What becomes of the scion of prophecy when all he has ever known is rejection and abuse?
Virtuous sorcerers and malevolent warlocks in a race against time, fiercely competing for influence over the one prophesied to either save the world or destroy it. Aldo is at the mercy of deeply flawed human beings, his very soul the prize and his newly-found powers both a blessing and a curse.
Which path will he follow? Is he merely the product of manipulation or will he be the master of his own fate?
A journey in search of destiny, from the frozen reaches of the world, through stormy seas, impassable jungles, scorching deserts, unscalable mountains and countries ravaged by war, forever in the thralls of prophecy.
The stakes have never been higher.
What becomes of the scion of prophecy when all he has ever known is rejection and abuse?
Virtuous sorcerers and malevolent warlocks in a race against time, fiercely competing for influence over the one prophesied to either save the world or destroy it. Aldo is at the mercy of deeply flawed human beings, his very soul the prize and his newly-found powers both a blessing and a curse.
Which path will he follow? Is he merely the product of manipulation or will he be the master of his own fate?
A journey in search of destiny, from the frozen reaches of the world, through stormy seas, impassable jungles, scorching deserts, unscalable mountains and countries ravaged by war, forever in the thralls of prophecy.
The stakes have never been higher.
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They had killed her husband. That was her only memory from that horrible night. The one that ran through her mind over and over. The one that gave her no respite from the unbearable pain that was burning through her soul. She could picture it clearly, as if it was happening right then and there. Him fighting them off, yelling, pleading with her to get away as fast as she could. To escape with their son in her arms.Â
She was far away from them now. The wind was howling around her and she was so cold, her hands and feet almost numb from the icy chill, but she kept going. She had no other choice. She had managed to get this far: so far away from everything and everyone she had ever known.Â
They had killed her husband. Her wonderful, loving, caring companion in life. The babe in her arms was their first child. He was supposed to bring them happiness and joy. He was supposed to be the first of many. They had always talked about having a big family. She wanted five children, and he wanted three, so they decided to compromise and have four. She smiled weakly at the thought. Memories of their life in their beautiful house, the sun shining, the air warm, the waters of the lake reflecting the rays of the setting sun. Her smile shone for a mere moment before a tear washed it away.Â
There was no sunshine here. It was dark and cold and joyless. She had travelled so far north that she felt she was near the ends of the earth. They had mercilessly run her husband through with cold steel many days before, some weeks after they had left their home in a hurry, fleeing from danger. Danger she never imagined she would have to face. All their dreams about a large, happy family, dashed overnight. This time the tears did stream down her cheeks and would not cease. She had to stop for a moment to compose herself and find shelter from the biting wind. She turned into a dark alley and slumped against a wall, exhausted and disconsolate.Â
She looked down at her baby boy. He was so beautiful. He was looking at her with those striking brown eyes and for another brief moment a sad smile appeared on her wary face. They had named him Daresh. His father was so happy when she gave birth to a son. He had loved his little boy, as much as he had loved her. She figured she was lucky to have found a man to love her and have such a beautiful child with. She kissed her son and made a wish that someone might one day love him the same way as well.Â
She grew despondent again thinking of that fateful night her love was taken away from her. Her life had always been happy; she came from a prominent family and had never lacked for anything. She grew up in a large house with servants, and she was fortunate enough to be educated and trained. She had powers, like all the women in her family. Hers were not very strong, but she was capable enough. Or so she had thought. When the time came to use those powers to protect her family, they had failed her. She had barely managed to save herself and her baby; she could not save her husband. Her brave husband. He did not possess any magical powers, but he was a warrior. He defended them against the assassins sent after them with the ferocity of a cornered lion. He fought them off as hard as he could while she fended off a far more dangerous foe, one who could manipulate the same powers as she. He was much stronger, however. In the end, all she could do was create a distraction large enough for her and the baby to escape, leaving her man behind. She jumped on the ship that they were all meant to sail away on, called forth a wind to swell up the sails and created a storm behind her, all while her beloved was being slaughtered on the pier. That was the limit of her powers. Her breath caught at the memory, as it always had since that night. Guilt and sorrow wracked her soul, and she started sobbing uncontrollably.Â
So it came to be that she arrived at this strange land at the very top of the world. The people of this kingdom were cold and mistrusting of foreigners, especially those of dark skin. The captain of the ship was more than happy to be rid of her, and she was shunned almost everywhere she went. She knew she could not stay where she had disembarked, for they would come looking for her soon enough. She left the big city then and headed westwards towards the great mountain range.Â
She did not really have a plan. She had given birth, and a few days later, her beloved uncle, her mother’s older brother, came to their house in the middle of the night, warning them of grave danger and urging them to leave immediately. His pleas were so intense that they had no choice but to listen. They left with the clothes on their backs and headed northwest. Twice before that dire confrontation on the pier they were tracked down, though they had managed to escape. They were not so lucky the third time.Â
