Chapter 1: The Real Beginning

Charama

June 19th, 1032

My name is Charama Halome. I live in a time one thousand years after

the life of Christ, and I am 18 years of age, outliving most in the area.

I have a height of five-four, a wieght of 100 pounds, long silky

straight blood-red hair, and a four year old daughter. We live in a

small house in Scotland with green grasses, beautifully crafted

walls, and the most gorgeous view you could possibly imagine,

outlooking the roaming hills and forests. I love my life, husband

and daughter with a force that nobody could rival. They are truly

my greatest gifts in this world. I love them with all my heart and I

couldn’t give them up for the world.

I met my husband, Ivan, when I was thirteen years old, and he was twenty

one. I had never seen such a handsome man, and he was so much closer

to my age than any other man and wife. A distance of only eight years.

We spoke and instantly fell in love.

We were married on the next full moon. When I was fourteen, I was

blessed with a child, and managed to survive the birth. It was quite a fight,

because the blood loss was immaculate, but some miracle pulled me through.

She was and is beautiful. She has her fathers hair colour, a dark blonde,

and my emerald eyes. I named my beatiful daughter after the moon.

The most majestic celestial object in the universe. Her name was from

that day forward Lunelle.

My husband is now severely ill with leprosy. I cannot touch my own

love for fear of catching the disease myself. I must keep my four year

old daughter from her father altogether because she will try to hold

him tight, and make the pain go away. The innocence of my child never

fails to bring tears to my eyes as I watch her weep for her father. He

has no more than a month to live and it pains me deeply that my precious

child will not be able to see her father in her most difficult times. He won’t

be there as she matures. He won’t be there when she blossoms into a beautiful

woman or gets married or gives birth to her very own childand it kills me.

The night is dark. The stars are shining so brightly in the black sky,

though, that it sheds some light onto the land for us to be able to

use the gift of sight given to us by our dear God. Tears are steadily

rolling down my face, wetting my high cheekbones and, surely, making

them glisten.

I hear my daughter call out to me from the house. She is hungry for

her dinner. I go inside and prepare her a snack of grains. We are not

a wealthy family. What we have is little, but it can sustain us for a

short time. She eats it contently, for she is not a picky eater. She is

grateful for all that she has because she knows that it’s more than

most others have acquired.

There is a knock at our door, but the possibilities of guests are limited

in our town. I suspect that it is our closest neighbor, Agnes, asking

for more sugar. When I answer the door, I am surprised to find a tall

man. He towers about six inches over me. His hair is dark, his skin is

fair, and his eyes are intriguing. They are like sapphires in the pits

of his skull, staring straight into my soul. I had never before seen

such a beautiful man.

I mentally shake myself from my state of shock and ask, “May I help you, sir?”

He responds in a voice like velvet, but with panic in his eyes. Smooth.

“Yes, miss, please. I was just out hiking in the woods with my son. He

said that he saw something. Some sort of animal. I warned him over

and over not to get too close, but he didn’t listen. He approached the animal. It must

have been a wolf of some sort, because it grabbed him around the ankle

and dragged him away. I threw my pack at it, but it just kept moving.

Please, miss, you must help me.”

My first instinct is to reach out and calm the man, but something just

doesn’t seem right about it. I am a mother, and my instincts are much

stronger about children than others who are not gifted with a child. A

father would show much more obvious signs of worry about his lost son. This

man seems rather unmoved and cold about the incident. This man was not

speaking truthfully.

“I’m sorry, sir. I cannot help you. Your son must be dead by now with

that wild beast. I’m afraid it will be a lost cause. Please forgive

me.” I begin to close the door, but the man shoves his hand between it

and the wall, making it bounce back a bit after the collision. He pushes

the door back and speaks again.

“But surely you must help me to find his remains.”

“I’m sorry sir. I am of no help. I cannot navigate these woods.”

“But you must try! My son is lost out there. He might still be alive.

Please, help me.”

I can see the tears that are beginning to form at the corners of his

eyes, and I begin to believe him and give in, but then I see something

in his eyes that not only scares me, but confuses me. A glint of red.

“I am sorry, no.”

There is then a very sudden change in him. He no longer has a pleading

look in his eyes. His expression has turned to stone. “You little

witch!” The man snarls in a way that was not in any way human. His

pupils slit, his nostrils flare and he prepares his body for an

attack. “You should have helped me!”

He launches and grabs the back of my neck. I could feel his fingers digging

into my neck, and I could instantly tell that this man wasn't going to

show me any mercy. With one violent tug, he yanks my head backwards

and all I can see is the moon and stars hovering above me in one flawless

masterpiece.

I’m being dragged into the woods.