The Warming Sun

[Celestia]

Celestia’s mind was filled with colors. Bright red, blue, yellow, green and every shade in between. A whirl of color that was hypnotic and beautiful. She could sit for hours watching the colors blend together then fly apart in an explosion of delight. In between these explosions faces would appear to her. Sometimes she would recognize one, put a name to it. Other times they were strangers to her. Now and again something else would fill her field of vision. A mountain with fire coming out the top. A forest with nasty winged creatures flying around looking angry and acting as if they were searching for something. Other times she would see a vast desert. Sand dunes higher than the buildings she saw when Aunt Aingeal took her to the city. Other times she could hear people talking. They spoke of things that made perfect sense to her but she would repeat them as if hearing them for the first time. And she remembered things. Like the time she fought along side a powerful wizard whose armies outnumbered all who stood before him. She remembered burning cities and heard the screams of the dying. These things sometimes frightened her. Other times she found them perfectly delightful.

She liked going to the city. The buildings. The wide streets and the poles with lights on top. She liked to spit into the river off the bridge. She thought it funny. She like the trees and the people. She wanted to learn their names to see if they matched the ones in her head. She liked Judas and Jolicia but she remembered them differently. She wondered if she could talk to them in her head like she did Aunt Aingeal, but she was afraid to try in case they might become angry. She didn’t want to make anyone angry. Faeryl was a elf like En’ethnar except she was a girl and he was a boy. She wanted to grow ears like theirs. She thought them pretty. She wondered if Faeryl knew En’ethar. Faeryl lived in a tree and this delighted Celestia. Maybe Faeryl could teach her how to talk to trees. Trees, she thought, would know many things.

The day Aunt Aingeal took her to the city they went to a tavern. It smelled funny. Ale Aunt Aingeal told her. There were lots of people there and games on boards that nobody seemed to play. There was a man there who had iron skin called ‘armor’. His head was like a pot and he carried a big shield and creaked when he walked. When he spoke his voice rather echoed so she had to listen very carefully.

There was so much to see. They took her to a place where there was a lot of water. So much water that the edge of it could not be seen. Judas said it was the sea. The first time she saw the sea she saw in her head many boats. Too many to count. Some of them had funny looking sails. Black ones that billowed in the wind. There was something painted on the black sails but she couldn’t make out what it was.

They tried to take her on a boat. The boat floated on the water, but she couldn’t get on so they send one of those magical gates for her. She liked the magical gates. Every time she went through one she came out somewhere different. This time they came out in a place with funny trees. It was hot there and her dress stuck to her. But there were new people there. Funny looking people in funny looking clothes. The girl looked frightened. Aunt Jolicia told her the girl was a Queen. Celestia wondered why a queen was in such a hot place. The man that was with her looked angry. The man with the ‘armor’ was talking to him. Aunt Jolicia held her hand and made her stand behind her. Which was fine, because when the pooka came he looked like a monster but then changed into his old self which was not really all that much better, but he seemed nice so Celestia relaxed a little.

For some reason the Queen lady could not go to her home. This made Celestia sad, because everyone should be able to go home if they wanted. But the Queen Lady seemed brave and talked brave. There was a lot more talking, but Celestia heard another voice in her head. Something about how once they were all joined as one. She didn’t understand. Soon the talking was over and Judas took her home. She wished she could have stayed to see what happened to the Queen Lady, but she was getting sleepy and her head hurt.

Celestia liked Aunt Aingeal’s house. It was cool and quiet there and the smell of her mother sill lingered there, but she knew that too would be gone one day. Judas liked rules. He told her she should not use Magick to hurt things just because they were ugly. He told her Magick was a big “re spons bilty”. She said she would try to remember. Then he said she could play in the yard but should not go so far that she could not see the house. Celestia could see pretty far, but she agreed. He also said that if anyone came she didn’t know she should run into the house and hide. She found this odd. How was she going to be able to put the names in her head to people if she couldn’t say hello to anyone? But then she remembered how Judas had suffered at the hands of Marcus Draven so she promised to do as he said. She liked Judas and did not want to see him suffer like that again.

When he had gone and the house fell quiet, Celestia went out into the yard. The sun was still high enough to fill the yard and the day had grown quite warm so Celestia conjured up a water elemental to cool her off. She and the water elemental chased each other around the yard until the sun was low. Then she sent the water elemental away and stood staring at the sunset until the first star appeared.

In her mind the colors of the world transposed themselves on the evening sky. The reds, blues, greens and yellows all blended together to make the most lovely sunset. There was only one word Celestia could think of to describe it.

“Pretty.”

Once the shadows began to creep out of the forest, Celestia went inside and put fire to the hearth. As night grew dimmer she lit more candles in case Aunt Aingeal came home late. Then she lay down and quickly fell asleep dreaming of the warming sun and the colors of the world. Tomorrow, she knew, would be a new day. Tomorrow she would learn new things.

[Celestia]

She could not concentrate on what people were saying. The milk tasted good and was cool in her mouth but the pitcher kept coming back empty. Why was that? She had to eat the cookies quickly or someone would take them away from her. Punishment for what? She couldn’t remember.



How many bodies lay under her sword? She frowned. Was it Mondain who gave her the order to kill them all? Where was he? He should be here leading his armies.



… Wait, these cookies are lemon. She couldn’t remember if she liked lemon cookies. She had to think hard. Yes, she liked lemon cookies, but oatmeal raisins were her favorites.



Where was she when she first met Judas?



“You shouldn’t go back there alone,” the lady at the tavern said. “There was a daemon back there last week. It might still be there.”

But the puppy was hungry.



She needed to know things. But she already did.



“Would you like to go to the beach?” Elendome had asked her.

“Oh, yes,” she heard herself say. “I would like to see those fish things that live there.”

“I don’t trust you.” Aunt Aingeal scolded. “Trouble seems to find you too often.”

Who was she talking to? Oh, she was talking to Elendome.

“Celestia. Do not go anywhere with her unless one of your Aunt’s goes too.”




She needed to see the Baratarian. Something important he had said to her.

The old man who died? The one who liked her and used to tell her stories. He was killed. She forgot by whom.

Paine? Paine would know. But wait … Paine was dead. Killed by …

Renthar.

Wasn’t he still in Yew prison?




“You can go look at the ocean right outside the tavern if you like. Just be careful.”

They were running. It felt good to run. She remembered running in the forest. Fast. Hunting. Taking on the scent of deer and elk. The sticky warm blood in her mouth.

“I see it. I see a big fish down there in the waving grass.”

What was Elendome saying? Another world? The fish things lived in another world?




… Ships. Hundreds of them. Black sails. She could see them on the horizon. Exodus was coming.

“Do you remember when the world was one? Before the gem was shattered. I came here from another world to protect you. You died on my world and I cannot bear to see that happen again. I am your father.”



**********



“Everyone practices the virtues, even if they are not aware of it.”

Honesty. She frowned. What would I do if my friends were starving and I only had one cookie left? She felt in her pocket. But she had more than one.



“If I was a good friend to my Lord and he wanted to take credit for killing the dragon then I would let him because it is good to help your friends.”

“But if he lied knowing it was really you who killed the dragon then you should kill him for lying.” Someone whispered to her



She thought about that for a second … “Or, I would just kill him for lying,” she heard herself say.



“Do you love cookies more than your friends?”



Judas wrote a song for her. Something about Gypsies.



“I love you all.” She said. Didn’t they know she would die for them? Couldn’t they see that?



“When can I go on an adventure to test the virtues?”

“Reading about them is not enough. One must live the virtues.”




She never had much use for the virtues. They always seemed to get in the way of making quick decisions. This one should live. That one die. Mondain expected results not debates.




“Do not be in such a hurry. You have your entire lifetime to understand the virtues.”




There was a bright, violent explosion and the world was shattered. Broken. Above it all a great Black-winged daemon hovered. Its vacant eyes bore witness.




“Jolicia died in my arms.”



Father?

The black bladed sword struck stealing immortality and magical abilities.

“Father? What does this mean?”




