

Destiny's Gem

The Risen Lands Series

A Novella by J. Cain McKrell

Published by Booksmithy at Smashwords

Copyright 2017 J. Cain McKrell

License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook is consented to be re-sold or given away to other people by the author. This ebook is free and always will be. Please feel free to share with friends and family! If you enjoy this novella, don't forget to check out other books in the Risen Lands series.
Dedicated to my wife Tami Crowley.

Whom without my destiny is unfulfilled, forever seeking my gem.

Every character has a tale, a history all their own. Each plays a part in the story of the gems, a role however large or small, for good or evil. This is the story of Sevra, most decidedly evil - though she was not always this way.

Twice Born

The aging midwife pressed a cool, damp rag onto the poor girl's forehead, attempting to give her some comfort during the difficult childbirth. She had delivered hundreds of babies during her many years as the healer for the small farming village and sadly, she had seen this same situation unfold a few times, each ending with a stillborn baby. She shifted her focus to making the mother as comfortable as possible; there was also a serious risk of her dying as well.

The baby was not only breeched, with feet coming out first from the womb, but it was also face down, increasing the chances of the umbilical cord wrapping around the child's neck and strangling it as it moved through the birth canal.

The girl writhed on the bed as yet another contraction wracked her already exhausted body. The midwife was amazed at the strength of her will, she barely even made a noise when other women much older than her screamed as though they were being tortured by the Gods themselves during routine childbirth. Speaking softly to the young woman, who was not much more than a child herself, the midwife instructed her to push with every bit of strength she had left. She prayed that with this contraction the baby, likely dead already, would be out so she could tend to the severe bleeding which followed this type of traumatic delivery.

The midwife's prayers were answered and the baby slipped out onto the soft linen cloth that covered the foot of the bed. Tragically the midwife's fears were also realized as the baby, a girl, lay motionless on the cloth with a slightly blue tint to her skin. Quickly cutting the cord, the midwife tenderly wrapped up the baby she assumed to be dead and placed it into the large basket she brought with her for times such as this, when the Gods took a babe at birth. Unable to revive it, she turned her attention back to the woman on the bed. She packed more clean linen between her legs and gently massaged her stomach, going through the normal steps following birth, except this time the newborn would not be at its mother's breast for her first feeding.

Motioning for the nervous father to come into the room, the midwife sat on a stool next to the bed. She pushed the girl's hair back from her sweat and tear streaked face. She reached over and took her hand preparing herself for the awful moment when she had to tell this woman that she would not have a baby to nurse. The midwife felt the grip tighten as the young mother struggled to bear the physical pain she was still experiencing from the prolonged labor.

The father, not much older than his wife, looked around the room before he turned to face the midwife. The question on his lips went unasked but the answer was in his eyes as his gaze landed on the basket with a corner of the bloody cloth hanging over the side. She watched heartbroken as his face then body crumpled, collapsing him to his knees next to the bedside. Averting her eyes the best she could to give them as much privacy as was possible, she saw his head drop to the pillow near the girl's face.

Finally opening her eyes, she turned, releasing the midwife's hand. She reached over to bury her fingers in her husband's hair, their foreheads touching while they cried silently. The healer stood and quietly began gathering her things. She placed another clean blanket over the basket before lifting the woeful bundle and moving towards the door.

With a last look back she gently pushed the door open, prompting the father to look her way. "Come out, when you are ready," she whispered softly. The father nodded absently before burying his head again next to the girl's. It would be a while yet before he met her outside.

The midwife left the shack, exhaling heavily. _No matter how many times, it never gets easier_ , she lamented. The wails of the grieving mother continued from inside, adding pangs of guilt onto her feelings of remorse. Part of her knew there was no more she could have done for this baby, but she couldn't help to blame herself, no matter how irrational. Perhaps tonight she would reflect on what she might have done differently, if there could have been a better outcome. She was one of the best midwives in the area, only losing roughly one in twenty babes. Most lost twice as many. With the presentation of this particular birth however, it was doomed from the start. She reminded herself that the Gods had their own plan, but at moments like this it provided little comfort.

Sometimes, the world was simply cruel.

As she waited, she was surprised to find the sun already beginning to set. Seeing how much time had passed during the difficult birth made her realize how tired she felt. The glow across the fields did little to brighten her spirit; it's beauty only serving to mock the hellish experience of the last twenty hours. Golden fields stretched across the horizon, the fertile ground providing life to all those who dwelled here. She looked down to the basket, another pang of sadness welling up from deep inside. If she didn't find something to keep her mind occupied, the tears forming in her eyes were going to become an opened floodgate. Off a ways some wildflowers bloomed sporadically; she would pick a few as she waited for the husband to assist her with the burial.

Dusk began to fall in earnest by the time she heard the young farmer rustling outside of his home, through the soft grass. The fine hairs on the back of her next stood as she viewed his silhouette approach. The unmistakable form of his wife was draped under a sheet in his arms. "We're going to need to dig two graves," he said somberly.

She wanted to berate him for not coming to get her. His wife wasn't in very good shape after her ordeal, but was stable. She had seen to that. Upon looking at him, her words fell short. He was devastated, just yesterday he had a wife and was looking forward to a child. Tonight, he would be burying his family. "Get my shovel from around the corner of the house and follow me," he told her.

She walked with him in silence towards the end of the property, nearly tripping as the last of the day's light began to fade. They stopped in front of a small clearing, a few piles of stones spaced evenly apart. "My family's gravemarkers," he said, "all the way back to my great-great grandfather. I didn't expect to be putting my wife..." Unable to finish the sentence, he broke into tears before regaining his composure. He took the shovel and began to dig in silence.

"You don't have to do this tonight," she said to him softly.

"Yes, I do," he answered, and continued to dig.

"Why do the Gods punish me so?" he said after a time, his pace becoming more agitated.

"You should take a break, go back inside and rest. You're in shock," she told him.

Continuing to dig, it seemed as though he didn't even hear her. He grunted with effort with each strike of shovel to dirt, going faster and faster. "It was that babe's fault my Ellie is dead," he said through gritted teeth.

"No, there isn't fault in things like this," she answered him softly, "go inside and rest, we can have the neighbors help us in the morning."

Again he appeared not to hear her, shoveling frantically. "It is," he argued, "that fel-touched thing was sent here to take everything from me."

"Be careful where you throw that..." she began, seeing some of the dirt hit the basket.

A stuttered choke came from the bundle, followed by the wail of a babe that pierced the night air and sent a shiver along the midwife's spine. The digging stopped. The wind seemed to stop. She thought her heart might stop. It was impossible.

She rushed to the little girl's side, reaching into the basket. With a practiced hand she instinctually found a pulse along the baby's neck, as if she needed to confirm she wasn't hallucinating.

"She's alive," the midwife gasped, looking up to the father in disbelief. "It's a miracle!"

Laughing she gently cradled the child, standing to present her to her parent. A cold feeling in the pit of her stomach made her withdraw; even in the darkness, she could see the look of horror on his face.

"Get off my farm, and never come back," he said with a terrible calmness. It was a superficial calm that had the promise of violence underneath it.

"But..." she stammered.

"I said begone!"

She backed away as he raised the shovel threateningly. "Even though it was against my better judgment, we brought you here because everyone said you were the best. You're nothing more than a witch from the woods! Now take that little demon with you and never come back here!"

She stumbled backwards, cradling the baby in her arms. "No, please," she begged, "this is your daughter!"

"No child breathes life after being dead for hours! You killed my wife with this... _thing,_ " he shouted, advancing.

"There's no need for any of that, I'm leaving," she said, suddenly standing tall and confident. Her voice was cold, and she met his eyes with her own steel-eyed glare.

He paused, and she could sense a single moment of doubt in him. "You know where to find us when you come to your senses," she spat. Satisfied, she turned and calmly walked away.

Once out of eyeshot, she let out a deep breath and hurried as fast as she could in the twilight. She had never been more terrified in her life, and thanked the Gods her bluff worked. It was time to return to Shady Vale, her home in the woods. She needed to sort through everything that happened tonight, try to make sense of it. The leader would help her; he was wise and caring. He always said there was nothing so valuable as a place to call home. In a way they were all outcasts and found kinship with each other, and now this baby would need a home and probably a family.

By the time she reached the woods, her anxiety began to dissipate and she was certain she hadn't been followed. Completely breathless, she slowed to a walk and began to catch her wind. The baby began to cry, so as she walked she gently shushed it, bobbing it in her arms. It would be hours more of walking before reaching their tiny, secluded village. To pass the time she hummed softly for a while, some songs she knew and others were just notes that sounded nice; the baby seemed to like it so she continued as long as she could.

When she tired of her serenade, the midwife began to think aloud, if only to hear any voice in the oppressive darkness. "Well you certainly had an interesting first day of life, didn't you?" she said sweetly. It was one of the more eventful days of her life, to be sure. Because of some of the people she lived near, she was accustomed to the unexpected. It did not, however, lessen her surprise or delight at this baby miraculously kicking to life.

The baby made a few small noises, holding up its part of the conversation in its own way.

The midwife giggled, "Of course, that's the first time one of my patients tried to kill me. I guess it's been an interesting day for me too."

A few yards ahead the path forked, and had she not known these woods so well she certainly would have missed it. Her fearfulness vanished, knowing she neared home.

"And just what am I going to do with you now?" she mused, "I doubt your father will be showing up to claim you. I'll watch over you as long as I need to, such a special little thing you are."

She continued to bob the baby up and down a few times affectionately. "Yes, I'll have to call you something...what to name you?"

It came to her almost instantly, a word in the old tongue with many meanings, one of which to be removed and later returned. "I will call you _Sevra_."

Essentially the girl was born twice, taken away and then brought back, so it seemed fitting. "My name is Lorna, Lorna Vitano. I look forward to seeing what you become, little one."
Four Years Later

"Sevra! Come inside it's almost time for dinner!"

Children played outside in the center of town, a mazework of dirt paths coming together in front of a statue under construction. The artisan carefully chiseled away at the inscription on the base, while the kids ran around just far enough away to not get yelled at. Lorna watched him as she waited, not seeing Sevra among the gaggle of children. He worked with extreme focus, seemingly oblivious to the occasional shriek of joy and excitement that escaped from the jubilant youths. He was very good, commissioned all the way from a town to the north.

More calls drifted across the village, summoning children one by one to their respective homes until the crowd dispersed. Kneeling by herself against a stone wall, with her back turned to everything else, Sevra carefully arranged a few rocks and sticks. She stood, daintily dusting off her wool dress and walked slowly home. When she saw Lorna she smiled, a small upturn at the corners of her lips. Where the other children were a chaotic heap of laughter and exuberance, Sevra was always calm and organized. Every action she ever made from the time she was able to walk seemed so purposeful; she carried herself with focused intent whether outside playing or helping with chores. Sometimes it was almost to the point of being disconcerting, like watching a grownup trapped in the body of a little girl.

She was a tiny thing, with light skin and the darkest hair, like a pale moon lonely in the night sky. And those eyes; they were far too introspective to belong to a four-year old.

"Come inside and help set the table," she told her. There was no point in telling her to change out of dirty play-clothes. They were never dirty.

Lorna began to ladle her stew into the two bowls set at the table. They ate in silence for a time; though the girl wasn't overly talkative it was unusual for her not to say anything at all. Something was bothering Sevra; she could tell by the way she ran her hands over her dress, smoothing and fussing over it.

"Why weren't you playing with the other children, angel?" she asked Sevra, guessing that to be the cause of her sullenness. It was a frequent talk she gave the girl, trying to get her to play well with the others.

She sat for several seconds before answering, "How come Yulan gets a statue, Momma Lorna?"

"Because, he is an important man."

"Is that like being special?" Sevra asked. "You always tell me I'm special."

Lorna laughed and sighed lightly, "Yes, it is. But it takes more than just being born with a gift. Everyone, in their own way has something to offer the world. Most never find what it is. Even if they do, sometimes they choose not to apply it or themselves."

Sevra nodded as if she understood, those deep introspective eyes reflecting the candle light. Such a clever girl.

"Yulan has done great work for people like us, and we honor him for it," Lorna told her. "Now clean up and get ready for bed, I'll read you a story."

Sevra didn't know what Yulan did to be so great, she only knew she wanted to be just as great when she grew up. Maybe people would build a statue for her one day, too.

***

Sevra awoke with a start, her nightgown and sheets soaked in sweat. She sat there shivering for a time, trying without success to warm up again under her blankets. It was still dark outside so she didn't want to get up – Momma Lorna didn't like it when she got out of bed before dawn. The dreams had come to her again, the ones where she felt like she was floating. She had gone outside during the night, around the village and into the woods. There were never any other people, only strange little strands of silver, like ribbons flitting and fluttering about. Even though she knew it wasn't real, the dream scared her. It _felt_ real.

She never actually left her bed, but always checked after these dreams to make sure she really hadn't and tracked dirt back inside. Once satisfied she was only dreaming, she lay back down but was too afraid to go to sleep. What if she got lost when she was gone, or if Momma Lorna tried to wake her up and she wasn't there? Or maybe she would be there still but unable to be woken up... the thought made her shiver. She wanted to tell someone about the dream but was too scared to. The other kids would just have another reason to be mean to her, and she didn't want Momma Lorna to worry. No, the only option was to stay in bed until the sun came up and keep this a secret.

After what seemed an eternity, the sun finally began to peek into her window and she felt it was late enough to be a normal time to get up.

"Good morning Momma Lorna," she said, entering the kitchen and sitting down.

"Hello, little one," she answered with a warm smile.

Sevra smiled back despite her stormy thoughts; Momma Lorna always had a way of chasing them off.

"Can you be a dear and go to the gardens for me this morning?" Momma Lorna asked. "We need a few more peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, and carrots. It might take you two or three trips so you'll want to get started soon."

Sevra's face broke into a big grin, one of the few times she managed to have a child-like expression. She hurried off, grabbing a handful of nuts to munch on and a basket to carry all the food back. She really liked the gardens, so colorful and alive. Momma Lorna explained to her that even the plants and trees were living things, in their own way. Sevra didn't quite understand how that could be, but according to Momma Lorna there was a lot that a child simply wasn't ready to understand. She accepted this as one of those things; the same way she accepted Momma Lorna wasn't really her mother even though she didn't really understand why she wasn't with her parents.

It was still early and none of the other children were up yet, only little Zayden in his coveralls and work boots. He was barely old enough to walk but shadowed his daddy in every movement as he completed his morning's tasks. The gardens were just beyond the last house along the trail, available for all to use. Momma Lorna always said it was better when everyone worked together and their vegetable garden was an example of that. _Maybe it works that way for adults_ , she supposed. Kids were mean, so she usually preferred to be by herself.

The sun barely poked through the trees, glistening on the morning dew collected on the plants and leaves. Sevra began to collect a few of the vegetables, carefully arranging each one within her basket. She tested the weight after she'd pick a few, making sure it wasn't too heavy for her to haul back. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the freshness of the world around her. It was all so beautiful it made her feel like singing, but she was sad at the same time, that no one else was there for her to share the song.

A small bead of water dripped onto her hand from the leaf of a pepper plant, shimmering as it caught the light. All around her the garden shone and sparkled, and she giggled in delight at the tricks the mischievous sun played this morning.

Her smile disappeared as she continued to observe the prisms reflecting off the water. At first she only pursed her lips, like she did when she was deep in thought. It devolved into a sense of terror though when she realized all was not as it should be. The grey and silver swirls she saw in her dreams encircled everything around her. The leaves, trees, plants, even her arms and shoulders were slowly enshrouded by them, so gradually springing into existence it was as if they had always been there; she only failed to notice them before.

She remained perfectly still, breathing heavily, too petrified to move. With great care she pinched her arm, making sure she wasn't dreaming. Her nails broke skin from the effort, a small trickle of blood tantalizingly running down her arm. For some reason she was transfixed by it; nothing felt more real at that moment than the line of blood. In an instant her trance was broken, the world returned to normal and the swirling mists ceased to be. She was left with her half full basket, a pain in her arm and the morning clamor of bugs and insects awaking to the day in the heat.

Before returning home she cleaned off her arm, wiping the blood away with her finger and then onto the grass. Part of her wanted to tell Momma Lorna, but she didn't want to worry her. The truth was she felt scared. What if there was something wrong with her, or worse, maybe she did something bad and might get in trouble? No, she couldn't say anything to Momma Lorna, she decided. She would have to keep this and the dreams a secret, for as long as she needed to.
Manifestation

"Sevra, stop crying darling." Lorna sat at the table, nursing the babe in her arms. All the years that had passed and deliveries she performed, she never gave much thought to having one of her own. What a blessing it was to hold her own son in her arms. The baby began to fuss, probably sensing that Sevra was upset and following suit. The poor girl wept frequently of late; as bright as she was she simply had a hard time making any friends. Lorna hoped over time she'd adjust, but Sevra seemed to shy away more and more each year.

"Yulan, would you speak to her please?" she asked in a tone that insinuated 'No' would not be an acceptable response. She and Yulan had been together nearly two years now, though in truth their courtship extended another several years' worth of stolen glances and excuses to spend time together. Sevra had taken to him almost instantly; they seemed to bond closer than her and the girl ever had, without any effort. Lorna didn't begrudge him for it, though in truth it frustrated her at times.

Yulan looked up from his chair in the living room, setting his book down and readjusting his glasses with a single finger. He tapped out his pipe into the ash tray on the table next to him and waved the girl over. Sevra gave a forlorn look towards the baby and Lorna, and trudged over to Yulan.

"Come here with Uncle Yuley," Yulan said through a strain as he reached forward and plucked Sevra onto his lap. "Now tell me what is troubling my little Sparklebug."

She sat there for a while with her head half-tucked into his chest, staring off at the far wall while a few remaining tears ran down her face. Yulan didn't press her; she'd always come around when she was ready.

"They're so mean," she finally said.

Earlier in the day one of the boys through a handful of mud on her dress while she was sitting close-by, pretending not to watch them play. Lorna went out to give them an earful when Sevra came home crying.

"You know Sevra, you're a very special little girl," Yulan said softly, "sophisticated and intelligent for one so young."

Sevra sniffled.

"Boys on the other hand, are not. Men either for that matter, right Lorn?" he added with a grin.

"Mmm-hmm," Lorna agreed absently, bobbing their baby on her knee. She loved Yulan, despite himself at times.

"That little boy probably just wanted your attention, and boys being what they are, that was the only way he could think to get it," he added.

"That boy was out of line, Yulan," Lorna disagreed, "honestly was he raised in a pig sty? Throwing mud, these kids have no manners these days."

"Now now, I'm not saying it was right and I'll see to it he apologizes tomorrow," Yulan answered, "but unfortunately boys will be boys. I'm just trying to give the girl a little perspective."

"It made me really mad," Sevra said with her tiny lips pursed. She looked like an angry, porcelain doll on Yulan's lap.

Yulan quickly interceded, whenever Sevra made that face it was usually followed by an explosion. As dainty as she was, she had the temper of a bull when it came out. "I'll talk with their parents tomorrow. I'm sure they're very sorry they upset you, honey."

"They will be," Sevra promised quietly. Yulan furrowed his brow and looked over to Lorna, who bore a similar expression of worry.

"Alright Sparklebug let's get you to bed, you'll feel better in the morning. Uncle Yuley will read you a story," he said, picking Sevra up and carrying her off.

Lorna likewise took the baby over to his crib, tucking him in with a lullaby. He was such an easy child, thankfully sleeping through the night most of the time. His disposition was starkly different than Sevra's was, even at only a few months old she could tell. This one was very easy going and rarely fussed, where she had needed everything done on a rigid schedule and was frequently anxious. Of course, she loved them both very much; it was just a matter of differences in their inborn personalities.

"Phew, she's finally settling down. Kept getting herself all riled up about those boys," Yulan said quietly when he came back. He chuckled a little, but it was more nervous laughter than genuine mirth.

"I worry about her, Yulan," Lorna said, "she stays to herself too much. And I'm not saying those boys don't deserve an ear-boxing, but she hangs on to every single slight and it festers. It's not healthy."

"She's a sensitive little girl," Yulan agreed, "wound up tight but that almost always comes with someone of her intelligence. She'll be fine."

"I just worry because of who her parents were, that father of hers..." Lorna began.

