About M. L...
Born and raised in Central Indiana, M. L. Lacy settled in Texas during the late 1990′s. A military spouse for twenty years, her travels allowed her to experience and enjoy her passion for the Rocky Mountains and the American West. Those encounters are reflected in M. L. Lacy’s stories.She self-published her first novel in 2009. Chrysalis –The Awakening won Rebecca Reads 2010 Written Art Award – Science Fiction/Fantasy category, and was followed by book two, Chrysalis – Tribulations, in 2010. She accepted a publishing contract fron kNightromance Publishing and the first of her new series will be released by them in April 2012. She has since contracted with them for the re-release of the Chrysalis series. She says her imagination allows her to create fictional worlds that push established storytelling boundaries. She and her husband are the parents of two sons, Christopher and Brent, and the proud grandparents of three lovely granddaughters.
Back Cover Copy...
Chrysalis – The Awakening
All families have secrets. At 32, Bree Campbell discovers her entire life has been a secret. A human born into a family of magicals, she begins questioning everything and everyone around her. The prophecy told at her birth speaks of a Chosen One; the last and greatest of a long line of Chosen Ones charged with saving both the human and magical worlds. Bree must face this reality and life with her new family; a clan of vampires protecting her. The sorceress, Esmeralda, will stop at nothing until this Chosen One is dead. None could then oppose her and she would be free to rid the world of all mortals. Will Bree awaken the hidden powers and find inner strength needed to save the world.
The story takes place over seven days, with one side trip to Yellowstone, in Las Vegas. Bree knows nothing of the magical realm, or who or what she is to become. She joins her grandmother on the trip under the guise of going to a reunion, but the real reason is to make her aware of who she is, and to reunite her with Steven as she begins her quest.
The fine-grained white limestone stick that wrote the symbols on the board floated toward that symbol and examined the change. The chalk moved back so it could scan the entire writing surface, then moved toward the beginning markings and bobbed along while it studied the writings it so meticulously drew.
Samuel glanced up and watched the chalk’s inspection. “It is fine. Mistakes happen.”
As the chalk turned toward him, a small amount of white dust spayed into the air at Samuel’s insinuation it made a mistake. From the first days of Samuel’s studies at Elbridge, the chalk drew perfect characters. Its accuracy was phenomenal, even when Samuel misspoke the ancient text, which he did a time or two in his earlier days. Now to imply it drew incorrectly was an insult and the chalk floated toward the far corner of the board to sulk.
Samuel shook his head at the momentary distraction and refocused on the scroll. It was imperative his translation was accurate. Even the slightest misplacement of a word could change the meaning and this prophecy was critical. Never did he worry over translations in the way he worried over this one and with over two thousand prophecy conversions under his sash from this planet alone—that said something. However, in the end, he knew he would get it right—he was Samuel Woodburn, the realm’s greatest linguist. He has won awards, he has been the only one of their realm to translate every dialect from every planet they have ever lived on and he was confident…worried, but confident, he would translate this prophecy correctly.
He lowered the scroll to begin his readings and glanced down the board at the chalk, ready to tell it he was ready to begin again when he saw the calcite stick, drawing stick figures on the slate, amusingly he rolled his eyes and with a wave of his hand, a soft, gray brush wiped the doodles away. A smile spread across his lips in his bid to make amends. “Your drawings are far more advanced than that, my friend. We have work to do now and I cannot do it without your help.”
The chalk, satisfied with the apology, moved into position and once again, Samuel spoke in the ancient dialect, and the chalk continued with its duty, drawing the emblems on the slate that spoke of the prophecy of the last Chosen One.
The door to the linguistics room opened, and the chalk stopped its drawings, which caused Samuel to glance up from his readings. When he spied who belonged to the footfalls, he chuckled. “Maxwell,” he said in an amiable tone. “What has brought you down here? Curiosity?”
Maxwell Stone strode to the front of the room. With one hand thrust into the pocket of the gray wool robes he wore, his other swung with his stride. “Ah, Samuel, you know me, this has always interested me. The way your group unravels the prophecies, rewrites them, so even the commoners can understand.” He picked up a book that lay on the long table and viewed the cover then returned it to its original spot. His eyes turned serious, and he motioned toward the young steward who worked to light the ancient orbs they used to illuminate the room.
Samuel called over his shoulder to his steward, “Kenneth that is fine. Go and round up the scribes. Tell them we will begin in five minutes.” He turned back toward the slate board and viewed the writings, checking them against the scroll, waiting on the door behind him to close. He ignored his friend until the sound of the soft click met his ears.
“All right, Maxwell, what is the problem?”
“No problem. I wanted to sit in on this session.”
Samuel chuckled. He rolled up the scroll, and tossed it on his desk, glanced back at his friend and shook his head in disbelief at his reason. He moved from behind his desk and walked along the long table, snapping his fingers to make the writing tablets, ink and quills appear.
“Come on, you expect me to believe you had me send my steward away so you could ask if you could sit in?” He angled his chin at his old friend. “Out with it.”
Maxwell looked at him, and a smile creased his lips. “Nervous?”
“What, over this?” Samuel huffed a laugh. “It is what I do. I am a linguist. I translate the old languages. I have twenty of the best working for me. We will get it right. This one is not any different than the ones that came before it,” he said with confidence.