“… A lifetime to understand the virtues.” Deraj said.

She frowned with the knowledge.

“… I do not have a lifetime.”


**********


Aunt Aingeal had a bed made for her. It was soft. Better than the floor. And she had a trunk to keep her things in. Important things. Tarot cards.

“I know … knew … how to read them once.” She frowned. “Didn’t I?”

Aunt Aingeal gave her a pink nightgown. It was soft too and cool. She would keep many things in her new trunk. Like that book. The one about the prophesy about the gypsy girl. No father and no mother.

She crawled into her new bed and rested her head on the pillow. Sleep hovered nearby like a protective fairy.

Rolling onto her side she smiled. Someone was watching over her.

“But …” she whispered. “I do not have a lifetime.”

[Celestia]

“Wake up child.”

“Mama?”

“You must wake up.”

“But mama, I am awake.”

“No child, you are dreaming. You must wake up. Now!”

Celestia sat up in bed. The house was dark save for the soft red glow coming from the fireplace. The was a heaviness in the air as if the passing rain storm had left behind too much moisture.

“Mama?”

Silence.

Slipping out of bed, Celestia moved to the table and lit a small candle, then carefully laid a single Pine log on the glowing embers of the fireplace. A moment passed before the hot coals accepted the offering and the log burst into flame. The night shadows scattered and fled into the corners of the room. Turning from the fire, Celestia froze; someone was standing just within the fleeing shadows near the window.

“Mama?”

“No child. It is not your mother.” A male voice answered. “Your mother is dead. She died at the hands of the Daemon. Don’t you remember?”

“Papa? Why are you here? How did you …?”

But the room was empty. The Pine log snapped sending a shower of rosy sparks fleeing up the chimney. Celestia spun about searching wildly for the person she knew as Dominic Wolfwood, but the room was empty. She was alone.

“I do not understa …”


**********


Her hands felt wet and sticky. The front of her nightgown clung to her. Looking down she saw she was soaked in blood. Her hands red with it. She staggered backward until her back struck the wall. She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat closed tight. Then he was standing before her. His black armor gleaming in the dark light of a blood-red moon.

“It is time child.” His voice was thunder. His raven hair hung in heavy strands about his shoulders.

“Trinsic shall be the first to fall. You shall lead my armies from the Isle of Terfin and smash them against the walls of the city until they are dust. Let none stand in your way. Destroy the City of Honor. Drive the Paladins into the wilds where the Orcs and Goblins shall finish them. Then together we shall march on Castle British and there put an end to this war. Before the year is out. We shall have Lord British’s head on a spike and Sosaria shall be ours.”


**********

When Aingeal found her, she was standing naked in the damp grass outside the forest cottage. Her hair had grown long again and she was half an inch taller than the day before.

[Celestia]

She remembered his touch. His strong embrace. His control over her. She loved him and he was dead. Now she struggled to keep these thoughts from her conscious mind.

Celestia tossed and turned in her sleep. Visions of his empty grave rose up. She wept and tore at her hair.


**********


“I cannot do this,” she cried. “I cannot judge the man.” The image of Deraj, clad in armor, appeared before her, his sword drawn, lifted, about to strike. She raised her arms in defense but the blow never came. When she looked again, he was gone.

“Often the virtues take us places we do not wish to go. Often there is no fairness in life. Your heart is in the right place Celestia.”


**********


“Tag your IT.” The boy cried.

“I do not know this game,” she answered.

“Are you stupid?” He retorted. “If you’re stupid you must be a grownup. All grownups are stupid. I kissed her and the man killed me for it. Will you help me?”

“I do not know what to do.”

“Yes you do. Justice must be served."


**********


“How would you like your Justice administered My Lord?”

“Raze the town. Kill all within. Put their heads on spikes along the road leading from the town. Dismember the bodies and build a wall around the town with their torsos.”

“All of them Milord? Women and children as well?”

The great Mage turned to her, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight. “Do you question my orders, child?”


**********


“What have you done to me?”

The stone cell stank of urine and blood. The straw floor damp with mold.

“You have been changed." The man announced. "From this day forward you will serve House Draven. See that she is fed and clothed.”

A woman, pale of skin and having only one orange eye threw a filthy blanked around her.

“Come.” She hissed. “There is much for you to learn.”


**********


“May I ask you a question?”

She nodded slowly but did not look up. The shadows of the darkened Ashencrosse tavern flickered and danced as the fire in the hearth woke up and began to sing and crackle, spilling light further into the room. Gaius cleared his throat.

“Do you wish your child to grow up without a father?”

The question made no sense. She looked up.

“What?” She asked.

“Such a child would carry a mark upon them. A child without a father.”

“A mark?”

“Aye, they would be known as ‘bastards’ and their lives would be made far more difficult because of it.”

She blinked, bewildered by this sudden change of subject. But the child had a father.

“But …”

Caught off guard, she simply could not grasp what Gaius was talking about. The man stepped forward, knelt before her and made his intentions clear.

“I offer to share with you my name and my home and my protection for both you and the child until my last breath.”

She heard the words but they came as only ringing in her ears. Her head swam with bewilderment and confusion. She blinked and sat upright looking at him in disbelief.

“Are you …?” She swallowed hard. “… Are you asking me to wed you?” She stammered.


**********


"You have your mother's eyes."

"Papa?"


**********



When she awoke, Celestia found herself standing in a small clearing deep in the forest. Aingeal’s cottage was nowhere in sight.

“Stay within sight of the house.”

Bewildered, she wandered for hours in the night. Stumbling over fallen logs. Tripping on stones. Pushing her way through brambles and thick underbrush. The thought of casting a gate simply did not occur to her and, by the time the cottage was in sight; dawn was breaking. Her nightgown torn and muddied. Her arms and legs scraped and bleeding. Her hair tangled even more than usual. So relieved was she at finding her way back, she simply lay down on the grass and slept.

And that is where Aingeal found her.

[Celestia]

The ache in her heart wouldn’t go away. No matter how she tried to distract herself it clung to her like a hurtful memory. She had murdered a woman for nothing more than being cursed. She might as well have murdered her own mother. Celestia rolled over in bed and pressed her face into the pillow. People would look at her differently now. She was stained.

“You should have asked more questions.”

“Do not take everyone at their word.”

“People lie; it’s a fact of life.”


**********


“How does it feel to wield such power in you hands? To decide in an instant who shall live and who shall die?”

She was standing on the rolling deck of the fleets Flagship; “The Blue Dreamer.” A strong sea-breeze buffeted the ships massive black sails. The crew went about their duties with cold efficiency. The great mage standing at her side looked out over the vast ocean and gently laid an arm over her shoulder.

“Your power, one day, will surpass even my own and on that day the world will know true terror. I will be pleased just to have played a small part in that glory.”


**********


The objects that were inserted under her toenails were like tiny needles that sent jolts of unspeakable pain racing up her legs and hips. The pale woman’s breath reeked of death and putrefaction. Her face, with its one eye patch, leaned close.

“You will tell my mistress what she needs to know or you will be sent naked into the vast deserts to dry up like the carcass of a jackal.”

“But I swear, I know nothing of the missing woman.” She heard herself say.

The one-eyed woman turned and looked back into a patch of deep shadow. From within the folds of that shadow a voice rasping with spite and rancor spoke.

“Why my Sire keeps the likes of you will forever be a mystery to me. Keep at it Mei and if the pup does not provide us with what she knows or has heard in her pathetic wanderings by sundown, then bring her to me and I will bleed her of her memories. Even the ones she is unaware she has.”


**********


“What have you learned of Compassion, my child?”

“That one has choices, but not every choice is the right one even if you feel sympathy for and wish to aide the one who is suffering?”


**********


“Wake up child, there is still much yet for you to learn.”

“Mama?”

“No child. Your mother is not here, but I am close, very close.”

[Celestia]

The warming afternoon sun bathed the tiny island with restful, relaxing heat. The ocean sparkled under a clear blue sky. A pleasant breeze rustled the small bushes and tickled the tall grass. Jolicia slept as Renthar and Celestia talked.