"You're doing a great job raising her," Yulan reassured, "taking her in like that. There's no reason to think she'll share the same malady that afflicted him."

Lorna looked off into the distance, remembering that night over seven years ago. _How time has flown_ , she thought. After a few weeks she returned to the farmer, but he seemed to have lost any semblance of sanity after his wife passed. For a while she occasionally checked in on him; as the years passed, his condition only grew worse.

"I was certain she'd be gifted," Lorna said, shaking her head. "When you first saw her you said..."

Yulan stopped her with a raised hand and a shake of his head. "I stand by that. She is doubly gifted, considering what happened after her birth."

She wondered if the gift he and Sevra shared, that Yulan said would take shape within the girl eventually added to the bond they shared. "It would have manifested by now, wouldn't it? Didn't you say by age five they always begin to show signs?" Lorna argued. "She needs more than I can give her, than this little village can give her."

"I am certain she can touch the spirits," Yulan reiterated. They had held this conversation so many times he'd nearly lost count. "I can feel it coming from her in waves, at some point it will be inevitable that she demonstrates it."

Yulan walked over to where Lorna sat, placing his hand on her shoulder. She laid her chin on his hand, craning her head to look up at him. "Let's get to sleep. I have some business to the south to tend to tomorrow."

Lorna scowled. South only meant one place, Dalesford, and it was out of the ordinary for him to be summoned there these days.

"It's probably nothing," he said reassuringly, "maybe they just want to know why they haven't seen me in so long."

He laughed heartily, disarming her growing frown. Sighing, she relented and took his hand, allowing herself to be guided off to bed.

***

"Why's she always lookin' at everyone so funny?"

"Hey why are you staring at us all the time?"

Sevra hardly acknowledged the other children beginning to gather around her. She didn't see them anymore, instead focusing on the wispy tendrils surrounding each of them. The patterns were all different, as different as their faces or the lines on their hands. At first it scared her when she started to see things, but it had been happening to her so long now that it was as natural as breathing. She had to concentrate to stop it – not that she bothered to try stopping it anymore. The swirls were far more interesting than the people.

Vaguely she heard one of them say something to her, probably being mean again. Last night she hardly slept at all, being so angry about how they treated her yesterday. Momma Lorna insisted she go out and get some fresh air this morning, despite her protests. She would've much rather just stayed inside by herself. Making the best of it, she watched the dancing streaks of light and dark, enjoying the show they put on for her and only her. It wasn't only individuals they surrounded, but every single plant, tree and animal she could see.

Yesterday she discovered something new about them. She could reach out and touch them, not with her hand, but with her mind. Her lips pressed together slightly, remembering the profound joy she felt when she interacted with the swirls.

"I said what are you looking at? Now her mouth's open like she's gone daffy," one of the boys said, laughing.

Distantly Sevra heard a boy's voice piercing through her concentration. She couldn't exactly make out what he said, nor did she care to, but the interruption came across as a grating droll that made her temper flare.

Streaks of grey, white, and black mingled and danced. She reached to them without moving, extending her thoughts outward. She had never before felt such a connectedness to the world around her, it was a sense of pure joy and peace.

Something splattered against the side of her cheek, dripping down onto her neck. Her beautiful, pale face turned red with embarrassment underneath the hunk of mud she now wore. The mists around them began to fade, the laughter of the other children returning in full. Seething rage filled her senses, and she clawed back through the mists, blindly wrenching and twisting at the currents flowing around her.

Children doubled over in pain, some fell to the ground and lay still and motionless, the rest stood frozen in confusion before running away in terror. Sevra emerged from her trance shaken and scared, seeing a few of her tormenters in pain and others motionless. But underneath her fright was a deep sense of satisfaction. They wronged her first and she made it even. She didn't want to hurt them but they made her do it; it was their fault.

It quickly dawned on her what she did, and how much trouble she would be in when Momma Lorna and Uncle Yuley found out. It wasn't right that they could all pick on her, and she was the one who would end up being punished. The injustice of it made her all that much angrier.

She did what any seven year old who just did something bad would do, ran away. She panicked - overwhelmed by what she just did, the unfairness of it all, but most of all she scared herself. In a panic, she sprinted towards the gardens. Behind her, now in the distance, she began to hear concerned grownups shouting the other kids' names.

After a few minutes she began to hear her name called. It was Momma Lorna, and she sounded worried.

"Oh there you are darling, I was so scared," she said, coming upon Sevra huddled between rows of vegetables. She sat there hugging her knees to her chest, looking straight ahead.

"Do you feel well? Can you stand?" Momma Lorna asked, reaching down to check her pulse and feel her forehead.

Sevra looked up and shook her head. "Here we go, baby, try and stand," Momma Lorna insisted, not seeing anything visibly wrong with her girl. She took her hand, gently getting her to her feet.

"Is it your tummy?" Momma Lorna asked, seeing Sevra with her arms folded tightly in front of her. "We think some of the other children might have had food poisoning."

Sevra nodded.

"Come on, let's get you to the infirmary house with the others."

She let herself be guided away, putting her head against Lorna's side as they walked.

"You'll be okay, it didn't seem to hit you as bad as a few of the others," she reassured. Sevra didn't really hear her, she was more concerned with how much trouble she would be in once they knew it was her fault.

Once they got inside Sevra saw five of the children tucked into beds, their parents hovering and fussing to make sure they were comfortable. Oddly, she didn't feel anything at that moment. She thought she should have felt something, bad about what she did perhaps. If only they hadn't driven her to it, maybe then she would've felt guilty.

"Did you kids eat anything you found outside this morning?" Momma Lorna asked Sevra, "Maybe some berries or fruit?"

"I didn't mean to do it," Sevra answered, staring ahead blankly.

Momma Lorna hushed her and guided her towards an empty bed, "Get some rest," she told her, "I'll see if I can find out what you children were into." She looked around at the infirmary and let out a rush of air, then muttered under her breath, "What a mess."

Sevra watched as Momma Lorna worked around the room, checking in on each and every person. It slowly began to dawn on her that she wasn't being blamed, and no one suspected she did anything. They ate something bad and it made them sick. That made sense. She realized she had been silly, how could she have possibly made them sick? Settling her head back into the pillow she began to relax, of course it wasn't her fault.

No one paid her any mind at the moment, everyone so busy with those who looked the most ill. She watched as Momma Lorna worked and the parents tried not to get in the way. She saw Yulan in the corner of the room, also observing. When their eyes met he continued to stare, seeming as though he was looking through her. She suddenly felt ashamed, and had to look away.

Could he have known what happened? She reminded herself she did nothing wrong, but couldn't bear the thought of Yulan being mad at her. Still feeling his eyes on her, she rolled over and pretended to sleep. A moment later, she heard his voice at the side of her bed.

"Sparklebug, are you feeling well?" he asked in his deep, calming voice?

She lay there, keeping her eyes closed.

"Listen, I have some things I must see to. I want you to stay inside until I return. Understand? Get some sleep," he continued. Bending down he gave her a kiss on the head.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Uncle Yuley wasn't mad at her and all was well with the world.

***

"No, don't worry. I have this under control," Lorna assured him.

Outside of the infirmary, Yulan hesitated to say goodbye to his wife. With this new development, he was reluctant to leave, but at the same time could not delay.

"I'm sure it's nothing, most of the children are hardly sick at all now and should be completely better in a few hours. It was only something they ate," she reiterated.

Yulan felt his forehead scrunching, and in response Lorna raised her eyebrows at him, her fist travelling to her hip. He decided to un-wrinkle his face and put his thoughts aside for now. This wasn't a fight worth having; when he thought about it, most of them weren't.

"You have to go," Lorna told him, "the Magicus Celesti do not send a summons lightly."

Yulan sighed, agreeing. He retired many years ago, and he was certain they would not have reached out to him unless it was important. Important to the Magicus Celesti usually meant dangerous for everyone else.

"I'll be back as quickly as I can," he assured her. After a quick kiss he slung his pack over his shoulder and set off, northwards out of the village and into the forest.

He took a last look back at the home he created for himself and others, a sense of satisfaction swelling within him. Though he was no longer with the Celesti, he took great pride in the work he'd done since his retirement. He helped a lot of people over the years, and perhaps most importantly, it gave him the opportunity to meet Lorna. Being a father was something that had never occurred would happen to him, his work always took precedence. Not that he had regrets, but he thought at his age it was an experience he wouldn't have. But here he was, well into his fifth decade, newly married and a baby boy to bounce on his knee. It rejuvenated his old bones.

Deep into the woods, he turned off the main path and followed along a deer trail for a few miles. Soon that path ended and he walked amongst the tall trees. The dense leaf cover left little light to allow much growth on the ground, for which he was grateful. He had walked this path so many times in his life, though there were no signs to distinguish one landmark from another, he could practically find his way through it with his eyes closed.

Making an eastward turn the trees began to thin, and tall grass slowed his progress. He grumbled to himself, not enjoying the late summer overgrowth or prospect of stepping on a snake or some other unpleasant critter. "At least it's not a swamp," he muttered, trying to look at the bright side.

He began to scan his surroundings, knowing he must be getting close to the clearing. Catching a reflection of the sun in the distance, he smiled. Shining, polished obsidian glinted in the morning light. In all the years he had been to the giant circle of stones they never lost their gleam, yet as far as he knew required no maintenance. Old, worn stone steps sloped gently downward into a small clearing, barely large enough to encompass the structure. White quartz tablets almost as tall as him offset the dark stone, filling in the remainder of the circle.

He looked around cautiously, out of habit, though he was certain no one had followed him. Very few knew of the existence of these stones, and even fewer understood their purpose. If the occasional hunter or passerby stumbled upon any of them, word eventually spread back to the archaeological guild in Creekview, under the thumb of none other than the stone's creators – the Magicus Celesti. In that manner they kept some control over their tools, ensuring no one tried to remove any of them or show too much interest in their exploration. Not that he believed anyone could if they wanted to; magically bonded into the earth, they were affixed to the rock layer beneath them by some means stronger than any compound he had ever come across.

With resignation he descended to the center of the circle, and set his hand on a stone set at about chest height; it was time to go. Closing his eyes his lips moved silently. The stones began to vibrate, the white and black crystals thrumming with energy as mists began to coalesce within them. The space between two of the tall standing stones shimmered, a blurry image forming that partially obscured the trees beyond.

It was a sight he had seen countless times. He no longer held what was before him in awe, the wonderment of viewing a room nearly two hundred miles away having long ago faded. Shrugging his shoulders he took a last look around - no one there but him and the squirrels. He had hoped this part of his life was behind him, but he supposed once involved there was no truly leaving it. The Order was as much a part of him as his arm or foot.

_The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back_ , he reasoned. Stepping forward, he entered the mirage. No matter how many times he had passed through it in his life, it was never a comfortable sensation. He felt as though he were immersing himself in a cold gel, freezing him to his bones. Passing through was a laborious process; either he slowed down or the rest of the world sped up.

When he emerged, moments later or an eternity, it was always difficult to tell, the familiar scent of the chamber stirred a host of memories in rapid succession. The stale air of a room hundreds of feet underground wasn't exactly pleasant, but his personal history and accomplishments he associated with the Keep and those memories were. He breathed in deeply.

Along the arched chamber wall, amongst similar portals others were arriving in the same manner from across the lands. Many he recognized, but being away for so long there were more faces than not that he couldn't put a name to. Every few minutes another newcomer appeared, making it difficult for him to catch up with anyone in particular.

"Yulan!" he heard, giving him someone to gravitate towards.

"Dear old friend!" the stranger declared as he got closer, taking Yulan's hand in both of his, shaking it vigorously.

"Bern what a pleasant surprise!" he answered with equal enthusiasm. "You're still kicking above ground, if I didn't see it with my own eyes I wouldn't believe it."

Bernard was, in gentle terms, seasoned when Yulan was merely an initiate, and a very old man by the time he retired. He must've seen a century of life at this point, a feat unheard of. It took several moments of staring in wonderment before Yulan realized he was gaping at the man like a fool.

"Close your mouth before you catch a fly," Bern scolded, gently but swiftly giving Yulan a pat on the cheek, "I'm still around, yes."

"Where are you hailing from these days? Did you ever get up north like you had always wanted?"

"No," Bern answered, "too cold for my blood as it turns out. I'm still here."

That came as a small surprise to him. Typically one would serve his purpose to the organization and move on. To take the grounds on as a permanent home was highly unusual. "You've retired here?" Yulan asked.

"I continue to serve here," Bern replied, his wry smirk still showing a hint of youthfulness.

"Well, well," Yulan answered through a chuckle, unable to hide his astonishment, "that is quite something!"

"I see we're being herded towards the dining halls. Come, let's be off and have our meal. There is news to share of which you are likely well unaware. Allow me to bring you up to speed as we dine," Bern told him.

Yulan couldn't help but feel worried, bordering on dread. Whatever announcement was coming could only be big news; he couldn't remember a time when all current and former associates of the Magicus Celesti were gathered together. It was unprecedented.

He slowed his gait down only slightly for his old friend Bern, who though moved slowly, did not carry himself as though he were fragile. In fact he seemed to have a rather healthy vitality, given his age.

Others filtered out of the chamber ahead, while most lingered with their introductions. They departed through one of the three main underground tunnels, leading towards a large cavern used as a meeting area capable of holding hundreds. It served the Order well for when they needed to entertain guests without bringing them directly into the keep proper or grounds.

A variety of smells mingled together to greet them, their mixture not altogether unpleasant. Dozens of whole pigs turned on spits, open pits cooked pheasants and wild turkey, while attendants scrambled to set all of the tables and finish off last minute preparations. They found one of many empty tables, slightly off to the side. Bern took a loaf of bread, splitting it in half while he absent-mindedly picked from it. He nodded in satisfaction before turning to the butter, oblivious to his companion until the entire piece was slathered.

"You'll remember from your histories here of the tale of Kubathu, the crystal seals and his imprisonment," Bern finally began.

Yulan nodded. Every student of the Magicus Celesti knew the story.

"What you were not aware of, and only very few over the passing of the centuries were actually privy to, is that the necklace has been held on these premises and handed down generation to generation," Bern continued, "an unbroken chain of guardians for over fifteen centuries."

Yulan frowned. Bern was referring to the "Tale of the Broken King", a myth passed down over time to serve as a cautionary story among the Magicus Celesti. It warned of the dangers that arose when drive and ambition ran unchecked, the immorality of acquirement at any cost. It was too fantastical to have grounds in reality.

"You're telling me there exists a necklace, on this premises, that contains an evil being. Not just evil, but perhaps the vilest creature to ever set foot on our lands?" Yulan asked, mockingly incredulous.

"It is no myth, and no cautionary tale. How much of our records are based in fact is still up for debate; however it is irrelevant. This part of it is true, at least, and that's all that matters. I found out myself nearly thirty years ago," Bern said.

"How many of us know about this?" Yulan whispered more harshly than he meant to. He didn't quite believe his old friend, but saw no reason for him to be lying. Over the years he learned to discern when Bernard was speaking the truth.

"For a long time, only a handful. There have been recent... events, that have people talking, and a few of the brighter residents have pieced it all together. The dam has burst and the flood of intrigue is upon us. That's why we've gathered everyone today, to get in front of it," Bern answered.

As the dining hall began to fill, Yulan could see many faces that bore worry. The tension within the magi was palpable, a great weight bearing down upon them. If he had greater skill in their ways, he would have gone into a meditative state to learn what he could from the spirits. Unfortunately, it wasn't an ability he could use on the sly, and it would have been a calamitous breach of etiquette among a friendly gathering such as this.

Bern stared at him conspiratorially, as if he could read his intentions. "Relax, there is no cause for alarm. Though this is a day for the history books, everything is well in hand. Antok the Venerable will speak on the matter soon."

Their table began to fill, as did all of the others. Many were forced to stand until additional seating was found, and soon the clamor of hundreds drowned out any single conversation. Bern nodded slightly, signaling that their conversation should be put to a close.

Soon dishes were served, and the sounds of chatter dimmed while the feast commenced. Yulan picked at his stuffed bird, though it was delicious he didn't have much of an appetite and preferred to get on with whatever brought him here. He didn't care to be away from the place he called home. This was no longer his life.

Being back in the keep reminded him how little changed here; Antok the Venerable led the Celesti when Yulan was in their service. Even back then he was not a young man. By now he must be ancient. While waiting he sat silently in apparent thought, listening in on what he could from the younger generation of magi at his table and those nearby. It was mostly inane chitchat. As a young adult, he learned that no matter what station in life the conversations taking place were generally on the mundane side. Either that, or he was simply growing old and had seen and heard it all before. Whichever the case, he had partaken in small talk more than enough for his lifetime.

"...I told you I wasn't the only one hearing a voice," Yulan heard from somewhere behind him, his ears perking up a bit.

"I bet that's what this is all about, the whispers," someone else added in. "Sorry I didn't believe you before, too many have heard it now for it to be a coincidence."

Laughter from his own table drowned out parts of the conversation that he was actually interested in, and he couldn't help keep the annoyance from showing on his face.

"Oh come now Yulan, don't be such a sore sport," a lanky man of middle-years said to him from a few seats down. Yulan recognized him but couldn't put a name to the individual.

"I asked you a question," the too-thin fellow continued cheerily, "how is your little village of misfits?"

"Yes, yes, we're all very well," Yulan answered dismissively, hardly paying any attention to the people around him. He focused again, trying to tune in to what the other group was saying about hearing voices. His table-mate looked confused momentarily, surprised by the curt response. After an awkward silence he turned away from Yulan and focused his conversation on someone else.

Once able to concentrate again, the voice of a young female cut through his table's jabbering, "It seems to have quieted down some, no one has been by the infirmary complaining about it in three days now."

Three bells tolled, stirring up another commotion as they began to wrap up their meal, servants coming by to clear the dishes and refill drinks. Feeling vexed, the bits of conversation only provided more questions and no answers. Silence fell in the chamber and everyone stood, the chimes signaling the appearance of the First of the Prime Order, the leader of the Magicus Celesti.

Likely the most influential person currently alive, few outside of the Order even knew of his existence. He moved slowly, looking straight ahead as he proceeded along the walkway. Antok the Venerable was a giant of a man, hailing from one of the villages outside of the northwestern border of the Blue Fold Mountains. He stooped slightly with age; Yulan reckoned Antok must be nearly as old or older than his friend Bernard, but his advanced age did little to lessen his presence. It was said that as a young man walking the area outside of the grounds, he once threw a bull to the grass that had charged him when he cut across its field. Yulan wasn't sure if that were true or not, but it seemed plausible enough for no one to question the rumor.

"I want to thank you all for coming on such short notice," Antok began. "First I want to start by saying your safety, the safety of all of the magi and the residents on the surrounding isle is paramount. There is currently no danger within the keep, and though sometimes we require you to resolve hazardous situations, it is always done within the interests of the greater good, with least possible risk to our agents."

Many nodded, they understood their line of work wasn't without risk.

"We are all aware some of our missions are highly secretive, even from each other at times. It is acceptable because our work benefits society; we keep individual men from the rampant exploitation of their people, provide balance when greed and avarice take over the hearts of rulers. Not everyone would agree with us all of the time, but the work is necessary nonetheless.

I remind us of this, because recently a classified task of utmost importance has been compromised. The council has come to the decision to explain what is happening, rather than allow rumors and fear to spread out of hand.

There is a story we have each of you study upon your arrival, and I'm sure you are familiar with. It is also a favorite of inns and fireside tales. I'm referring to 'The Tale of the Broken King'."

The crowd murmured low in acknowledgement, everyone had heard this story many times throughout their lives.

"I'm telling you now it is more than a cautionary fable, it is a history. Sixteen hundred and seventy two years ago, twelve members of the Magicus Celesti made a sacrifice to prevent a catastrophe. They voluntarily imprisoned their souls into twelve gemstones, along with one wicked soul into a ruby. This is not a story of legend, this _happened_."

Confused whispering spread throughout room. Everyone talked at once to whoever sat next to them, expressing ranges of emotions from disbelief, fear, and excitement, to satisfaction in hearing the truth.

"Quiet, quiet please!" Antok yelled, raising his arms. The sound in the room dampened, whispers muted as if travelling into a solid wall. In that moment he once again held everyone's attention, and continued on, calm and collected lest he should lose them again. "It was once safer for only very few people to know of this. Recent events however, have taken that safety away from us. Now it is critical for each and every one of you to know the full truth.

