Here is what others have to say:

"Oh, wow! This is a tale of dark magic, the purest of hearts, powerful gems, and the love between a Knight and his Lady! I found the story intriguing from page one! How Aurora suffered so much with her first husband and still remained pure of heart is amazing to me! A story to be read and reread often!" - Huntress Book Reviews

"When the rapture on your face causes people to ask what you're reading, you know it's a damn good book. Crystal Legacy: Heart of the Myst is one of the most all-consuming, brilliantly written novels ever to touch your heart. The plot is flawless. Just as you relax your guard, another unexpected and well thought out turn takes you by surprise. Pieces come together, page by page, as the mystery of the seraph, the legend, and Aurora's destiny unfolds. Every element is masterfully pulled together by the writing team of Hart and Middleton. Their voice and talent for manipulating and evoking a reader's emotions are unparalleled, guaranteed to bring you to laughter and tears again and again. Crystal Legacy: Heart of the Myst is a treasure within itself." - Cass Andre, author of Veiled Hearts

"I really enjoyed Heart of the Myst - I read it twice. I could hardly put the book down. The love story between Aurora and Corius was excellent. I was cheering for them the whole way. [Angelica and David] paint a lovely picture of the complexity of true love: companionship, passion, tenderness, teasing, concern, willingness to sacrifice, respect, etc... I enjoyed watching their love develop and deepen." - Kim Phillips, Co-chair of an active Minnesota Book Club

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THE CRYSTAL LEGACY

HEART OF THE MYST

By
Angelica Hart & David P. Middleton

Prologue
A baby’s wails shattered the peace of Crystonia’s castle halls. Queen Maija bolted upright in bed, and without looking reached into the cradle beside her. "Anton," she gasped as she found emptiness, "the baby is not here."

Her lover and king immediately struck a flint and lit a plump candle. A soft glow anointed the chamber. "The nursemaid has probably taken her for changing," he began with a smile. "Milady, you do indeed fret overmuch. Mayhap…"

Before he could finish, a scream echoed through the castle’s passageways along with the baby’s fresh cries.

Sharp tendrils of terror severed the queen’s breath. Without words, she scrambled from the bed and, with King Anton in the lead, rushed through the long passages toward the nursemaid’s chamber and the continuous scream. Maija’s flimsy nightshift proved inadequate against the night chill, but the queen felt nothing beyond fear. The shriek turned into a tragic sob even as the babe’s cries soften to a pathetic mew. Both sounds ripped through the young monarchs like well-honed blades.

From behind they could hear the feet of slayers and guards pounding the tiled floor, while outside a cantankerous wind cut through the dark night as if in accord with the endless screeches. Upon entering, they inhaled the pungent stench of burning flesh and spotted the nursemaid bound to a pillar with briar’s twine around her ankles, wrists and neck.

Directly in front of them, poised between two open casements stood a wooden table fully ablaze. Maija’s personal guard beat the flames with open palms, while Ijah, priest-sorcerer, pushed the guard aside and grabbed something from the table.

Sobbing, he wrapped it in a swaddling cloth and held it close to his chest smothering the fire. It was then the royal couple noticed the lit crimson candles scattered throughout and the bloodstained floor and walls. It was then that they realized what the priest held so close. It was then that they understood why tears fell unabashedly free over the normally placid man’s cheeks.

It was Maija’s turn to scream a shrill endless scream that pierced the souls of all within hearing. "Nay! Please, Shaddai, not my child… not my babe… Nay!" she shrieked again and again.

Before any could stop her, she pried the bundle from the knight’s embrace and gently peeled away the cloth. She didn’t recognize her daughter. A charred indistinguishable lump was all that remained of a once sweet, joyous soul. Before she could fully comprehend the death of her infant, Maija succumbed to darkness.

* * *

Later, as the court physician plied the queen with a sleeping potion, Anton returned to the nursemaid’s chamber. At his command nothing had been touched. The scorched table remained positioned between the windows. His daughter’s blood still stained the floor and walls. The nursemaid’s binding remained beneath the pillar. He felt as if those thorny bindings encased his heart with pinpricks of tormenting pain. "She did not even have her naming day," he whispered to the emptiness, his voice raw and cracked.

"What shall we put on her tomb?" "We shall inscribe, seraph," the sacred sorcerer, keeper of the ancient scrolls, priest to Shaddai, announced as he stepped into the chamber.

Anton had many questions for the holy man, Ijah, not the least that of questioning Shaddai’s wisdom of allowing such tragedy. Knowing, though, he’d speak out of pain and fury, he held his tongue and ignored the sorcerer.

"I found this at the crystal’s base," the sorcerer held out a scroll.

"There are many such scrolls there," Anton responded wishing the intrusive man away. He didn’t want solace. He wanted vengeance. He wanted his child back. He wanted… He stilled his useless thoughts. His wants had been secondary to that of the kingdom’s needs since this very sorcerer first approached him only a mere half-dozen rotations ago. "Is that not what you do, transcribe the writing within the crystal and pen them onto parchment?"

"Aye, and this was the latest that I have penned."

"Why bring it to me now, in my grief?"
"Because neither you nor the queen have time for grief."
"We will make the time."

"Read this, milord."

"Leave me, priest, before there is more blood spilled this blackest night!"

"The last line on this parchment I did not pen."

"So, someone has played a joke. Go! I will not hear of it now!"

"You must. It had been written in your daughter’s blood."

So certain that nothing else could pierce his heart, Anton did not expect to battle tears yet again.

Grabbing the scroll from the sorcerer, he peeled it open and read aloud as it unwound. "In a distant world caught between the echoes of time and the gaps of known history, a kingdom emerged. It was a land where sanctified sorcerers, with honor and truth, ruled alongside monarchs of equal valor, a land where dragons were tame and praise and worship prevailed, a land where a crystal’s cerulean myst shielded all against fiendish horrors. Then, Moloch, a seraph of noted splendor, mounted an insurrection in the crystal garden and Shaddai cast him out. Furious, Moloch claimed Shaddai’s righteous kingdom and its occupants for himself. Hence began the battles between light and dark and the ownership of mortal souls."

Anton paused as his heart clenched and his breath stilled, then he whispered the words that had been boldly etched in blood.
"The battle begins anew…"

* * * * Enough! Enough! * * * *

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