“You can, if you wish it, control how grownup you want to be.”

Renthar watched as Celestia pondered this fact. The girl was extraordinary. Her true power yet to be discovered. Gazing out over the open ocean she wondered how different it would be if she could be allowed to chose her own path.

“Everyone tries to tell you what to do, don’t they?” The strange-eyed mage asked.

“Aye,” she nodded. “I found a book once, with runes in it. The names of cities. So I went to one and got into a lot of trouble for it. Now I am only allowed to go to the tavern by myself. It isn’t fair. Elendome gets to go wherever she wants. I mean, how am I supposed to learn anything if I can’t even try. I mean if I could grow up how old would I have to be?”

“How old do you want to be?”

“Old enough for boys to notice?”

Renthar chuckled. "Trust me Celestia, boys will notice soon enough. Now, close your eyes child. Concentrate. Focus everything on what you want. See yourself at the age you wish to be. How tall are you? What does your face look like? Your body? Concentrate … Focus…”


**********


“My Lady. Anon has left his position on the Royal Council. He is concentrating on keeping Magincia safe.”

“Then we shall shift our attention to the Islands of Tokuno. The Empress is weak and it is doubtful anyone will come to her aide.”


**********


“Haven has been destroyed. The Hooded Ones still walk free.”


**********


“Avery has committed High Treason. Casca shall rule now.”


**********


“Let the Shadowlords and the Crimson Dragons have Moonglow and the Daemons have Magincia. Everything shall be put right soon; very soon.”


**********


“Stand with me child. Here at my side. See how the world burns? How all beings prostrate themselves before you? This is your true destiny. To rule. To judge. To punish. Embrace it. Savor it.”


**********


The sun was low on the horizon when Celestia awoke. She blinked away a strange mist that blurred her vision and rubbed her eyes until the evening sky shone bright and clear. A star appeared. A single brilliant point of light. She frowned. “Twelve points?”

She sat up and saw that Renthar was still there but Jolicia had left. The strange-eyed mage helped her to her feet. Her head spun and she stumbled; he held her up.

“You vanished under an odd mist that covered your body. But I kept watch over you. How do you feel?” He asked.

“My dress is to small.”

“Yes,” he stated looking her over with an odd smile on his lips. “You have grown some. Perhaps in a few weeks you can try again. I can help you. Teach you things. I would like to help you fight the Daemon. It is my enemy too. I would like to be your friend if you like. The others love you, but they want to hold you back. Keep you a child. Protect you. But they are fools. It is time you chose your own path. Lived your own life. I can help you. If you like. You can visit me anytime at the library at the Lyceum.”

Celestia nodded. She didn’t want to think about anything. She felt dizzy and was ravenously hungry.

“I will need to buy new dresses.”

“Come, I will escort you to Britain where we will buy you new dresses, then I will see you safely home.”

[Celestia]

The scream was real.

Celestia sat bolt upright, awakened from her sleep by the scream.

“Aunt Aingeal?”

The house was silent.

“Aunt Aingeal?” Leaving her bed, Celestia crept upstairs to find Aingeal’s bed empty, cold. The night suddenly exploded into a blazing white ball of pain. Falling to her knees Celestia clutched her head and screamed. The empty house echoed her anguished cry as if mocking her.


**********


“Go on young mistress, strike now. One must never hesitate when the decision has been made. You know the punishment for disloyalty. It now falls to you to carry out my justice. This cannot be debated. Act now.”

The young woman, clad in black armor, stood over the kneeling body of the elder mage. How he had begged for his life. Threw himself on the mercy of his Lord and master. But there would be no reprieve. Their master rarely forgave.

“Do not hesitate. Strike. Strike now.”

The young woman, her mouth dry as sand, looked down upon the elder mage who was now weeping for his life. She hesitated.

“I cannot My Lord. His death would serve no purpose. Perhaps there is another way to make an example of him.”


**********


“What name have you given yourself?”

“I am called Celestia.”

“That is the name given you by others. What name have you chosen for yourself? The one the world will recognize and fear?”


**********


The blinding pain in her head slowly dissipated. She was able to breathe again. She moved her arms, legs, fingers. She was alive, but she was also aware of something else. Rising from the floor of Aingeal’s bedroom, Celestia went outside and stood on the veranda. Above her the night sky burned with stars and the heavens spun in their normal path. The forest echoed the cries of owl and wolf. Somewhere out there, in the broad expanse that is called Sosaria the people she knew as family suffered. Aingeal was gone and the pain of that lingered in the young girl’s body. But there was something else now. Something strange began crawling up her spine. A feeling of deep unbridled anger. Like nothing she had felt before; or had she? Was it she who helped destroy entire cities? Was it she who had helped bring chaos into the world? Or was it someone else? Were these her memories or the memories of others?

“So real.” She muttered. “I was there, I am certain of it.”

Reaching out with her mind she searched for Aingeal, but the universe was silent, empty. She tried to reach her mother, but her voice too was silent.


**********


“Do you remember the gem?”

“The dark one?”

“Aye, the dark one”

“Yes I remember.”

“Excellent. Now, tell me what happened when the gem was shattered. Do you remember?”

“The world flew apart and all that was known was destroyed, but was renewed elsewhere.”

“That is correct child. Good, very good.”

“And do you remember how to prolong your life?”

“Aye, I do.”

And, do you remember how to raise the dead?

“Aye.”

“And do you remember vengeance?”

“Vengeance? Aye, I remember vengeance. But, My Lord, vengeance is not a virtue.”

“Does that matter? Now? Under these circumstances? Act child. Act now upon these most intense of emotions. Let them free you. Just this once let your emotions guide you.”

[Celestia]

Celestia awoke to the aroma of cookies baking in the stone oven located in the downstairs kitchen. Fresh laundered sheets, smelling faintly of Gardenias, caressed her body. Sunlight, filtered through sheer white curtains, bathed her bedroom in soft morning light. She wiggled her toes and stretched her arms up towards the blue painted ceiling. She smiled; it was going to be a wonderful day.

“Come, come sleepyhead, time to get up.” Her mother’s voice called as she walked through the door.

“Mama? You’re here?”

“Of course I’m here silly. Now up with you, quickly. Aunt Aingeal and Aunt Faeryl are downstairs waiting.” Alisiea sat on the edge of the bed and pushed an unruly lock of hair out of her daughter’s eyes. “And later today there will be an even bigger surprise. Your father is coming all the way from Nujel’m with a very special gift for your birthday.”

Celestia sat up. “Papa is coming? What is he brining?” She was barely able to contain her excitement. “Please mama, tell me, what is he brining me?”

Alisiea smiled. “Now you know I can’t tell you. It would spoil the surprise. But I can tell you it is going to be a very special birthday indeed. Very, very special.”


**********

When Celestia opened her eyes the first thing she saw was Judas sitting in a chair a few feet away. He looked as if he had not slept in days. Dark circles ringed the bottom of his bloodshot eyes and his hair was horribly disheveled. He looked as if he was in some kind of trance. Was he sleeping with his eyes open?

The young girl blinked. She was so very tired and her arm ached. She tried to sit up, but found she could not do so, her body felt like stone. And then there was the buzzing in her ears. Not a high pitched whine like a mosquito, but more like a bee hovering close to the ear. She fanned her ears, but the buzzing remained. She shook her head, hoping to dislodge the annoying sound, but it remained. She rolled onto her side and clutched the pillow tight around her head; still the buzzing remained. Then, faintly, as if trying to pierce the annoying whine, a voice, distant, like when someone whispers in a noisy room and one has to lean closer and concentrate so to hear exactly what the speaker was saying, came the whispered words;

“It has begun…”

[Celestia]

She was getting used to grownups leaving. At first she thought perhaps it was her fault. “I love you very much,” her mother would say. “But there are matters of greater importance that must be looked after.” As if looking after her was too much of a burden. But Celestia did her best to understand even through the visions and the dreams. The memories and the nightmares.

She was important; she wasn’t important. Mixed signals. “I will always be here for you.” Her father said. But he wasn’t.