What I am about to tell you cannot go beyond the ears of the Magicus Celesti; the panic it would cause would be catastrophic. If you all know the truth, you can control the rumors in your homelands, and redirect it towards a less terrifying subject. It is important you know what is happening here, and of the efforts to mitigate the problem so you can contribute if needed. Let me assure you that we have control once again after a minor breach, and the power holding Kubathu is fully restored. I want to emphasize that at no point was anyone in danger.

"How did this happen?" someone shouted angrily, followed by overlapping voices that couldn't be differentiated.

Antok raised his voice, speaking slowly over the others until they quieted, "I assure you I will tell you everything that you need to hear." When silence returned, he continued, "Just as the story goes the seals are maintained within a necklace. Two hundred and fifty-four years ago one of the protective gems vanished mysteriously, the bearer killed and the stone gone without a trace. It caused great panic among those who were charged with its safe-keeping; at that time the decision was made to keep knowledge of its existence a tightly guarded secret. Within a few generations the history became no more than a fable for old men to teach a moral to children."

Yulan could hardly believe his ears as Antok continued. The one called Kubathu, Breaker of Souls, actually existed and spread his influence from the City of the Sands. He dominated the minds of countless thousands, bending them to his will, conquering nearly everywhere from the Blue Fold Mountains south through the Vermillion Sands. It wasn't a tall tale, and his spirit still lingered inside a gemstone, somewhere on these grounds.

"There was another breach four days ago, we believe Kubathu has greatly weakened an additional seal. Some of you may have heard voices over the last few days. That was because of the incident."

Silence filled the room, and a chill ran along Yulan's spine.

Antok continued, "This is what we currently face. Be assured it is a game we have played for over a millenium, and one we know how to win. Additional measures have been put in place to keep Kubathu contained; those magi responsible know who they are and what to do. At a moment's notice any of you may be called upon to stand in; should that happen more details will be given. I understand that what I've told you is a lot to absorb, take comfort in the fact that the matter has been dealt with, and there are measures in place to assure Kubathu's imprisonment is as secure as ever. You are all dismissed to your duties or homes."

Everyone in the room understood the level of secrecy within the Magicus Celesti, and knew not to openly ask further questions. Yulan knew it wouldn't stop further speculation behind closed doors, and he could already hear a cascade of whispers within the chamber as individuals talked amongst themselves once Antok departed. He walked away with the same slow, deliberate pace that he entered with, and he seemed to bear a slight frown, lost in thought.

"You know more," Yulan said accusatorily, looking to Bernard. He was one of the few people in sight not showing much reaction.

Bern smiled, fox-like. "There is always more to know around here," he answered, "you know that as well as anyone."

"Relax," he continued, knowing Yulan well enough to see his mind working through a dozen possible conspiracies. "It is true enough the danger is passed, I'd tell you more, old friend, but you know that I cannot. Head back to your retirement, and rest assured there is no cause for worry. You won't be called upon for this service."

"You truly believe it is safe?" Yulan asked, lowering his voice.

"I wouldn't be here otherwise," Bern answered. Yulan hesitated, wishing to speak further but unsure the best way to proceed.

"There is another matter Bern; it's our daughter, Lorna and mine," Yulan explained after chewing on his lip, "she just started showing signs of the gift before I left."

"That's wonderful."

"Is it? Can I send her here now in good conscience? How in the Fel-Wastes would that be responsible?" Yulan asked.

Bern shrugged. "The world is full of perils, as it always has been. She needs the proper education, you know this much. You'll make the right decision."

His old friend stood and offered a modest bow, signaling he was ready to depart. "Where do you think you're going," Yulan said, "I haven't seen you in nearly ten years!"

"Duty calls, my old friend. Some of us still have work to do around here," Bern answered wistfully, "stay a few days and visit when you decide to send your daughter, I'll keep an extra set of eyes out for her."

Yulan took a look around the room, many still lingering around though a few began filtering out. He wasn't happy with what he learned here today, not in the least. Secrecy was always at the foundation of the Magicus Celesti, but this information was difficult to accept. How could he not tell Lorna? When it came down to it, he had no choice but to hold true to his oaths. Sevra, however, would not be setting foot within a hundred miles of this place. It was far too dangerous as far as he was concerned, Antok and his reassurances be damned.

Though the grounds and keep were beautiful, and he had nearly full access throughout the castle and courtyards, he had no desire to stay any longer. He hadn't kept in touch with anyone from his active days in the Order, and he was a firm believer of leaving the past where it belonged – in the past. Other than his former instructor Bernard, Yulan was content to return to his farming and village duties without revisiting this part of his life. It was time to return home. If he was lucky he could make it back before dark.
Inner Demons

A knock at the door interrupted Sevra from her newest toy. She usually didn't care to waste time at games, but these were different. It was a puzzle the blacksmith made, an intricate series of wood blocks and pieces of bent metal twisting and turning around itself. He was Uncle Yuley's friend and seemed determined to build one that she couldn't solve. Every month or so she'd get a new one, each more challenging than the last. She sighed, sensing that playtime was over.

At the door was Mrs. Lemmin, Jason's mom. She wasn't happy.

"I'll get it darling you keep playing," Momma Lorna said.

She put her toy down, sitting on the carpet, facing the door with her feet touching and hands folded in her lap. Momma Lorna opened the door, and said hello to Mrs. Lemmin.

"Hi there Caroline, what can I do for you this evening? Is Jason feeling better?" Momma Lorna asked, seeing who it was.

"I need to talk to you for a minute," Mrs. Lemmin told Momma Lorna. She looked over towards Sevra and frowned.

That stupid boy, I told him he'd be in trouble if he said anything.

In a hushed voice, Mrs. Lemmin started to tell on her, "Jason told me some concerning things this afternoon when he came back from picking vegetables. He said that your little girl is the one who made everyone sick, and if he told on her she'd make him wish he'd never been born."

"What?" Momma Lorna said loudly, her back going rigid in defense. "Those kids had some kind of food poisoning, you know that. Sevra wouldn't have had anything to do with it."

"Well whatever happened, it's a little disturbing for her to try and take credit for it, don't you think? And threatening my little boy, unless you're saying he's lying," Caroline responded with a hint of challenge.

"We'll straighten this out, Caroline," Momma Lorna assured her, "Sevra, come over here!"

She walked over, her head down. The world was so unfair.

"Look at her, completely guilty," Mrs. Lemmin commented, "nothing a few sound smacks on the bottom won't fix."

She hated Mrs. Lemmin, that conceited, tight-lipped smile of satisfaction on her birdlike face. _She's such a busy-body, can never mind her own business_.

"Back when I was a child if we acted like that, why, we'd go pick a nice sized switch from out back," Mrs. Lemmin reminisced, talking as if she were fondly recalling a trip to the market, "and whack! We'd get it good when we misbehaved. Not like these spoiled brats today."

"Well I don't condone hitting children in most cases," Momma Lorna told her, "sometimes it's just better if you talk to them and figure out what's going on in their heads."

"And that's why," Mrs. Lemmin said, dragging out her words, and speaking brightly as if she just won an argument, "your little girl has no manners and is running amok."

It wasn't fair, all Sevra wanted was for the other kids to not bother her, they always started it. She finally fights back and was the one who gets punished for it.

"You're a vapid old crone," Sevra told Mrs. Lemmin.

Mrs. Lemmin's jaw dropped slightly. To Sevra it made her look even more vacant. Even the swirls around the woman weren't very interesting.

"Sevra! Apologize right now!" Momma Lorna told her.

Being seven, Sevra did the only thing she could when she realized she overstepped her bounds. She ran for the door, and continued running. Momma Lorna gave chase, but stopped when Mrs. Lemmin doubled over in pain.

"For spirits sake," Lorna muttered, giving up on Sevra for the moment and seeing to Caroline. What on earth had gotten into that girl of hers?

***

Yulan returned home, bleary eyed from his pre-dawn start to the day, miles of walking, and the immensity of the news he received at the Keep. Pushing through the front door, having looked forward to collapsing in his favorite chair, he was less than pleased to learn Sevra was missing and Lorna was tending to a mildly ill Mrs. Lemmin.

"Please tell me what is going on," he asked wearily, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

"Sevra, she had some more trouble with the children today is all," Lorna answered, running a cloth over Mrs. Lemmin's forehead.

"That girl of yours is behind this somehow!" Mrs. Lemmin spat between coughs.

"It looks as though Mrs. Lemmin got a touch of whatever the kids had," Lorna said in a tone implying she wouldn't tolerate listening to such nonsense – especially from an adult.

Yulan knew better. He saw the spirits dancing around Sevra this morning, she was finally starting to exhibit outward signs of her gift. Had he not received such dire information from the Magicus Celesti today, he would have been happy to see his little Sparklebug off to receive the training she needs. She would soon outgrow what this village could provide.

Mrs. Lemmin continued on a tirade, "Rubbish! That little girl is a witch and I know she was behind this. Don't think we all don't know about how you just showed up with her here one day. Her parents must've known and cast her out, so you took her in! She's always been off, not socializing right, always watching everyone of the adults like a gods-be-damned owl."

"Caroline, there's no need to be disrespectful. It seems as though you're feeling better so you should get yourself home. I'll go find Sevra and we'll straighten this all out; she is only a child, despite the fact she acts like she isn't at times," Yulan said.

Once up, she firmly rejected Lorna's assistance and walked to the door. "Mark my words, a sound switching will fix her straight." The last few words sounded muffled as the door closed on her mid-sentence. He sighed heavily once he was sure she was gone.

"That woman's as bitter as a poisonberry vine in the sweet tea," Lorna commented. "Imagine thinking a little girl made them all sick."

He stood there, looking ahead and not speaking.

"What, what is it?" Lorna asked.

"She's right, Lorn. Sevra did that to those kids this morning."

Lorna was shocked, "What do you mean?"

"Of course I can't say she fully understood what she was doing, but she was probably upset and lashed out blindly, as children tend to do when they're upset," Yulan answered.

"But she couldn't..."

"Like I said, she probably wasn't fully aware of what she was doing. Later on when we were all in the infirmary I could sense remnants of energy about her, both forms of it," he explained, "her gift has presented itself as I knew it always would. I would've hoped for something less dramatic, however. On the bright side, I suppose it could've been worse."

For many, the gift was never seen coming, and Yulan heard stories about first manifestations that made his hair stand. That's why many agents like him spread out after retirement, helping to keep watch for those who may need guidance and to maintain recruits for the Celesti.

Lorna exhaled heavily. She knew what this meant. It was time to say goodbye.

"I'll start packing her things," she said quietly.

"Wait," Yulan said. He hesitated, there was something he wanted to say but was bound to not speak of.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's... nothing. Pack some of her belongings and I'll go find her," Yulan said. He had to trust Bernard and the other magi. It was no longer safe for anyone else to have Sevra stay here, she needed to learn control now. Weighing the risk of sending her off, knowing what was going on at the Keep, against keeping her here where she could never truly understand herself and might harm someone was one of the most difficult decisions he had to make. It pained him that he had to keep Lorna in the dark on that decision.

"She's probably in the gardens, she always goes there when she needs to sort herself out," Yulan said, "we'll be right back."

He walked by the homes of his neighbors towards the clearings, moving quietly in the dark. The town looked lonely at night, silent enough to be empty. The smell of the woods was fresh and undisturbed; he reckoned that any stranger passing through here after sundown could completely miss that there was a village here even if they passed within fifty yards.

Further away from the houses, he allowed the light of the stars and full moon to guide him. His feet crunched softly on the grass, his soft footfalls seemingly harsh against the otherwise still evening. He travelled around to the eastern edge of the garden, a small ledge of rock there allowing him to take in the entire field. After a few short minutes of watching, he caught a slight movement near its center. Peeking out from the tree he decided to stand silently and watch for a bit. A lesson he learned at some point in life was a person could often learn the most simply by standing still and shutting their mouth for a bit. A little observation might give him some sense of how to best approach her.

After a while she stopped moving and appeared to be standing still in one spot, arching her back with her arms out to her sides, her head lolled backwards.

"Oh what are you up to, little Sparklebug," he whispered, concerned. He allowed his mind to become empty, letting it drift across the field. He felt every grain of the tree against his hand, and concentrated solely on his senses, slowly, continually reaching outwards until he could feel beyond what his mere senses could show him.

Everything sprang to life in a way Yulan had never seen before. The life force of every tree, plant, leaf and blade of grass answered to Sevra's call. The field shone to him in the darkness, with his little girl at the center of the gentle maelstrom; white and silver strands wavered and dashed, ignited and faded by the thousands.

Sevra had never been a normal child, and from the moment he saw her could sense the gift within her. It surprised him it took so long for her to demonstrate it, but it didn't make sense for her to be so in tune on her first day. It wouldn't have made sense if she had been at it for years.

He sensed a gentle brushing in the space in front of him, one of the silvery strands interacting with his own emanations. Immediately the light show ceased, and the small figure at the center of the field lowered its arms and froze.

"Sevra darling," Yulan said softly, "everything's okay. Let me come to you."

Yulan could sense she was frightened down to the most primal level, like a deer that just realized it was being hunted and its muscles primed to fire and flee. He moved first, hoping to get a small head start on her. She fled, but only after he already gained ten paces.

He was less concerned that she might get away, and more worried she might trip over a root or run into a tree in the darkness. His large strides quickly outpaced her, and for once he was glad she didn't often take to racing around or playing hard like some of the other children. Catching up to her, he scooped her up in both arms and held onto her tight.

She kicked and screamed with all her strength for a few seconds, before tiring out and bursting into tears. Yulan wasn't quite sure what to do other than comfort her. His instinct was to punish her for her rash behavior this evening, but with all of the bizarre circumstances of the day the only fitting action seemed to be sitting down and holding her for a while.

"Hush, Sparklebug, I suppose you really do sparkle, don't you?" he said soothingly.

"What's wrong with me Uncle Yuley?" she finally said between sobs.

"Wrong? No, there isn't anything wrong. I promise."

"Why do I see things that others do not?"

"Because you can look deeper," he answered.

The resistance left her muscles, and she allowed herself to be carried off, back home.

***

The following morning, Yulan awoke to the sound of many voices outside of his window. He jumped out of bed and quickly threw on a light coat and the closest pair of pants he could find. With one shoe on, he hopped while he pried on the other and gave his best effort to not fall down. Finally reaching the front door, he flung it open, alert to whatever danger got everyone out of bed at this ungodly hour.

"What has happened?" Yulan asked, looking back into his house. Lorna somehow managed to stay asleep. That woman could sleep through an avalanche.

As he began to rouse and shake away the remnants of slumber, he realized there was no fire or dangerous wild animal roaming about. The crossed arms and angry faces were directed towards him. At the lead of the group was Mrs. Lemmin, lips pulled together tight into an angry pout.

"Well Mrs. Lemmin, it looks like you just bit into, well, a lemon. Do you want to tell me the meaning behind dragging half the village to my door before the sun has even had a chance to rise?" Yulan asked in an overly kind tone.

"You know what this is about Yulan," Caroline accused, spitting out every word, "everyone being sick yesterday, we know that girl of yours was somehow behind it."

Yulan forced himself to remain calm; he was their leader in a sense, and they were scared. Scared people generally made poor decisions. Unfortunately, in a sense, they were correct. They didn't need to know that, however.

"Caroline, I have to applaud you for being able to rile up the entire town over a seven year old girl and a case of food poisoning. It really takes commitment to take one's delusion so far," Yulan said with the same calm and disinterest as if he were discussing the weather. "Magical, malicious little girls make a whole lot more sense than simple food poisoning after all."

Mrs. Lemmin's face reddened, but a few of the others looked downwards towards the ground as if they suddenly realized how absurd their argument seemed against a little reason.

"Let me ask you," Yulan deflected, "what did you hope to accomplish with this? Did this impromptu mob want to have a discussion about our daughter? Run us out of town with pitchforks? Maybe set a fire and burn the house down for hosting witches?"

A few more dropped their heads in shame.

"So it's just a coincidence that all the children except your daughter got sick when they were playing with Sevra, and then I did too last night right before she ran away?" Caroline questioned.

"Yes, that is what you should believe because it makes sense," Yulan answered. "And really I expect better from the lot of you."

Most of the people in his village had misunderstandings in their previous lives, before coming to Shady Vale with Yulan. With so many local customs relatively close together, it was inevitable not everyone would see eye to eye, especially if it came to matters of ritual or religion. What was perfectly acceptable in one place might find one at the wrong end of a rope only twenty miles away. Simply predicting the weather, a perfectly innocuous profession, could be disastrous for a person if they did it in the wrong place.

"Caroline, you've been run out of your fair share of towns for selling those potions of yours, have you not? And here you are doing exactly the same to someone else, a little girl nonetheless? And Kayl," Yulan continued, gesturing towards someone next to her, "every morning those runestones that you read. Obviously you're a danger to society as well."

"We just don't want her harming our kids!" Another man shouted.

"Of all the dangers in the world, a little girl isn't one of them," Yulan responded. That seemed to deflate the last of them, other than Caroline.

"Caroline, I'll gladly talk to you later today, but for now would the rest of you go home? I don't want you to wake Lorna and the baby."

As the others left Caroline stood there with her fists clenched. "I know that girl's a danger and you're just trying to protect her," she said, "she doesn't belong in this village."

"You'll have it your way soon enough," Yulan said sadly, turning around and shutting the door on her.

***

"Sevra, can you come out here for a minute please?" Yulan asked from his chair. He and Lorna already had the discussion and agreed, the Keep of the Magicus Celesti was where Sevra belonged. There she would be able to grow into the person she was destined to be. It would be safe; though he could say nothing to Lorna about the old stories of Kubathu or the recent events at the Keep, he had to make the decision to send her. It would only get worse for her at Shady Vale. The next time she called upon the spirits he might not be able to cover it up for her, or worse there could be consequences for one of the residents.

"Are you sending me away, Uncle?" Sevra asked, walking out into the living room.

He looked over to Lorna, he hadn't been prepared to start the conversation this way. She must have heard them talking.

"Ahh, we're not sending you anywhere you don't want to go. We just want to talk to you," he said.

She sat in the empty chair diagonal to him, at the edge of it, back upright and hands folded in her lap, her behavior more like a miniature adult than a child.

"When I was little, I was like you are Sevra," Yulan began. "I want to let you know you aren't alone just because you are different from other people you know. You and I, we have the same gift. Most people don't even know it exists. Actually we try to keep it that way."

"Why don't they know about it?" Sevra asked.

"Because, it's out of the ordinary. People tend to get scared of what they don't understand. It's not their fault, it's just the way we're made," Yulan answered. "There's a place I used to go, and can bring you where there are others like us. You don't have to go, if you don't want to. If you do want to I could come along, and stay as long as you need me. Think about it for a while, you can learn and read to your heart's content, become whatever you want one day."

"I don't have to think about it, I'll go," Sevra said, "I don't belong here anymore." She glanced over to the crib for an instant.

"You always belong here, darling," Lorna said, teary-eyed, "we're your family and we love you."

"I believe you," Sevra said, again looking over to the baby, her little brother.

"I'm sorry Uncle Yuley," she said all of the sudden.

"For what, dear?"

"For hiding for so long."

Lorna and Yulan both blinked at Sevra's odd response.

Yulan wasn't sure what she meant by that, but it seemed trivial now. He could see Sevra trying to hide her sadness, distancing herself emotionally.

"Come here Sparklebug," he said, holding his arms out. She went over to him and hopped up on his lap, laying her head into his chest and staring off towards the far wall. "We can leave in a few days."

"No, let's go this afternoon," Sevra said blankly.

There were so many things Yulan wanted to say to her at that moment, but he knew Sevra liked to deal with difficult feelings in her own way. Trying to draw them out would only push her further away right now. Instead, he just rocked her back and forth in his chair for a while. She knew they cared about her, and that was good enough for him.
Diligent Pupil

This is ridiculous! Sevra thought as she attempted for the third time to reposition herself. The posture dictated by the tomes for the new meditation exercise was impossible to perfect. Bernard was going to be disappointed in her if she failed to get it right again. Pushing an errant lock of midnight hair from her brow she started once more from the beginning of the lesson.

