A prophecy was given to the Realm of Valeera, but only one kingdom took heed to it and set forth a law that would divide the people into two groups. The Fair and the Strange. One group possessed a promise from the gods while the other is doomed for...
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"Blessed Ordained, take me into your hands.
Give me your strength so I may stand.
Remove the fear that clots my soul,
Please, give me your light to hold.
Blesseds, give me your hearts to hold!"
Her mother's favorite prayer echoed in her mind and against the darkness and pain that consumed her. Tears running down her cheeks evaporated in the scorching heat.
Make it stop!
She tossed and turned, swatting at the hot air poisoning her nostrils with smoke and the smell of flesh burning. Her flesh.
Mageia opened her eyes and sucked in a lungful of air. She pressed her hands on a cold floor of white marble and took a moment to reclaim control of her breathing. Her skin still stung from the memory of the flame's touch. She burst into tears and sobbed.
How could they do that to her? Did that really happen? Rage slithered to life within her soul, and sorrow clashed with it. She clenched her hands, glowing in a purple haze of energy she did not want to investigate, and slammed her fists against the floor. A scream of agony erupted from her lips, and the floor quaked.
Relief sunk in slowly, reassuring her the agony was over. The sacrifice had ended, and she now made it into the afterlife. A part of her wanted to smother the relief and linger in pain and grief for eternity in the Serene, but a warp of energy she had never felt before blossomed to life throughout her body. She raised herself from slouching in distress to take in her surroundings.
She sat on her knees on a raised platform at the center of a large throne room in the shape of an elongated hexagon. Like a theatre arena, seven sitting areas lined the white walls with a throne chair fit for a royal in front of each section. Each throne was made of the purest form of sacred gemstones: ruby, emerald, sapphire, silver, gold, crystal, and the last, amethyst.
Massive archways sat in between each section, with open doors giving a view of a sea of grass under a sky, lingering between night and day, with endless stars.
Is this the Hall of Souls?
She didn't know what it would look like, nor had she read any passages from the Sacred Book about it. One thing she knew was that the air felt different. Thin, yet thick. Warm, yet cold. Glowing specks of purple dust floated around her, and when it touched her skin, it dissolved and sent shivers through her body, now clothed in a beautiful purple dress. She finally inspected her glowing hands. Branded in the intricate lines of her palms were elongated hexagons with a circle at the center. It looked like the design of her birthmark on the back of her neck.
"Magic," she concluded. She waved her hands and watched the magic trail them, gracefully entering and exiting her pores.
