Prologue

Nobody expected there to be a World War 3, when it did come, everyone knew the terrible truth. No world leader would give up willingly.

Missile defense systems, foreign and otherwise, were designed to withstand nuclear attacks from without, rather than within.

Greedy politicians and foreign dictators, spoiled in their positions of absolute power, simply refused to lose to one another. Rather than roll over and admit defeat, several decided that their toys, were only for them and no other. That is how The Annihilation came to be.

In the end it was spoiled children sitting on thrones that destroyed civilization as we know it.

Civilization winked out of existence. An atomic onslaught brought mankind to its knees. Broken, humans turned to their most basic survival instincts. As decades passed, mankind became clusters of warring clans, their traded commodities became food, weapons and women.

No gender, nor race, could be suppressed to complete servitude. That is how it came to be that the Feminine Monasteries were formed.

Five capitals formed across the North American continent, they were first known as safe havens, places advertised for women to seek safety. It wasn’t long before women began to fade into myth and legend. Centuries passed, men aged and died, and the population was supplanted with young monasteries, but women were no more.

The Feminine Monasteries became religious symbols of breeding, eventually becoming large cities. The only cities not controlled by clan, but by religion instead. And at the center of each city, women hid behind walls, weapons and creed. They became known as breeders, and few men ever set eyes upon them.



Chapter One

Most Beautiful One



“For that which we name them, they are destined to become. Name them sorrow, and that is all they shall ever know. Name them justice, and so shall they deliver.”

page four, verse 10: Righteous Breeding

Ansel crouched under the massive oak tree, sheltered from the torrential rainfall. Below him there was an open meadow, unprotected from the rain. He had been tracking the men that were spread out below. He didn’t really have a reason, he was just nosey. After three days, he still didn’t know what they were after. They moved tirelessly, intent on their prey, it had to be important. Ansel himself was growing weary from their unrelenting pace.

There were five of them, barely 100 yards away, he watched them intently as they circled a deadfall. The tangled mass of fallen trees and limbs must have served as a hiding spot for their prey.

It was at that moment that Ansel saw her, she burst out of the deadfall like a bird on graceful wings. Movement like that only came from years of practice and training. He found himself blinking, unsure if what he was seeing, was it real? Or sleep deprivation playing tricks on his mind. She was tall and slender, her beauty, stunning. Her clothes were tight and form fitting, but not the clothes of a woodsman, nor that of a soldier. They were gossamer, unlike anything he had ever seen, intimately clinging to her wet feminine form. Once white, they were now dingy and soiled with mud and forest refuse.

Ansel stared at the first woman he’d ever seen in his life. He was frozen in place, in complete shock. He watched as she darted for an opening between the men surrounding her, but she wasn’t fast enough. Caught by a handful of her clothing, she was thrown from her feet.

Ansel twitched at her impact on the ground. A powerful sense that he was witnessing something irrevocably wrong and evil, gnawed at him. These men were not just hunting, they were intent on taking something that was not theirs to take.

The men closed in on her, lithely she got to her feet, her curly hair plastered to her head. The ground at their feet had become churned and muddy, she crouched in the mud, and she fought. She fought unlike anything Ansel had ever seen. It was a dance of fury and rage.