It didn't seem fair that one who was identified as being "naturally gifted" would have any difficulty in mastering the most basic lessons. It seemed even more of a personal slight that a "naturally gifted" person like herself should be forced to follow the same protocol as others who were tested to see if they even had the potential to be considered for training with the Magicus Celesti.

Two entire years. It had been two years since Uncle Yuley brought her here. Two years where she was not allowed to touch the spirits, and spent her days strictly on scrubbing out pots and pans, reading dusty old books on world history, and performing what should be simple meditation. She didn't apply herself, they said. She lacked discipline they said.

"You lack discipline. Apply yourself!" Bernard's gravelly old voice called out as if on cue, grating against her ears. He decided to take her on personally as a favor to Uncle Yuley. Some favor it turned out to be for her.

Sevra held her arms out and shook her hands to release the tension, then rolled her shoulders until she felt she was ready to try again. She leaned forward, relaxing her spine and neck so that her head gently fell forward, chin resting on her upper chest. Clearing her mind free from the distracting frustrations she continued on to the next step. Each individual muscle and vertebrae of her back stretched into a ram rod straight position, her head erect and face tilted towards the sky.

Again her meditation was thwarted by a strand of hair landing across her eye that tickled her nose. Just when she thought she was finally ready to proceed to the third part of the lesson she had to start over once more. With a sound that was part sob and part growl Sevra reached up and grabbed the offensive hair, yanking it from her scalp, then flung her body forward onto the ground. The growling sob was replaced with a muffled gulping noise as she cried into the soft patch of moss that she buried her face into. The mischievous bundle of hair that plagued her scattered and floated away as she repeatedly slapped her open palms onto the earth in front of her in the throes of her tantrum. After a time she sat up and covered her face with her hands wiping away the dirt, moss and tears.

"Are you just about through carrying on?" Bernard asked, hardly lifting his head from his morning reports.

Pulling her hands away she was momentarily shocked to see them covered in blood. She felt her forehead and quickly found the source was the patch of scalp torn away near her hairline. Looking about her she saw the last few strands of hair flying away in the wind as a drop of blood dripped from her brow onto her nose. For some reason that even Sevra did not understand, this made her smile.

"Yes Master Bernard," she said sweetly, "I'm ready to try again now."

She could feel how close she had come last time. That lock of hair wouldn't distract her anymore.

Again she put her arms straight to her sides, and sitting perfectly upright she cleared out her thoughts. The spirits called out, they always did, but she ignored them with all the discipline she could muster. Bernard would know if she touched upon them, and according to him she wasn't ready until he said so. Fear of punishment helped along with whatever self-control she could summon; two days straight of working the kitchens was not an appealing thought.

"Spirits is that blood?" Bernard asked, jumping up, suddenly alert.

Sevra's concentration broke, her meditative state ruined. Bernard itched near his throat, adjusting a chain around his neck. She looked from him to the blood drying on her hands, softly rubbing her fingers together as she stared at it. A trickle ran down her forehead, crimson marring her delicate pale white.

"Leave here and go to the infirmary," Bernard instructed.

"I'm fine, it was just a little scratch," Sevra answered. It was a beautiful morning, the sun shining over the meticulously manicured grounds. The sweet scent of flowers occasionally drifted whenever a breeze passed by. And she didn't want to admit it, but seeing the blood made her feel alive.

"Be off!" he demanded, fidgeting with his necklace, "I'll collect you from your quarters later. Read 'Lineage and Succession' verses twenty-eight through thirty-two. If you still have time write a summary of them while you're waiting."

"Yes sir," Sevra groaned, dragging her feet as she walked away. She could read well enough, Yuley taught her when she was little. The problem was the books Master Bernard had her reading were dreadfully boring.

Walking off, she wiped away the remaining drops of blood from her forehead, licking her finger to help clear off any that had dried. Her scalp started to feel slightly tender, and without thinking she reached up to brush away the lock of hair that always fell down there. Of course, having torn it away there was nothing to touch.

The halls were endless mazes of corridors, stairwells, and chambers. It was hard to believe that a building could be so big. All of Shady Vale could have fit inside the castle a hundred times over. She was still surprised by how different her life was now compared to when she was home with Uncle Yuley and Momma Lorna; each day she would have some random thought that led her back to them.

Though she missed them, she didn't miss the village. There was a surprising lack of children within the keep, which was well to her liking. The two or three she had seen on occasion kept to themselves as much as she did. Not that there was time for any of them to socialize; she imagined they were kept at least as busy as she was with chores and study.

Crossing through a courtyard and two hallways finally landed her at the infirmary. Rows of beds lined each wall, mostly all empty. A woman in her middle years looked up as she entered, her only acknowledgement. Sevra didn't recognize her; she had only been to the infirmary one time in her entire two years here, and last time it was a different healer that saw her. She found an empty chair and sat as the woman felt at the pulse of a sleeping man.

When she finished she walked over, offering her a mild smile that obviously took some effort.

"What can I do for you dear?" she asked. Once close enough, she saw the injury on top of Sevra's forehead easily enough.

"Oh my, what happened to you?" she continued before Sevra could answer, "you have a chunk of skin missing."

"I scratched myself," Sevra lied, "on accident."

"Mm-hmn," was the only response as she quiety patched up her forehead.

"This will definitely scar. I hate to tell you but I don't think your hair will grow back in this spot," she said, after doing a thorough inspection.

Sevra frowned, agitated Bernard made her so angry that she did that to herself. She stopped thinking about it before she got angry all over again.

"What's wrong with him?" Sevra asked, changing the subject. She noticed the man the healer was tending to hadn't moved at all.

"Well, he's dead for one thing. Never woke up after going downhill all morning," she answered glumly. "Oh it's a natural part of life, Darren here was a very old man."

Again Sevra frowned, an uncomfortable sensation of familiarity sweeping over her. She swore she had seen this man before, but where? Before she knew it her feet were carrying her towards his bed.

"Hey! Young lady you don't have any business going over there!" the woman scolded.

The wizard's face was pale and slack, like the muscles could no longer hold the skin in place properly and all the blood had been drained. His jaw hung open slightly, a final scream that he didn't have the strength to utter. Waves of a greenish hue surrounded the sick man, Sevra reached her hand forward slowly. She recognized the aura.

A hand roughly grabbing her elbow broke her from the trance, dragging her away. She continued to look back, but offered no resistance and couldn't figure out how to get any words to come out of her mouth.

"I told you that wasn't a place for little girls to go," the nurse said firmly, "go on now before I track down your master and tell him you're being a troublemaker."

Sevra stood outside of the infirmary, the door shut behind her. She wasn't sure what to think; she only felt confusion as she absently walked to her room.

***

Hours later, Sevra sat on her bed, still reading the same passage over and over. It was impossible to concentrate for more than a minute. The words would all start to look jumbled, and she'd realize she read a particular line over and over, or read a paragraph to find her mind had completely wandered.

"I'm going to be scrubbing pots again if I can't get through any of this," she mumbled.

Returning to the book she read the line once again, _and in year 857 of the second era the rule of Dun'Aldir was split amongst two families with valid claims to the throne. The Aldura clan proved legitimacy through the maternal line dating back three generations_ ...

A knock at the door interrupted her this time, followed by Bernard's voice stating, "I am entering." Sevra found he was often more polite than he needed to be, despite his usual acrid demeanor. Not that he asked for permission to come in, but at least he announced it.

"There is a problem. Stay here in your room until I tell you it's safe to leave," he told her.

As Bernard turned to leave, she heard another voice. _Follow_ , it commanded. She turned around, unsure of where it came from, or even if she had heard it at all. Despite her best intention to obey Master Bernard, she could not help but give into the intense feeling of curiosity overcoming her. She had to follow the directive. Who had said it, and did she really hear it? Maybe it was Master Bernard, playing a strange game or testing her in some way. Whatever the case, before she knew it she was standing in the hallway outside of her room.

Activity in the hallway seemed normal; a servant worked up ahead, and behind her a maid was clearing out laundry from one of the wizard's quarters. Two elder magi walked side by side, chatting pleasantly about some obscure subject she couldn't begin to decipher. No one paid her any mind. She was able to glance Bernard at the end of the corridor, turning to the right in a hurry.

She walked as fast as she would dare without drawing attention onto herself. Running through the hallways would not be proper, but she was terrified she might lose him. She didn't understand why it was so important for her to go after him, it was a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. Though it didn't make sense, she felt someone would be deeply disappointed with her if she failed. She hated to fail.

When she reached the corner she turned, and was filled with dismay to see an empty hall in front of her. Bernard could eventually go any number of ways in the labyrinth of passages and chambers that made up the Keep. The insistence that she find Bernard grew stronger.

"Please, I don't know which way he went," Sevra moaned. Distantly she recognized she should feel worried that she didn't know who she was talking to. The urge to find Master Bernard, however, consumed all of her thoughts.

_Track him_.

"I... don't know how," she said.

Images flashed through her head of the spirits Bernard said she wasn't supposed to call upon anymore. Each one stood out, Master Bernard's shining with a fiery glow.

_His essence. This one. It is a beacon. Open yourself to the veil and find him_.

Unsupervised, she was strictly forbidden from calling upon her gift.

They will not notice this time. Go.

She sighed in relief, knowing she would be able to see this task through. It was a simple exercise for her to touch upon the spirits, as easy as letting go of a held breath. Calm washed over her, like water onto parched soil. She had gone far too long without this feeling; until coming here, as far back as she could remember, she always had her mind partially beyond the veil. _Veil_ , she thought, that wasn't what she called it.

The image shown to her a moment ago sprang to life, the aura of every living thing nearby standing out in stark contrast against the otherwise muted world. Physical barriers did not stand in the way of her vision; they meant nothing here. Master Bernard's position was clear to her. Whether because she knew him better than the others, or because it was he whom she sought, she did not know. She only knew she had to get to him and he was heading to the bottom levels of the keep.

Ignoring everyone else around her she began to run, no longer concerned with being noticed. Knowing his location relative to her, she found the nearest path downstairs, always moving towards him, homing towards his beacon. She had to stop him.

***

_Too old_ , he thought underneath the sense of urgency.

Bernard was getting far too old for this kind of danger. The years had long ago caught up to him, and his bones were weary with age. He needed to get to the containment chamber in the lowest levels of the keep. _Why did it have to be all the way downstairs?_

Another seal on the jewel around his neck fractured. Kubathu was relentless in trying to free himself, every moment of every day, and just moved one step closer to success. He could feel the power coming from it, the straining. Most of all, he could feel the evil. Every moment of fighting tired him, but he didn't have the luxury of being tired. The Magicus Celesti needed him, maybe now more than any other time in his long life. Despite his age, he was the most suited for the task. The gift manifested strongly in him, it came to him as simply as breathing did; communing with the spirits was his second sight.

_I can sleep when I'm dead, which will be one day soon enough_ , he reminded himself. There were so many stairs. Why did there have to be so many? If only his body was as strong as his mind had become, old age would have been a blessing.

Two more of his Order approached from behind, each wordlessly taking him under an arm, their worry evident in their haste. It was Fordham and Leopold, two honorable servants of the Celesti if he ever knew one. They helped hustle him to the caverns underground, and called out to the spirits alongside him, lending him as much of their strength as they could.

"Antok told us everything, he brought us in to help," Fordham said. The two of them were young and enthusiastic, if inexperienced. They would be battle-worn soon enough, coming into this.

Bernard felt the crushing power of Kubathu, battering at the next guardian within the necklace he bore. His force grew considerably after obliterating the second seal; ten intact stones remained on the chain, along with the ruby glowing warm against his skin. Tiny black chasms snaked through the two already destroyed.

"Once downstairs one of you will need to take the vacant stand. Work in shifts, once one of you begins to tire allow the other to take over. Two more will relieve you tonight," Bernard instructed.

"It's been explained to us," Leopold assured him.

"Will you be able to handle it?" Bernard asked.

"For us long as we need to." Fordham nodded to Leopold, agreeing.

Bernard hoped their confidence would hold over time. That was the problem with their strategy; it was a losing war of attrition, with no room for error. They were human. Eventually, another mistake would be made like the one last night. How many of the diamonds had to break before they could no longer contain Him?

They finished their descent into the massive chambers below, "This way," Bernard told them, pointing towards a tunnel in the eastern corner.

"Sounds like someone is coming down after us," Fordham commented.

"Don't worry about it, we need to hurry along," Bernard answered. He wasn't overly concerned, Antok probably instructed additional magi to follow along as a precaution.

They made it through the tunnel quickly, with the two young pupils practically carrying him along under the arms. "To the right," Bernard instructed them, guiding along one of the five open passages.

The sound of hurried footsteps from behind echoed ever closer. Bernard could feel who it was, and it made no sense to him. Something was horribly wrong. However, his desire to stop and investigate was overruled by the severity of the task at hand.

"Go, go!" he spurred his escort.

Once inside, eleven podiums ran in a circle, each occupied by a wizard concentrating desperately on an incorporeal figure in the center. The twelfth podium was empty. Fordham and Leopold stopped to gape openly.

"One of you get up there!" Bernard directed, shoving the closest one forward.

In the middle of the circle was Kubathu's form. It undulated through varying levels of transparency every few seconds, suspended in the air while the wizards worked to keep him at bay. His struggle was evident, face contorted and the corded muscles of his arm and neck flexing with effort.

Bernard felt a sharp stab, grabbing at his chest. The pressure grew unbearable – somehow Kubathu was attacking him. He could feel the life forces humming within the room, waves of energy storming and colliding from over a dozen directions. He tried to segregate the attack against him, deciphering it amongst the chaos around him. It was coming from behind.

At last Fordham took his place atop the empty pedestal. The straining form in the center stopped suddenly, unable to fight against the combined effort of the full battalion of magi. The necklace went cold against Bernard's neck.

A bloodcurdling scream came from the tunnel, not twenty paces away. A soft thud followed after it.

"Oh, no, no no," Bernard uttered. Sevra had been the one following them, he knew her life force as much as his own. He made a point of knowing all of his students as best he could. Now that his responsibility in securing Kubathu had been addressed, he ran as fast as he could back towards her, using his hand against the stone wall for support.

The young girl was lying on her side, collapsed and unmoving. Desperately he reached his hands out towards her neck. She was cold and did not stir. He closed his eyes, concentrating. _There_. He could feel her pulse, it was weak but still there.

"I need some help!" he yelled. This girl was Yulan's adoptive daughter, and Yulan was as a son to him. He had been strict with Sevra over the last two years, but only because he knew her potential. She would one day be greater than all of them. Her safety was his responsibility, and he nearly got her killed. He would never forgive himself if she didn't recover.
Uncharted Territory

Four days passed, as far as Sevra could tell, before she regained consciousness in the infirmary. The first two she completely lost, and had to piece together conversations she could overhear on the third day to begin to understand what happened. Bernard had been sitting with her for over a day now, and probably the first two as well. Even Antok the Venerable came in, not so much to see her but to discuss matters with Bernard she didn't quite understand.

"Where's my girl?" She heard, and her heart felt light and warm for the first time in months. It had been about that long since his last visit.

"Uncle Yuley! I'm over here!" she tried to say, even thought she said it until realizing no sound came out.

He rushed into the room, over to her bed. She wasn't sure if he even saw Bernard near her. He gently placed his hand on her cheek, and lowered his head next to hers. She wasn't able to return the embrace.

"What in the spirits happened?" he cursed, "You told me everything was under control!"

She had never heard Uncle Yuley so angry before. "I'm okay," she insisted, but still no sound came out.

"Come sit," Bernard asked of Yuley, "I'll tell you everything I can."

"You will tell me everything, period!" Yulan argued.

"I'll tell you what I can," Master Bernard reiterated, "which is much more than what I'm permitted to."

Uncle Yuley sat, and Sevra could no longer see him from the corner of her eye. She could feel his impatience though.

She listened intently, wanting to know what happened to her as well and why she couldn't move. They probably didn't realize she could hear them, making what they had to say even more interesting to her.

Bernard lowered his voice only slightly, "There was another breach on Kubathu's imprisonment, a second diamond was shattered."

A tense silence ensued while Sevra eagerly awaited to hear more.

Bernard continued when it appeared Yulan had nothing yet to say, "The containment has been restored, but there was a problem before we realized the breach. It seems that once he breaks through enough he can touch upon our world, to a lesser degree. He slips his vile tendrils through to do his bidding."

"My girl?" Yulan asked, shocked.

Another few moments passed in silence. Sevra felt as though she were going to be sick. She recognized Kubathu's name from the 'Tale of the Broken King.' She didn't know the Broken King was still alive. It seemed impossible.

"Why Sevra of all people, that doesn't make any sense." Yulan finally said.

Bernard sighed heavily, and Sevra heard a small jingle. Yulan gasped.

"You!" Yulan shouted. The legs of the bed he was sitting on made a scraping sound against the floor. Sevra wished she could turn her head to be able to see what was going on.

"How could you take her in, so close to you under your study? Knowing the danger here? You looked me in the eye and told me you would keep her safe!" he yelled, " _You_ are the furthest thing from safe in the whole world right now!"

"She is safer with me than anywhere else in this entire keep," Master Bernard answered, his voice quiet but just as intense.

Hurried footsteps approached their area, followed by one of the nurse's voice, "You can't argue in here, take it somewhere else!"

"Leave us for a while," Yulan said, dismissing Bernard.

_No_ , Sevra thought, she wanted to hear more of what was going on. What did she have to do with whatever they were talking about?

"See me before you leave, there is more you should be aware of," Bernard said, followed by his feet quietly shuffling away.

"Oh Sparklebug," Uncle Yulan said, "what happened to you?"

He sat with her for many hours. Sevra felt comforted despite not being able to move or talk, and finally closed her eyes to rest.

***

"You can't take her home with you," Bern told him, not budging in the slightest.

"She is my daughter and I'll place her where I see fit," Yulan argued. "Lorna can take just as good or even better care of her than your people here."

"She will get better, and she needs more training," Bern continued.

Yulan didn't debate this point. The main reason he brought her here while aware of the danger was because she was a risk to herself and others. Her ability beginning to manifest, left uncontrolled, could have disastrous potential. That fact remained unchanged.

"I'll take her away from here, away from our village and I'll finish training her in seclusion," Yulan pushed.

Bern leaned forward, his bushy white eyebrows pushed together. "You're an old man. You know you don't have the energy for that any longer."

"I'm younger than you are! And I don't have that... thing wrapped around my neck," Yulan spat, "How could you not tell me you were the one bearing Kubathu's relic?"

"We've already been over this," Bern grumbled, standing up to pour both of them another drink. "The less who know the better, and the safest place for her here is close to me."

"I don't care. I will finish training her myself. My decision is made," Yulan said, unrelenting.

Bernard's back went straight and he remained motionless, facing away from Yulan. Finally he set the glass decanter down. His body language told Yulan there was more taking place than he let on. He needed to figure out what.

"She can't leave," Bern said flatly.

"What is it you're not telling me," Yulan stated. He didn't need to ask if Bernard was withholding information, he knew he was. It was what the old magus did. It was what they were all groomed to do, even himself at one point in time.

"We're friends, Yulan. More than friends. You are like a son to me after all these years, though we are both old men now. Yes, you too are old," Bernard said, seeing Yulan's eyebrow raise, "and wise enough to know I can't tell you everything that goes on when so much is at stake."

"I've no time for these games, Bernard. You're right. I am old, and I don't want to spend the time I have wasting it on politics and intrigue. I'm taking my daughter home now."

"She'll die if you take her," Bernard said flatly as Yulan reached the door.

That made him stop and turn around.

Bernard hung his head and began to elaborate, albeit reluctantly. "When Kubathu breached the second stone five days ago, I was in the middle of a training session with Sevra. I believe he formed a link with her at that time. He briefly took over her mind in a desperate attempt to stop us from containing him again. I'm working on breaking the link, but if she goes too far from the gem, from me, it will abruptly sever the connection and the shock of it will kill her."

"So you put her directly in harm's way," Yulan concluded.

"I don't think that's a fair assessment, given the totality of the events we are witnessing."

There it was. Bernard always had to place himself at the center of the faire. He should have known better than to entrust Sevra to him. Even though Bern was old, he never outgrew that need. It was the reason the man could never bring himself to retire.

"If she doesn't wake up," Yulan began.

