Book 1: Tower City Prologue

Prologue:

Long ago, a mother gave birth to twin sons—Troy and Krie. Troy was born first and with his first breath inherited her entire memory: her legacy, her wisdom, the ancient history of their people. But as the mother slipped toward death, her second son was still within her. Krie received not her gifts, but fragments—distorted echoes trapped in death. From that ruin, something twisted was born.

Later, from Troy’s bloodline, came Vaneesha. She was not human but made in their image, her heart beating in rhythm with humanity scattered among the stars. Her love for them was deep, though distance made her a stranger. The Star People were her kind, but her soul belonged elsewhere.

An ancient evil; born from her own family, had begun to corrupt the universe. Her father, Trev, had seen it but did nothing. That failure cost him his life and countless others. Vaneesha would not make the same mistake. She took up the fight Trev would not, seeking what was vanishing across the stars: clarity, truth, and hope.

She traveled far, searching not for perfection, but for resilience—the kind of strength that endures hardship without surrendering to it. And on a forgotten planet, she found it.

A village set apart from the rest of their society was nearly gone. Only seven families remained: Goran the farmer, Alala the hunter, Charis and Mohsin the traders, Kenshin the healer, Casta the cook, and Marcus, whose songs kept their spirits alive. They had lost nearly everything, yet still they shared, sacrificed, and stood together. It wasn’t just survival; it was pure trust.

Vaneesha watched from orbit; floating in space, saw their unity, their light, and chose to help. But her gift would carry a price. She needs warriors to fight the darkness.

She descended and entered the village. Kenshin approached first, cautious but kind. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Vaneesha said, smiling. “I’d like to live here for a while.”

Alala joined him, her eyes narrowing. “You won’t like it here. Most people already left. We barely survive as it is.”

“That’s all right,” Vaneesha replied. “I’ve survived on less. I only want to help.”

“How?” Alala asked.

“I have knowledge,” she said simply. “Enough to help this village come back to life.”

The others gathered. Mohsin spoke for them: “You’re welcome to stay, but it’s a hard life. The land’s been cruel for years.”

“I know,” she said. “But there’s more than land to rely on. Have you considered the ocean?”

They fell silent. “We don’t go near the water,” Mohsin said. “It kills. We can’t even recover the bodies.”

Vaneesha didn’t press. Not yet.

She made her home at the forest’s edge. In that clearing, she planned a tower—a symbol, a vessel for what she meant to give. But her blessing had to be chosen freely.

Months passed. She taught them tools, trade, healing, craftsmanship; knowledge that was too advanced for their planet at the time. The knowledge was only the beginning of the blessing.

Then one day, she gathered them.

“I want to give you a blessing,” she said.

The families exchanged wary glances.

“I’m not like you,” Vaneesha explained. “I was made in your image, but I am not of this world. The knowledge I’ve shared is only the beginning. What I offer now will change everything—but it comes with a cost.”

“We know you aren’t from here, but what cost?” Alala asked. “What’s this blessing?”

“Everything has a cost. It just comes down to who is going to pay it.” Vaneesha said. “This blessing will bring health, wealth, and peace for generations—but balance must be kept.

One day, the price will be due. Not now, not even in your children’s time. But it will come.”

“What price?” Marcus asked.

“You seven will be reborn,” Vaneesha said. “When the city built on your legacy begins to fall, your souls will return to face what comes next.”

“So we pay after death?” Goran asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“You must accept it knowing your debt will follow,” she said. “When your descendants lose what binds them, you’ll rise again to confront what was gained—and what was lost.”

“And if we refuse?” Charis asked.

“Then you’ll fade with the land,” Vaneesha said. “Your strength may hold another generation or two—but your end is near.”

They were quiet. The weight of it settled over them.

Finally Charis spoke, thinking of her children. “I’ll accept. For my children.” She would do anything for her children.

One by one, the others followed—Goran, Mohsin, Casta, Alala, Kenshin. Marcus was last. “Feels like selling my soul,” he murmured.

“In a way, it is,” Vaneesha said. “But not for greed—for love. You’re binding your souls to life, to hope. When the world forgets itself, you’ll return to remind it.”

Marcus lowered his head. “Then I accept.”

“Good,” Vaneesha said. “Now we build the tower—together.”

Years passed. The village flourished. The tower rose. Traders came, then settlers. The seven families became founders of a great city—Tower City—its name a tribute to the shining structure that brought life to so many.

Each family prospered: Mohsin’s fleets crossed seas; Charis’s wagons carried trade; Casta’s inns filled with travelers; Kenshin’s tonics healed and beautified; Goran’s harvests fed the land; Alala’s forge crafted its future; and Marcus’s songs turned the city’s labor into joy.

When the tower neared completion, Vaneesha gathered them once more.

“I have one warning,” she said. “No one must enter the tower. Ever. It holds your bond, your sacrifice. If anyone hears its song, it means the blessing weakens—it means the people have begun to forget what binds them.”

“And if someone does enter?” Casta asked.

“The city will decay,” Vaneesha said. “Slowly at first—then all at once. If one of you or your descendants enters, the blessing will break. The tower will fall, and with it, the city.”

Silence. Then Marcus sighed. “Would’ve been nice to know sooner.”

Vaneesha smiled faintly. “Would it have changed anything?”

He thought of the village they’d once been—starving, desperate. “No,” he said. “It wouldn’t.”

“Remember this,” Vaneesha said. “Love each other. When darkness comes, be the light.”

She turned and climbed the spiral stairs, a small stone in her hand—the final piece of the tower. At its peak, she placed it where seven others met. The city below glowed with life, laughter, and promise.

Vaneesha smiled.

Then she stepped into the tower—and was gone.

She knew she could not defeat the spreading corruption, only prepare those who might. Not with force, but with the power to remember light when all else failed. The seven would be reborn, shaped by every sacrifice, every love, every loss. They would falter, but never fall completely. Because even when hope slips from their grasp, it will never die.

They will always find the light again.

(NOTE: I have a longer version of this prologue. However, I have had many people say very conflicting things about it. It's too much, it's not enough. At some point I will just write a whole other book explaining their back story and their life before Vaneesha shows up.)