She held Daresh tight. He cooed in her arms, and she offered her breast to him. It was time for his feeding. The frigid air made her body shiver and her teeth chatter, but at least they were safe from the wind. For the moment at least.Â
She looked at Daresh peacefully suckling at her breast, and she felt panicked once more. Deep down she knew those men were hunting down her son. There was a disturbance in the powers at the moment of his birth so strong that it had almost severed her from reality. That final contraction, the excruciating pain of a human being exiting her body, combined with a tidal wave of magical power, had pushed her to her very limits. She knew that it was not normal. Anyone with an affinity for the powers of the universe would have felt that massive disturbance. It had to mean something. There was also the birthmark on Daresh’s wrist. It was too peculiar in shape, like a perfectly formed tear. She had been thinking about these things a lot lately, and she was scared for her son’s life.Â
Daresh finished feeding, and she quickly wrapped him in his blanket. She pulled down her woollen blouse and wrapped herself and the baby tightly with her cape. Her back hurt from crouching, her feet were frozen and aching from walking and her muscles were stiff from the constant shivering. She could not go on like this much longer. Daresh was in mortal danger with her. Her heart was pounding hard, and she took in a breath of icy air that froze her insides, the sensation a stark contrast to the hot tears that once again flowed freely at the realisation of what she had to do.Â
She had to give him up. She had to give up her baby boy to save him. She had to abandon her own flesh and blood in this gods-forsaken land and leave that very same night to throw off the men who were pursuing her. They were after him, but they would follow her trail. She had no choice but to leave him there and head back the way she had come.Â
She cried for a while longer and then stood up. She wiped her tears and steeled her resolve. There were no limits to what a mother would do in order to save her child. Her heart ached so badly, but this had to be done.Â
She searched the houses of that little town for a long time. It was dark and cold, and no one was outside. No one saw her peering through windows, looking for what she hoped would be a suitable home at which to leave her baby. She was afraid. Daresh was an outsider, a dark-skinned boy in a land where she had seen nobody else like them, and she was terrified that he would be left out in the cold to die.Â
She searched and searched until she finally found a house where a couple appeared to be living alone. A husband and his wife. She came as close to the window as she could without being noticed. The wind was flapping her cape, and she held it as tightly as she could. She prayed that Daresh would not make a sound to alert the people inside. Her prayers were answered. He slept soundly throughout. She made another wish that his sleep would always be peaceful.Â
The wife looked so sad and depressed, her mouth half-open, staring at nothing. She was clutching a little blanket and was rocking back and forth. A baby’s blanket. But there was no baby around. She instinctively knew this was the right house. This woman had known the loss of a child, she was sure of it. She would care for Daresh. Or at least this was the outcome she prayed for.Â
She did not waste any time for fear of changing her mind. She did not want to prolong this ordeal. She would cry later, when she was far away from there. She took a breath, kissed her baby’s forehead, pressed him close to her chest to feel the warmth of his tiny body, smelled his little head for the last time and placed him gently on the cold front doorstep.Â
She pounded on the door as many times and as hard as her frozen hands could manage and ran away.
Aldo is scared of his father; who barely stops short of physically harming his adopted son from fear of upsetting his wife. He thinks that Aldo is a burden and useless, ignoring the blatant talent he has for carving wood. Is it because Aldo is not his own? He and his wife had tried for years to have a child, only to suffer loss after loss. After one such loss, they find a baby - merely weeks old - wrapped up against the cold on their doorstep. His wife is immediately besotted, but Aldo's father isn't so sure of the babe. His skin is too dark for the northern tribe folk, singling him out as different. Include the strange, tear-shaped birthmark on his wrist, and, well. The boy is never going to fit in.
Aldo dreams of warmer climes, other people with the same colour skin as him. He has strange visions, which are followed by blinding headaches. He hates his life in the frozen north and he hates cowering from the man who raised him.
Tears of Prophecy starts off really, really strong. The prologue gripped me; especially the way that Genethliou manages to portray the nameless woman's fear, melancholy and grief. He never names her, however, you feel as though you know her and have lived through the tragic events she's recently experienced along with her. You weep with her, your heart breaks for her and you wish her all the very best when she melts into the night. It's a tremendous opening.
However, when we get into the main text, Genethliou seems to lose momentum - especially with Aldo. I didn't really care for him, despite him being the protagonist. I was more interested in the sub-plot with the scholars far to the south, especially Ofelia, the leader of the prestigious Academy of Letters. She's completely focused on trying to find the boy who'll fulfil the prophecy. The prophecy that will either save them all from the encroaching darkness she's felt whenever she's meditated. The other dimension, and Aldo, are the keys to the prophecy, and Ofelia will do all she has to do to ensure his safety.
Despite this, Tears of Prophecy is still a decent read, and the first book in his series of The World of Prophecy. I'm excited to see where the saga goes from here.
S. A.