"She will," Bernard insisted. "Frankly, it would be better if she didn't though until we can break the link. If she woke up now Kubathu would likely try to kill me through her. We'll make another attempt tomorrow. I take it you'll be staying for a while?"

"Yes, that's right. With your permission of course," Yulan answered, overly gracious. "I'll stay in Sevra's quarters until she's ready to move back there."

He left the room without any further conversation. He wanted to put his fist through the door on the way out but restrained himself. At times he wished he had taken a simpler profession, and never became entangled with the Magicus Celesti. Sure at their best they saved lives, righted wrongs, corrected injustices. At their worst however, they pulled strings and watched others dance, trampling any who stood in their way. They were a secretive, scheming, bureaucracy capable of reaching their own ends at any cost. Who could know exactly what the truth was at this given moment, except for maybe a select few within the Celesti?

After a full day of travelling, meeting with a few of the magi, and most importantly sitting in with Sevra, he was exhausted. He didn't have time to rest yet though, he wanted to go visit her again to be there in case she awoke, and to see what he could ferret out about this link keeping her trapped here.

Once in the infirmary he sat by Sevra again, holding his hand over her for a few more hours. In all likelihood there was little he could do that Bernard and his wizards could not, but he needed to try. He might not be as strong as many of them, and certainly rusty, but he was a crafty one himself, with many tricks at his disposal. Plus, he knew Sevra better than anyone else; if there was an anomaly within her aura or a malignant force at work, he might be able to see it.

Other than not moving or responding, nothing appeared wrong with her. She had a mildly slow pulse, no fever, and didn't appear to be in any distress. Yulan looked deeper, hoping to see anything his eyes could not. She still had her sparkle, brighter than anyone else he knew, and that gave him a small smile, but the mists around her streamed about in disarray, scrambled and chaotic. He couldn't begin to see where any readjustments might be helpful. She would need to rest and allow it to recover naturally; as far as he could tell, there wasn't anything here that didn't belong.

With resignation he returned to Sevra's quarters. Part of him felt like he was violating her room, but the guest housing was on the other side of the grounds. He wanted to be as close as possible to the infirmary, just in case. Taking a pillow from the bed, he tossed it on the floor and lay down. He could at least respect her space that much. The hard ground didn't bother him at all, he could have fallen asleep lengthwise on a fence right now if he had to.

He wished he knew what was wrong with Sevra, and held to the hope that she only needed to sleep for a while. She had received a significant trauma, and her mind probably had to take some time to recover. He prayed that time was all she needed.

The sun was still barely setting, yet he could hardly keep his eyes open. When he rolled over, a pale green stem poking out from under Sevra's mattress made him fully open his eyes; he probably wouldn't have even noticed it if the sliver of sun didn't catch it just right. With a groan he pushed himself from the ground and stood, gently touching the end of the stem.

Lifting the mattress slightly he peeked under it. What he saw made him suspicious, it looked like a deadened bloom of a plant. Exactly which one he couldn't tell from his quick view. With another lift of the mattress he pulled out the entire weed. There were a few dried white pods at the end of the fernlike branches; immediately he ran from the room with the plant in hand.

"Bernard!" he yelled in his sleepwear, pounding on the wizard's door. He felt foolish for only a moment, realizing it was early evening and he was inappropriately dressed in a busy hallway, causing a scene. Bernard was also likely not in his room at this hour.

"Can you tell me where Magus Bernard is?" he asked hurriedly, grabbing the first person he saw.

"Usually at meal about now," he answered, staring at Yulan and the dried up bouquet in his hand.

"Get him for me!" he shouted, louder than he intended, "please, it's very important."

Several minutes of anxious pacing later, he finally saw Bernard coming around the corner. _The man lives as long as a turtle because he moves just as slowly_ , Yulan thought impatiently. Hurrying over to him he began explaining in a rush, "I think Sevra was poisoned."

Bernard scanned the halls from side to side, "Quiet down!" he whispered harshly, "let's talk in my quarters. And put that down by your side."

Yulan stopped, though Bernard continued walking at his demure pace. He flung the plant downward, holding it low to his side and took a few quick steps to catch up.

"You should have joined us for supper, lots of faces would have been eager to see you," Bernard commented, speaking while looking straight ahead.

"Yes, perhaps tomorrow night," Yulan said, understanding Bern didn't want to speak in the halls, "any idea what's on the menu?"

"Pot roast, I think. Or was that last night? Bah, hard to remember at my age. Here we are, after you." Bern looked to the left and right, running his hand over his door with a few specific gestures, opening it to allow Yulan inside.

"White Lotus," Bernard said once they were inside.

"You know?" Yulan asked with incredulity, "Did you give her anything to counteract it?" He tossed the bloom onto Bernard's desk, no longer comfortable holding the vile weed in his hand.

Bernard walked over to it and picked up delicately with his thumb and forefinger, disposing of it into a wastebasket.

"Sevra was not poisoned. What's interesting is magi Albert's cause of death was poisoning, specifically White Lotus."

Yulan couldn't hide his confusion.

"Albert's death led to the chain of events allowing Kubathu to breach his prison, ultimately leading to Sevra's current state. He is, was rather, one of many other magi instrumental in the Kubathu project. The interesting question is where did you get this plant?" Bernard explained.

Yulan stared ahead blankly, unsure of how to answer or what the potential implications may be.

"Yulan?" Bernard asked.

"It was in Sevra's room," he finally admitted.

"We'll keep this between us, for now at least," Bern said.

"What could it mean?" Yulan asked.

"Nothing good," Bernard answered. "No matter what the answer to this riddle, it means there is an infiltrator in our midst. The particular answer will only tell us how sophisticated the one behind it is."

Yulan nodded, the answer seemed to satisfy him for the time being. As he exited and the door closed, Bernard couldn't help but worry how long had Sevra been under Kubathu's influence?
Student and Master

"Uncle Yuley you'll never catch me if you don't run!" Sevra chirped. It was the kind of high pitch laughter only a young girl at play could make. He was fairly certain it could break a wine glass; it was music to his ears. Seeing Sevra carefree, running and playing like a child should was such a rare sight.

She had finally snapped out of her unresponsive state after another two days, and appeared stronger each day. Bernard gave her some time off before she needed to return to her training, and Sevra seemed like she wanted to spend most of it in the gardens on the grounds outside of the keep with him.

"I need a break, Sparklebug," he groaned, finding a tree to help lower himself and sit against.

Bernard hadn't said anything further to either him or Sevra about the white lotus plant he found in her room, but it continued nagging at him. With that thought constantly on the back of his mind, it was difficult to enjoy watching her play.

"Sevra, come here a minute," he said. She ran over, sitting down to face him with her spindly legs next to his.

"Did you pick any flowers last week, before your accident?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Think hard, it's very important. Anything you saw and might have thought was pretty, and brought it back to your room?"

"No," she answered, "Master Bernard told me it's better to admire the flowers where they belong, in the ground. It kills them if you pick them."

"Is that so?" He said, "Alright, go on." With a flick of his wrist he touched her chin, giving her a gentle nudge.

"C'mon!" she said, grabbing his hand before she took off. He pushed himself with his other hand at his knee and stood. There was more exploring for them to do.

***

"The girl has made a full recovery," Bernard told Antok.

"She can no longer stay here after such an event. There isn't precedent for an episode like this. It could be disastrous for all of us," Antok the Venerable replied.

"I've removed any traces of Kubathu's influence over her, there is no risk," Bernard explained, again.

Releasing Sevra from the Magicus Celesti at this stage was frankly dangerous. He wouldn't allow it, or at least fight against it with all that he could until he finished her training. She needed to stay here a while longer so he could be certain he truly did unravel Kubathu's touch on her. Unfortunately, that meant hiding his uncertainty from this tribunal. If they knew he had doubts himself, she wouldn't stand a chance.

Most importantly, Sevra had too much potential for them to throw away after he already devoted two years to her. He had hopes she was to be his lasting legacy. Who knew how many years he had left; to think he wasted so much time near the end of his life was unacceptable.

"Another three months is all I ask," Bernard continued, "reevaluate after that period. Don't let fear lead you to an overly haste decision."

Antok tapped his fingers against his desk, narrowing his eyes in thought.

"We will discuss it among our council, but do not hold high hopes in this matter," he stated.

Amongst the hearing, there was one participant of whom the others were not aware. Dwelling in the crimson stone within Bernard's necklace, Kubathu had full awareness of the proceeding. With two seals of his prison compromised, he could extend his will in ways undetectable to those so-called wizards. The greatest danger always came from the unknown; he currently held that advantage. He had plans for Sevra; the girl could not leave until the time was right. Kubathu would make certain of it.

***

Sevra twirled the strand of hair around in her finger, absently giving it a gentle tug as she poured over another tome, _Fundamentals of Natural State Energy_. The silver lock distracted her. Thankfully that spot she tore away in her fit a few months ago did grow back, but the dark sheen had vanished and was replaced by a snowy white. She liked it, the lightness added a nice contrast.

Returning her full attention to the book, she learned a trick recently that let her read much faster than she was previously able. With a little practice she could now devour nearly an entire paragraph in a single glance. The secret was to see the whole page at once and let her mind go to work on it, not waste time looking over each word. She was devising new strategies for learning almost daily.

All of her studies advanced quickly since her episode; once she recovered and had time to reflect, she felt a renewed sense of vigor and empowerment. She was stronger for having gone through it, and attacked her training with a strong sense of purpose.

Uncle Yuley stayed with her for a few weeks, and she was glad for the time she could spend with him, but also happy to have her daily routine restored. Bernard finally stopped watching her so closely, and began to treat her once again with the stern demeanor to which she had grown accustomed. He tried to hide it, but his concern had been overwhelming to the point where she felt he was treating her like a toddler.

Despite fully recovering, she continued to have nightmares daily. She didn't tell Master Bernard about those, afraid he might stop her training again. In every dream she would find herself in a hall with a wooden door blocking her way. Eventually she would budge it open enough to see an old man's face, the one who died in the infirmary when she was sick. He would stare at her, accusatorily. The decomposing skin on his face was mostly rotted away, exposing bone and muscle in places.

_This is what you've done to me, what you will do to everyone you love_.

Sevra sat up with a gasp, not realizing she had fallen asleep with her nose buried in the book. She couldn't have been asleep long, the nightmare coming on quickly. Her stomach felt queasy, there was a rotting scent from the dream still lingering in her memory. She promptly leaned over and vomited. Usually the bad dream didn't stay with her for this long, though the shaky feeling did begin to slowly fade as she lay there.

Thoroughly miserable, she cleaned up the mess and realized it was time for her next lesson with Master Bernard. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on her bed and sleep for a few more hours, but didn't want to let on that she wasn't feeling well. Finally back to her normal routine, she didn't want anything to interrupt her again. It was just a mild upset stomach. The only reason she felt off color was because the dream was so realistic, otherwise she was fine. Of course she was.

She hurried off to the courtyard, where Master Bernard likely already waited for her. She was only late for a lesson one time before, and spent the rest of the night copying parchments that were falling to pieces. Bernard said she could rest easy knowing future generations would share in the joy of obscure texts no one had looked at in a hundred years, and probably wouldn't look at for a hundred more. Remembering the soreness in her wrist, she didn't want to repeat that particular punishment.

The courtyard was her favorite place to take lessons; trees and hedges were carefully arranged in circles along short stairways. Each one had privacy without seclusion, giving the appearance of a small outdoor room. Two more classes were going on in other sections, while Master Bernard waited for her in one of the far corners.

"Just in time," Bernard said, "I was beginning to think you were growing tired of our work."

"No, Master Bernard, I'm here," she answered.

"Good, today's lesson then, is about control," he continued. He held his arm out, and with a fluid motion turned his hand palm upward. An inch above it, a small red sphere appeared.

"You see, when you have control, your ability to concentrate improves, and you can devote your full attention to many actions at once – like me having this conversation and maintaining this orb."

Sevra watched, noting the difficulty of what Master Bernard was doing. Many of the magi here would be sweating with their eyes clenched in concentration while just trying to keep the orb sustained.

"This orb," he said slowly, "contrary to conventional wisdom, is red because it isn't very hot. Only about three times the heat necessary to boil water or so... Now I can pull more energy into it, and it will change color. Of course, this takes more effort."

The orb slowly changed in color from red, to orange, then white and blue. Sevra took a step back from the heat pouring out of it.

"When you have discipline, more options are available to you, and you never know when an extra option may save your life," Master Bernard stated. Another orb sprang up from his other hand, increasing in intensity until it matched the first one in color.

"Have you ever created one of these before?" Master Bernard asked.

She shook her head, indicating she hadn't.

"I'll start over. Embrace the spirits and pay attention," he instructed.

Doing as told she cleared her thoughts and ignored her senses, allowing her mind to float freely. This part was never difficult for her, the spirits were always there. Keeping them away seemed to take more effort.

"Good," Bernard said.

She paid close attention as he siphoned some of the energy from everything around him – some of his own aura, the trees, plants, even some of her own. She felt a slight chill as he did so.

"Be careful not to take too much from any one source," he said, going slowly through the process so she could see each nuance. "If you do..."

A rose bush along their border withered to brown, the flower drooping and falling off.

The collective energy swirled to a point, slowly building, then spinning ever faster.

"The motion creates the initial heat," he said, "now if you seal it off properly, it will continue to accumulate. Do things correctly, and you won't tire yourself out as fast. Give it a try."

This was the first time she had been shown how to do anything that gave a physical result – the butterflies in her stomach added to her nausea, bringing some bile into her throat. She swallowed it back down with a grimace.

It didn't look very difficult, and she began to pull small filaments from the surrounding environment in towards a ball above her hand. They drew together clumsily, bouncing off each other like trying to force two magnets together. At every moment the ball threatened to unravel, each strand bouncing outward under its own internal force. It fell apart, dissipating to nothing once again. It ended in the same result five times in a row.

Master Bernard watched impassively, studying her technique, occasionally frowning. She took to it once again, even though she thought she might have a better chance at sewing a sweater while holding the needles with her feet.

_Stop placing strands next to each other that flow in the same direction_ , she heard. _A little less force. Just guide, let it do the work_.

She continued on, with a little more success than the last attempt thanks to the advice. It became easier, with each subtle movement of her hand critiqued and corrected. Soon she had a small red ball in her hand, if only for a moment. She let out an excited giggle once she succeeded, causing it to wink out.

"I did it!" she exclaimed, accentuated with an excited bounce of her feet.

"Yes, you did," Bernard said, if a little slowly. He seemed genuinely surprised, though he tried to hide it. She began to think he doubted she would succeed.

She started to make another attempt but was interrupted. "No, no that's enough for today, Sevra," Master Bernard said. "You might not feel it right this moment but that probably tired you out a good deal. Go ahead and take the rest of the afternoon as free time. Don't do this outside of my supervision. I don't want you catching your room on fire, or worse."

"Okay," she said, wanting to argue to stay a little longer but thinking twice about it.

"Thanks for the advice," she called back as she walked away. Without the help, she knew there was no way she could have made the sphere on her own.

***

Once evening arrived she realized Master Bernard was right to end their lesson when he did. Her neck and shoulders ached, and temples throbbed with pressure. She would have loved nothing more than to curl up and sleep, except the growl of her stomach was far too incessant to ignore. The nearest kitchen was a quarter mile away, normally not enough to dissuade her. After arguing with herself for long enough that she could have already been either eating or sleeping, she made a decision. Hunger won out.

Dragging her feet, she made the long walk to see what food might be still be available. She hoped there was chicken or quail tonight, something more substantial than vegetables and grains. There were few people up and about, not that anyone usually paid her mind. Often she would get a handful of stares; the keep had a lack of children, making them all hold a small degree of novelty. She missed dinner with Uncle Yuley and Momma Lorna, even missed being outside with other people her own age.

Even though she preferred being by herself when there were other children, now that there were almost none she felt lonely. It was a thought she grappled with often, always coming to the conclusion that she was better off alone. Eventually they'd give her a reason not to like them, they always did.

_You don't need anyone else. You're stronger without them._ She agreed with the sentiment.

Venison was still being served for another hour, and though it wasn't her favorite she ate without complaint – two platefulls worth. While she ate she thought about her lesson for the day, still content from the earlier exhilaration of what she accomplished. She couldn't wait to try again. If she wasn't so tired... well, she wasn't allowed to try anything further. Master Bernard told her not to.

A gentle nudge on her shoulder woke her up, and she was confused for several moments until realizing she had fallen asleep at the dinner table.

"Where's your room, sweetheart?" One of the maids asked her. "I'll walk her home."

She vaguely heard a few giggles from the other women finishing up, remarking on old men who were drinking too much being the ones to usually fall asleep at their plate. She didn't really get what was funny about it.

Once back in her room she promptly fell asleep, almost as soon as her head reached the pillow. Albert was there to meet her again – the old man she had seen dead in the infirmary. She dreamt about him almost every night, most of the time waking her in a cold sweat. This night, she was so tired his rotten face and cruel words hardly registered. In the morning she awoke with Master Bernard at her door, watching her closely.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I oversleep?" she asked, scrambling to gather her books.

"No, relax," he said, "I was only checking in on you."

Confused, she stopped what she was doing.

"You were sleepwalking last night," he explained, "a scholar found you late in the night as he was leaving the library."

"I don't remember that," she said skeptically. It felt like she had a decent night's sleep. "Maybe it was someone else?"

"I ended up coming to get you myself," he answered.

She didn't respond; there wasn't anything to say if she didn't remember it.

"Nothing to be alarmed about," Bernard assured her, seeing how worried she looked. "Sleepwalking isn't uncommon and you seem well enough now. Meet me in an hour for your lesson."

After straightening up her room and grabbing a coat she went to the same courtyard as yesterday, making sure to get there earlier than Master Bernard this time. The extra minutes let her warm up and prepare; she felt a lot better today than she did for her previous lesson. Her concentration was razor sharp, and her stomach wasn't upset to distract her. She began with a few simple mental exercises to clear her thoughts and worries – breathing in slowly, and letting it out.

"Good, I see you're not wasting any time this morning," Master Bernard remarked. "Do you think you remember how to repeat what we did yesterday?"

"Yes, Master Bernard," she answered.

Within a few moments she began to form a small ball of heat slightly above her hand. It came to her much easier than yesterday; each fine movement of her fingers and thoughts coming with deft precision.

"Impressive," she heard Bernard say, almost skeptically. She felt the power running through her suddenly cut off, like a fountain denied its water. "But didn't I instruct you to not practice last night?"

"No..." she stammered, "I promise. All I did was have something to eat and go to sleep." She didn't want to be punished, much less for not actually breaking any of Master Bernard's rules.

Master Bernard let out a breath, "Go again."

Slightly distracted, it took her longer this time to clear her head and concentrate. Within a short time though, she again had another glowing orb above her hand. Her excitement at succeeding nearly broke the spell, but she held onto it.

"Hotter," Bernard demanded.

With greater effort she continued to pull in fragments of energy from all of the sources around her – the grass along the courtyard, bushes and trees along their perimeter, a bird that happened to fly by at that moment, even herself and Master Bernard. The orb grew hotter and hotter until it turned from red to orange. Each second that passed more energy was fed into it; the hotter it grew the more energy it needed to sustain itself, and exponentially heavier the sphere became. The bird fell from the sky, bushes shriveled, and the grass died under her feet.

_You're not being efficient_ , she heard. _Pay attention!_ She realized it was true; strands of energy were branching away and dissipating before she could use them, and the layering on her orb could have been more organized and controlled.

It bounced and shredded apart, resulting in a small but potent flash of light in front of her. Master Bernard calmly held his arm up over his eyes, while she was knocked flat onto her bottom. It took nearly a minute for the bright white flash to fade from her vision.

"Not bad," he said, surveying the localized devastation. The bird shook out its head and body before woozily taking to the air again. "A little sloppy on the technique and control, my fault perhaps for pushing you. Nonetheless, very good for one of your first attempts."

"I can do it better," she insisted. Next time she'd be more discerning with her placements and how much she drew from any source. She pushed herself to her feet and began to try again.

A slight motion of Master Bernard's hand and she found she could not call upon the spirits, her head felt cloudy.

"That's enough for today," he said, "you can try again tomorrow. Remember, meditation only - no crafting by yourself."

She didn't have the energy to argue. Her head throbbed, and every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire. Master Bernard gave her another reading assignment, and kitchen duty for the evening before dismissing her.

