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YALA SAT IN HER PLUSH ARMCHAIR IN THE QUIET DARKNESS OF HER HOUSE.
Night poured in as the sun hid its eye behind the tree-littered horizon, smuggling its presence into the chamber shadow by shadow.
The witch waited for another visitor.
When a tinge of magic touched her finger, letting her know that the downstairs door had been opened, she gently tapped her foot against the table and two cups of tea along with a plate of biscuits appeared on it. This brew was far different from what she'd prepared for Auran, but it looked and smelled the same.
When the woman entered, Yala was surprised to find that she was a lot younger than she'd expected her to be. Which meant that the child stumbling behind her was not her own. And yet, the two shared common features: the blue eyes the color of the drowning sea, hair like hay under moonlight, the small nose, the golden freckles.
"I thought you'd never make it," said Yala, eyeing the woman as she sunk to the floor in a low, practiced bow, forcing the small girl at her side to copy the movement.
"Forgive me, your Highness, there was a storm in Astaroph, our ship was delayed."
"Please," Yala waved a hand at her, motioning for her to rise and sit, "Let's not bother ourselves with titles today. Soon enough they won't matter. Call me Yala, Cyrenne."
Yala did not like it when people bowed. She hated it since that day, so many centuries ago, when she rose from her presumed death bed, no longer as the sickly Yala Duhane, but as Yala the High Witch of the Eon of the False Peace. Witches had fallen to their knees in front of her, then. The very sight of her was enough to make them kiss the hard earth. She should have enjoyed it, the way rulers before her had, but it gave her no pleasure, only cold disgust. So when the boy walked into her house today and did not recognize her, something in her softened for him.
Something in her felt guilty for what she brought upon him.
"What you say can very well be true," said the woman as she lowered herself into the seat. The child shuffled around the room like a little rat, exploring what little she could reach.
"Not if we can help it. Are you here with a delegation from the King?" Yala asked as she watched the way Cyrenne's eyes kept darting to one of the corners of the room like someone was there.
Perhaps, for her, there was.
"No, I'm here on my own. Although... I believe the King sent a small frigate to obtain something from the mountains. No one knows what it is... he wouldn't tell his most trusted advisors. Ever since news of the fact that the Eon is ending reached him, he hasn't been the same. But..." she hesitated, casting Yala a quick glance before her eyes darted to the corner once more. "It is true that when this Eon ends, it won't be natural, isn't it?"
"Yes. I will not die as I should."
"I don't understand..." said Cyrenne, watching as Yala picked up her cup of tea and sipped from it, but made no move to reach for her own.