Aingeal loved her and she felt that love even through the strict rules she set up. “You need to follow your own path. You need to listen and do what we tell you.” She and Aingeal were beginning to find a common understanding; then, suddenly, Aingeal too, was gone. Into a hole in the ground. Celestia was aware of death. She had seen enough of it in her visions. Heard the begging of women and the pleadings of men. But she had never been to a funeral. It was both shocking and sad. To see someone you cared about put into a hole and covered up. Nothing made sense.

Deraj promised to teach her about the virtues. She liked him in his metal skin. He was like a rock that never moved but had wisdom and could see into people’s hearts. But he had made a mistake; and he too had gone away. They just didn’t seem to stay; the grownups.

Judas teased her; but would grow angry. Jolicia was sullen and short tempered. Celestia avoided her. But Judas had stayed by her side the night the daemon came. Kept watch over her. That was love, wasn’t it? Now Judas was going away and taking Jolicia with him. Nothing made sense.

Her best friend, Elendome. Someone who really seemed to understand her. Someone to hold hands with when the others got angry or frustrated or argued. Elendome loved her as much as she loved Elendome. “Sisters forever. Sisters forever.” Now, Elendome was going away to live with Judas and Jolicia in Yew. They would be just like her mother and father. She would have her own room, and her real sister would live there too. And, they were going to send them to school at the Empath Abby to learn stuff.

“We will still see each other. A lot.” Elendome said as they sat overlooking the small lake not far from the Salty Dog. “I will visit you a lot. We are sisters. Forever.” Celestia swallowed hard and said she was happy for Elen and she truly was, but something inside her felt broken. Nothing made sense.

Now it was Faeryl’s turn. Celestia honestly loved Faeryl and according to Elendome, Faeryl loved Celestia too and wanted her to come live with her. “She can be like a mother to you too; if you let her.” Elen said. Celestia nodded. But that hidden part of her still felt broken.

They returned to the Salty Dog and asked Faeryl for permission for Cel to visit with Elendome’s little sister, who, Elendome had said, would now be Celestia’s sister too. The little Elf child was shy at first, but cookies always seemed to make things better so Cel shared one of hers with her. They talked for a little while and the child played music on the music box for her. Then she showed Celestia her toys. A large stuffed bear and another smaller one holding a big red heart. She tried to give her one, but Celestia couldn’t take it. It didn’t belong to her. When Elendome came back they hugged and said their goodnights. Celestia used the rune Faeryl had given her and returned to the large house situated in the deep forest. She tiptoed inside as best she could and found a small bed in one corner of the main room. The fireplace glowed its familiar red and cast enough light for her to see. Undressing, she slipped beneath the covers and lay facing the wall. She thought about things. Tried to remember what was important. Faces. A touch. A word. A tear. The feel of clean clothes against her skin. The smell of soap and the tug of a comb or a brush as Aingeal once tried to get the tangles and knots out of her thick hair. The smell of the forest after a heavy rain. The sound of footsteps as a grownup arrived home. The feeling in the pit of her stomach when she knew for sure she was safe. All of these things were important. All of these things made sense.

Renthar said he would help her and that she could visit him at the Lyceum anytime she wished. Could he teach her what she needed to learn? Could he help her make sense of things? Celestia sighed and hugged the pillow tight against her chest. Grownups never seemed to stay long and always, always went away. Closing her eyes tight, Celestia fought back hot tears. Flashes of light crisscrossed before her. Lightning tore through the darkness. There was a thick, heavy fog. A damp, soaking mist that clung to her clothes and body. A ships bell. And a thousand tiny voices calling her name.

Celestia drew her knees up and clutched the pillow tighter. “One day.” A tiny voice whispered. “One day it will be your turn to go away.”

Nothing made sense.

[Celestia]

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a thin mist began covering her body. The passage of time became irrelevant. The movement of the heavens, the stars, the planets meant nothing. Renthar’s voice drifted away like smoke on a gentle breeze. The faces of her friends, her only family, became like specters, smiling shadows, reminders of an earlier time…. An earlier existence…


**********


The sky tore itself apart in a firestorm of chaos. Stars, blackened by the weight of their own gravity, wheeled and spun into a well of pure destruction; into a hole from which no light could escape.


**********


Nine warriors, clad in black polished armor, stand shoulder to shoulder behind an obsidian throne. Upon their chests a red twelve-pointed star. At their hip, swords fashioned of pure obsidian hardened by the fires of oblivion. The world burns.

A young woman sits upon the throne. Her strangely colored eyes flash as she scans the multitude kneeling before her.

Above them all, hovering on massive wings, the black-skinned Daemoness, Mistress of nightmares and terror; now tamed and sworn to obey. Kneeling before the throne, the Woman of Unnatural Beauty, whose voice is honey in the ears of men, speaks so all may hear:

“The King lies dead. His armies scattered. This world now belongs to you. Rule it as you see fit, but see to it the souls of its inhabitants are made ready, for the Reckoning is upon them all.”


**********


Still and motionless under an opaque gauze of mist. The memories of a thousand, thousand years cascade around her. Ships. Thousands of them. Warriors, Heroes and Kings fallen in battle. The great gates of the Underworld flung open. The tides rising against the shore. The slaughter of innocents. The rise of the Shadowlords. The fall of the Spellweavers. The unraveling of time itself. The unbridled power and mystery of the Void.


**********


“This is the Isle of Serpents. Seek not guidance here child, for it is here where Erstam rules.”


**********


“Forget not the Age of Darkness and the strife of the Eight Kingdoms. Forget not the fall of the Feudal Lords. This is your inheritance; this is your Keepsake. Protect it well. Stand firm against the rising winds. Let the banner of the Virtues lead your armies and may the Blessing of the Stranger fall upon you.”


**********


“The dance is my true Magick, my daughter. The weaving of the sensual arts and the laughter of the People will heal you and keep you safe. Come, I will teach you the steps.”


**********


“There is terror here, yes that is true. But there is also joy and light and feasts laid out in honor of the King’s first born. A son. An heir. A joyful time.”


**********


“One will arise with the strength of an army, the vision of a prophet and the heart of a saint. This Great One will bring about an end to the struggle between the Darkness and the Light”


**********


“Rise now and follow the Eightfold Path. Learn the Word of Passage. Seek out the Key of Three Parts and learn the Daemon’s true name for only then can you defeat him.”



**********


On the upper floor of a ruined Keep just north of the Twin Oaks Tavern in Ilshenar, an old man, known to some as Balric of Barataria, sat talking quietly with a girl of seventeen years. He paused in mid-sentence and stared at the girl for a long moment.

“Master?” The girl queried.

“Hmmm?” The old man chuckled and shook his head. “Forgive me child but your resemblance to your mother is astonishing. Why if I didn’t know better I could swear it was she sitting here with me … but …” He tapped his chin in thought. “Yes … yes.” he nodded. “You are much taller and somewhat prettier. Most likely a trait inherited from your father. He smiled warmly. “Now where was I?”

“My life.” The girl reminded him.

“Ahhh yes, yes of course.” He cleared his throat. “Thus far your life has been short. An introduction or “prologue” if you will.”

“Prologue?”

“Yes child. You see, sometimes when a author writes a book he starts with a prologue. A hint of what is to follow. Something that draws the reader in. Sparks an interest in what is to come next. Your life, thus far, has only been a prologue to what is to follow.”

The girl nodded her understanding. The old man looked kindly upon her but did not hold back the truth, for to do so would do her a disservice.

“Your path through this life will not be an easy one. It will be long and fraught with danger and betrayal. Oh, yes, yes there will be some who will be loyal and true, but most, however, will never understand and some, a few, will even call you ‘mad.’ But you must persevere regardless of the difficulty, for were you to fail … well… the consequences will be dire.”

He paused to watch the girl’s reaction. She sat motionless, her odd colored eyes fixed on the old mans.

