PROLOGUE
With strides of demonic confidence, a woman walked to a well in a broken stone sanctuary. With a flash of gold in her eyes and a muttered incantation from her vibrant red lips, the water came alive to an image. The smile that twisted her features at the sight was anything but kindly, as an electric cynicism seemed to crackle from her every intention.
The darkened forest, charred by nightfall, echoed stillness to the roaring light offered by three small torches. They did little but offend the blackness their carriers were steeped in, although the silhouettes of seven figures were made out by the struggling glow of the flames. A man's outline led the group, and the five directly behind him mimicked his every move through the ever thickening brush; copying his unspoken negotiations with the trail, yet twittering nervously as though they didn't trust what they were agreeing to. A womanly figure, hidden by shawls, carried an oddly shaped bundle which squirmed as much as the dancing light illuminating the pair. A cry elicited from the wrappings of fabric, in the moment reflecting similar complaints from a fussy toddler in the commanding castle overlooking the weary group.
The wanderers made their way in silence, obeying the dictate of the looming trees, when foreign footsteps and the haze of large torch lights uniformly overthrew the quiet that had reigned. A group of birds broke into a frenzy, which added to the rush of terror the travelers exuded, now running through the woods, ignoring the branches they had been so careful to avoid only moments before. However, the group became a hunted entity, as armor clad soldiers clashed into them, cutting their pleading cries down as easily as the very trees observing would fall. The once friendly light of their torches became vile witnesses of the terror becoming the blanched victims. When the red cloaked knights turned their backs on the scene, the forest resumed its slumber, not one branch wondering over the silhouettes' disappearance.
At the gate of the castle, the men resumed their guard, hoping that some measure of comfort would now fall over their monarch. His only valid threats gone, he would no longer fear his authority to be questioned, but a whine from the forest punctuated the cold air, if only in defiance of the castle's prevailing thought.
The priestess at the well smirked at the complete foolishness of mortals, how could the Pendragon ever think he could succeed without her aid? Her anger boiled over for a moment as she snarled at the thought of the man's treachery. After all she'd done for him, after all she had sacrificed! In her lapse of concentration a man entered the picture, and she was snagged back to reality by his presence. He had a dark, well grown beard and a tired face; his tattered clothes evidence of his being on the run for some time. Quickly ducking around to see if anyone was watching, he approached the bush under which a bundle was hidden. She reared back in shock when she realized that he had found it, and was placing a spell of his own over the child. The woman desperately attempted to counter his words, but noticed that she was having no affect upon the events in the image. Before the water erased itself, the bold man looked straight at her and winked. "Nimueh." He seemed to chuckle under his breath before his eyes hardened and he vanished into the cold solemn air.
"No!" the once controlled woman raged, slashing the pool of water before her with her hand. She composed herself quickly, and then glared into the pool. "You forget yourself," she murmured succinctly. "Cineri gloria sera venit!"
•
EALDOR
She dipped the warming cloth in the bowl of water once more. The woman sighed as she looked down at her tiny son, burning with fever. Perhaps he will be well by morning. She sighed when she saw the sky had lightened a shade since her last run to the well to get fresh water for her fevered boy. Only two years old, and he was already small for his age. The mess of dark hair was soaked with sweat, and his body shook with chills as she tried to hold him, as if having him close would heal him. How she begged the illness would pass on to her instead! Will had already won his bought with it, but he was twice her boy's age, and already a stronger youth than her pale son would ever seem to be. She moved to dip the cloth in the dish again, only to find it nearly empty. Allowing herself one more discontented sigh, she moved to fetch more water, her hand caressing the small, warm face. The miller had gotten the pestilence earlier that month, and already the illness had spread to almost every home in their small village. Just last week, Melitta, an old healer who had been like a mother to her when she lost her own so many years ago, had passed on when there was no one to heal her. She swallowed tears at the thought. Many of the young and elderly had died, and she could only hope her little one could hold on one more night. She always seemed to be asking for one more night. Allowing her thoughts to flee to Balinor for a moment she hesitated on the night he had left, stolen from her by Camelot's king and the dark woods surrounding their home. Before she could pain herself with further reminiscing, she drew her attention back to the child beside her. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she pulled on her shawl and opened the door.
She almost didn't see the bundle, but looked down when she thought she saw something move. She swiftly darted her head about, before realizing the squirming that had first caught her attention was right under her nose. Glancing down, the small face peeking out of the cloth held her gaze, and she scooped it up out of habit, now looking about for someone who may have delivered the baby to her doorstep. "Hello?" she quietly called, her hushed tones carried by the brief breeze. Receiving only a nightingale's call in response, she noticed the child was staring at her. She looked back down and gasped slightly at the intensity of the gaze. There was a bright intelligence behind those brown eyes, as though they were seeing straight into her soul. They reminded her so of Melitta's. She wondered what she would think of this occurrence. A wise voice echoed in her head. Everything happens for a reason, there is always a way. She held the bundle closer to her. "Well little one, my name is Hunith and this is your home. Now, what shall we call you?" Melitta? No, wouldn't want to tempt fate. Melissa? Ah, that had a ring to it. She tried the name in the night air, asking its approval. "Melissa." she whispered.
Yes, that would be just the name.
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