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"I dream of you, to wake: would that I might Dream of you and not wake but slumber on; Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone, As, Summer ended, Summer birds take flight."	Monna Innominata by Christina Rossetti
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Here's what I wrote this morning, which I believe will make a great prologue to my story. I would love comments, feel free to read and tell me your thoughts just please no need to be mean it's not like I consider myself a great writer or anything... it's just for fun... also note that yes there are mistakes... I am not going to edit or correct anything until the end plus bits of it is actually written through voice recognition software because I was folding laundry so please focus your comments on the story and not the grammar.

Prologue

In the small settlement of Anintha, the town square was unusually busy. Children freshly out of lessons were running around the townsfolk, squeezing between the men and women, passing through their legs trying to reach a front row spot.

"Calm down Ael'lys," spoke Lord Kehan as he grabbed her by the shoulder trying not to loose his balance, "there's no need to rush, it has yet begun."

Ael’lys fidgeted unsure of what to do next. Lord Kehan hadn’t scolded her for her rash behaviour. She smiled realising that everyone, even old grumpy Kehan, was ecstatic to watch the show. “I just want to see it all, after all I might not get another chance,” exclaimed Ael’lys, her cheeks reddening from her dash to the square.

“Indeed, it’s been several centuries since we had such excitement.” He padded her fondly on the head. “My grandfather once told me as a child that he had been a witness to the great burnings. It was my favourite story,” began Lord Kehan closing his eyes to focus his thoughts, “he loved how the flames danced against the pinks and purples of the setting sun…”

Ael’lys hurried and slipped away while he was immersed in his thoughts. Lord Kehan was known not only to be grumpy but also to ramble and she didn’t want to miss any of the action.

The bramble of leaves and wood had already been piled to at least twice her height when Ael’lys sat down on the rock mosaic of the town square. Behind her stood two of the village women: Luhia and Thonbina, well known for their neat and well kept records of all town gossip. Ael’lys was ecstatic; she couldn’t have chosen a better spot. They would provide her with the juiciest review of the entire event.

“I heard he’s raging mad,” winced Luhia.

“Who wouldn’t be,” proclaimed loudly Thonbina, “with his social status and all.”

“Not to mention his perfect skin or silky long blond locks,” said Luhia admiringly as she fanned her breasts with her hand and bit softly her upper lip. Both women giggled.

“How could she do this to the most honourable man of the village,” spoke Luhia frowning. Her tone had fallen serious and grave. “How could she bring herself to do such an act in the first place? To meet under the moonlight with those, those…” she could not bring herself to speak the name. The mere thought had tarnished her pale skin violent green.

“Oh dear, my poor Luhia! Here rest on my shoulder,” spoke Thonbina as she outstretched her arms to catch her fainting friend. “You shouldn’t imagine such thoughts, my dearest, it isn’t proper for a woman such as yourself,” she spoke in a calm and comforting tone trying to comfort her friend and bring some colour back to her pale face.

“I know, I know but it ails me to think we were once best friends with that wench. We were her bridesmaids after all. I just do not understand how all this could happen,” sobbed quietly Luhia. “I could have married Lord Thlian. He liked me most, you remember don’t you?”

“Of course I do. You gave him to her. She was always so quiet, you thought a husband would do her good.”

“I know, and yet she does such a befouling act. Oh my poor Thlian!” wailed a failing Luhia.

“The quiet ones are always the most treacherous, do not blame yourself my friend,” asserted Thonbina embracing her dearest friend into her bosom. “Look,” pointed Thonbina, “the head priestess herself is bringing the harlot to the pyre.”

Ael’lys cheered loudly excited “it’s the death birthing mothers,” when the priestesses of Liam dressed in their customary black leather garb, walked onto the pyre. The priestesses worshiped no god, had allegiances to no king or queen only to Death itself. Like scavengers they only left their abode, the Chapel of Liam on the outskirts of town, to fulfill death sentences, to bury the deathly ill, the old or the weak. Before the advent of modern medicine, the townsfolk also benefited from the priestesses’ healing hands but now their touch meant certain death. Their ranks were mainly composed of women who lost children or women who could not bare children.

Thonbina snickered pointing at Lady Thlian: “she’s no longer wearing her expensive silk gowns now is she.”
“That tattered hemp potato bag suit that wrench just fine,” Luthia replied and made her beautiful gown twirl as she smirked.
The more curious of the two, Thonbina, noticed a bundle of cloth in Lady Thlian’s arms: “ Oh, that must be her bastard child!”
“So, they will burn the child too, good riddance,” noted Luthia, “the thing would only cause problems anyways.”

Ael’lys stopped smiling. She understood why Lady Thlian had to die but the child had done nothing, except be born. Luthia was being rather heartless. Was it really a thing or even a monster? Wondered Ael’lys. If so, it would be normal to destroy it no? But she could not see any tentacles, horns, scary deformities… or any of the signs of evilness she had been thought in Sunday school. She could only see a small pale hand reaching out of the bundle. The same hand her little cousin had, when she was born two years ago, with such small fingers. She remembered how it had affected her; she couldn’t believe that all humans started off so small. It seemed almost magical. To destroy that as well… Ael’lys couldn’t find the words.