“In this world,” he continued. “There are many dark and foreboding places. These hidden places are inhabited by creatures with malevolent natures that are extremely jealous of those who live in the light of the world above. Some are very clever and seek to seduce those who venture into their realm. Others are mere brutes who use Magick and slaves to destroy any mortal foolish enough to approach their lairs. Do not fear these places child, but venture into them with hope and courage. For hidden deep within these dark places are tools you can use to aide you in defeating the Daemon Lord.”

“Tools?”

“Aye. Artifacts. Weapons, armor, gems. Objects fashioned by great Heroes and wise Mages that were lost thousands of years ago and coveted by those vile creatures who found them. They will not give them up easily, but you must try and you must keep trying until these “artifacts” are yours.”

He paused to watch the girl. It was true that she was unique in many ways, but she was still mortal. He cleared his throat.

“I will not try to fool you girl. The Mistress of Death also dwells within these dark places. And she will embrace you many times. But she is not to be feared, for it is fear that will draw her to you. Embrace her when she comes, but do not rush into her arms needlessly or foolishly. Over time, as you grow stronger, she will no longer have power over you. However, should the need arise and only if the need arises, do not hesitate to sacrifice yourself for the life on another. Nothing irritates the Mistress of Death more than a noble sacrifice.”

The old man chuckled as if reminded of some private joke then grew serious again.

“Many will rally to your cause. You do not need to travel this path alone. There will be quests to fulfill and you will have companions who will accompany you. But, be wary of Knights who swear loyalty and those who issue promises or boast of their own prowess. And, be doubly wary of sorcerers who make promises. Any sorcerer I have ever met had but one goal; the acquisition of power. Those who truly love you will cleave to you and will never abandon you. Treat them well for they will be few indeed. Speak not ill of the dead, for their memories will serve you when the time is dire. Avoid dark thoughts. Even when things seem hopeless, for to entertain such thoughts will draw the dark agents of the Nameless One to your side and once they attach themselves to you; they will be difficult to dislodge.”

The old man closed his eyes and slumped forward.

“Master? Are you alright?” The girl reached out to offer him support.

He held up his hand. “I am fine child. It’s just that it takes a great deal of effort to maintain this form for long. I fear I do not have much time so I will be as brief as possible.” He straightened up and smiled warmly at her.

“When you awaken from this sleep. You must leave the house where you are living now.”

The girl began to protest. “But Master, where will I live? How will I …” The old man held up his hand to silence her.

“Those closest to you will always love you and will never abandon you. But it is time you had a place of your own. Now listen carefully. East of the City of Luna is a crystal forest. At the edge of this forest near a gap in the Stone Mountains sits an abandoned house. This house was once owned by a vampire of great evil. She no longer resides in this world but sleeps in the depth of despair and rancor. You are to make this house your own. Within this house are many vile and terrible secrets including knowledge of how to repel those servants of the Daemon Lord who now haut this land and the dreams of mortal men. Every daemon, from the highest to the lowest, has a weakness and in this ruined house you will learn what they are and use them. Once that is done you must tear down the walls and rebuild the house. Cleanse it with Magick and restore it to the light. Fill it with loved ones and place wards to keep away those who might wish you ill. Make it your sanctuary where you can rest and regain your strength. Do you understand me girl?”

The girl nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. Very good.” The old man smiled at her once more. “Now, my time here is up and I must return to…”

The old man slowly faded from sight as the young girl mouthed the words; “Thank you.”



**********


When Celestia opened her eyes, every inch of her body hurt. Her joints and muscles were stiff and sore. Her skin tingled and there were feelings coursing though her she had never felt before. Feelings that made her blush. It took the better part of an hour for her to force her body to respond to her commands and to rise from the bed, and when she did she stumbled into the large chair near the fireplace. Here she sat for another hour before covering herself with a robe. She ate ravenously from the pantry near the kitchen then left the house and cast a gate to the City of Britain where she hired a room with a bath. She cleansed herself and washed her hair then set out to buy new clothes.

The prologue of her life was over. The first chapter began now.

[Celestia]

She remembered it differently. At the time of the Cataclysm, Luna was nothing more than a collection of huts populated by savages. Now the savages had become merchants, vendors reflecting the greed of a world gone mad for the possession of “things.” Perhaps it really was time for another “cleansing.”

The city of Luna, however despicable and greedy its occupants were, was, nonetheless, beautiful. The massive walls and buildings of unmatched splendor stood second only to the great city of Trinsic. Celestia blinked and searched her memories. Something about Trinsic; something she was supposed to do. Whatever it was, she could not recall.

“East is that way,” Faeryl said pointing to the Eastern Gate. Celestia did not remember asking.

“And the Crystal Forest?”

“Beyond those houses.”

Celestia never explained why she said the odd things she said or why she wanted to go somewhere she had never been. Oftentimes the explanation or reason escaped even her. A snippet of memory. A dream perhaps? One of the many whispered voices? She was thankful, however, that Faeryl never pressed her for an explanation, but instead, seemed content to escort her and kept watch over her. That alone was important. Celestia had no illusions about how others saw her. She was an oddity; to some perhaps; a freak. A child, born at the most recent Vernal Equinox not five months before, yet now appearing as a young adult. Why? For what purpose? Everything around her was new; yet at the same time; very, very old. She had skills she did not remember learning. She remembered names and places that no longer existed. Faces of people long dead. Voices that told her to go one way then turn and go in the opposite direction. And through all this she fought to find her own path; her own direction.

When she looked up again they were standing before what could only be the house described by Balric. “Abandoned” was too kind a word for it. It was a foul representation of a manor house. A rotting, stinking corpse laying at the edge of the Crystal Forest. A pall of foreboding hung over it like a thick, putrid fog. Thick bracken and unfettered vines covered the entire front of the decaying structure. A massive cypress tree, long dead, kept watch over the double stair entry. The stairs leading to the covered entrance were slick with mold, moss and slime. Even Faeryl, a knight of the Crux Ansata, shivered in disgust.

“I have been here before.” She stated, her voice lowered to a whisper as if to speak at a normal tone might awaken what once dwelt within. The look of revulsion on her face needed no explanation as to the memory of that former visit. Carefully, cautiously, they made their way up the staircase to stand before the double doors. The gloom deepened as they stood under the porticos.

“I cannot believe I am to take position of this forsaken house. How will I ever make it mine?” Celestia asked.

“You will tear it down and rebuild it,” Faeryl added.

“Aye,” Celestia nodded. That is what Balric said. He said I was to learn its secrets then tear down the walls and fill the new house with light and love. But …” she turned towards Faeryl. “But what if … I mean, what if its former occupant returns?”

The Elf smiled. “There is little chance of that. She sleeps deep in the mountains and will not awaken in our lifetimes; not even in mine. And, should the unthinkable happen, and she does awaken, we will destroy her and this time; forever.”

Reassured, Celestia nodded and turned towards the massive doors. Swallowing hard she placed her hand against the moss and vine covered door and pushed: Nothing happened. She pushed again yet the door would not yield. She tried the other door with the same result. “I think they are frozen with rust.” Together she and Faeryl combined their effort and managed to get the door to yield a gap wide enough for them to pass through. But when the door gave way a blast of warm, stinking, air escaped through the opening causing them both to recoil and back away so they might catch their breath. Celestia thought she might vomit but after a moment recovered enough to face the doors and the darkness beyond. Holding their breaths they entered.

The best description she could think of was a tomb. A thick musty odor hung like a pall over the extensive Great Hall. Light from wall torches and braziers flickered and spun sending shadows across the floor and walls. The torches seemed fueled by some unnatural magic that would keep them burning forever; never to be extinguished. She could not see a ceiling and beneath her feet a thick carpet, now lay molding from lack of air and light. The great hall was empty save for several stone chairs facing a large elaborate throne. As they drew closer to the throne the air became humid and thick with the coppery smell of stale blood and death. So thick was it that Celestia had to cover her nose and breathe through her mouth. The throne and facing chairs sparkled with a patina of damp sweat. She feared touching anything lest she be stricken with some horrible disease.

