A sequel to "Floating Stars"
Generations have come and gone in Natanstrelle. The people have been free to live without fear for almost a century, since the light magic's triumph over the darkness. However, hatred still lurks within the land; the Tro...
Beanni threw herself up with a start, then rubbed her hands across her crusty eyes.
"Out of bed! You are going to gaze, now!"
With a groan, Beanni looked towards Genelle. The scowl framing the woman's determined glare sent a chill down the teen's spine. Beanni got out of bed without saying a word, grabbed the trousers that she took off the night before and slipped them back on. She hugged her arms around the oversized jumper that she stole from her dad, there was no way she was ever going to take it off, it was the only thing she had that made her feel safe.
"Come on," Genelle adopted a much gentler tone and led the shivering teen out of the box bedroom. They passed the table where they dined the night before, and where Genelle's two Fiosolim cousins sat enjoying some breakfast. They didn't stop to join them, they went straight to the room that held the prophetic smoke.
"Take a seat," Genelle commanded, pointing to the ground. Beanni did as she was told without saying a word, and sat cross-legged on the floor. "Now, just as you did at Petra Marbh, breathe in the smoke deeply, relax and let your mind wander."
Beanni leant forward, took in a deep breath, and allowed the smoke to caress her eyes. Its gentle touch brought out a subtle violet glow, then engulfed her sight.
Beanni's vision began to focus and in front of her stood the reflection of the man she saw the last time she gazed. His warm violet eyes welcomed her presence.
"Beanni, you're back," he said with a smile.
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Oslac woke with a start, from a disturbing dream. A dream filled with blood. Thick drops of scarlet falling from the sky.
It was a message, from whom he couldn't be sure, for what it was telling him to do was forbidden. Grave consequences would await him if he was caught. However, he had no other choice. There was no other way. He had to do it.
He got out of his bed, got changed out of his nightwear, getting ready for the day's daunting task. He turned towards his bedside table and opened the ornate box that sat there. Lying majestically inside was his most important possession, beside his light orb. A gift given on a royal heir's fifteenth birthday was a traditional right of passage that marked the beginning of their lessons in how to run the land for the time they would ascend the throne. His gift was a pen knife, its handle was engraved with the royal seal and Oslac's full name was written in the ancient script underneath.
He loved that knife.
He stored it away under his belt beside his pouch, took out his light orb, protected himself with Samhun-Tealia and headed out of his chamber door, making his way to the dungeon.
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