Prologue.
Honey.
Darkness surrounded Iloeri. The smaller form of Prmcite, her younger sister, clung to her, face pushed into her sister s plain clothes. Prmcite was shaking, in silent tears of fear.
She doesn t deserve the fate coming to her, Iloeri thought savagely, no one in Kithl village does.
Protectively she stroked her younger sister s head, trying to hide her own terror; Iloeri pushed the cupboard door open ajar. A shaft of moonlight pierced the pitch black enveloping the two sisters. Iloeri leaned a little closer, and peered outside. The cupboard they were concealed in was positioned facing a window in a small room. The room was tiny, and mostly made of old timber with a compacted dirt floor; they were too poor to even afford straw mats. Two messes of blanket in the corner could have been beds, just as the column of bricks nearby could have served as a dressing table, a pitcher of water sat on the top of the bricks. The only light came from the moonlight streaming in the window. This was Iloeri and Prmcite s bedroom.
Iloeri looked past the overpowering poverty that filled the room with its intoxicating breath, to the lone figure that could just be seen, standing in an empty cobbled street, through the frosted panes in the weathered window frame. Prmcite shifted in her older sister s arms, wanting to see too, the moonlight playing on her wet cheeks.
The streets were covered in a thin layer of snow, already dirty and pockmarked with footprints, the only thing left by the fleeing villagers. Iloeri couldn t understand why so many of the villagers had fled, the poacher had said that the fairies when only a few miles away, what hope did they have of escaping? From what travellers had told, fairies killed all who tried to flee.
The figure began to shake, from cold or fear Iloeri couldn t tell. He was their father, and he clutched a rusty pitchfork with a grim determination not often seen. Prmcite didn t know what it meant then, didn t understand what he was going to do. Iloeri however was old enough to realize that one man with a pitchfork simply could not defend two young daughters from the clutches of fairy slavers.
Snow began to swirl in the air as the world held it s breathe. Wind shook the small house, rattling the shingles on the roof and sending bitter cold drafts up and down the dirt floors of the hallways.
Sobs shock Prmcite s body, although she didn t make a sound. Iloeri hugged her, being as comforting as she could, as tears began to prick the corners of her own eyes. To distract herself from the sister she might lose forever, she stared out the window again at the opposite house. She thought she saw a flicker of movement. Then the village millers, at least, had the sense to stay.
An eerie cry filled the air, the cry of a fairy horn. Iloeri s grip tightened around Prmcite, while outside their father wavered visibly. After an eternity of silence, the sound of marching armoured feet drifted on the winds to Iloeri s cupboard. Gradually they became louder and louder, Prmcite began to shiver uncontrollably. Soon, spear shafts and helmeted heads became visible on the rise toward the edge of the village.
Prmcite tugged Iloeri s gown and sobbed, They re going to kill us, aren t they! Yulvte said they fed people to griffens alive, he said they
Iloeri cut her off, with words of reassurance and a hug.
Poor girl, thought Iloeri sadly, she doesn t realise that there are worse things they could do to you, that we could be enslaved, and put to work in the fields, to try and boost the food shortage. We could be feed next to nothing, chained up, whipped for disobedience, for the rest of our lives. If they separate us, we ll never see each other again. We ll have to live with the knowledge of that.
Iloeri s gaze drifted out to their father again. He was standing stock still, holding the pitchfork out in an aggressive manor. Her heart went out to him, he was ready to die to protect them, for what little good it would do. He was standing out there, in the cold, ready to face armed soldiers with no war experience. Alone.
The fairy soldiers came to a halt, between the first few houses. They each griped a weapon of some description in one hand, and a flaming torch in the other. The poverty stricken village was pitiful in comparison to their elegant appearance, their delightfully engraved armour, and their delicate, glittering wings. Everything was completely silent, even the wind had ceased its mocking song. Their leader looked around, he saw that everyone had gone, had somehow got wind of their approach. He barked out an order that echoed down the deserted streets, and then with a yell of delight, the organised soldiers broke into a disorderly mob.
They rushed forward, smashing down doors, and breaking windows to enter houses. Iloeri soon saw her family and the miller s were not the only family s to have stayed to hide as people were dragged out screaming. Some tried to resist capture, only to be brutally slain by a sword or spear thrust. Many bodies lay in the slush of the remaining snow, blood pooling in the gutters.
Iloeri watched all this in horror, holding Prmcite closer then ever, trying to shield her from the events unfolding.
