Prolouge

A steel-blue swallow perches on a burnt tree branch. Rays of the setting sun are reflecting off something more lustrous than his feathers. The ground is covered in thousands of silvery-grey minerals, with hematite most abundant. The metallic stones are in rosette formation. Each iron rose has uniquely arranged petals in colours and patterns unimaginable. This particular iron rose amongst the thousands spurred on the fight. Two avant-garde creatures sprinted towards the same iron rose, their legs ceasing to stop until one of them reaches the stone.

The swallow watches intently as the women in a deep-berry jump-suit flips swiftly through the air with the iron rose clenched in her hand. Her opponent is upon her. She is smashed down as her opponent grips onto her partially crimped locks.

The opponent is dressed in a blue-black dress with sharp spikes trailing down her spinal column. The women in the jump-suit rolls forward but she faces her opponent’s black bow. She stands up, hands over the iron rose and she uses this as her opportunity. Her opponent is surprised by the easy surrender and distracted by the mesmerising stone. She makes a run for it back to the safe side of the borderline.

The victor raised the iron rose to the sky, it was hers she thought. It was the perfect opportunity the swallow had been waiting for. He dove down from where he was perched and grasped the iron rose tightly into his claws, dodging arrows that were furiously seeking him out, until he landed safely on Izelle’s shoulder.