​   Writers can draw inspiration from many different sources. Anything you are passionate about is fair game. So, what about food? You have those who review restaurants, but when it comes to poetry, the taste buds are also a valid topic of consideration. I am in love with pasta; I can'y help it, so why not write about it?

​                                                                                             ~Danielle G.

​​~Danielle Grace

   
   The time has come to prepare for the story to be released. I do still have some editing to go, but I have also started working on the second book in the series, so it is time to give this tale wings.

   For your reading pleasure, I am posting the prologue to Dark Empire's Rise here. As always, if you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to post or send me a contact form.

~Danielle G.

PROLOGUE

  
   “If you want me, then come for me, boy!”
   Talision’s eyes flashed as his entire body took on a golden glow. Vandor lifted his chin high. Talision laughed.
   “Do you think that frightens me, boy? Do you think that I should tremble, you little hellspawn?” He flashed a set of brilliant white fangs at Vandor. “How dare you challenge me!”
   Vandor glared back defiantly.
   “If I am the spawn of Hell, then I vow this day to drive the very Devil back to where he belongs.” Vandor could see the remark affected his father deeply. Talision advanced swiftly and struck Vandor’s face with the backside of his right hand. The boy’s head turned hard to the left. As he turned his face back to Talision, a trickle of blood was evident at the corner of his mouth. Vandor licked out to taste the blood, but did not move backward.
   “You will have to do better than that this time, Father. I am not chained to a wall anymore, and there is no one standing in my way.”
   Vandor’s fist shot up, striking Talision square in the jaw. Talision stumbled backward, unbalanced by the blow. Although he regained his composure quickly, Vandor could tell that his strike was not a wasted effort as Talision reached up and rubbed his jaw in disbelief.
   “So be it.” 
   Talision’s words rang with a tone of finality as his eyes flared gold and a brilliant burst of fire shot out of his hand in Vandor’s direction. Vandor flew back into the wall at the far end of the chamber. He braced himself upright against the newly fractured stone, determined not to fall before his father, and gasped desperately until he was able to recover the wind in his lungs.
   His elder’s approach was swift as he leveled another golden shot at his son, but Vandor was no fool. There was a difference between being knocked down, and falling to avoid the same attack twice. He let his legs collapse out from under him and darted away from his opponent. The wall that held him up only seconds before suffered the compounded consequence meant for him.  A gaping hole formed as the golden fire of his father’s effort burned through the stone as if it were mere parchment. 
   Talision expected to see fear in Vandor’s eyes after his display of power, but instead, an ever-growing sneer of hatred was distorting the beauty of his young face.  The boy was not going to back down, and now there was the realization of what was really going on between the king and his son.  Vandor meant to kill his father any way he could accomplish it. 
   Vandor moved quickly as he sprang toward his father.  Talision fell backward as his son’s hands locked around his throat with a terrible strength that he did not expect.
   “You murdered my mother, and now I will send you to your own death, you dog!” 
Talision ripped at the hands around his neck frantically. He could feel flesh tearing under his nails and smelled the blood of his progeny spilling, but the boy did not let go.  Vandor’s eyes burned with a fierce hatred as his lips curled back from his teeth, revealing a set of lethal fangs. His long, black hair hung down in matted sweat-drenched tangles in front of his face. Here was a man, at the mercy of his own child—a boy possessed with such rage that a king could not break free. Talision coughed and spat as Vandor sat heavily upon his chest. The prince squeezed at the muscled throat with a boundless rage as his father struggled beneath him. Talision’s body soon failed him as darkness fell. He was dying for sure.
   Vandor felt his father cease to struggle within his grasp but waited for his breath to stop altogether.  When he was sure it was done, he gave a final squeeze of fury. He let go and his father’s head fell back on the ground.  Vandor stood up slowly and looked down at his tormentor. The inhumane glow of evil was gone out of Talision’s usually bright green eyes and the man lay still as the stone floor beneath him.
“May you burn forever among the demons with whom you belong.” Vandor spat on the body of the man he despised and looked down at the ruined flesh of his own hands.  He watched with satisfaction as they began to slowly heal before his eyes. He smiled down at his father’s body. “I will make sure to use your gifts well Father, but for you, I pray to Leowyr that there shall be no recovery from this grave.”