It did not take long for the looters to reach the miller s house; they burst in with no effort and promptly emerged trailing old Otzsioe by the elbow. Iloeri looked on transfixed, until movement in the alley to the side of the miller s house caught her eye, the young miller s son, Otzsioe s grandson, jumped out a grimy window, to land in the alley. His mother, sister, father and aunt, quickly followed him, crouching behind rubbish piles.
The entire miller family were out, when Iloeri witnessed a happening she thought later was surely brought on by shock, for one more person leapt from that window. A person Iloeri had hoped never to see again even if she lived to be an old maid. It was Rechtiir, the noble son who had lived in the castle perching on the overlooking the village. He had been disowned just last season.
Looking around the corner warily, Rechtiir saw Otzsioe being dragged away. Rechtiir hastily withdrew a knife from his belt and darted out of the alley, he thrust the sharp steel through the eye slit in the helmet of the fairy grasping Otzsioe. After a few whispered words Otzsioe ran down the street and away. Rechtiir and Otzsioe s family hurried off in the other direction.
It must have been a hallucination, thought Iloeri, shocked, Rechtiir can t be here, it s impossible.
Prmcite gave a muffled cry, and grasped Iloeri s hand tightly. Iloeri was dragged from her thoughts as she saw what it was that had upset Prmcite, their father was being confronted by three fairies.
The middle fairy said something, but his words were lost in the chaos that surrounded them. In response, Iloeri s father griped his pitchfork tighter. This did not seem to be the expected answer.
Iloeri saw what was coming, but couldn t react quickly enough. The fairy on the right lunged at him, sword outstretched. Time stood still. Iloeri watched, too shocked to even scream. Then, at the last moment, just when it seemed too late, the pitchfork was in the path of the sword. The resulting clash could be heard in the cupboard. With the grace of a lame mule, their father pulled the pitchfork away from the sword, and rammed it into the fairies chest. The breastplate the soldier wore was no match for the strength of the blow. Slowly the creature crumpled, then collapsed.
Iloeri nearly threw up, but her grip on Prmcite s hand relaxed a little in relief all the same, despite the death she had witnessed.
But it was far from over, the middle fairy looked at the body in disdain, then in one fluid action, withdrew his sword and thrust it through her father s belly. The fairy looked down at the half dead man as he knelt, the sword still lodged in him.
The girls in the cupboard stared in shock as he fell sideways, slumped in the red stained snow. They cringed as one as the sword was ruthlessly pulled out, then wiped on his clothes.
All Iloeri could see was the blood, it stained the snow everywhere, she hadn t really noticed it before, but now her eyes could barely escape the red slush that was once snow. Slowly, her eyes drew themselves back to the two feeble bodies lying next to each other; one still had the pitchfork protruding from it.
She stared, horror struck. He was gone, gone forever. Gone. The word spun inside her head for what seemed an age.
Something crashed somewhere down the hall.
Must be someone in here, a voice muttered, to Iloeri it seemed to sing, harmonising with even the shrieks from outside, her father s death was forgotten. Surely the owner of such a voice could be nothing but perfect. The man would have been protecting something, he gave up his life rather than let us pass. He practically forced me to spear him.
Turmoil erupted inside Iloeri s head, the owner of this honey-coated voice had killed father? No, it couldn t be. No one sounding so sweet could do such evil. Yes, said the treacherous voice of her calm, sensible self, honey is found in beehives along with beestings are they not? That s what you thought of Rechtiir, was it not? Iloeri s mind hesitated as she considered Rechtiir, his handsome face and friendly appearance. He tried to kill you, murder you.
Footsteps drifted towards the sisters concealed in the cupboard. The door began to creak open, Iloeri realised too late the cupboard door was ajar.
Here they are! cried the delightful voice.
The fairy bounded lightly across the room, flinging the cupboard door wide open. Prmcite squeaked in the sudden flickering light of the fairy torches. The fairy smiled warmly. He looked stunning. His helmet covered much of his face, but not enough to hide his beauty. His pale pink-red fairy skin gave off an eerie glow and bright, sky blue eyes sparkled pleasantly, set above a delicate nose.
Iloeri stared in wonder.
Must be daughters of the guy we just killed. said another fairy stepping into the room. He was just as awe inspiringly handsome as the other, possibly more so, but Iloeri hadn t noticed.
Her head was bubbling over what he had said. So, said the nasty voice in Iloeri s mind, they are cruel, evil creatures after all. They did kill your father, and don t even care, I told you the only things found with honey are beestings.