“Ah, but it is important.” Maxwell drew nearer to him, the concern in his voice apparent. “All the others were simple really. We knew the stories about the twenty-four Chosen Ones being born to protect us from ourselves.” He nervously chuckle. “But this one is about the last Chosen One…it has got to have you worried. Have you translated it yet?”
Samuel exhaled slowly. “Yes, I have. The Chosen One that lives this life is going to have a very heavy task. I want my scribes to verify my findings, but if I am correct, this last Chosen One...if she lives...will be our queen. She will sit on the Elder’s throne.” He gazed toward the closed oak doors and let his thoughts wander. “We have not even found the Elder’s throne room, so...” With a shrug, he turned his attention back at his friend and continued. “Anyway, she will guide our world with her sisters—those that still exist. We know from the earlier transcriptions not all of the Chosen Ones will survive, so those that remain will help her...somehow. She will rule in a place called the Americas, and she will right the wrongs of many paths. Many attempts will be made on her life, and if she lives...” His eyes narrowed in thought before he said, “She will bond to a member of the Fourth House. She will strengthen his clan, and he will strengthen her—after she has crossed into the magical realm. I have no idea what this Fourth House is or when it will come into existence or how he, this...fellow, could even strengthen her. The prophecy says she will be more powerful than any who walked before her. She will only be allowed seven companions, and she will know them by their hue…and before your ask, I have no idea what that means.” He shook his head, shrugged, and continued with his task of placing the writing tools and tablets on the tables. “I guess being queen does not give you all the privileges, but the prophecy goes on to say she will be loved by many, she will be fair, and she will have many enemies. The writings ended with, 'to live, she must transform. To lead, she must transform. For corrupt Houses to fall, she must transform. Only then, can she be bitten’.”
Maxwell shook his head while he watched Samuel finish clicking his fingers at the last station. “What, in all of creation, are you doing? Why are you still using these archaic writing devices? Where is your imagination?” He snapped his fingers, and a sleek, futuristic machine appeared on the table. He pressed a button on the top of the machine, and the lid slowly opened, a musical tone played, and a sexy woman’s voice sounded.
“Good Morning, Maxwell.”
Maxwell grinned and flexed his eyebrows. “Work with this.”
Samuel grinned back, clapped his hands, and the machine disappear. “You know the rules. We use nothing in this world before the humans have invented it. Besides, I like to translate the old-fashioned way. I think better, and nothing has been invented in this world that beats a quill and parchment—yet!”
“I know, I know. The Alliance has kept on us to be careful. The prophecy was very clear when we could invent things here. You know, out of all the worlds we could have picked to go to, this is one of the slowest races! It is going to take forever to bring this world up to speed with all the other worlds we have lived on.”
“I remember that prophecy. It took us nearly three years to translate it all. That was the only prophecy from that seer, too, but he saw everything right so far.” Samuel laughed at his old friend. “Look, you worry about inventing things in this world and let me worry about the prophecies.” He turned toward the doors as they opened and his crew entered, and then looked back at Maxwell. “Stay a while and watch. This should be interesting.”
Samuel stood at the front of the room and greeted a few of his team while they took their seats in the front. Maxwell shuffled toward the back of the room and took a seat in the corner.
“All right, settle down everyone.” Samuel patted the air, motioning for silence. “Today, we have a very important task. This is a very ancient prophecy.” He motioned toward the slate board. “And it is very important we get it right. Therefore, instead of us breaking into groups and working on separate projects, I want us all focusing on this one. I will give you about ten minutes to look it over and form your thoughts, and then we will begin.”
“Sir?” a young woman in the back spoke up.
“Yes, ah...Rachel is it?” He frowned, not sure of her name.
“Have you translated it?” She smiled a bright smile to him.
“Ah, yes...yes, I have. I...because this is such an important prophecy, I want to ensure my findings are correct.” He looked around the room at everyone. “Any other questions?” After several shook their heads, he instructed them to begin.
Several quills dipped themselves in the ink and wrote while their owners stared at the board in deep concentration, while others wrote the old-fashioned way. With quill in hand, they dipped the tip in the ink, then gently tapped the excess off, and jotted their notes across the parchment. Some changed their minds, tore their parchment up, and started again.
After the allotted time had passed, Samuel cleared his throat. “All right, any thoughts?” He waited, his arms spread, beckoning input. “Anyone?”
The same young woman slowly raised her hand. “Sir?”
Samuel looked toward the back of the room with encouragement. “Yes, Rachel.”
“There are no rhymes to this one.”
He smiled. “Go on.”
“Well, it tells of the birth of the last Chosen One...”
Maxwell sat back and listened while the scribes worked through the process of translating the ancient words. He grinned, realizing his friend had successfully translated the old text, but his expression soon turned to concern when he heard the words of warning.
If this Chosen One failed to cross or failed in her path, the human and the magical realms would cease to exist. He sat stone still and struggled with his thoughts. Complete annihilation! The gateway that brought us here will not appear again to take us to another world! I cannot even begin to envision this! He gave a silent prayer. I hope to all that is powerful...this Chosen One, never has to be born.
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Contact M.L Lacy at her website: http://www.mllacy.com// and facebook fan page/ M.L.Lacy
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