"Can't have you dithering the day away just because you can't do any more of this," he said. "Everyone pitches in."

Disappointed, she returned to her bedroom after a short lesson. She didn't understand how she tired so quickly, after having such high expectations of herself this morning. It wasn't fair; her little body was too delicate to do what her mind could. If she were older and stronger she'd be able to handle so much more. It was infuriating, and despite her exhaustion she could feel her face reddening and heart pounding in her chest.

She picked up her pillow and buried it against her head, letting out a high-pitch shriek. Her fit just beginning, she flung herself down on the bed and sobbed. When the tantrum finally ran its course, she felt herself begin to nod off. Before falling asleep she felt a deep sense of shame and disgust, but not her own. It was as if she had the tantrum right in front of Master Bernard and could feel his disapproval, but he couldn't see her right now. At least, she was fairly sure he couldn't.

Hours later she awoke, sometime in the middle of the afternoon. A cold draft came through her window, so she took one of her extra sheets and jammed it into the cracks as best she could. It didn't help much. The trees were bare outside; she hated this time of year. Everything looked dead, or at least dying. Her stomach felt slightly sour again, more from nerves than being sick. An odd feeling of shame still overwhelmed her; she had always been hard on herself but this felt different. She couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched and judged harshly.

There was still some water in her pitcher from this morning. She scooped a bit of it in her hand and ran it over her face, then drank a little more. With a few hours before the kitchens, she opened one of her books for study. More history, probably her least favorite area, though Master Bernard continually tried to emphasize how important it was.

Her mind wandered as she read the various names and places, and the names of the lands they were called prior to what they are now, and prior to that. After a while it all blended into one repetitive string of words, each with less meaning than the next. Once she realized she was hardly paying attention, she read the same line over a few times to make sure she understood it.

_The Luskites were once again driven northwards by the Vermillion Empire, leading to widespread famine_. Her eyes began to glaze over. _There exists unique signatures within each lifeform and its aurora, though on its smallest scale diverge into four fundamental types. The distinct combinations of each are what compose the organism. Each branch has its own distinctive qualities and applications._

Sevra blinked. That sentence didn't seem like it should follow what preceded. She read again. _The Luskites were forced into exile, forming small settlements where they remained undetected for years..._

Frowning, she read the page again, and a third time. There wasn't any text there referencing what she thought she saw previously. Flipping through the pages, she was unable to find it again. She wanted to keep looking, but it was time to go scrub pots. With a frustrated grunt she closed the book. After finally finding a passage she was interested in, she lost it and now it was time to go be a scullery maid for the rest of the night.

It had been a while since she last had to perform kitchen duty, but she knew the routine. Rolling up her sleeves she let the chef know she arrived and headed into the back. He muttered something unintelligible, too busy to waste time talking to her, and pointed towards the direction she was already heading.

The dirty pots and pans were stacked counter to ceiling. With numb resignation she started on the first pile, lathering up a brush with a chunk of soap and scrubbing away. She worked at a pace fast enough to not get yelled at, but not so fast that she would tire herself out. Washing dishes for the Magicus Celesti wasn't a sprint; she learned that on her first time through. The pile of clean dinnerware was beginning to balance out with the dirty, though every now and then another stack came in from the dining hall to set her behind.

Her thoughts wandered as she worked mechanically, occasionally straightening her back and knuckling her sides when they tightened up. She continued to replay the line she read earlier, the one that seemed to not exist when she tried to find it again. It sounded like an introduction to a practical theory, one that was probably very useful. Maybe Master Bernard began to explain it to her some time before and her thoughts drifted to it while reading the history text. She'd have to make sure to ask him about it.

Another clean pile of dishes were returned to be set at tables, while more dirty ones were brought in. She wished her crafting lesson could have lasted longer, or at least practice on her own in the evening without drawing the ire of every magi on the premises. Maybe then she wouldn't be stuck doing dishes for so many hours. Her hands began to dry and crack from the soap whenever she took them out of the water.

Pace yourself.

Yes, she did need to pace herself better. If only she wasn't limited to spellwork under Master Bernard's strict guidance, she'd be able to progress so much faster.

There is a way.

"No, I get in trouble if I try to reach the spirits without guidance," she said absently while she scrubbed.

I will teach you to walk among them.

She stopped scrubbing. There was a brief moment of realization that there was something wrong. Her heart raced and palms began to sweat, stinging her irritated skin. People who were well did not hear voices.

"I don't..." she stammered.

You will learn.

The thoughts faded to a whisper and disappeared altogether. She was no longer certain if they were her own or not; her head felt like one large mass of confusion.

"Hey! You're falling behind get a move on in here!"

Sevra jumped at the voice, no longer lost in thought. "Yes, I'm sorry."

She hurried to get a small batch cleaned up, ignoring the pain of her raw fingers and aching back, and unable to recall the conversation having took place in her head only moments before.

***

"No, Sevra. I'm sure you didn't hear that from me," Master Bernard said sternly. "Now I want you to focus on what you are doing before the contaminant fades."

"I'm paying attention, I just don't see anything," she said, crawling around on the carpet while she carefully inspected every inch of it. "Well I didn't just _imagine_ it. Kind of a silly thing to makeup by myself."

"Don't sass. Honestly have you even been paying attention all this time to think it works that way? Ridiculous notions," Master Bernard huffed.

She sighed loudly, then winced and looked back to see Master Bernard raise his eyebrows. Words on a page shouldn't change; she knew what she read yesterday. It continued to bother her she couldn't find the passage again. After washing dishes she spent another hour before going to bed, pouring over the texts to no avail. She hoped Master Bernard might have recognized what she read, which turned out to be a mistake.

Today he decided they should take a break from intensive study to give her mind a respite and show her a new technique, one that would allow her to detect poisons or other substances.

"You wouldn't believe how many people are poisoned at court each year. Not here of course, but each year, in every kingdom, it happens," Master Bernard emphasized. "Of course if you're reading through your histories instead of making up your own stories, you would know that."

"I'm reading them Master Bernard. And I saw what I saw," she repeated, seeming to home in towards a particular corner. "There's too many families and places to keep track of. Why does each city have to change its name so many times? Oh, over here I think."

She began to understand the distinctive signature of the room, and saw that it deviated in one particular spot. "Is it here?" she asked.

Master Bernard crouched down to his knee, slowly running his hand over the area. The necklace he wore dangled freely from his shirt. She was transfixed by the red gem, it was the most beautiful stone she ever saw. Having only glimpsed it before at a distance, it paled in comparison to being this close to it.

"Yes, I believe you found it," Master Bernard answered, "good work." He stood, and Sevra held out her hand pitifully with a great longing in her heart.

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. "Excellent, I'll have another test arranged with a few drinking glasses; practice will make perfect. Often some of the magi are assigned to protect someone for a period of time and testing their consumables will be a daily task. Or Gods forbid one day your drink or food might be contaminated, and this skill could save your life. See you shortly."

Master Bernard left the room, and Sevra tried to clear the fogginess from her head. She never had such a profound feeling of emptiness, one that could have been filled if she had the necklace.

It should be yours.

She couldn't help but agree. _In time, it will be._

With the next test set, she composed herself and joined Master Bernard in the dining room outside of the library. It was mostly empty this time of morning, and she found him at a table towards the back. The few patrons all had books in their hands, and only one or two looked at her disinterestedly as she passed by.

Three glasses full of clear liquid were on the table.

_It's on the right_.

"It's on the right," she said, almost as soon as she sat down.

Master Bernard frowned at how quickly she answered. "Are you guessing? You should know better."

"I'm not guessing," she answered.

"Then how could you know? Are you confident enough to stake our lives on it?" he asked.

She wasn't sure how she knew, once she was prompted to reconsider. Her instincts told her it was so, but it was more than that. Someone wanted her to know the answers. More importantly she felt like she knew because she _deserved_ to know.

"I don't feel so well," she said. Her head was starting to bother her, and she found it difficult to focus.

Master Bernard continued to frown, "Come here, child," he said. He placed his hand at her temples. Immediately the headache vanished, but the strange sense of longing in the pit of her stomach returned. She could feel the gem on his necklace reaching out for her, beckoning.

"You may be excused, for now," he said abruptly. "Tonight after dinner I'll guide you through meditation exercises for strengthening your mind. Read your texts."

"Yes, Master Bernard," she answered, scurrying off before she got stuck with any chores. She turned at the doorway to take a last look back, biting her lower lip. Master Bernard was already busy writing in his journal. Two of the crystals towards the top of his necklace poked out above his collar, catching the light and casting it out with dancing reflections. With a forlorn sigh she returned to her room.

As the afternoon passed, she lay down on her bed for a while, tossing a small doll up in the air and catching it. There was plenty of reading she needed to do, but couldn't summon the effort to do any more than mindlessly skim over the pages. She couldn't stop thinking about Master Bernard's necklace; it was far too fancy for a man to wear.

_One day it will be yours, patience_.

A stabbing pain shot through her head, and pressure, like someone tore through it with their hand. Briefly she felt a profound sense of worry and resisted against a force pushing in on her, creeping into the small recesses of her mind. She never stood a chance, and it was over so fast she was left wondering if it even really happened.

Take up your book, I will give you proper instruction.

Dutifully she picked up the history tome, opening to where she last left off. The letters morphed and rearranged themselves, transforming into a different set of text, of a more interesting subject matter.

Now learn from a true master, for you have been chosen. In time, the most powerful magi to walk the lands will pale in comparison, and bow in awe before you.

Though her mind was still her own, another influence had taken residence. The poison of Kubathu ran through her thoughts, and His limitless desires would again be satiated.

Now her training would truly begin.

***

The following morning Sevra woke shivering, her blanket three-quarters of the way on the floor. She pulled it back up, holding it tight around her neck and shoulders in an effort to warm up. After nearly an hour she gave up on falling back to sleep. The chills began to subside but her head pounded with a dull throb, and she was thirsty.

There were a few drops of water left in her pitcher from the previous night. Not wanting to bear the cold she resigned herself to dealing with the thirst. She sat down on the floor with her feet touching together and hands gently on her knees, running through her morning meditation routine. She could feel the spirits there, on the outside of her periphery; they were always there, waiting for her to let them in. She resisted the urge for the thousandth time, strictly forbidden from calling upon them unsupervised. Sweat trickled down her forehead, running cold along her nose and cheek.

Why resist? Indulge in your gifts, you were born to use them. Meant to use them.

"I'm not allowed."

_Permission? Does a sparrow seek permission to fly? A lion to hunt and kill?_ The sound of laughter echoed and faded within her head.

I can make it so they never know, if you wish it.

Sevra opened her eyes, realizing she had spoken aloud to someone who wasn't there. Her heart raced, and breath came in rapid spurts. Three small knocks followed by the sound of her door opening made her jump to her feet. Her face flushed with embarrassment, feeling like she had been caught doing something which she wasn't supposed to. Immediately she curtsied deeply; Master Antok the Venerable was at her door.

"Good morning, child," he said kindly.

"Good morning, Master Antok. You humble me with your presence," she answered respectfully. He had never visited her before, rarely visited anyone.

"Sit down, Sevra," he said, motioning to the edge of her bed. He sat next to her and took her hand in his. "I have some bad news. Magi Bernard fell ill last night. He's doing better now, but he's still very sick."

Sevra gasped and put her hands to her mouth. Even though Master Bernard was very old, it never occurred to her that he might fall ill. He was always so strong, and consistent in his ways.

"We're hopeful he will recover," he said, placing his arm on her shoulder comfortingly. She felt a gemstone press against the side of her shoulder, and found it difficult to focus on anything else. He continued to speak, but she barely registered anything he said.

"In the meantime we'll find another instructor for you to work with, until Master Bernard is well again."

"I understand," she responded.

"Good," Master Antok replied, "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask child." He stood and walked to the door, turning back to offer a smile before he left. She returned it weakly.

"Can I visit Master Bernard?" she asked, just before he left.

"Of course. In a few days."

She sat back down on her bed with her fists under her chin, blowing the silver strand of hair out of her eyes. What was she to do without Master Bernard? She didn't know anyone else, and the prospect of a new teacher made her nervous. Getting off the bed, she peeked into the hallway to make sure no one was there, and then firmly closed her door again.

"Hello?" she asked, returning to the conversation she was having before Master Antok arrived. There was no answer. She began to panic, worried she may be hearing voices that weren't there.

_You are far from insane, child,_ she heard, _as I said, you have been chosen. Let me show you a taste of what that means._

Power flooded into her, more than she ever felt before. The world turned grey and muted, the spirits flowing through every fiber of her being. She wasn't summoning them forth, but walking among them. Her will was theirs.

The spell ended and she leaned forward onto her bed for support, panting.

"Are you a god?" she asked. Any minute she expected one or more of the magi to descend on her room; there was no way they didn't notice _that_.

_A god? If it helps you conceptualize what I am, then yes. Think of me as a god._ Again there was more laughter, chilling and humorless. _For I am that powerful._

She bit her lip in anticipation of the possibilities; she always felt like she was special. Uncle Yuley and Momma Lorna told her all the time when she was little, now she knew it. There wasn't anything she couldn't do, the gods themselves had chosen her. It didn't concern her in the slightest she no longer had one of the magi for guidance; she had something better.

Yes, child, I am all you need. Placate these pretenders, but I will unlock your true potential.

She raised her head, catching her breath. Her sight focused straight ahead, and she saw visions of what could be. In a single instant she saw herself transcending the limits of human understanding; she could know all, and see all - even death itself would be no barrier for her. Her lips turned upward in a small smile.

"Yes," she whispered. She wanted everything He had to offer.

Do as I say, and you shall have it.
Desperation

Seasons passed, much remaining unchanged in the lives of those at the keep. Sevra grew taller, losing some of her childish features as she began to bloom into adolescence. Master Bernard only recovered partially from his illness, his brain afflicted by advanced age, a disease for which there was no cure. He had long ago grown old, and it was a fact of nature that could not be delayed any longer. Sevra visited him on occasion, but as time went by the visits became increasingly infrequent. Uncle Yuley came by two or three times a year to see her; she always enjoyed his visits. He still called her Sparklebug, and remembering her time with him as a child was the one memory that made her heart ache.

Their last visit is what brought her into the woods every night, trying to find a solution. Each time she thought about it, her resolve only grew stronger. She was running out of time.

"I have bad news, sweetheart," Yuley told her.

"Is it Momma Lorna?" Sevra asked.

"No, you really should come back and visit though, she misses you," Yuley said.

She looked out of her window without answering. As the years slipped by it was easier to justify not returning, and harder to find a reason to go back. At least here, part of her felt like she belonged. The longer away from Shady Vale, the more she realized it was never really her home.

"What is it then?" Sevra asked shakily. She knew the answer, could sense it and didn't want to believe it. She needed to hear it.

"I'm dying," Yuley told her bluntly, he could see she already knew. The girl always knew what it was when something was wrong.

She didn't move, continuing to stare into the courtyard. Tears began to swell in her eyes and she needed to compose herself before turning around. She didn't want to cry in front of him.

He walked over and put his hand on her shoulder, "It's going to be okay."

She turned without looking at him, hugging him closely. "How can you say that? How do you know?" she asked.

His ribs poked into her, and when she managed to look up she could see that his face was too thin. How had she not known something was wrong when she first looked at him?

"It's part of life. I've grown old, we all do. I wanted to make sure I saw you again."

"Maybe you're just sick and will get better," Sevra insisted, "people get sick you know."

"Perhaps," Yuley said, offering a smile that extended into his eyes. They shone with contentment.

Sevra had spent enough time with Momma Lorna as she tried to fix other people's illnesses; Uncle Yuley looked like he had a wasting disease. They never ended well and deep down she knew it. She just didn't want to believe it, couldn't believe it.

"I'll come back with you, take care of you. Please Uncle Yuley." Sevra pleaded.

"No, it's too important that you stay here and finish your training," he said firmly, "who's teaching you now that Bernard is no longer able?"

"Don't change the subject."

"C'mon, let's just have a conversation, tell me about you for a while," he said. "There's still plenty of time to talk about me, or yell at me. Whatever you need to do."

"I've had many different instructors lately," she answered dismissively, "they don't matter. What am I going to do without you?"

Recalling Uncle Yuley's condition strengthened her resolve. She looked out into the darkness, calling forth several spheres of light to see by. The only consistencies in Sevra's life over the past few years were the ever changing line of tutors assigned to her, and her Uncle Yuley. Occasionally she felt lonely, but it always passed. Her entire life she had been mostly alone, and realized she was better off without others meddling in her business. Without Uncle Yuley though, she would have no one. She didn't know if she could face that.

Ever since Master Bernard's illness she never seemed to keep one instructor for longer than a few months; they would always fall sick shortly after taking her on. After going through six or seven, she lost count. It had been nearly half a year since she even had an instructor at this point, though she certainly didn't mention it to Yuley. Somehow she fell by the wayside.

Through the series of wizards and possible miscommunications on their behalf, no one seemed to be responsible for her. She didn't mind, actually preferred the freedom it offered. Whenever she saw Bernard he would ask how she was doing, and she would tell him her instruction was going well. It wasn't exactly a lie; she still received all the guidance she needed. The Gods escorted her along her journey now, better than any of the magi ever could have. When she prayed for a way to save Yuley, they guided her here, to these woods outside of the keep to perfect the magic that could save him.

She was told what was necessary to save her Uncle was not for the faint of heart, and she would need to be willing to do things she might not otherwise have done, or even approved of someone else doing. To restore life required life. She slipped into the realm of spirits, half in this world and half in the other, as He taught her. Patiently she waited for her prey.

Remember, as I have shown you.

"Yes, I remember," she whispered.

A deer approached one of the lights, staring at it quizzically. Quietly she approached it from behind, pausing whenever it would show signs of startlement. As stealthy as a wraith in her altered state, she resumed stalking, approaching within only a few feet of the buck. White and black swirls intermingled with the creature, streaking and trailing in a delicately balanced dance surrounding it.

Beauty and the perfection of nature were demonstrated within the beast; it was a machine more elaborate than the finest clock, with additional, mystical components that gave it life. Those were the components she required. She admired it, as she admired all of the others before doing what was necessary.

She extended her thoughts outward, her will manifesting into a physical wave, slowly spreading forward. The dark and light swirls around the deer began to pull out of their rotation, drawing towards her. The wave turned a greenish hue, reacting with the essence that was once the animal, while the deer itself began to wither like a parched flower. The entire amalgamation of energy contracted violently, returning to Sevra.

Her head threw back involuntarily, a mixture of pain and pleasure. She could feel the vitality once giving life to the deer coursing through her; nothing made her feel more alive than coming out here to practice what could save Uncle Yuley. The act revolted her. Part of her was scared by how good it felt, and how much she was starting to crave the kill. She dismissed the notion immediately, pushing it down and refusing to acknowledge her worries.

Are you sure you can handle what needs to be done when the time comes? Are you ready to kill? It is the only way to save him.

"I can do it," she answered, her resolve unyielding. She had to be able to.

***

"Matters are well in hand, I can afford the trip," Antok the Venerable assured his council. He thumbed the ruby he bore in Bernard's place, now that he was no longer able. It was a habit he seemed to have taken to lately.

"The threat from Kubathu is constant, are you sure it is wise to introduce a change when as you say, everything is well in hand?" Master Trilo questioned. He had been one of the few on the project since the beginning, knowing as much of the risks as Antok himself.

"Distance will not make a difference in maintaining the shield around him. But I do still have concerns about the girl being too far removed. We all remember what happened three years ago when we made our one and only mistake," Antok stated.

When one of the protectors died mysteriously, Kubathu was able to extend his will outwards, taking over the mind of one of his students. Bernard had assured him afterwards that all traces of contamination within the girl were removed. Antok still had his doubts. Granting Sevra a pass to venture so far away could possibly kill her if any tendrils of Kubathu's corruption lingered. It wasn't a risk he was ready to assume, no matter how slight.

"It is a shame about the girl's uncle, but death is a matter we all confront in life. You cannot make extra considerations for all of them. You should not for her," Trilo retorted.

"Because of what we allowed to happen, her life could be in danger venturing away from the necklace. We simply don't know. I've made my decision, I'll go break the news to her and accompany the girl to Shady Vale to pay her last respects to Magus Yuley," Antok said with finality. He folded the letter from Lorna Vitano, informing them of Yuley's death and requesting Sevra's presence. Carefully he placed it in his tunic pocket.

