A millennium ago, a prophecy was made about a child. This child would be something special; his entire being made up of pure magic. It was a prophecy that set many hearts aflutter, either they wanted to control the coming of this child, or they wanted to prevent it. Fair means and foul were employed; dirty tricks and any means necessary were used. Nobody knew from whence the child would come, but one name; Devereaux permeated every rumor. Rumor fuelled by the persistence of Armand Devereaux, a four thousand year old being held hostage by Fate for unknown reasons. Unknown to any but him; and he wasn’t talking.
Across the globe, Bulitia was going about his daily business, tending his cows, nurturing his maize crop, impregnating his wife…when the slave raiders came. They dessimated the village, killed the weak, and captured the strong. Bulitia was half a day away, trading with the next village. They picked him up on the trail, he heading home laden with goods, they heading out from the devastation they’d wrought. Bulitia’s wife was dead; though he didn’t know it. His unborn child would never see the light of day.