I wrote a book...

... But english is not my native language. Nor do I have the will to translate it myself... I took 9 months to write it, for Luna's sake

I translated only the prologue, but it was a very early version, not as good as it is now. I'm trying to send it to a publisher, but I'm having some personal *problems (finally troll editor let me change this). Since I already have claimed its rights and all that burocratic stuff, I though of showing it to the better crowd I could think of...

You, of course.

I'm not at my own PC right now, and the prologue is there and only there. When I come back I will post it here for everypony to see.

And if there's a cheerful, helpful and willful brony from Portugal or Brazil or any other portuguese-speaking nation here, that wouldn't mind to read and translate a work of around 200 word pages about a boy living with his father and a friend of his father on the greatest city of the world (a fictional world named Requin) which discovers that is being chased by shadows everywhere and in its adolescence is trained in the ways of the sword and magic to uphold against those and the Shadow Goddess that rules over them, while seeking aid from the other Six Gods as well, and finding friends, lovers and foes of all types; learning more and more about the human being and how twisted he really was inside, because of a power concealed deep within by the Shadow, which is why he is chased at the first place. And, you know, that kind of stuff;

... That would like it to translate for this AWESOME community...

Well, it would be awesome.

 

Even though I'm from Brazil?


1st Part: Reunion

Prologue


The ritual was ending.


- Hurry up, Mage.

The “contracted” Mage was saying the enchantments as fast as he could.
- ...Quod ego beatus somes per septem divinus quod plurrimi validus of lemma : umbra Permissum somes exsisto perussi per Umbra quod exsisto rectum per Umbra. – The smoke and the flames grew as they got more intense and light that clean night, as dark as his Master. He was on the ruins of a orfanage, still burning, still with corpses of both guards and children. Not one single survivor, aside from himself, and the small boy in front of him. The fire, the screams, all the terror still echoes in his mind. He wasn’t used to be so... Perverse, but his ambition for power was higher than his morale. And he was finishing a ritual to transform that only survivor into a descendent of the Shadow itself; the Renegade Divine, which refused to help in the creation of the world.
And the Mage would receive with a small part of that power if he helped in the creation of such descendent, even being already capable of incredible powers of restauration, alteration, creation, and many others schools of Magic. But mainly, as it was obvious around him, destruction.
- Permissum is operor Umbra mos. Permissum is exsisto prognatus quondam iterum ex Umbra.
- Finish it! Finish it! – Screamed the excited voice of the Shadow in his mind, cold and infernal beyond any mortal could even imagine. Only It would be more intense than the echo of its speech.
- Danger approaches. Finish it!
- Quod iam... Concluion successio prognatus of umbra... – While he was recitating the very last words, the final part that would transfer the conscience of the Damned to the baby, light from another source was closing in: a torch. The Mage continued the ritual, since he was almost finishing it... The last part of the process that would allow the Shadow to have what should have been her by right: a place in the world of the living, as a mortal. And conquer it with him.

As the flames came closer, the Mage realized he did not have enough time.
- ... Ut iacio super him Um-! Screamed the Mage in his last breath, while a blade went right through his chest. The last thing he heard was the disappointed sigh of the Shadow, while him left hat world, only to be revived as a minion of what corroded his heart, not far away from here, in the North.
The baby was in the middle of a small altar constructed quickly, sleeping. He was covered in blood, as well as the altar; there was also the mark of a whirl in his hand, as dark as that night. However, he was sleeping peacefully, even though he was almost corrupted forever.
The hooded man cleaned his sword and took the baby from there, long before the dawn come and soldiers of Deluna find only ashes of a small orfanage while they progressed on their patrol.

But the boy was marked.

It was too late.