The Last Gol Among The Mortals

Prologue

It was just one of their usual congregations except for one thing, they started behind the right schedule to await the arrival of Misty. She wasn't usually this way but now. She had been carrying a child who would soon keep her last name in existence, and the Mortal who stole her youth had always been out of the picture.

Muffled voices filled the silent air as the patient members of the Gol slumped in their seats. They were now small in number for former members had either joined the Mortals or gone against them.

The crowd's mumbling in the muggy evening broke into panicky noises when a group of silhouttes' marching became audible in the distance, causing mixture of bewilderment and fear. They were called the Rebels and had long been preparing for what they faithfully believed in, for what they thought was right. For almost a decade, they had gotten bigger in number and bred the best warriors possible to defeat the Gol.

Unfortunately for the Gol, they had no match against them, for the postponed arrival of Misty had caused them weakness. Misty was the Carrier of the Book and was also the Extractor of its power. Little did she know that her absence in that very evening was a prelude to their extinction.

Empty-handed, the Gol attempted to fight and avoid their imminent death. But it was all in vain and they were defeated. The history of their kind had now come to a halt and could never be rerewritten. However, one unscathed soul, played with history.
Misty had conceived a child at the foot of the mountain, where at the peak, their gatherings were held. She had heard the Rebels when they strode up on the mountain and although she wanted to intercept them, she couldn't for an infant had just popped out of her womb and had to be taken care of. She hid in the tall grasses as she heard the fight. There she was, devoured by an extreme torment, helpless... but no... she had to be strong because a new soul had recently come to life and a new task was born, a new responsibility. She despaired as she contemplated how she would be raising her child. Now that there was no one left of her kind. But as she mourned for her terrible loss and wept in distraught for what felt like an eternal suffering, she thought of one thing. She still had the Book in her possession.

Many sunrises had passed when she finally got over the catastrophic life of being a fugitive and opted to join the Mortals. Like the Rebels, she was now living among no extraordinary humans, bearing a new wonderful reason to get by, me.