The Changeling

PROLOGUE

In the Empire of Pagegonia, the name Ezren was popular. Some of the poor saps were likely decent, and the rest were ultimately forgettable. Only one of them inspired an immediate, visceral foreboding. Only one possessed a presence impactful enough to enter historical manuscripts before reaching manhood. Only one's achievements defined a generation and eradicated the bloodline of many others, all for the glory of his realm and kin. Much like the dirges he inspired, a grim reputation preceded this Ezren.

Ezren Armistead was an indomitable force within the Five Realms. Best known for his wealth and better for his war efforts in service to his Emperor, Vahaugn Adityan. He exuded a sense of commanding dominion without the pretense shrouding the theory of Sovereignty.

He resembled a force of nature more than a person, like an ocean wave eroding a cliff, unhindered by tides or time.

He lived an idyllic life, blessed with two beautiful children, husband to a wife he loved a lifetime, and living in his ancestral home, Cazar Shcomou. As Vassal to one of the Five Realms, he had countless responsibilities to the people in his lands and the surrounding Empire.

Wisteryala also controlled the realm's endless market for ore used predominantly in weaponry. Various and plentiful mines kept his coffers full and his influence widespread.

As he passed his tenth cycle of seasons as Vassal of Wisteryala, Rehka announced her third pregnancy, but far too soon, the joy faded.

Something went wrong. Ezren dealt with these obstacles with his usual stone cold surety and determination. Despite his best efforts, he watched her fade from the woman he adored into someone almost unrecognizable. Ezren could do nothing for her and struggled with resentment, an emotional toxin that consumed his every waking moment. The idea of losing her carved something heinous inside him and he hardly had a reputation for being amenable.

But for Rehka, he would raid the cosmos if she only asked.

The delivery was dangerous, a cataclysm of life awash with red. Zeger was born different from the others, somewhat small. Then Rehka was slow to recover from the birthing trauma, left stilted physical abilities and a lingering, unhindered pain. Nursing the babe didn't come easy either, nor did her milk. She fell further into despair and ill health. Then, as the child failed to thrive, Rehka retreated, believing herself a failure in her attempt to care for a whisper of what had once been a dream.

It reached a boiling point when Rehka, in a nasty fit of rage, pulled a knife on him all for the mere attempt to reignite their once passionate coupling. Ezren believed it was necessary for her health to get some time away from her daily pressures — of their other children, the court, their home. In time, he hoped she would recover from the ghastly ordeal, overcome her failures, and forget about the child she had birthed into disaster. He promised to do right by his thriving children and then separated Rehka and Zeger to start her repose. The top kheirgeon from the Empire's best institutions

managed Ezren's concerns over his wife's health. A local vojeaux attended as the authority on childbirth and rearing.

Nothing assuaged the coldness and

impassivity that turned her gleaming brown eyes into unseeing pits. He kissed her then, for the last time. She had not bothered to react, or was perhaps unwilling to acknowledge Ezren at all. With Wisteryala surrounding her, he left her with the bedrocks of all they had worked so hard to build. Rehka could witness it if she only gazed out the window and just tried to push past all the unpleasantness.

Ezren hoped Rehka had tried throughout all this time. He still couldn't face the child that caused this mess. A child rumored to be thriving after one and a half seasons. It wasn't of consequence. Ezren's devotion to the Armistead legacy would not wane. His duty to his land and clan was paramount, with ambitions to realize and less time to waste on fruitless distractions.