Prologue
The Miracle
Edgar, the Count of Derryman
Hawkvale
LancestorSanatorium
Oxblood Region
The Parallel
“She’s no better,” he sniped irately, glaringat the pretty young woman with the masses of blonde, lustrous hair curled intoherself on the bed.
She was studying him with terrified amber eyes.
“Please, my lord, modulate your voice,” the doctor murmured.
Edgar Dawes, the seventh Count of Derryman, Lord of PoseyPark Manor (and several other properties besides), located in the green,gentle, fertile valleys of the Oxblood region of north centralHawkvale, turned to the doctor.
“You said you could affect improvements,” he reminded theman.
“Sheisimproved,” the doctor asserted.
Edgar flung a hand toward the silent, fearful woman rockingrhythmically on her bed, staring at him in terror.
“She doesn’t appear improved to me, sir.”
The man got closer and said quietly, “With respect, my lord,this is due to your demeanor.Maxine…” He paused a pause that held great weightand took that further as he emphasized, “your daughter, needs calm.She’s far more content with the familiar.”Another weighty pause.“And shehasn’t seen you in over three years.”
Edgar refused to respond to the rebuke.
Instead, he retorted, “The world is not calm, as you wellknow.At any moment, a witch can bring a curse on the land.A Beast of ancienttimes can resurface to the Earth and cause havoc.You know this becausethesethings have happened.And they havein our lifetimes.”His tonegrew all-knowing and imperious, a tone he adopted in some incarnation to thepoint it was his standard.“Every life is in jeopardy at every moment.”
“That’s a pessimistic outlook,” the physician muttered tohimself.
“It is nevertheless true,” Edgar sniffed.“And she must beable to handle that.”
And she must.
Shemust.
Imminently.
Time was running out!
As such…
“I’ll be taking her to another facility,” Edgar announced.“We’ll see if a different staff can cure her.”
The doctor immediately grew alarmed.
“Sir, please, don’t.Maxine responds to routine.A habitualschedule.Staff around her who she’s grown accustomed to.Familiarsurroundings.Her paintings.Her strolls along the river with her nurses.Herreading.We’ve made progress, and if you move her”—and again there was acensorious pause—“as you have, throughout her life, hoping for results shesimply cannot attain, she will digress, and that progress will have to beregained.”
Edgar gazed around the room at his daughter’s “paintings.”As he did, his eyes fell on the “books” that sat on the table beside her bed.
He returned his attention to her physician.“A five-year-oldcould paint a better bird and she readschildren’sbooks.”
