Book 1 of the Order of Death.
The Kingdom of Tyravul has ruled its people with an iron fist for centuries. Their laws are brutally enforced by their army and the Order of Death, an elite group of assassins who handle all the dirty work. Our story begins when a small rebel group awakens an ancient power. The Order selects one of its best and brightest assassins to track down this power and destroy it. Her name? The Angel of Death.
A small group of men, maybe numbering 4 or 5, gathered in a cave around a fire. The flames were anything but natural: they glowed green and shadowy figures danced within them. The men were chanting: it was an eerie song, the meaning of the ancient words long forgotten. As their words echoed hauntingly, the flames glowed brighter and a rumble sounded throughout the cave. From the flames came something that radiated power and goodness. It was a dragon in shape, but made of smoke and unable to affect the physical world. One man knelt, spreading his arms, as if he was asking the dragon to enter his body. The dragon approached, but just before it took the man as its host, armed soldiers stormed the cave. The men stopped there chanting, and the dragon began to fade. But as it did, the kneeling man screamed a single word, and collapsed, dead. The word held power, and the dragon stopped fading. It roared, and the cave collapsed, killing the soldiers and men instantly. From the rubble emerged a smoky form: the dragon. It flew off over the land, searching.
In a libary, in a castle in the heart of the capitol of Tyravul, the king and his council gathered around a table. The king asked a dirty, panting man "What exactly did you say happened?" The man licked his lips, and said "Third Company was tipped off that a small rebel force planned to summon It. They went to investigate, and never returned. The cave they went to search collapsed on them. Someone saw something come out of the rubble and fly off. We have reason to believe It was responsible." Uneasy murmurs rippled throughout the group. One, the commander of the Army of Tyravul, spoke up "What are we going to do about It? There's no way the army can deal with it." At this, a discussion broke out, people throwing out ideas, all being rejected. After this had gone on for a long time, a cold laugh echoed from the corner. The hair on the Army Commander's neck stood up as a woman stepped from the shadows. She was tall and slender, beautiful in a cold, deadly way. Her icy eyes flickered over the men, and she spoke "The Order will handle this." The King frowned slightly "Can they handle it?" he asked the woman. "Yes." she smiled. It was not a kind smile: it was cold, and terrifying to all who saw it. She turned to a woman who had appeared at her side. "Send for the Angel."