Exploring further they found another set of double doors on the western wall. These too were frozen shut by lack of use and rust. Together they forced the doors which opened to a narrow stairway leading, in one direction, to the upper floors and in the other; to the bowels of the house. Faeryl cautioned against going down for her memory of the place was one of abject disgust and revulsion. So the pair cautiously climbed the narrow stairs steeling themselves for whatever they might meet at the top. Celestia recoiled as some unseen creature, be it insect, rat or spider scampered up the wall next to her only to vanish into the gloom and darkness above. The feeling that they were being watched accompanied them with every step. The stairway was steep and it took some time before they reached the upper floor. To their surprise the air became lighter, less offensive and fresher. Light from an elaborate candelabra filled a richly appointed foyer leading to two sets of doors. Hanging on the wall at the top landing was a portrait of a woman. She was dressed in the finest fashion and had an air of wealth and authority about her. She was strikingly beautiful, but in an odd, disturbing way. Her flesh was as pale as moonlight which only served to highlight her long raven hair. But the most captivating aspect of this figure was her eyes. Large and black as night they seemed to invite the viewer into her world; as if to say “Come, join me in the mystery of life.” It took a moment for Celestia to break away from this portrait. But when she did she noticed a small gold plate affixed to the bottom of the painting that read;

“The Lady Avella; Mistress of House Isilian”

Celestia straightened up and looked around. House Isilian. An ancient name, noble in its history, powerful in its influence, now fallen into decrepitadation and foul intent, for the Lady Avella was a vampire of historic malevolence and evil. Once ruling over a vast empire. Self-anointed Queen of a clan of vicious, blood-thirsty creatures, she prowled the lands of Sosaria seducing and feeding on the unwary and innocent and making no attempt to hide what she was. A twisted, soulless monster who slaughtered and murdered with apparent delight and, for a short time, served her maker, Marcus Draven, another vile creature of the night. But the Lady Avella eventually surpassed the blood-lust of even her own Sire leaving him to suffer the sting of the blade which drove him into exile and saw the destruction of his own House and Clan. Celestia closed her eyes and fought back the memory of her own mother’s suffering at the hands of this woman. But her mother’s memories were strong and she recalled her fear of the woman and the suffering at her hands. Her mother’s memories also showed her that Judas had made a bargain with the Lady Avella which helped end the reign of Marcus Draven and, as if compelled to do more, Judas made yet another bargain with Avella. One that assured she would sleep for three-hundred years. Celestia opened her eyes. How could Judas make such a bargain with a creature well known to obey no laws of man? A creature bound to her monstrous instincts to kill and inflict terror and darkness on all she touched. Celestia stood transfixed by these memories until Faeryl gently shook her.

“Celesta, come, we should not linger in this house much longer.”

The upstairs rooms were clear of the foreboding and rot they had found below. Here was a library and meeting room that was well lit and stocked with wine or what appeared to be wine for, when Celestia opened a bottle, she found it filled with a thin foul-smelling, bloodlike substance. “Bloodwine.” Faeryl told her. "A beverage some vampires indulge in to keep their lust for human blood at bay. Used mostly by those vampires who practice the art of the Masquerade. Vampires who hide what they truly are and walk among the living posing as humans. Some own businesses. Others public office. But the Masquerade assures their survival." The library was stocked with books marked with strange symbols and runes. Some held titles that told of the various vampire clans and their traits. There were dozens of them. Celestia frowned. Might this be knowledge she rather not know? Or were these the “secrets” that Balric spoke of?

Exploring further, they found a large, richly appointed, apartment near the library. A normal looking room with a fireplace, large comfortable bed, a writing desk, rich carpets and several well made instruments including an exquisitely crafted harp of untold value and a harpsichord. Surely this is not where the Lady Avella slept for there were too many windows and an open doorway to a sunny balcony. Strange that this seemingly normal room would exist in such a place, but there it was, plain as day as if waiting for some lord or minor official to return. Celestia shook her head. This was confounding indeed.

Satisfied they had looked over everything the upstairs rooms had to offer they started down the narrow staircase once more. As they descended the feeling of oppression and gloom grew until they were standing at the landing leading to the Great Hall. The choice now was to leave or descend further into the bowels of the house. Faeryl was anxious to leave, but Celestia wanted to see what secrets the lower level might hold, so, together they crept cautiously down into the recesses of the house. Finding themselves at the bottom of the stairs they turned left and traveled down a short hallway that was dimly lit by small lanterns. At the end of the hallway they found a thick steel door blocking their way. Together they managed, after some struggle, to crack the seal and open the door. What awaited them on the other side was wholly unimaginable and unspeakable for a stench so foul and so evil permeated the lower level that both Celestia and Faeryl gagged. From what little Celestia could see of the place it was a dungeon. The place where Avella held her captives or newborn vampires and a place where Daemons once dwelled. Death and blood. Pestilence and perdition entered the world here. This was where the portal had formed. This was where the agents of the Unholy One gained entry into the dreams of men and this was where Judas and his company sent them back; closed the portal and sent Avella to her sleep. Celestia could feel the Daemon Lord’s hand upon this place. His putrid breath permeated the place. Ten steps in she retched and her head spun in confusion and agony. Countless souls were devoured here and an unspeakable evil was unleashed upon the world. Taking Faeryl’s arm they left the house as quickly as they could and, once outside, in the bright, warming sun and cool, fresh air of the forest; Celestia vomited.

Her next task was to take possession of this house and rebuild it according to Balric’s instructions. She wondered where she would find the strength to return yet alone live on such unholy ground. Together she and Faeryl Tyr'athem returned to the Salty Dog where they found friendship, laughter, and a brand new beverage for Celestia to sample; Mead

[Celestia]

After a few days, Celestia no longer noticed the stench of death and blood as the manor house began to slowly, reluctantly, surrender its secrets. There were all manner of books and papers. Maps and journals. Descriptions of dungeons, secret places, and several treatises on the weakness of various sub-daemons and their minions. Nothing, however, on the major ones. From her exploration of the house she was able to determine that the general structure and foundation was still in fairly good shape; not that she was an expert in structural design and thought it wise to, perhaps, bring in someone who could tell her for certain. But that would have to wait until she cleaned up the place a bit since she doubted anyone with any sense of smell or any knowledge of its former owner would even consider venturing near the place let alone enter it for inspection.

So, putting all that aside, she set up a large table in the Great Hall and carried armloads of books, maps and journals from the upstairs library and began her research. Days passed followed by nights filled with whispers and glancing shadows that shifted past almost without notice. She slept in the upstairs bed which she found roomy and comfortable. She removed the doors leading from the Great Hall to the narrow staircase so fresh air could circulate to the rooms below. On several occasions she even ventured into the bowels of the house but did not linger long, for there were voices and whispers in those dimly lit cells that caused her great discomfort. Even still, as the days passed she began to feel an affinity for the house. A sort of “understanding” as it was. The voices in her head grew stronger and she began to have actual “conversations” with them. Her father spoke to her from some other time. From a place so far removed from the one in which she lived that the words he spoke were strange and had a foreign ring to them. Her mother appeared before her and danced in a wild, uninhibited manner that left Celestia sweating and touching herself. She stopped bathing and rarely ate. She drank from the stores of liquor and ale she found and once, in a fit of raging psychosis, she drank half a bottle of “bloodwine.”

One night, in a drunken fever, she stumbled into the lower rooms where she accidently stepped on a teleporter that carried her to a rooftop patio. The night air flowed over the half-roof and swirled around the massive guardian statues that glared at the earth below as if to warn any passerby of the dangers that dwelt here. The full moon pressed its anemic light against the surrounding mountains and lit the crystalline forest with an eerie glow. Celestia stared at the treetops and blue-green crystal formations for hours as the voices in her head competed for her attention. What use had she for ordinary people, they asked her. What needful things would she find that would help her in her quest? Friendship? Love? These virtues they mocked and reminded her of her Mother’s loneliness and heartache. Reminded her of her Fathers immortality and his fall from grace and his eventual death at the hands of his rival. And they spoke to her of sex; the sweet wet seduction that brought a fever to her brow and a shiver to her flesh. The flush of passion that rose from her thighs to her breasts as she threw herself onto her back and exposed herself to the stars and moon above. How the night air caressed her with fingers that titillated, tickled, and brought momentary relief from the whispered voices. She felt her Mother’s love for the man who placed the seed of her own being inside her womb and how, in the darkness of despair at the loss of that love, she brought forth unto this world a child of power and madness whose understanding of both had yet to be fulfilled.

