THREE DARK QUEENS
are born in a glen
SWEET LITTLE TRIPLETS
will never be friends
THREE DARK WITCHES
all fair to be seen
TWO TO DEVOUR
one to be queen
On the island of Fennbirn every generation three triplets are born, all equal heirs to the throne...
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Darkness.
That's what Queen Nalani awakens too. At first there is nothing, only a void that she is trapped in.
A limbo. It is faceless. It is silent. It is darkness.
But it stills purrs at her, daring her to taste a drop of the darkness. Nalani likes it here, there is a certain comfort in the soft embrace of the shadows but she knows she cannot stay, she has to get back to the Westwoods. Hestia. Rowan.
No, Nalani, thinks, I need to return.
So Nalani takes a breath and emerges from her sleep, leaving the Goddess' grip and she is then born anew.
Light floods her eyes as they open for the first time and Nalani blinks rapidly, her black eyes, glassy and vacant as they try to adjust to her surroundings.
Wildly, her onyx orbs dart around, trying to make some sense of where she is. Salt. That's the first thing Nalani can smell, an overwhelming powerful stench of salt. The sea. That's the first thing Nalani hears, she hears the hypnotic murmuring of gushing waves.
She feels something soft under her, her finger reach out and then familiar feels the similar texture of a fur blanket. Many blankets by the feel of it.
I haven't left the sea, Nalani thinks, wondering why she's on something dry that isn't land.
She hears voices approaching. Queen Nalani immediately tries to sit up, but winces in pain as she does so, her hand flying to her side, the source of the pain.
She tries to move but accidentally ends up rolling off her makeshift bed and the piles of soft comfortable soft blankets. Her head falls down hard onto wood and she tries the same manoeuvre again, only to have the same results.
Hissing in pain, Nalani tries to scramble in a corner behind a pile of odd supplies in a feeble attempt to hide, calling wind to muffle the sound of her movements, tightly clutching the unfamiliar long white shirt she was dressed in and clutches her knees which are in unfamiliar trousers that seem to have something on them. A silver hair. Animal hair perhaps. Strange. Where is she?
Muffled voices whisper, "The Black Council and Vivianne Westwood won't be happy with us for not bringing her back straight away."
More shuffling as they come closer, still whispering, "We saved a Queen's life with the help of the elementals, they will likely be thanking us, especially as that council all answer to Pele."
Nalani's heart thumps frantically, beating like a drum as she breathes erratically.
Pele? Pele Murtra? Head of the Black Council? She doesn't know what to think. What do they want with me? Nalani thinks.
The footsteps are scarily close now and she draws in a deep breath as they are a few metres away from her.
