<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-family: constantia;">Prologue<br/><br/>The Dream</span></span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-family: constantia;">6th of May, 542 AD</span></span></div><br/><br/>The King gazed with a mixture of hatred and sorrow up at his illegitimate son.  The blessed blade bastard sword was red with the blood of many of his countrymen...slain in battle this wicked day when his realm had been divided.  The Old Man had been right...not that he had been wrong all that often, but he had been right...he should never have left the Island of the Mighty.  Now, his realm was in ruin.  Oh, he could rebuild it...given enough time, but for the moment...his mind and heart were focused only on slaying the traitor up on the hill.  One either side of him was a single knight...only two had survived the devastation at Camlann.  The cries of the wounded and dying echoed across the terrorized field of battle...mixed with the death whines of good horses that had carried their riders into a fray that should never have happened.  So many had perished..so much had been lost, and for what...for a traitor to seize power, because he had been too impatient to wait for it to come to him naturally?!<br/><br/>"Damn you!!!" the High King growled in low terrifying voice.<br/><br/>"Majesty, this day is over.  The victory is our's.  He can do no more harm.  We are three and he is one...let it end here, and no more sorrow come upon us this day," the knight to his right pleaded.<br/><br/>"Let this Wicked Day of Destiny end, My King.  The day is over," the second spoke up rather weakly.<br/><br/>He heard them, but his heart was flame...his mind was flame.  The day should never happened to begin with, and here he was facing his son...his bastard son that had been his last hope for the Summer Realm.<br/><br/>"No....NO!  This ENDS...NOW!" the High King raged, and surged forward with renewed strength up the hill.  He could hear his two companions racing after him, but he was already many steps ahead.  Up he climbed the hill, and the traitor waited...his eyes never leaving his father and lord.  When the High King reached the top; the young man stepped back for a moment, but his blade was not yet held up for battle.<br/><br/>"Don't make me do this, Father!" the man pleaded, but his voice was grim and his eyes said he would if he had to.<br/><br/>"You should never have done this!  I curse the very day you were ever born!  DAMN YOU!!!" his Father raged back, and smoothly stepped forward to strike.  His son, however, side stepped to the left, and stabbed his father as neatly as if he had seen the move coming.  Blood gushed from the High King's wound...his left side pierced...a mortal strike, but the King of the Summer would not yield to death just yet.  With the last of his strength; up the blessed blade came as he spun against his foe.  His enemy's sword was jolted from his grasp even as the Father came around.  In the next second, before his son could compensate, the blessed sword of the Lake came around to sweep head from his shoulders.  So ended the traitorous son of the Summer Realm, but the High King swooned from his wound...staggered twice...and then fell to the blood soaked earth.<br/><br/>His companions found him thus a few moments later, and the wound turned their sorrow to pure anguish.  The Wicked Day of Destiny had been completed; for their High King's wound was indeed mortal.<br/><br/>"Take this sword, and throw it in a calm pool of water," he instructed his two remaining knights.  One of them reverently took up the blade, and went to find a horse to do as he was told.  The remaining knight helped his King over to a tree where he let him rest against its solid oak structure.<br/><br/>Yet, the errand knight returned without accomplishing his task, and the King's rage was great...ordering the knight to carry out his order.  So, the errand knight went off once more to do as he was told, but the King's rage turned to grief as he saw the last knight had fallen.  Death had claimed his loyal companion...a wound he had taken that had slowly sapped his life.  Now, alone on the war torn battlefield; the High King closed his eyes.  Almost immediately, his thoughts turned to his true son by his Queen.<br/><br/>"Where is he?  Where is Solomon?" the High King wondered aloud in a hoarse whisper.  No sooner had he asked this very question did the High King begin to dream.  The dream showed him a young man around sixteen years of age wielding a blade very similar to the High King's, and with deadly accuracy. On the man's left was a woman...beautiful as she was lethal...a blade of her own wielded to devastating effect.  The young man was clearly his son...his true son...the Red Dragon and Heir, but the woman was a mystery to him.  Who was this to fight by his son's side...protecting him as much as he was protecting her?  Confused, the High King watched until he saw the woman's eyes.  He would know those eyes anywhere...the eyes of the Old Man...his mentor and councillor for many years.  Solomon and the woman fought in unison against a horde of evil the likes of which the High King had never seen before, and in the background he noted the face of his arch-nemesis:  The Queen of Air and Darkness.<br/><br/>The scene changed, however, and the King was confused again.  There, laying in a bed that seemed extremely comfortable was the same young man.  This time, however, he seemed surrounded by strange items and things of a quality the King had never seen before.  Yet, there could be no doubt...this was Solomon Pendragon, his son.<br/><br/>His dream was interrupted though as the errand knight returned for the second time.  The Pendragon gazed tiredly at the last of his companions, but he noted the sword still resting with the horse among the gear.  "Why do you betray me, My Friend?  You must do as I ask," he said weakly...blood frothing from the corner of his mouth.<br/><br/>The knight said nothing as he King swooned into sleep once more.  With a sad shake of his head; the knight left to do as he was told for the third time.<br/><br/>A shadow crossed over the High King that woke him, and into the face of his sister he now stared very confused...as if he was not quite sure where he was.<br/><br/>"Why was Solomon not here, Lady?" he inquired of the woman that had become the Lady of Avalon...his voice more tired than it had ever been.<br/><br/>The Lady, his sister, however had no answer.  She was unsure to what her brother was referring.  The name Solomon meant nothing to her; other than the name of the legendary King from ages ago in a far off land.  Yet, before she could do much more; her brother's life came to an end, and with it the glorious Summer Realm he had worked so hard to create.<br/><br/>As the escort she had gathered took the High King back to where he would laid to rest away from the prying eyes of the world; the Lady thought back to her brother's last words.  Solomon...who was Solomon?  As if in response to her thoughts; a vision came to her.  In it, she saw a young man that had some of the same features as her beloved brother, and also that of his wife.  Astonished, she watched in silence as the lad woke up in his bed rather confused and startled.