Below, in the dark recesses of the house, shadow figures loomed and danced in wild abandonment as the light from brazier and torch flared and flickered filling the Great Hall with memories of a happy life long ago twisted and turned to black despair. Celestia groaned as the voices called to her; beckoned her to rise and follow their lead. Into danger. Into the black places of the world where the warming sun never shone. Into the mindless pit of her fate. Into the realms of insanity and salvation. Into herself.

[Celestia]

Mirrors, dozens of them of any size or shape. James the Bunny Man told her if she placed two mirrors facing each other she could see infinity. She wanted to see infinity. She wanted to see where it went.

“You can catch daemons in mirrors.” She had told him. She had read about it in one of the many books she found in the dark recesses of the Manor House. “Some of them are infatuated with their own image. That it their weakness.”

Whatever Rilien Reinhardt had done to her at Blackthorn’s Castle had set her mind in order for a time. For several days she could think straight. She remembered who and where she was and she cleaned herself up and went about in fresh clothes. But, as the effects of the spell wore off, she began to retire once more into that strange existence she was becoming more and more familiar with. The whispers that hinted at secrets hidden in the darkest caverns known. The voices that commanded her to pull from the rubble of history the many memories of her father and mother. The visions of fire and smoke; of battles and victories; of evil and honor. She chewed her fingernails to the quick and rubbed dirt in her long tangled trusses. She didn’t care how she looked or, at worse, how she smelled. She knew that some daemons were attracted to the smell of soap. Cleanliness often attracted the worst kind of creature.

The manor house formerly owned by the vampire; Lady Avella Isilian, was torn down and rebuilt over the existing foundation. The entire structure had been completely redesigned save for the roof which was still in surprisingly good shape. She even kept the half-roof area for a garden where she could grow things or store the many odd and strange objects she found on her travels. She paid the man, who, naturally, overcharged her, in cash and set about casting the various wards and enchantments as prescribed in one of the larger tomes she found during one of her explorations of the house. The Great Hall would become a sitting area, office, kitchen and dining rooms in an open concept design; no walls. Celestia found she liked the openness of the room and had extra windows installed to permit more light into the house. That is what Balric had told her to do and that is what she did. Below, what was once a dudgeon now became workshops and storage areas. Perhaps she might invite a craftsperson to set up shop there, someone to keep her company as long as they didn’t get too close. Lately, she found she didn’t like people getting too close to her; it made her feel uncomfortable, threatened.

The house was completely devoid of furniture; not a chair, table or bed anywhere. She wanted to experience the freedom of just seeing walls for a little while. The walls were clean and bright and she liked to run her fingers along them feeling the texture. The windows were solid and without curtains. She sat for hours at a time just staring out through the distorted glass. It was like swimming underwater. She imagined herself a fish or a mermaid. She would swim under fishing boats or glide effortlessly in the wake of mighty warships. Now and then she would sing to some poor fisherman, enchant him with promises of love and eternal affection; then drag him down through the mighty depths to her lair and there, keep him for herself.

She liked being around people as long as they didn’t get too close. Their voices comforted her. Their conversations entertained her and sometimes enthralled her. Their tone, pitch and intent often confused her. Some words emoted love and affection. Others were sharp like needles and were meant to hurt. She didn’t like those. The needle words made her skin itch. Some words were kind and supportive and these she found most appealing. A woman bought her tea; a beverage she had never tried before. It was dark and hot and she had to pay attention or it would burn her lips. The woman taught her to blow on the tea to cool it. She liked that. Blowing on the tea made ripples and the ripples bounced off the edge of the bowl back onto themselves. They reverberated against the side of the bowl until the surface was calm again. She laughed at this, but then the lady got too close so she had to move away. But what was best about the tea was at the bottom of the bowl. The dark flecks that lay against the white porcelain made images. A dog, a horse, a ship or perhaps a knight in battle with a great dragon? Or a castle burning in the night, its occupants slaughtered under the blades of dark warriors. Then she remembered the mirrors and a King long dead.

James the Bunny Man followed her home. She remembered how he made her laugh when she was younger. His funny hat, how it jingled and danced for her. She let him inside and showed him the house. He liked it but said it needed furniture. She had none. But she did have a Codex of Virtue that she had painted on the floor of one of the lower rooms. She had found the design in another book and copied it exactly only much, much larger. This is where she slept; in the exact center of the circle. Nothing could reach her when she was sleeping here. Nothing could touch her. She thought that when she had enough large mirrors she would set them up all around the outside of the circle so they faced in. Then she would stand in the middle and look out over infinity. That, she thought, might bring her the answers she sought or at the very least let her see clearly where she should go next. But, that would have to wait for she needed a dozen or more large mirrors and, for the moment, had not idea where to find them.

James stayed for awhile until she fell asleep. When she awoke the next morning she blinked; everything had changed...

[Celestia]

… Everything had changed.

When Celestia opened her eyes she was looking at the sky. A sky so blue, so intense in its fullness of tone and hue that she had to squint and shield her eyes with her hand. The sky held her gaze until a cloud drifted by blocking the sun. Then the sky deepened to a rich cobalt so pure she swore she could see the stars. When the cloud moved away and the sun shone again she was overwhelmed with the heady, perfumed scent of wildflowers. Raising herself on her elbows she found she was lying in a high mountain meadow. The air was sweet and clear and she could see across the vastness of the mountain range and into the distant valley below.

“It is much cooler this high up out of the sweltering summer below; is it not?” A gentle voice commented.

Startled, Celestia turned and saw that the speaker was a woman who was lying next to her. The woman was beautiful beyond words and Celestia was unable to speak for several minutes. The woman wore the finest silks that shimmered in the sunlight and flowed across her body like water. Her eyes were large and captivating and she wore her raven hair long and smoothly brushed. The woman turned her gaze to Celestia and smiled.

“Do you know who I am?”

Celestia shook her head slowly from side to side. The woman smiled and her eyes sparkled with warmth.

“I have been searching for you since before you were born and it is an honor to finally meet you. I am known by many as Lilith, but I have other names as well. Have you heard anyone speak of that name?”

Celestia felt a wave of panic race through her. She nodded; “Aye, I have heard that name. You are the Daemon who pursued my mother. The one who caused her friends to have bad dreams and others as well. Some say you have been trying to have me killed in order to save yourself.”

Lilith laughed and the lilt of that laugh sent the mountain birds to singing. “Daemon?” She shrugged. “Perhaps. And although it is true that some might consider me a daemon I am still just flesh and blood like yourself; and those around you. But I do not profit from dreams. That was another of my kind who has other plans for this world of yours. I, on the other hand, merely hinted as to what might happen. I simply showed them how things might look if I could not find you and help you see this through to the end. How morals interpret their dreams is not in my skill to determine or to guide. But, unlike those around you I am charged with your safety and have been sent to see you through this most difficult of times. And yes, it is true that I searched for your mother while she bore you, but she was kept hidden from me by those whose interests were not akin to hers. Now, however, all that has changed.”

Celestia could not immediately reply for her thoughts were screaming and her heart raced. Finally she steeled herself. “But how did you find me? I am sleeping in the center of my circle. Nothing evil can reach me here.”

Lilith smiled and turned to look out over the vista before them. “If that is true then I must not be the evil creature people warned you about. Or, it could be you are not lying within the circle but are elsewhere. On the other hand I may have found you because you have finally received the gift I left for you weeks ago.”

“Gift?”

Lilith nodded. “Aye, child. The very gift you now hold in your hand.”

Celestia looked down and saw, to her astonishment, that she was holding an obsidian dagger. She frowned for she could not recall how she had gotten the blade. “But…”

Lilith turned and with a loving touch brushed a lock of tangled hair out of the girl’s eyes. “Do not fret little one. The gift was meant for you and is the means by which I found you. It is yours to keep and cherish, for it will grant you the means by which to accomplish what must be done. You have nothing to fear from me dear child. For I am here to see your destiny is fulfilled.”