The rational side of him held reservations about his decision; was he being unnecessarily reckless out of sentiment? His entire life he had been able to separate logic and emotion, making what others may deem a difficult choice without giving it second thought.

The girl needed to be allowed to say goodbye. As he ran his hands over the necklace again, he knew in his heart he was making the right decision.

***

She didn't feel anything. It surprised her how little she felt; why wasn't she crying?

"Did you hear me, Sevra?" Antok asked, his aged voice tinged with softness. "Your Uncle passed away four days ago." He delicately handed her the letter from Lorna.

"I heard," she answered flatly. She stared straight ahead but wasn't really looking at anything in particular.

"I'll come with you to pay your respects," he said, "we can leave this evening."

"No," she answered quickly, "there is no need."

"You will regret it the rest of your life if you do not go," he responded, "it is something you have to do. Your duties for the day are forgiven, spend the rest of the hours in contemplation. Who is your instructor, I'll let him know."

"Fine, no need I'll tell him," she deflected, "tonight then."

Antok quietly left her room, and she sat on the bed, reading through the letter a few times. The work she had been doing the last few months was for nothing, she was too late. She wasn't sad or disappointed; all she felt was numb.

Why would the Gods teach her what she needed to save him, only to let him die when she was finally ready? The price to save Uncle Yuley had been high, and she prepared herself mentally for months in order to pay it. Only another human life could have restored his health; at first the thought of it was abhorrent, but as the weeks went by she became more desperate. Admittedly, part of her was relieved the decision was now taken out of her hands. She pushed away the revulsion at what she had been willing to do.

He will be at peace, child.

"I know," Sevra said aloud.

Kubathu had the sensation of smiling, despite his plans not yet fully realized. The fact she hadn't killed was not important, only that she had been willing to. Once started along this path, there would be no turning back for her. She would be his, for as long as he needed.
The Return

Within the deepest bowels of the keep, Antok readied to leave the isle of Dalesford for the first time in nearly a decade. Final preparations were made to ensure Kubathu's prison was firmly secured. Instructions were given on the chance there was a breach, and the number of magi overseeing each seal doubled, just in case.

Sets of twin pillars ran along the portal chamber, all powered by massive obsidian and quartz discs, conjoined over a center axis upon which it could rotate freely. Only one was activated today, revealing a wavy mirage of a forest hundreds of miles to the west.

Master Trilo, placed in charge during his absence still voiced concerns. "I don't see what you have to gain by leaving, why are you making this decision?"

He looked to Trilo slowly, his eyes coming into focus for a brief second. He squinted slightly and shook his head. "My mind has been made!" he yelled. How dare his subordinates question him, he needed to leave because... why did he need to leave? He reached towards his necklace, working his hand and fingers over the ruby. It helped to calm him.

They think you are too old and feeble to make a simple journey. All of them, they're jackals, raking at your heels, slowly eroding your authority.

He exhaled heavily in anger before turning away. He _was_ still in charge of this organization, but that did not mean he was a prisoner to the keep. If he needed to leave for the day, it was his choice. Besides, Sevra needed him, it was only right for her to be able to say goodbye to her uncle. She was an interesting child, moreso because of what she had been through – what the Magicus Celesti inadvertenly put her through when Kubathu breached his prison a few years ago. He shuddered at the thought. He was still not certain what might happen to her if she ventured too far from the gem. Bernard had said the link was completely severed. Antok wasn't as certain, he wanted to err on the side of caution and accompany the girl.

Hesitating in front of the portal, a brief moment of lucidity urged him to stay, to fight against the voice somewhere in his thoughts pushing him along this course. The gem dangling from his necklace flickered gently in the scant lighting. With his finger he absentmindedly fussed with the ruby, the prison encasing Kubathu. It was a terrible weight to carry. Bolstering his resolve, he held fast to his decision. Should some remnant of the connection Kubathu made to Sevra remain, any ill falling onto her would be on his hands. He could not live with himself if that happened.

The girl is very important to me; see to it that no harm falls upon her.

Antok nodded. There were too few young ones these days joining the ranks. The continued success of the order depended on passing the torch to the new generation. It was his responsibility.

"Sevra, come along," he said, taking the girl's hand. They stepped through the mirage together, the icy chill of the surrounding ether a sensation he could never grow accustomed to. Twin pillars in the distance approached rapidly, though they moved slowly as if passing through a thick gel. It took only minutes to pass through, though the unchanged position of the sun was the only hint not much time had actually elapsed. They emerged on the other side, in the forests along the Golden Terraces, within a few hours walk of Shady Vale. Sevra and Antok walked side by side, along with a third presence. Kubathu was at long last ready to free himself.

***

Wait here.

"Wait here," Sevra commanded. Kubathu continually battered Antok's will, ensuring the old man's obedience. He sat near one of the stones, placing his hands on his lap and staring ahead blankly. There was much to be done today, and He wanted to be certain Sevra had no unnecessary distractions.

"I'll rest here," Antok said in a flat voice, "go on without me."

She hiked through the woods, smells and sights rushing back, reminding her strongly of when she and Uncle Yuley walked this way on their first trip to the portal stone all the years ago. He was gone now; there was nothing she could do to fix it. So much time passed, and she didn't need to wonder if what she learned with the Magicus Celesti was worth the time away from Yuley. It was not.

Butterflies filled her stomach as she approached the village; she had not seen Momma Lorna in so long, or her little brother for that matter. Despite knowing Momma Lorna cared for her, they were never really close. At least not the way she and Yuley had been; even the adoring way Momma Lorna looked at her own baby was foreign to Sevra. The fact was she had no one anymore. Master Bernard was the nearest thing she had to a father now, and he could hardly remember who he himself was most days.

Your father. You should find him.

Her father. Many times she wondered who her real parents were, what her mother was like. As far as she knew her father was still alive; Momma Lorna could tell her who he was. She heard the story from her a hundred times of how she was delivered and almost died at birth, did in fact die, and somehow breathed back to life hours later. Lorna never made house calls very far from home; her real parents must not be too far away.

A renewed sense of hope filled her, she wasn't alone in the world. She would find her father, and he would be there for her. Wondering what he might be like occupied her thoughts for the remainder of the walk; she pictured he was a kind man, and he'd be filled with joy to see her. Her mother would still be alive too, swearing she thought her baby died at birth, and it was all a terrible misunderstanding. Eventually they would laugh about how close they had lived, but never knew of each other's existence.

Tufts of smoke rose from chimneys, the first visible sign she was almost home. She paused when the meandering trails of Shady Vale came into view, her legs feeling weak. Doubts crept into her thoughts, and her nerves made her want to turn around and run. Seemingly of their own accord however, her feet continued forward and before she knew it was at the door of her old home. Feeling awkward she put her hand up to knock, then changed her mind and opened the door.

"Hello?" she called out.

A small blonde boy stood in the center of the living room, looking at her expectantly with large eyes.

"Is this the wrong house?" she muttered, somewhat confused. She looked at those eyes again, green and round, just like Yulan's. He must've been about five; tears began to well in Sevra's eyes and she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. It was her younger brother, who was no more than an infant when she left. The blatant view of how much time had passed since she was home doused her like a bucket of cold water.

"My baby."

Momma Lorna came around the corner from the dining room, looking very much the same to Sevra, perhaps a few extra gray hairs, a slight shuffle to her walk, and there were more wrinkles when she smiled. She hugged her tightly, Sevra returning it somewhat.

"Oh I wanted to visit you so many times, the hike though," Momma Lorna said, rubbing at her hip.

"I'm sorry," Sevra answered, "I should have..."

"No, no dear, you were busy, doing important things that can't be interrupted. One day you'll be someone who makes a difference in the world. I'm so proud of you, Sevra. You're here now, that's all that matters."

Momma Lorna pushed her back gently for a second to get a good look at her. "Your hair! Oh my what happened to it?"

"It's fine," Sevra answered, pulling away while trying not to be agitated by the fussing she received. "Just a little accident, it grows in white there now."

"Oh dear I've never heard of such a thing. Are you sure you're okay?" Momma Lorna began to reach towards it again.

"Yes, I'm fine," Sevra said more firmly. Momma Lorna, stopped reaching and pulled her arm back.

"Okay, just come in and sit down then," she said, brushing aside her hurt feelings at the tone. "We have a lot to catch up on."

Sevra went through the remainder of the visit, only half listening while Lorna prattled on about the village ongoings. Her brother _had_ gotten so big. Yuley continued to get sicker until he finally passed away. Jory from two houses over left the village to go to Creekview Crossing to study medicine, Lorna always knew he'd make something of himself. Nora makes dresses now two villages east, she married a nice young farmer. Yuley's friend Edward was overseeing the town, now that Yuley was gone. Next year they hoped to build a new water collection system. It was all just noise to Sevra.

The service for Yuley felt like it went by in an instant. Many people stood to speak, and had nice remembrances to share. They brought her no solace; she only felt numb. Nothing would bring Yuley back, the only person who ever understood her. He always called her Sparklebug, no one would ever do that again. She was surprised at how little she felt, why did she have no tears to shed?

Afterwards they had a feast in his honor, Sevra continuing to only go through the motions. She felt preoccupied with what really brought her here today, and battled against feelings of guilt that it wasn't purely to give a last farewell to her uncle.

"Do you want to visit any of your old friends?" Momma Lorna asked, pulling herself away from catering to everyone else. "I'm sure they'd love to see you."

She pursed her lips together and smoothed her skirts. _They never liked you. Jealous, every one of them._

"No," she answered curtly, "I don't care to see anyone."

Memories of the other children kicking mud at her and laughing flashed in front of her. It couldn't have been all bad, there had to be some moment worth remembering. A strong surge of emotion came over her, reiterating how terrible the other kids were. _They don't deserve your friendship. You are better than these people._

"I'm sure there's someone you'd like to visit," Momma Lorna asked again sweetly.

"I only want to see my father." Sevra stated abruptly.

Momma Lorna sat back in her seat slightly and sighed. "Yuley's gone dear, you have to accept it."

"No, my real father. Is he still alive, can you tell me where I can find him?" she pushed. "You have to know more of him than what you've ever told me."

"Oh, baby girl..." Momma Lorna began, "I know you're upset right now. Trust me it's not a path you want to go down, at least not today."

"So you know something then," Sevra insisted, desperate. "Tell me, please. I need to know who he is, where I came from."

"You came from here," she answered, "we are your family and this is your home. Can't you let that be enough?"

_You need to find him_. The thought came through cold and venomous. _The Gods wish it, you will not disobey._

A sense of aggravation began to well within Sevra. It made her feel odd; she fought rarely with Momma Lorna. Even when she did, never in her life had she felt this level of hostility towards her. It felt like someone else's anger.

"It's very important you tell me, do you understand? Please, for your own good tell me where I can find him," she said. Her own voice rang in her ears. There was power in it, and the hint of a threat.

Momma Lorna frowned, and looked at Sevra in a way she never quite had before. There was worry and concern, but something deeper and more primitive as well. Was it fear? She opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind, as if she couldn't find the right words.

Finally, she relented, "He's the second farm to the south of the woods, just inside the Golden Terraces." It seemed as though the words were dragged from her, and she regretted uttering them once they came out.

"Thank you," Sevra said, standing up.

"Wait, where are you going?" Momma Lorna questioned, taken aback that it looked like Sevra was ready to leave. "You've only just gotten here, surely you'll stay a couple of days?"

"I have to see to this now."

"He's not a well man, Sevra!" Momma Lorna blurted out, hurriedly chasing after her. "At least wait a couple of days, I'll go with you."

It made logical sense to wait for a few days, she was certain her emotions were getting the best of her right now. But she felt a compulsion to go see her father this instant, a driving need outweighing anything else. She had never felt such a single-minded fixation; nothing could stand in her way. It was time to leave.

She quietly left the reception, immune to the stares and whispers of those she was leaving behind. There were many there who wondered where she had been, or why she hadn't spoken to anyone.

Let them wonder, one day it will enhance your reputation. You have a greater destiny than these worms.

Sevra liked that thought; one day she would find greatness, and they would all know then what she was capable of. The Gods continued to sing her praises. She was invincible, and she was on a mission to find her father. After that, well, after that she did not know. The compulsion to see to this task first was of utmost importance.

The sun began to set, casting the heavily wooded trail leading away from Shady Vale into a premature darkness. By twilight she gave up trying to see and cast out a slow-glowing orb of light hovering ten paces in front of her. As she reached the tree line, stepping out into the rich farmlands of the Golden Terraces her nerves began to get the better of her. Would her father still be there? What did she think she was going to say to him?

As she walked she allowed her mind to wander, lost in a daydream about how meeting him would go. She could feel the sweat on her palms, the nerves beginning to show through her calm exterior. Instead of pushing them down she allowed herself to experience it; there wasn't much that made her nervous of late and she thought it appropriate she should feel _something_ during this moment. She pictured him being wary at first, but after she explained they were family, she was his daughter, he would be as overjoyed as she was. They would laugh when they realized how close they had lived to each other but never met.

Why hadn't he sought her out? Their homes were within a few hours walk of each other, wasn't he the least bit curious about who she was? The whole ordeal of going to see him began to seem ridiculous to her. He was a man who had lived close by her entire life, yet he never tried to find her. Feeling dejected, she stopped and looked back. She might as well turn around and head back to the portal stones where Antok waited.

Antok! He had come with her, the entire memory of him seemed foggy; why would he have come along at all, to wait nearly half a day for her nonetheless?

See this through! You will never know what might have been if you back out now. There is no one left, you are alone in the world without your father. You need him.

She felt a rapid succession of strong emotions, from despair and loneliness to hope, strength, and power. Images flashed before her; the adulation of thousands, armies under her command, and absolute mastery of the spirits. It was a small taste of what she could be, a true leader, an Empress, feared and worshipped by all. When the feelings subsided, she felt a sudden emptiness, a realization of how alone she was in this moment. She needed to have what the Gods offered.

With renewed resolve she continued eastward, beyond the first farmstead. The dim light of a fire appeared in the distance, marking what must have been the next property. As she approached she could see the silhouette of a lone figure nearby kneeling. She stopped to watch him, wondering what he might be doing outside at this time of night. His home was only a stone's throw away. If she was correct, this should be the right place.

Cast him in more light and announce yourself.

She obeyed, simultaneously delivering six spheres of light around him in a wide circle. He stood abruptly, his back stiff. The unease emanating from him was palpable. Before proceeding forward she took a better survey of her surroundings. There were two gravestones alongside his small fire. He had been praying.

"What.. What is this?" he stammered, terrified of the balls of fire enclosing him. He put his hand above his eyes, trying to peer out beyond the light. It was useless, he would be completely blind to her and anything else in the darkness beyond the ring.

Don't apologize - You are a powerful sorceress, and will bow to no one!

Sevra stopped herself before speaking. She was going to say she was sorry for intruding. Doubt fled from her mind, and she was suddenly flooded with confidence that bordered on grandeur. And why should she not have pride in herself? At thirteen years of age she was already more powerful than most of the aged wizards at the keep, what did she have to fear? Certainly not a simple farmer.

Her voice came forth clear and unnaturally loud, "I am Sevra. I'm looking for my father."

The man stood there, shuffling nervously before answering. "You have the wrong house. Be gone witch!"

Sevra frowned, feeling the sting of rejection once again before burying it where it turned to rage. She swallowed that down too, allowing it to fester. Perhaps he just didn't understand yet and needed more explanation.

"Thirteen years ago a girl was born here, with a midwife named Lorna Vitano, from Shady Vale," she elaborated, "I am that girl and I'm here to see my parents."

His face became grim, and anger distorted his features. He began to wail, sobbing uncontrollably and yelling for his wife. Sevra realized in that moment she had made a mistake in coming here. If his hair wasn't so dirty and greasy it would look remarkably like hers, and those eyes so full of hatred could have been a mirror to her own. She was looking at her father, a pathetic, ruined man, full of malice and no longer in possession of his faculties.

"My daughter is dead," he moaned, clutching at his head. He rocked back and forth mumbling unintelligibly, repeating the words every so often.

Ellie," he sobbed, growling in a sudden frenzy. "You want your mother, there she is, in the ground!"

He fell upon the gravestone, a destroyed man once again. He held onto it until he finally found the strength to push himself to his feet. He continued shouting at her, but Sevra couldn't hear him. Her mother was truly dead.

"You demon witch!" he screamed, "You did this to her, and that other hag from the woods! You killed your mother, my wife, get out of here and never come back!" Again he fell to the ground, clutching the grave. Sevra took an involuntary step backwards, dejected, her heart feeling like it was in her feet.

But he didn't stop there, continuing to yell and blame her for the death of her mother, and all of the sorrows he experienced since. "I have nothing! It should have been you!" he wailed, pounding on the grave marker. "It should have been you," he repeated again as he looked at her, this time disturbingly calm and cold.

So her mother truly was dead; she always knew it to be true, but wished Miss Lorna was wrong somehow. And it was her fault. She knew instantly the thought was irrational, many women died in childbirth, it was beyond anyone's control. Rational or not, she couldn't help but think it. Her father blamed her, and any hopes she held of them being a family died in that moment. Miss Lorna was right – she shouldn't have come here tonight, should never have come here. This man before her was tormented and broken. He would never accept her in his life.

_There is one way you can be together_ , the voice of the Gods offered. _It is the only way_. It was the only way; she could think of no better solution. Not knowing her parents always left a hole in her life she was never able to fill, and having confirmation her father never cared for her was all she could take.

Sevra no longer saw her father in front of her, the gravestone or the fire. She could only see red, and could feel herself moving towards him. Her rage was fully in control now, and she was merely a passenger. She knew what she was about to do was wrong, but had no power to stop herself, didn't want to stop.

A terrible wind burst forth in front of her, driving her father to the ground. Leaves, dirt, and branches whipped around in a frenzy, tearing gashes deep into his flesh. The tombstones uprooted from the ground, flying unseen into the darkness. The sound of the gale drowned out his pained screams, only audible when she allowed the spell to dissipate. Howling winds slowed to an occasional breeze, the only evidence the focused storm even happened was the disarray of earth and branches it left behind.

Covered in hundreds of small cuts, her father no longer had the strength to cry out. He tried to lift himself up to his hands and knees, but could barely manage to get his arm underneath himself. Sevra began to stalk forward, panting to catch her breath.

Take his life onto yours, as I have shown you. It is the only way the two of you will be together, forever.

She paused at the thought that was not her own. The Gods had shown her previously unknown magic, in order to heal her Uncle Yuley. What they asked of her now was a different matter; there was no restoration of life, only a taking. What would Yuley think of her if she did this? She frowned, now he was gone, and she was alone. Her real father would not acknowledge her. She needed him to be with her, and this was the only way.

_Yes_ , _now!_ Kubathu thought silently, he had finally won the girl over. There would be no turning back.

A green fog poured forth from Sevra's outstretched arm, enveloping her father. It settled onto his skin, condensing almost to a mist. He arched his back and gasped, a scream with no sound. Wrinkle lines formed near his wrists, creeping around his arms and branching all the way to his eyes. His exposed skin sagged and slackened. Weakly he reached a hand out towards Sevra, mouthing a plea for help that went unanswered.

She smiled in return, overjoyed. They were reunited.

A white hue began to transverse the mist, flowing out of his body towards Sevra. He finally went limp as it left him, while Sevra gasped as it entered through her fingertips. She had done this before, practicing on animals outside of the keep while the Gods instructed her, but it was drab in comparison to what she felt in this moment. A human life was far more exhilarating.

This is only the beginning, Sevra. You cannot yet understand what I mean when I say that we will be together a long time. So very soon we will be joined and you will know power; there is one more task I ask of you tonight.

"Tell me what you wish," she breathed heavily. The Gods hadn't steered her wrong so far. When she received her next set of instructions she absently stepped over the shriveled husk of a corpse that was once her father. She would go to any lengths required of her, as long as it continued to make her feel alive, and not alone.

***

Antok realized his folly almost as soon as Sevra vanished through the woods, bound towards her home village. Hours had passed, and he was trapped as firmly as he was when they first arrived at the stone circle. When he thought about it, he was trapped ever since he inherited the necklace from Bernard. He walked forward once more, no longer trusting his own legs underneath him.