She turned looked around at all her friends and townspeople she had known all her life and for the first time noticed the wrongness of it all. Old grumpy Kehan was drooling in anticipation two rows behind her as if he was about to eat a scrumptious apple roasted pig. Beside him his wife was clapping and smiling jumping to try and see better just like she had done earlier. It disgusted Ael’lys to think she was so excited that she hadn’t even thought it through. She had been swept up in a strange collective fever. Does anyone else think all this is wrong? She wondered.
She scanned the crowd fearing what she would see and indeed her own parent’s were also cheering. What if she had been born out of wedlock, she thought, would her father have cheered too? A shiver ran down her back. Seeing him now, so happy, she knew he would have. Tears fell down her cheeks. We are too cruel, she thought wrapping her arms around herself in comfort. Her little cousin had died at age one from a pretty bad case of the flu that had been raging that winter. At that time everyone was sad, she had cried. She had been special her first word had been her name. She was so proud. Now everyone is happy and yet it was the same a baby was going to die. Ael’lys did not understand. In both cases the baby had done nothing wrong. Why was her family and townsfolk so happy? Lady Thlian had committed a crime against her husband thus she had to die. That was normal and well deserved but the baby did nothing!
Shaking, she stood up, unsure of what to do next.
She stared at the priestesses of Liam binding Lady Thlian with sanctified leather straps across her chest, throat, and ankles; leaving her arms free to hold her baby. Ael’lys wondered if it was a little girl like herself. The knot in her stomach grew. She winced and tightened her arms around herself even more.

“Do not worry, child, it will begin shortly,” Luthia spoke while patting her head, mistaking her cry for excitement.

Ael’lys brushed her arm away in disgust. As if she needed to be verbally reminded with the scene unfolding before her.

The head priestess, arms above her head, walked forward. The crowd began to quiet in anticipation of this evening’s excitement. She pointed her palms towards the sky and spoke in a calm voice invoking the reasons that justified death.

The crowed cheered with their fist in the air, shouting: “ Burn. Burn. Burn.”

Ael’lys quickly brought her hand to her mouth. The knot in her stomach was coming up. The world was swirling around her. The townsfolk’s clapping, cheering, shouting and laughter mixing all into one ephemeral wailing that ringed in her ears painfully.

The head priestess nodded to no one in peculiar or maybe to someone or something only she could see. The other priestesses lighted torches and walked in unison to the pyre.

The addition of the crackling fire made the noise a living hell for Ael’lys, she yelled as if to relieve the pain and guilt: “Nooooooo! Not the child!”
She knew she had sealed her fate. At best she would be outcast at worst she’d join the pyre. You just did not oppose the priestesses of death!
She swallowed hard and faced the shocked crowd, defiant.
If she could get the townsfolk on her side maybe they could sway the will of the death birthing mothers and save the child.
The townsfolk where quiet, shocked and wondering what this little girl had to say.
Ael’lys stuttered on the first few words: “babies shouldn’t have to die like that for no reason!” She felt queasy all those round eyes looking at her seemed to enclose her in a tight little spot… her own skin.
Luthia, who was the nearest slapped her on the head: “Silly girl, monsters must die, they cannot live above ground, it’s against the law, you know.”
“But… but…” Ael’lys tried to speak but the crowd had already moved on, she was just a silly child, and what did she know? She saw her parents among the crowd and they looked upset, she would get a beating for interrupting the ceremony that was sure.

The head priestess smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, thought Ael’lys; it’s more like a snake trying to smile to comfort a child before swallowing it. She was scared but it was too late to back down. She signalled Ael’lys to come closer.
“My dear, you are young and are yet aware of the rules of the world. I so shall explain them to you now,” said the priestess.
This was the first lecture that had Ael’lys full attention. It would also be the last.
The priestess concluded: “Do you understand, child, that death requires two souls to even out the order of this world?”
“Yes,” Ael’lys pronounced firmly.
“Good, light…” the head priestess interrupted her order.
Ael’lys was walking determinately towards the pyre.

Interesting thought, the head priestess, does she love death so much she is willing to join him at such a young age. She smiled for real this time. Interesting indeed!

“Take me instead,” spoke firmly Ael’lys biting her lip to hold back the tears. She wasn’t quite sure why she was doing this but somehow she knew that this was the right road to take. It will be all right she thought and smiled. She gave a fleeting look at her parents only to notice that they were not sad as if burning had been a fitting punishment for her unorthodox thoughts. Did her parents love her? She thought. How could they?

“Tie her to the post too,” announced the head priestess as she gave a nearly unnoticeable wink to her subordinates.

Ael’lys was brought to the back of the pole by two priestesses to be tied back to back with Lady Thlian. She looked even more ragged and frail up close. She had been locked up for quite some time. She used to be so beautiful with rosy cheeks and long sensuous black hair. She was bound to death without the pyre, thought Ael’lys. The head priestess walked up to Lady Thlian and took her bundle from her. She bent down to whisper to her: “worry not my dear Vee, little Bea will be well cared for.” The baby girl began to cry. Ael’lys too cried. It was a little girl like herself with the most gorgeous red eyes like sparkling rubies… how did she look like a monster; she was a beauty, a beauty that would make all the boys fall for her.
The priestesses, hoods hiding their faces, walked once more in unison to the pyre with lit torches. They bent low as if kissing the bramble and branches. They paid a final homage to life as they dropped the torches. The two that were standing next to Ael'lys had yet to step down. The first was fumbling through her bag for a black cloak just like the one she was wearing. The second was cutting the leather straps tying her down.
"What's happening? Ael'lys asked nearly too scared to hope for freedom.
"Welcome sister, to your knew life," answered the first as she handed the cloak to her.

The priestesses left the town square, as the townsfolk cheered at the spectacle no one noticed there was an extra priestess leaving the flames.

[END PROLOGUE]