“My destiny?”

Lilith nodded. “Aye, child. You have been told of a great prophecy that tells of your victory over the Nameless One and how you will save this world from certain doom. But did you know there is another side to that prophecy, one that tells of a different outcome?”

Celestia looked at the black bladed dagger in her hand and watched as the sunlight played along its blade. How it sparkled like diamonds and fit her hand precisely; as if it were made for her and her alone. Without taking her eyes from the blade she asked; “What different outcome?”

Lilith turned back to the vista. “It tells of your trials and tribulations at the hands of your friends and the eventual betrayal of one you trust completely. It tells of the death of hundreds of thousands who sacrificed themselves so you may rise to rule.”

“Rule? I do not understand.”

Lilith turned her full attention to the girl and spoke in quiet yet firm tones. “You are destined to rule over this world, over all the creatures that inhabit it. You will be a Queen in your own right and stand above all others. Your word will be law and your wraith will bring nations to their knees. But there is something that must happen before all this can take shape. Something only you can accomplish.”

Celestia’s confusion grew as she listened to the honeyed words spoken to her.

“But … but I … I cannot …”

“Concentrate? The woman of unbearable beauty finished. “You speak of the voices and memories and visions you are seeing? Aye child, I can see the difficulty in this. But if you will permit me, I can clear your mind of all these distractions if you would only take it upon yourself to complete one simple task. If this can be done then I assure you the voices, the visions and the memories will cease, and your life will be yours to do with as you please. Does this interest you child?”

Celestia nodded.

“Very well then,” the Daemoness continued; “this is what must be done. Over the next few months you will have several opportunities to accomplish this task. Regardless, it must be done before the dawn of the New Year, for to wait beyond that time will cause all that has thus far succeeded to fail utterly and that would spell the end of all you now know.” She swept her arm indicating the vastness of the mountains and the lands beyond. “It would mean the end of all this you see before you and the untold generations to follow. You cannot fail in this for you have been chosen and everything … everything depends upon your success. Do you understand?”

Celestia nodded but looked as if bewitched. “What must I do?”

Lilith smiled showing on a hint bone white teeth under ruby lips. She leaned close, so close she could hear the heartbeat of the girl/child, and whispered.

“The blade in your hand was forged many ages ago in the furnace of Perdition. It has been the instrument of many who came before you. Men and woman who ruled but failed to accomplish what was truly important. They were weak and ineffectual and fell to their own greed and avarice. But you child, you are pure of heart and strong of spirit and have seen the mistakes made by others and can hence avoid them. And you have one advantage. Those who look upon you see you as mad and harmless. Your rants and raves are often ignored as the ravings of a sad, unfortunate girl. This truth, in fact, will be your shield and permit you access where others may be stopped.”

Celestia frowned and tried to remember what it was she was supposed to fight against. Was it this? Was it something else? Her mind raced and she began muttering to herself. Still the woman of unspeakable beauty whispered in her ear.

“I have tried to convince others of this great need but they have ignored my pleas for justice and equality. Instead they have thrown this burden upon you to carry it to fruition. They are weak and plot to imprison us or even destroy us. But we, child, have already grown far beyond their puny understanding of this world and the realms that exist beyond this one. You must act soon, before the New Year. You must strike swiftly, and surely for only when this is accomplished will the road be paved for your own time; a time of burning and retribution, a time of sublime joy. You must kill the King who now sits upon the throne and thus open the world for change. Others have been chosen to assist you, to aid you in this task. You will not see them or know them if you do, for they work in the shadows and keep to the silence. Once the throne is free the kingdom and the world will fall into chaos and, for a time, all hope will be lost. That is when you will gather the host and march to victory over despair. That is when you will be named Queen.”

Lilith helped Celestia lay back upon the sweet sun-warmed moss and heady scented flowers. She closed the girl’s eyes with a gentle hand and whispered softly.

“Sleep now and awaken to find yourself in the house of your Aunt; the Elf known as Faeryl. For you see child, you have lost a day and are sleeping only meters from where she too rests peacefully. Remember, I am never far and will visit you again; very soon… very soon.”

[Celestia]

Celestia spent the night sleeping just inside the entrance to the Britain sewers. Not all the way inside but just far enough that the sickly sour smell kept them out. At first the city guards gave her grief; “Move along citizen” they kept saying, but then took pity on her once she explained the situation.

**********

There she was, napping peacefully at the Salty Dog with her head resting on her arms. She had spent the entire day fixing up her house and the work had gone well, but she was exhausted and she could not yet sleep in the house, mostly because she needed more mirrors; a lot more mirrors. So she had gone to the Salty Dog where the quiet conversation of those around her was a blanket of warm friendliness; then it happened. She just knew it would, and kept telling her friends that if she stayed clean for too long they would find her. The smell of soap attracted them and, sure enough, just as she predicted, one of them snuck up behind her and wrapped its arms around her.

Immediately she leapt from her seat at the table and squealed; “Too close … too close … no touching … no touching … too close.”

Tucking her elbows in tight against her body she balled her fist and held them defensively near her face. She had seen someone do that once in a brawl on the streets of New Haven. But it didn’t help. This one was a “wrapper” one that likes to hug and squeeze. The last time they sent a stinger. Like a thousand needles it kept sticking her in her arms and legs until she was bloody.

Luckily, as soon as she leapt up, it let go of her. But when she opened her eyes, everyone was watching her, staring open-mouthed at her as if she had two heads. So she ran. Out of the tavern and down the street. She didn’t look back because she didn’t want to know if it was chasing after her, so she ran all the way across the city to the sewer entrance where she found some comfort.

**********

She had worms in her brain. She was certain of it. She could feel them crawling back and forth just under the skull. Some of them had worked their way along the nerves behind her eyes and those were the ones that made her see things. Others crawled into the space behind her ears and whispered to her. She knew if she was ever going to find the strength to fight the coming battles something had to be done to rid her of this plaque or, at the very least, control it. She remembered that Rilien Reinhardt had done something to her that made them go away for a time. Maybe he could do it again; but no, that meant he would have to touch her and she couldn’t allow that. Faeryl maybe? She let Faeryl touch her. Why was that? She didn’t know.

One of the city guards was looking at her oddly. Was she talking aloud again? She had to remind herself to speak quietly so she placed a finger against her lips and “shhhhhed” herself to speak in softer tones.

Earlier that day when Aunt Faeryl came to see the work she had done on the house she took her to a place deep in the forest not far from the house. It was a strange place and looked very much like an unfinished tower. The floor and four supporting columns had been constructed from pure white stone. It stood out from the green of the forest and the blue-green crystal formations like a clean, white beacon. And it hummed. She could feel it through her bare feet the second she stepped onto its shining white tiles. Who had built such a structure in the middle of a forests, in the middle of nowhere? But, more importantly; why? Nevertheless, when she stood within the structure her mind cleared for a time. Her thoughts became more organized and the whispers almost fell silent; almost. But it felt better and she felt relaxed and soothed. Maybe she could find the place again and sleep there? No, that would not be practical.

What had Rilien done to her that night at the King’s castle? He was making her mirrors, large ones, eight in total. Would that be enough? Maybe not. Maybe she needed more. The city guard was staring at her again. “Shhhhhh,” she reminded herself. The King’s castle? What was it she was supposed to do? Vist the castle again? She shook her head hard and the thought vanished.

Maybe lighting might help. Could she cast lighting on herself? She could try. But wouldn’t it be better if someone else did it? Someone she trusted? Someone …

She backed away quickly and pressed herself against the wall behind a corner. She could hear them outside the entrance sniffing for her. The worms in her head began crawling faster; back and forth; back and forth.

“She is coming to visit with you again,” they whispered. “She is going to teach you things. Things you need to know.”

“No!” Celestia screamed. “No touching … too close … too close.”

And that is when the city guards grabbed her by the hair and dragged her off to jail.