Another Wednesday, another snippet for #1lineWed. Today’s THEME is the classic **BLACK**. I’m 20 days away from THE SOUND OF SILENCE’s release. Hopefully, I’ll have a cover reveal soon. In the meantime, here’s the prologue. Let me know what you think.
And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge. ~William Shakespeare, The Tempest
My grief lies all within,
And these external manners of lament
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief
That swells with silence in the tortured soul. ~William Shakespeare, Richard II
Before the Veil Ripped
Destiny doesn’t live in the stars. It doesn’t give people a choice and they have no chance of escaping it, despite what the poets, pundits, and politicians say. Destiny has a habit of showing up when least wanted, needed, or expected. It slaps people up side the head, brings them to their knees, and it is no accident when that happens. Today, Destiny landed a gut punch. My gaze raked over the chunks of shattered granite littering the courtyard. I said one word. “Borac.”
“Yes.” Crevan, Le Vieil of the Gargoyle Sentinels stood beside me, stiff and deadly.
“Someone shattered Borac and the other guards with magic and stole the Heart.”
That answered why the Sentinel leader had recalled me to Paris. I am Roman Montagne, one of the oldest Sentinels. I am also First Sentinel.
Crevan did not look at me as he continued. “There have been rumors and rumblings beyond the Veil. There is talk of the emergence of the Crucible.”
I stiffened, becoming as still as the granite that is my true form. The last time the Crucible incarnated, the Gargoyle Realm had been left in ruins when one faction stole the Heart of Stone and used it in conjunction with the Crucible.
“We must retrieve the Heart, Roman, and secure it before the Crucible comes into power.”
Crevan’s order was clear but it was his unspoken command that raked against my skin, sharp as werewolf claws. If the Crucible died, crisis averted. Sentinels did not murder innocent humans, but could the Crucible truly be innocent? Or would the babe so marked have a stain on its soul so black that redemption could never be found?
A face clouded my vision and I stiffened, reading the speculation on the Old One’s face. “She is many things, Le Vieil, but she is not the Crucible.”
His sharp-eyed gaze scraped over me. “L’Enfant de L’homme has other destinies to fulfill, Sentinel.” His disapproving tone reminded me of the schoolroom. “Perhaps you are spending too much time negotiating the affairs of vampires and Fae.”
Perhaps he was right. Keeping track of Sade Marquis, the human child both vampire marked and Fae touched was a full-time occupation, but one I was loathe to give up. When Mathias gifted the girl with a werewolf pup, I’d hoped he could take up my guard duties. The feud between Mathias and Oberon had turned into a petty playground game of tag-you’re-it. I’d remained silent too long, lost in my ruminations as Crevan’s hand gripping my shoulder reminded me.
“Time to hunt, Roman. This is your destiny.”
The sound of silence swallowed my soul as I took my commander’s words to heart.
Please to note, while the prologue is in 1st person, the rest of the book is in 3rd. You know, in case that makes a difference. 😆 Anyway…if you have some black words to share, please do so!