Chapter One

Of course, it rained. It poured down in great, grey sheets of water that splashed against the cobblestone paths and practically tore down every black banner, every funeral wreath, every royal standard. Despite the rain, ten young men carried on their shoulders a great coffin, shining white, with gold silk and flowers draped over it. The rain crushed the flowers and ruined the silk and beat upon the men so hard they felt like climbing into the coffin themselves. The wind howled and screeched and everywhere was a bitter cold that slid into the men’s tunics and crept into their boots, chilling their souls. And yet they kept moving.
The on-lookers stood on each side of the street, dressed in their black gowns and robes. There were tears on every cheek--or perhaps they were only raindrops. Handkerchiefs were seen everywhere. Even the children wore grim expressions, as if they understood the death of a Keeper, as if they could fathom their abandonment. Not only had Isabella been their Keeper, she had been the most gracious, the most understanding, the most sensible, and the most beautiful. She had been the best Keeper that Elganiel had ever seen, ruling with a kind hand, creating her own utopia, loving all who belonged to her.
Now she lay dead in her white coffin, pale with poison. Somewhere, the Dark Prince sat grinning at his efficiency, his swiftness. Somewhere he sat harboring thoughts of greed and desire and evil. Somewhere, he was proud of his gruesome act.
The people wept for Isabella, good, kind Isabella, and for the babe that she left motherless in the human realm. Ileana would grow up as a human, oblivious of her destiny as Elganiel’s next Keeper. She could not be retrieved, custom forbade that she rule until her sixteenth birthday. And so it became that Elganiel would wait for its ruler for sixteen years. They were sixteen wretched, painstakingly long years, filled with destitution and poverty, with hunger and desperation, with rebellions and fires. The country fell to pieces. Their loving empress, second only to the Keeper herself, could do nothing to stop the raging crime and misery that swept through the land.
That was only the beginning. In his black castle, the Dark Prince forged his plan. In a matter of weeks he was able to capture every noble, every sorcerer, and even the empress herself. He collected all the lords and ladies, the prince Nomel (the empress’s son) and every powerful faerie he could find. From there, he proceeded to name himself Keeper. For those long sixteen years, Elganiel would fall apart under his rough hand. He bled the land dry of hope, happiness, and any dreams it had left. And no one could stop him. He was more powerful than the Keeper Isabella had been. No, surely the only thing that could stop the Dark Prince was a god. And all Elganiel had to hope for was a human teenage girl who knew nothing of them.
But there was still a thin ray of light for the people of Elganiel. The Dark Prince had managed to crown himself Keeper, but he held only the title. The Keeper was given supreme power over the entire realm. She could do anything. But the Dark Prince could do nothing save what his natural powers allowed. Thaddeus was strong, but he knew as anyone else that the true Keeper would be stronger. Somewhere in the human realm, Ileana would be waiting impatiently for her sixteenth birthday, not knowing that an entire realm of suffering people were waiting for it as well.