Prologue

22 4 0
                                    

Nights in Avalon were magical. The blue moon shone brightly down on the land, rolling green fields turquoise in the ethereal moonlight. Swans danced upon the sparkling surface of a crystal blue lake. 

Standing proud beside the lake, a white castle rose towards the sky, ivory towers glimmering with the magic in the air. 

On such nights, everything was still. The citizens slumbered peacefully, trusting in the protection offered by their King and his Council. 

But not this night.

The blue moon shone red as blood, stars streaking as they fell from the sky. Rolling green fields shuddered and quaked, swans taking to the sky in fright. 

Beside the lake, Avalon castle burned, plumes of smoke rising from its ivory towers. Inside the walls, citizens milled about in their night-things, torn from their beds by the quaking of the ground. 

All was chaos. 

The gate was choked with people desperate to flee, though where was safe nobody knew. Before their eyes, the town burned, fields collapsing into blackness. 

Soon all that remained was the castle. Once a beacon of peace and hope, now it was a burning pillar in the dark. One by one, walls tumbled into themselves, the ivory towers falling onto the remains of the castle. 

The more they crumbled, the more the blackness crept in, swallowing all that had been there before. 

As the final tower fell into the dark, a flash of blue light shone from every window on the topmost floor – the last act of the magic of Avalon.


In another place, on another plain, that same flash of light illuminated a courtyard in a castle that could have been any other. For a moment, the white stone shone blue, a small party dropping to the ground, unconscious.

The Pillars of AvalonWhere stories live. Discover now