The night was cold and dark. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and rain battered at the roof of a small cottage that stood near a swelling river.
Inside sat an old man whose eyes were closed in concentration as he listened to the wind and rain of the storm.
"What's he doing?"
"I don't know."
"He looks like he's listening. Is he listening, Kirsa?"
"I don't know!"
"Children, leave your grandfather alone."
The old man opened his eyes to see two children, a young boy and girl, staring wide-eyed at him. Behind them, their father sat in his own chair, a piece of wood and a knife forgotten in his hands.
"It is alright, Payter. You should never be afraid to ask questions. But shouldn't they be in bed?" the grandfather asked.
"Aye," Payter nodded," but they claim the thunder woke them."
"And I suppose it is to difficult to return to sleep?"
The voice came from the back of the house where a woman stood with her hands on her hips.
"Yes, mother," the children chorused, hope brightening on thier faces.
The woman fixed her eyes on her children, glaring at them untill their heads drooped.
"Let them stay up, Gersia. At least untill the storm ends," Payter intervened, causing the children to whoop with joy.
Not to be outdone, the thunder boomed again untill all was silent in the house. Presently, the little girl (who her brother called Kirsa) noticed that her grandfather's eyes had again closed. He sat unmoving even as Kirsa climbed into his lap and gently shook him.
"Erif says you look like you are listening," she said softly, glancing at her brother. "Are you?"
He smilled and shook his head slowly.
"I am not so much listening as I am thinking," he said. "This night brings many memories with it."
"Memories, grandfather? Of when?" Erif asked, climbing into the opposite side of his grandfather's lap.
"Of the past," was all he answered.
Gersia smilled and said,"It sounds like a wonderful story, don't you agree, Payter."
"Aye, love. What d'ya say, father?" Payter agreeded.
The old man opened his eyes and glared at them.
"No."
"But, grandfather," Kirsa pleaded.
"Please, grandfather. The storm doesn't seem like it's going to stop anytime soon," Erif reasoned.
The grandfather looked at all the hopeful faces in the room. Then he closed his eyes once more, taking in the feelings that the storm brought with it. He let them linger for a moment before opening his eyes to his family.
"Gather, everyone, around my chair, and I shall tell you a tale," he said.
Excited, the children scampered off their grandfather's lap and sat down on the floor in front of him. Payter pulled two chairs close while his wife went to gather blankets. When everyone was gathered, all turned thier attention to the grandfather.
He began quietly, as if hesitant to speak, but his voice soon grew in confidence.
"Many years ago, on a night much like this, a child was born. A child whose destiny was greater than any could imagine . . ."
NOTE: These people are not introductions to characters in the story. They are only there for the sake of the prologue.
NOTE: I will not be continuing this story. Don't ask me why, I don't know why I guess. I just won't finish it. If any one would like to take up the idea, be my guest. I won't be angry.
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