§

He stood tall, and yet bent with inner turmoil. The ancient trees of Silva de Sinus Carmen did not glisten along the sides, nor did the vivid colors of the summer flowers burst forth. No sound of ears resounded, nor sight of dawn appeared. The rain washed into him a numbness that had almost been forgotten. It was easy to forget, to forget to remember that he was here because... death? Dead, it was true and yet not, a strange misunderstanding that faded into bitter admittance. His eyes scanned around so that the faint gray twilight that accompanies wet July rain would give forth to the haunting spectacle.

Hundreds of people, perhaps even thousands, would be at this very spot in a few short moments. But for now, only a chosen number lit the gloom. Magical candles flickered, though it was not the rain that affected them. Perhaps it was the stifled cries in the air, or the sullen faces of the people in the wide forest. A large statue stood in front of them, made of the finest gold just to be sodden by the weather. Still, the metal shimmered when the hiding sun peaked over the tree tips. The artisan was beautiful and clear in daylight, but the tears from the sky blurred its magnificent form. Still, the watchers did not care. It was not the grander of the statue that made it so close to their hearts, but rather the symbol.

It stood for a life, different from any other that has been lived. A life that carved a pathway to freedom, a life that brought light burning into the depth of shadow. It stood for a choice, one so unexpected and startling that fate itself could not grasp it. A choice thats immenseness filled every pulse of worlds both living and dead. It stood for death, the death of a person that should not have died. The death of self, of morale, and of the fine line between good and evil that never truly existed. Mirrors of power and weakness had been shot into the craft, power to conquer destiny and death, power to fight when all had lost, power to find a spirit so long lost in the abyss of pain and time. Weakness, to know the end of a battle, weakness to bear the weight of life. Magic spun into its welding, tales of a second great war, of creatures beyond this world, and an ancient force deeper then can be imagined. History and heritage ran deep into its golden melting, ties of blood binding people in ways unexplained, history repeating down its own lines. Wisps of things that never came to be hammered onto its smooth surface. Above all however, a finding lay in its core. A finding of love, and life, of self and truths.

No tomb was made, for the one who died could never have been imprisoned in the darkness of death, buried under earth. No, they would be given to the sky, and the forest, and all life that lived because of them. A funeral, the tormented expressions and oppressive atmosphere suggested it. But, as he looked up he saw something glistening on a tree branch. It may have been a trick of the wind that made the large bird seem to stand out against the rain, a vivid shape of crimson color. It remained there long enough for him to be sure it was there, and then vanished back into the grayness it came from.

That was when he knew, when they all knew. Every man, woman, and child standing in the damp Silva de Sinus Carmen understood. This was no funeral, for death had been defied, one very last fight. For though the body was killed, the spirit of that single person who shaped the life of everything to come, that soul still carried out. It was borne in the blood of some, the memories of others, and the breath of everything that is. For perhaps they had been right. Perhaps some people cannot truly die.

Yet, though this revelation is now dawned upon all present, perhaps the dear reader should learn of this story. It is the tale, of this person, the lives of those close. And it all begins on a very ordinary, seemingly boring street called Pivet Drive...

§

A/N- It is a short Prologue, but I didn't want to give too much away, anyways hope you liked it. Please review if you have any comments or questions!