The beginning to Rosa’s first chapter, in which she awakes after three hundred years of sleep.
The awakening from her dream-state had been brutal.
In 3721 of the Third Age, Atherian Calendar, when she had secluded herself in her tower and banished herself to a half-life – an unconscious state her kind could reach, in which there was no time, or space, but only darkness and dreams – she had set alarms that would penetrate the half-life to wake her. Alarms on a rockshield in the ground in the abandoned gardens under her abandoned tower in the north wing of the castle. Those alarms would tell her if anyone was disturbing the Naratus or his sister, the Magisphere – ancient weapons of Rosa’s people, dreaming in their own sleep states deep below the ground, hidden away until the next time they would be called.
Nearly ten days ago those alarms had been triggered by a furtive-looking blonde man in military dress burying a stained kettle. Rosa had reached out with her mental tendrils, through the blare in her mind from the alarms, and discovered something that had knocked her back on her root-feet.
Terrabane. It was unmistakable–she’d recognize the poison’s signature anywhere. She should, for she had been the one who’d developed it, millennia ago, during the Magi-Terran Wars. She doubted any Terran knew that part of history very well; they were so incredibly good at self-deception.