooses,
A good heart on its own won’t suffice.
You will need to be brave, you will need to be strong,
For your deeds may be dangerous and frightening.
But you’ll not be alone, you’ll have his gift,
And the grateful Bearer of Lightning.