"Faith," he whispered, closing his eyes and concentrating firmly on putting one foot in front of the other.

He strode ahead, inevitably falling to the ground once he neared the perimeter. His own body rebelled against him, no longer responding to his commands. They were doing another's bidding - someone who wanted him to stay put. The portal stone no longer responded to him either, he may as well have been trying to slice a hole back to the keep out of thin air.

The echo of laughter in his head continued, incessant and mocking. He wasn't losing his faculties, nor control over his body or gift. In the game of strategy that was a wizard's duel, where attacks and parries were made at the speed of thought, his loss was complete. He wasn't even aware they had been playing until he was huddled in the corner, licking his wounds.

Kubathu bested him. Who knows how long he had been compromised, making a series of nonsensical decisions to serve the demon's ends. All the while none of his magi dared to stand up and question him simply because he was in charge. They were all fools, himself included. Especially himself, thinking he could control a force none of them understood, nonetheless one whose structural integrity they knew was compromised.

Alone in the darkness, he lay on the ground, utterly defeated. He had only enough strength to push himself upright when he heard footsteps approaching, otherwise he was more powerless than any time he could remember. His gift was no longer within his reach, the thin veil to the spirits replaced by an iron wall; he couldn't even do something as mundane as detect who approached. Kubathu's laughter intensified at his weakness.

"Sevra? Is that you?" he asked into the night.

The footsteps came to a stop, and he received no answer. Light flooded the area around him, harsh and blinding. He tried to move but his legs would not obey. The maniacal laughter returned in his head.

He felt the strength fleeing from his body, the vitality that sustained him slowly draining away. His eyelids grew heavy, and he tried to speak but the muscles around his mouth drooped, not working properly. He fell from his knees, prone onto the ground. The ability to think clearly was the last to go. Deep inside he knew it was over, and the world would feel the ramifications of his folly. It should have concerned him, but he felt deeply at peace. It was time to sleep. His last sensation was a feeling of lightness as the necklace was removed from his possession.

"I'm sorry, but you don't deserve Him," Sevra said.

The blinding light faded to blackness, and those were the last words he would ever hear.

***

Kubathu immediately felt a loosening of his confines when Sevra took up the necklace, granting him a freedom of will that he hadn't experienced in centuries. He crushed the remaining seals on his prison; the eleven diamonds running along the chain, nine still intact and one curiously missing altogether, cracked and exploded outwards with violent force. Yet he was not completely free. The walls of his crimson cage remained intact – the magi at the keep must still be meddling in some way.

Immediately he forced his will onto Sevra, sending her back to the Keep of the Celesti where they would deal with them.

Be on guard, they will try to take me away from you. Then where will you be, all alone again...

She was easy to manipulate; most individuals were. The key was finding what one most feared, and giving them assurance it wouldn't come to pass. Belief and denial were the most powerful motivators.

He saw through Sevra's eyes, now that she bore the necklace their connection grew stronger with each passing moment. As they trekked through the basement of the keep, he burrowed further into the small recesses of her psyche, a place he would call home until something more suitable presented itself. For years he dreamed of being free once again, and he was so close now. Kings and queens once bowed to him, those who did not he bent and twisted into submission. Under his command, the entire continent was united under his dominion. Opposition did not exist, could not exist, under his rule. He knew the deepest secrets of the mind, and used them to control countless thousands. Soon it would be so once more.

His dominion over Sevra was complete, through subtle suggestion or direct compulsion he could use her to exert his influence. It was always better to make the subject think they were deciding for themselves, however, at the moment he did not have the time for such intricate games. He needed to squash any remaining resistance keeping him encaged, quickly and efficiently.

The scent of blood hung heavily on the air, so thick Kubathu could almost taste it; death was nearby, recent by its smell. The distinctive metallic scent brought back long-forgotten pleasant memories, and an inner desire to draw the vital liquids forth from his victims. When his games of mental domination overstepped their bounds and ruined a specimen, it was never a total loss. That was when the games truly begun. He longed to feel flesh tear beneath his hands, unleashing a river of red.

Sevra stepped into the chamber where a dozen wizards had toiled endlessly to keep the devastation of Kubathu at bay. He admired the level of coordination they put forth in containing him, even more impressive was the level of secrecy. In the end, their efforts meant nothing. He knew he would be free eventually; it was only a matter of time. The mathematics of it were in his favor, and numbers never lied. For hundreds upon hundreds of years he only had to successfully breach one time, and his patience was near to paying off.

What surprised him was seeing each of the wizard's corpses laying on the ground, lifeless and drenched in blood. He laughed at the grotesqueness, delighted in it; when he destroyed the remaining gems it also violently shattered the minds of the magi supporting them. Their faces were unrecognizable. All of the gems were destroyed, and so was the resistance from the mortals. He pushed against his confines, ready to unleash himself on the world once more.

Something was wrong. The crimson walls that confined him were elastic, endlessly stretching against his will. He tested them, trying to puncture through but unable. His reach extended for miles before he was finally rebound to the gem around the girl's neck. Why was he not yet completely free?

Footsteps echoed from the adjoining hall, shuffling and slow. A cane tapped down in rhythm, _step, drag, tap. Step, drag, tap._ The steadiness and consistency of the steps showed a reliability belying their frailty.

It was Bernard. He stood tall and proud, grim-faced.

Sevra nearly called out, Kubathu having to force her thoughts down. The wizard had been addled for years, though right now he seemed to be completely lucid. He was relentless in the protection over the necklace for the time he carried it. Kubathu was glad when he finally broke the old man and the artifact was passed along to Antok, who had proved much easier to manipulate.

His anger surged. His freedom was denied, and he needed a target to lash out against. Searing heat built up throughout his mind, ready to be unleashed.

"Aren't you the least bit curious why you aren't free, Kubathu?" he asked. "It's clear I'm not offering you any resistance. Not like it would make a hair's difference at this point in time. You've obviously missed something." He nodded in an exaggerated manner towards the necklace adorning Sevra's collar.

Kubathu fell silent, allowing the spell to dissipate, while Sevra stood perfectly motionless like a helpless doll. He inspected the points of light outside of his walls, representing the once gleaming crystals securing his captivity. They were forever dimmed. Each of them was broken and shattered, spread evenly across his field of view - except for one gap, the vanishing point of light that started him along his trail to freedom those years ago.

No, it couldn't be.

A single stone was absent from the necklace. It was the only explanation; no matter where it was, it somehow kept the last remnants of his prison intact. The realization infuriated him; he composed himself enough outwardly to prevent screaming out through Sevra, refusing to give Bernard the satisfaction of seeing him perplexed.

The only way to move forward was to face the reality in front of him and devise a new plan. He calmed; at least for a while, he was stuck with Sevra. By today's standards, she was quite adept, though to him she was mediocre at best. With his additional knowledge and guidance perhaps she would prove sufficient. The relationship wasn't ideal, but he would find a way to improvise.

Sevra's eyes narrowed, distant and cold. They were not the same eyes Bernard had known, dark and malevolent. Calculating. He felt his neck constricting, the flow of air cutting off from his lungs.

"Wait," he managed to choke forth through the collapsing airways in his throat, "I'll be dead soon enough, with or without your assistance."

Kubathu squeezed harder.

"I set events in motion, removing the first stone from the necklace and weakening the prison," Bernard strained to say.

Kubathu stopped his attack, curiosity overruling his desire to kill.

"I'm sorry, Sevra," he breathed, "You have a destiny in the fate of the stone. For better or worse. I'm sorry I've forced it upon you."

"Why?" he asked through Sevra.

Bernard looked beyond Sevra, trying to peer into the evil overtaking her, "It is the only way to utterly destroy your pitiful soul." He knew he was about to die, it did not lessen his resolve, or the belief that his actions were justified.

Sevra laughed, deep and incongruous with her small frame, "You fool," she spoke. "All that you accomplished was unleashing me upon the world once again. I should thank you."

Bernard smiled, taking an old journal from his deep pockets. "The very first wizards of the Magicus Celesti imprisoned you against their better judgment. Their leader knew you could be stopped, and he devised a means to do so before he was exiled. The power exists in the world to remove you from it completely. Eventually, I knew we would have failed at confining you. At least now... for now..."

The old wizard leaned against a nearby pillar for support, and he looked around as if he was no longer sure of his whereabouts. For a brief few minutes his eyes held the clarity and wisdom Sevra was accustomed to when she first met Bernard. Now, they were again glazed over and confused, his addled state of the last couple years returning. He collapsed to the floor, the last of his strength exhausted.

No longer interested in the events of the room, Kubathu retreated to the background noise of Sevra's subconscious. He needed to think, plan their next moves. The girl ran to Bernard, sitting with him and propping his head up into her lap. As his breathing became slower and weaker, she placed her hand on his cheek. A tinge of green mist hovered about her fingertips and the old wizard gasped one last breath, his legs flexing and straining for an instant. She carefully wiped a tear from her cheek and stood, smoothing her skirts. Now Bernard would be with her forever, too.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked silently.

It was not often Kubathu was surprised, but he was pleasantly so when without command she took Bernard's life; perhaps she did have potential.

_There is much work to be done young one_ , Kubathu thought back. There were cities to conquer, and minds to claim. A little patience would see him through. After all, he had an eternity to see it done.

###
Afterword

Thank you for taking the time to read _Destiny's Gem_. If you enjoyed this book, the saga of Sevra and the gem continues in _The Witch's Catalyst._ The Risen Lands series truly begins there!

Want to connect? Find me on Twitter at: @jcainmckrell

Visit the website at www.RisenLands.com for all information on books and progress.

Thanks for reading! Please enjoy the following excerpt from the next installment in the Risen Lands Series, _The Witch's Catalyst._
Prologue

His mind slowly awakened, confused and disoriented. Only a few moments ago he was some place else, though where he could not recall. It certainly wasn't here. He found himself in a chamber unlike any he had ever set foot in before. A sense of alarm ran through him, evoking a feeling that something was terribly out of place, but unable to discern what it was.

Gaining nothing from lingering about, he felt a need to move, even though he was unsure of where to go. There wasn't anything here, only an ever-present crimson hue permeating his surroundings that bathed the area in an unnatural light. Overcoming his hesitation, he chose a direction and set off.

He froze immediately, discovering the cause of his unease. Several moments of shock passed as he moved with mere thought, his body nowhere to be found. The incorporeal state drove him to the verge of panic, a feeling most unfamiliar to him. He was always in control, he was... Who was he? Again he felt confusion, unable to remember anything before waking only moments ago. Forcing himself to calm, he continued onward, seeking answers.

After a time, hours or days he could not be sure, frustration grew in him as he realized there was nothing, only the emptiness and pervasive red glow. Ahead the air seemed to become clearer, sparking in him a glimmer of hope. As he hurried forward he was abruptly stopped, running into a nearly clear barrier. Roaring in denial he instinctually threw himself at the wall with all the power of his thought, testing its give.

It did not yield in the slightest.

He sooner could have moved a mountain with his bare hands, had he still had hands. Vaguely he saw white points in the distance, beyond the barrier. They teased the edges of his memory, evoking an intense hatred, yet their nature remained elusive. They were important; he should know well what they were but couldn't remember.

Many days, perhaps weeks or years elapsed - he could not tell. The passage of time did not seem relevant here. He spent the endless days travelling along the perimeter of his peculiar cage, trying to piece together who he was and where he might be. Direction was difficult to determine, as he could float freely within his confines. It took a great deal of effort, but as time was no issue he carefully measured his movements. Eventually he was able to determine he was in a slightly elongated, hexagonal-like structure.

He often pondered the white points in the distance. They only existed towards one end, running along each side in a symmetrical arc towards each other. The points shimmered each time he pushed against the barrier, seeming to provide it strength in reaction to him. At times he seemed close to remembering what he once was, but the infernal lights in the distance would flash and he would forget once again. The only logical conclusion he could reach after what seemed an eternity was that he was a prisoner, and the white points beyond his reach were his jailers. They were the enemy.

More time elapsed. He tried without success to will himself out of existence more times than he could remember, putting an end to this eternal monotony. He couldn't starve or dehydrate himself as he didn't have these needs. Could he ever die, or was he doomed to an endless, mundane existence? On many occasions he raged against the barriers containing him, but it was always futile. The points of light would increase in brightness to match his intensity, lending their strength to the invisible wall. He would then launch attacks at the lights themselves, trying to crush them with his willpower. These would end in the same way, with the combined power of the enigmatic orbs rebuffing him.

One day something changed. A point of light inexplicably drifted away until it disappeared. Curious for the first time in ages he rushed towards the barrier; it no longer felt as solid as it once had. He immediately redoubled his efforts attacking the orbs, again he did not win but his loss was only by a narrow margin. They were now only eleven, not as strong as when they were twelve. His hope renewed, he rested for a bit. He could break them down eventually. After all, he had an eternity to work at it.

Years and centuries passed in much the same manner. Each moment was a struggle between him and the eleven orbs. Though he was continually defeated, he did not become discouraged. Eventually he would win out. They had to be successful each and every of their thousands of battles, while he only needed to see victory once. He had learned a few things in the time he spent here. For some reason they could not destroy him, and he could feel their fear of him growing. It fed him, giving him renewed vitality. With each assault victory grew closer.

His strength grew along with their fear, until one day it finally happened. At long last! Like too much pressure being applied to a stone, he suddenly crushed one of the orbs that had contributed to his imprisonment, causing it to explode into a million points of light and dissipate to nothingness. Panic and disbelief rushed through those remaining, and he reveled in it. The balance of power had tipped in his favor. The ten remaining were no match for him. Methodically, he began working to eliminate them.

Each one became easier to destroy than the previous. He basked in their imminent demise, and moreso in their awareness of their impending fate. How delicious it felt to obliterate them, tasting their fear as he grew in power. When only three remained, his memories, long blocked by the orbs, came flooding back to him in a torrent. He remembered, he remembered all of it. The knowledge of who he was in every minute detail rushed over him as if he were doused in cold water. Armies trembled at mere whisperings of his name, kings and queens cowered before him in fear. He was Kubathu, God-Emperor of the Vermillion Sands, Breaker of Souls.

He remembered...legions he ruled. Minds he dominated.

He remembered...betrayed by those he trusted. His soul torn from his body and trapped here.

He remembered...everything... the traitorous dogs!

He had always been quick-tempered and prone to fits of rage, but none compared to this. With a primal scream the three orbs, his watchers who had willingly placed themselves inside to guard over him, were decimated in a rush of energy. His prison reverberated for several long moments from the impact. It enraged him what those so-called magicians thought they could do to him and get away with it, locking him away like a criminal. They had deemed him too dangerous to continue his reign. Too dangerous? Perhaps, but only to those who plotted against him. He would show them just how dangerous he was.

With his captors eliminated it was time to reclaim his kingdoms, but the barrier still held, refusing to break. It shouldn't be possible... unless – the one orb that had vanished, somehow it must be maintaining the shield. His frustration renewed, he slammed against the shield several more times with all his might. It was a futile effort. His fury subsiding, he took a few moments to regain his composure. No matter, he thought. He could now sense what was happening outside of his encasement. His influence would again be felt in the land.

***

Another long scream was torn from him as he hung chained to the wall, his arms shackled over his head barely allowing his feet to touch the ground. His once fine royal blue robes were tattered and matted with blood and dirt. It had been weeks since he was captured, all the others in his group systematically found and executed. Hope was all but gone at this point, the sting of his failure worse than any physical pain he had endured over the last weeks. He was all that was left of the Magicus Celesti. The mighty Glaedrin was reduced to a shell of his former self, only being kept alive long enough so he could witness evil's triumph.

The witch sat on her throne directly across the grand chamber looking at him in self-satisfaction, enjoying the spectacle of his latest torture session. It was her doing that led to their demise, and to the terrible magic that was about to be unleashed upon the world. Despite all of their efforts, they could not stop Sevra from recreating the forbidden designs she had somehow uncovered.

Looking across the room he glared at her through pain-glazed eyes. He would almost have considered her beautiful regardless of her unusual appearance, had he not known how deeply evil this woman was. With skin so fair as to almost be translucent, the red of her lips provided the only hint of color. Her hair was as dark as the night sky stripped of stars, save for a slivered crescent of white.

Unable to bear the sight of her sadistic smirk any longer he used what remained of his faltering strength to survey his surroundings. Four large pillars stood in the center of the room extending high to the ceiling, squaring off a large area between them. Nearly filling the area was an intricately crafted network of silver and obsidian conduits, interweaved and coiled so as nearly impossible to follow with the eye. The contraption was only about a foot high and several feet across, but looked to contain miles of thin twisted metalwork. Moonlight filtered in through an opening in the ceiling directly above it.

Rising from her gilded throne, Sevra walked around the perimeter of the room, approaching him with the saunter of a cat ready to toy with an injured mouse. A thin smile spread across her lips, a smile of arrogance in her plans coming to fruition. The guard who had been tormenting him bowed his head to her and stepped off to the side.

"Soon, so very soon you will see the results of a century of my efforts. All of Luskir will be united by one power, under my command," she said to him coyly, gently patting his bruised face.

Sevra had gone to great lengths to ensure Glaedrin was fully subdued. Each of his fingers were broken to prevent him from manipulating energy with his hands. He was fed a vile liquid every hour on the hour that made his mind weak and confused. Able to neither think nor gesture a spell, he hung defenselessly to the witch's devices. Had he been able to speak he would have told her how foolish she was for what she was going to attempt, that there was no way to account for the unintended consequences of such a massive spell, or the lack of morality evident in controlling the minds of people in such a fashion. Better yet he would have liked to incinerate her with a mere thought.

Instead, he could only groan in response, his mind too muddled to form words.

"Oh, what's that – something to say my dear?" she asked, followed by a throaty laugh, "no, of course not Glaedrin. You will just watch. And see the extent of your failure before I let you die."

He looked her in the eyes, trying to offer a last attempt at defiance. He maintained his gaze only a moment before his head fell back down, not having the strength to continue looking forward. Before he slipped into unconsciousness his last sight was of the necklace adorning Sevra's collar. A string of six diamonds ran up one side, with five on the other and an empty slot where one once was. Each was fractured, flawed and broken though still beautiful. At the bottom of the chain and nestled in her bosom rested a large crimson gem, the cause of the calamity soon to be unleashed upon the world.
Boldstone

Snow devils sprang to life in the gusting winds across the northernmost plains. Glistening crystals swirled up into an unseen dance and vanished, reappearing at the wind's whim in an encore across the frozen stage. It was always windy in the Blue Fold, the mountain sides dominating the landscape this far north at the top of the world incessantly smoothed and shaped by the unending gales. Cold and indifferent, the wind rose over the stone that endured here for millenia, stoic and indomitable in defiance of the elements.

Seeming to blend with the stone around him, his face weathered beyond his twenty-two years from this harsh environment sat a man overlooking the landscape. From his vantage point sitting high atop the rock face of Boldstone Ridge, the highest of the five mountain ridges, the majestic beauty of the land he called home was not lost on him. The sun, low on the horizon, shone across the ranges comprising the Blue Fold Mountains. In the predawn light, endless shades of blue shone like glowing sapphires in the distance.

The man looked down past the encampments on the Ridges where his people lived during the more hospitable seasons, and beyond to the open plains below. During the winter, they migrated across these plains where the weather was less severe, surviving from hunt to hunt by shadowing the movements of the various herds.

Soon, he would be trekking onto the tundra once again in search of prey, doing his part to ensure the continued survival of the tribe. If there were a people made to thrive in a land most wouldn't dare to venture, it was the barbarians of the Blue Fold Mountains. Like the mountains themselves, they too were stoic and indomitable.

With the recent passing of his father, Jvard assumed responsibility of the four clans that comprise the Frostwrynn. There was relative peace among the clans residing in the Blue Fold range. Under the guidance of the Elders many disputes were settled before it came to aggressions between groups, and healthy-sized herds on the plains in recent years meant low competition for survival among the tribe. Jvard's father, Helstajvan had accomplished much in uniting the clans who shared this corner of the Blue Fold Mountains, as well as strengthening the bonds among his own clan.

Jvard began his descent through the footpath, bringing him away from the highest areas of the mountain, his reflections on his upcoming hunt, and back home towards Boldstone Ridge. This night Jvard and his hunting group would be on the move, and there were preparations to make and rituals to observe before departing.

###

