Seven

Prologue

A small shack at the edge of the kingdom of Caderivia, nestled between tall pines and wildflowers, seemed to be swaying with the wind. It was a wonder how it could withstand the force of the storm that night. Wind shrieked and rain pounded on the windows, threatening to break them into a million pieces.

But inside, there merely sat a woman, her lips pressed thinly as she concentrated on the blanket she was knitting. She was not anxious or unsettled by the harsh weather outside, simply deep in thought.

She had been like this for hours, and by now the sun had long since set and the kingdom had long since gone to sleep. But she did not sleep, she could not bring herself to rest. She was wide awake, yet did not seem present in the slightest. Off in another world, it seemed.

She barely noticed the crackling of the flames in her fireplace, nor paid any mind to the sudden outbursts of thunder claps and lightning flashes. She couldn't feel the sudden chill in the room as cold air made its way under the crack of the front door. And she could barely even see the blanket in front of her. Only repeating the unremitting motion of her knitting, her needles clicking with every flick of her wrists.

But then, a breeze so strong came into the room, putting out the fire and prickling the woman's bare feet with cold. This startled her so badly that her hands flew up to her face, sending her needles clacking to the wooden floor. This broke her from her pensive daze, and she let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. As that sigh escaped her lungs, the woman stared sorrowfully at her hands which now lay folded in her lap.

Her heart was heavy, and her thoughts were scattered. The quilt that was draped on her lap fell to the ground, just beside her knitting needles, as she rose from the couch. She wobbled to the front door, opening it and stepping outside into the crisp night air. The storm had calmed by now, but rain still sprinkled from the grey clouds above.

The woman was limping as she made her way around the side of the shack to her garden. She bent down and plucked a purple hollyhock from the soil. Then she crushed the flower in her palm, the petals bleeding a beautiful violet color onto her hands.

She lifted her gaze to the sky, her glassy grey eyes clinging to the moon. Her stained hands were extended to either side of her, her silhouette nearly resembling a raven, getting ready to take flight.

As she stared at the silver moon, an eerie tune rang out from her throat—A song. One that she knew all the words to, that she had repeated dozens of times.

She closed her eyes as she sang.

Heavens listen closely now.

I speak, I sing, for you.

Shift your sight and ease your mind.

Will time tell me, or will you?

She traced a circle in the mud with her left foot, both her hands now held above it. The dye from the flower now ran down her arms, the earth soaking in the drops which fell upon it. Rain continued to fall on her hair, which was black with streaks of grey.

She continued her song.

Stars, nor earth, nor rain, nor death.

Shall whisper words I seek.

Hearts and tongues and oceans all

Turn to you, as I do now.

The woman went silent now, her eyes still closed, listening only to the sounds of nature. She stood like that for several minutes, pondering with great thought on the subject that was troubling her. The subject that was the cause for her many sleepless nights, and her fits of distress as she wondered what to do.

But finally, the woman opened her eyes and looked down at the shape which was marked in the mud. And as she looked at the circle, drops of purple in the center, she saw something—she heard something. No, she felt something. Something that told her what she had to do.

She had to warn the seven princesses.