Prolouge to what will eventually be A Tale of Lunacy and Discrimination (of Guinevere's Tales)
He was Ryan, she Avella. He had decreed himself Adonai, a name which, in itself, showed what he considered himself. A god. She had made herself Atropos, for she had something in common with the thrid fate of Greek Mythology. The fate cut the thread of life at death, as did she. Avella knew her own mortality. Ryan did not. Both, however, were attracted to power. Both were beautiful, in the way of art. Both were also inexplicably evil.
The stood at the peak of the highest mountain in the Isle of Mist, a land as harsh as they were. Fog clung to the valleys below. The nearest valley held plants which lived, died, and grew, depicting the battles their troops fought. The one side was a shimmering pool of clear, blue water. As Atropos watched, an image formed in its center.
"Ado!" She tapped him hard on the shoulder. "Look!"
He turned to see a young girl of about thirteen looking out of the water at him. The figure had strawberry blond hair worn cropped to her jawline. The hilt of a weapon was just barely visable above the edge of the image.
"Who is she Ado? Who is this new enemy?" Atropos stared at the man who had helped her reach the position of power she currently held. Insanity was likely to be hiding just below the surface. For now, that suited her purposes fine.
"Her name, Atty," he said slowly, studying the image, "is Guinevere."
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