2A/N: Okay, so this is the "main" tale in my drow trilogy series, and though it was heavily influenced by the novels of R.A. Salvatore and Elaine Cunningham, due to the society and race involved, this is very much its own thing, and much darker than those books. I love drow, and this series is my take on a dark elf culture where things have taken a very DIFFERENT turn. Enjoy!
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Darksong
Prologue- 19,483 A.S.
A young goddess gazed across the cosmos and sighed. So much work to do, so many souls to try to save from her mother's dark influence. She had just sensed the creation of a new soul- one which could someday hold the key to salvation for an entire race, if only she could whisper the proper tune into it. She reached out across the multiverse to a tiny, unnoticed world, and plucked gently at the silver threads of the new soul's life-essence, until they vibrated with a sweet resonance. She smiled, and hummed a soft melody to it as it slept, waiting to be born. Beside it she felt another new-formed spirit, but this one had the unmistakable scent of her mother. So it was to be war in the womb, then. She sighed again, knowing that only one of the unborn would survive, for she could not undo the wicked influence of her mother's touch.
She continued to hum softly, and just because the mood struck, she began to dance, her consciousness reaching out to enfold the innocent babe in her warmth and love. On impulse, she drew it into the dance as well, just for a few moments, for it could hardly withstand the full power of her presence for long. But in that brief contact, a powerful connection was forged, and a love of song and of the dance. This one would be hers, she knew.
A smile spread over her lips, for the irony was that the soul was male, the antithesis of all that her mother respected and held worthwhile. Even more amusing- he would be the heir of his House, the most powerful house of his kind anywhere on this small world. He would grow strong and clever, with a skill in music and swordsmanship. This would be her gift. This would be her legacy to his people, if he learned how to use it.
Warmth and darkness. Inside the cocoon of fluid comfort, two tiny, ebon-skinned infants slept, in the only place of nurturing they would ever know. Yet even here, there was no safe haven from the harsh reality of survival, for they competed for space within their mother's womb, and for the very blood that gave them life.
One of the twins, a girl, opened her ruby-red eyes and hiccupped; she kicked at her brother, searching for more room. The second infant woke and turned over, his large blue eyes only half-open. The movement pulled the cord that supplied his needs partially around his neck. Instinctively seeking an advantage, the female grasped his cord in her tiny hand and pulled.
The boy began to struggle frantically, as the cord slowly squeezed his throat. In his desperate thrashing, the male caught hold of his sibling's own cord; his fingers grasped tightly and pulled hard, tearing it loose. Suddenly her own life was gushing out, swiftly putting an end to their internecine battle. The female's hand loosed its grip on her brother's lifeline, as he finally came untangled. At last he made a little yawn, and went back to sleep.
Outside, the mother felt the pangs of their deadly struggle, and placed a slender black hand on her heavy belly. "One of them has died," she whispered to herself, a momentary sense of loss causing her to frown. Then she sighed, and continued with the prayer of blessing for the sacrifice to her dark goddess. It was the way of their race, after all- the strong survived, while the weak were pushed aside to perish.