Prologue - The Albion Prophecy

The child of Danu shall be born in times of Chaos. Offspring of another, Scion of a man.

Thrice is gifted, a sorcerer strong, marked by a Goddess, claimed as her own. A power greater than the Dagda, feared by all and destined to unite a land.

War and death will follow, or he will follow death and wonder whether it came without bidding, or did he call?

A Warlord's kin arrives before he lives, to sow the seeds of madness, knowing what the future holds. His mother mad and losing all she holds to be true, directs the death of the King Maker, he who taught her much in his blindness, to no avail that she will see through twisted time, and yet the usurper must try, for to not, spells doom for she that once was different.

It starts with four. If only the ending of the beginning had been known, and they see the magic of the land upon his brow, even now, and loyal to their deaths they follow and witness the splendour, promised by the gods, and not the rot, never promised but there always. How could we have stopped it?

A home becomes greater still and stands as a beacon of hope and strength, and through the ages calls to Albion's protectors; its banners known throughout the land. Of justice and fairness for all. The sorcerer returns again and again in different lives and times, an ageless face in a home of different names.

A horse so swift, a Goddesses gift. Taken back to save a life, changing face, a Chieftain's death. A tale of woe, a part of him dies, never to be replaced but strengthens.

Within a tomb a sword shall touch his hand. A gift for another, guided by his plan.

The regions torn asunder. Chieftain kills Chieftain, warrior slays warrior. The Keltoi, from across the lands, stand and fight beside their Lord. Joined together, the tribes of Albion are one at last and peace prevails until it fails.

A friend, a brother gone too soon. A broken heart, despair! Hidden by the trees, from the eyes of the gods. I cry, I wail. The first death of a mage.

The son of a God, born and died and born again. Their power wanes, the end of dominion, into the realms they must go and leave him alone without a sound. He cannot forgive. And yet he remembers.

They are not listening. They must hear us. Sacrifice, a heart raised in prayer, we go unheard. The blood is seen, and they say they know. They are false.

An eagle flies above the land, all is razed to the ground and treachery abounds. His people denied and as they die, he is born anew, and a land is called by a different name.