EXILED

Book 1 Immortal Essence Series

By:

RaShelle Workman

www.rashelleworkman.org

Exiled (Immortal Essence, Book One)

Copyright © 2011 by RaShelle Workman

Published by Polished Pen Press Corporation

All Rights Reserved.

Digital Edition

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author.  The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Cover Design by: Steven Novak www.novakillustration.com

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CHAPTER 1 

Venus escaped her party. It'd been hailed, 'The Celebration of the Century.' Had they asked her opinion, she would've called it, 'The Motley, Molten Party of the Month.'

No one did. 

Still, there'd been cake.  

A decadent piece balanced on a plate in one hand as she hurried down the enormous, column-filled hall toward her bedroom. Her faint footsteps bounced and echoed around her, the only sound.

At the entrance, she waved a hand over the Carania family crest. The door shimmered and vanished. She paused and peered inside. Everything looked in order. 

There's nothing dead in there.

It was the unknown she didn't like. Doors kept out help and could hide secrets. They allowed evil.   

"When I'm queen, I'll banish all doorways," she whispered fiercely. Holding her breath (for she believed that by doing so, the bad stuff, whatever that might be, would disappear before she saw it), she rushed through, moving past her bed to her vanity, where she placed the cake on top, and fell onto her overstuffed green chair.

"Happy birthday to me." 

There'd been presents at her party, too. One in particular she'd been most excited about.

The Kelvieri's Boots.

To receive her own pair meant she'd reached the age where age no longer mattered.

They were black as a starless night, soft as feathers, yet stronger than any metal ever discovered.  

Thrantum. That's what the Gods called the material. None of her people knew where the boots came from. The shaman would pray and they'd appear for the kelphi child. The word meant permanent, which fit perfectly. The boots would last as long as she would, after her transformation—forever.

Inside the clear wedged heels were symbols of her imperfections. The symbols were unique only to her and would be a guide as she crossed into immortality.

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