The first fairy upended his torch, letting it go out to grab her arm and yank her out of the cupboard, away from Prmcite.
Prmcite seemed to be under the same spell that Iloeri was until a moment ago, Are you here to take me, Iloeri and dad to see the pixie King? she said in awe, the pixie King was a favourite character from a story their father had told them.
One fairy s lip curled into sneer, he removed his helmet revealing dazzling white teeth and rich, dark hair, Yeah, that s what we re doing. Why don t you follow us, and we ll take you to a nice place, full of flowers and magic.
Prmcite s eyes widened, Really? You promise?
Rage frothed inside Iloeri s head. This fairy had killed father. It doesn t mater how entrancing he looks or sounds, he is cruel, a murder like Rechtiir. A scream burst from her lips, she tried to twist her arm away from the fairies grip, and pushed Prmcite back into the cupboard.
The dark haired fairy unsheathed his sword, and took a step towards her, Oh, looks like we have a feisty one here! he mocked.
Iloeri leapt at him, concern for her safety had long gone. She had been sent into a rage triggered by the thoughts of her nemesis, Rechtiir. She knocked the sword away, and it fell from the surprised fairy s hand and skidded across the dirt floor, stopping when it hit a blanket. The fairy backed away from Iloeri in shock, but she charged him, pushed him down and began hitting him as hard as she could in the face, the torch fell, spreading a few coals. The other fairy soldier attempted to pull her off his fellow, but Iloeri pulled free and scoped up the fallen sword, she thrust it at his chest, forgetting about his breastplate in her fury, the blade bounced harmlessly back.
Prmcite let out a muffled shriek somewhere behind her, Iloeri turned, diverted, and was roughly grabbed by the dark haired one. The fair-haired fairy gingerly picked up the dropped torch, stamping out the coals scattered around the floor.
She is feisty! said the soldier trying in vain to stop her struggles, I can think of a nice place for her at Torkhembrad. He had named the castle currently under construction by other human slaves. It was infamous for ill treatment and unexplained deaths.
Iloeri struggled, she kicked and screamed, but it was no use, nothing would work, she would become a slave, and was powerless to stop it. Her father was dead, and she would probably never see Prmcite again. Suddenly she was swept up in an overwhelming wave of sorrow. Sorrow for what had happened, sorrow for what would happen. She stopped fighting and slumped, dejected. She felt she was ruined. A single fat tear rolled down her cheek, then another, and another, but she didn t make a sound.
I don t know what you did to her Suid, said one fairy, yanking Prmcite out of the cupboard, but whatever it was, it worked.
Huh, said Suid, I didn t do anything, she just stopped, like life had left her or something. He pulled her up straight and took the torch from his friend to see as he looked into her eyes with his own deep dark blue ones.
She stared back, feeling oddly empty, tears still ran freely down her cheeks.
Suid looked away, She s a bit creepy Merh, let s just get them out of here.
Iloeri stared blankly at the pitcher of water on the pile of bricks. Sadness threatened to swamp her again. The pitcher trembled, if Iloeri noticed she didn t care. Water began to dribble over the top, back in the distant corner of her mind, where the nasty voice dwelt, surprise welled, but the Iloeri in control barely noticed it, her gaze drifted to the dark fairy who seemed to be called Suid, but she still only felt incredibly sorrowful.
The fairy probably named Merh, gasped, What
Iloeri turned back to the water pitcher, the dribble of water was not flowing down the side of the pitcher, but through the air, towards Suid. Suddenly sorrow turned to wonder, but just as she regained control of herself, the water fell and splattered on the ground, and at the same time the pitcher itself toppled and fell.
Huh? said Suid turning.
Aw, it was nothing, draft just knocked the pitcher over. Merh muttered, Grab those blankets on the floor there, we don t want our newest slaves getting frost bite! He smiled warmly at Prmcite, scooped up the blankets, swept out into the hall, and out into the weather.
Suid followed, dragging Iloeri. As they walked out into the cold, he turned and threw his torch onto the thatched roof of her home, even through the snow it caught alight.
The torches must be magic, she thought dimly.
Iloeri watched her home burn, her tears glistening in the firelight, before she was yanked away.
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The complete prologue has never been seen by human eyes before. *Gulp* rip it to shreds *closes eyes and waits for sound of zzap's blender.*
One thing that might help stop some confusion is to italicize Iloeri's thoughts.
I feel good now knowing I helped with what little I said! 
I think I have some run-on sentences, too, but I don't know how to separate some.
What'd you guys do the whole year?
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