Disclaimer: I don't own Septimus Heap... If I did then things would be very different

Author Note: Hello people... I'm tempted to ask whether you missed me, but I haven't written in so long that most of you probably don't know who I am... This story is a peculiar mix of things, and will probably taper out to be slightly... different than usual... I'm open for suggestions of pairings, so feel free to ask for one, however I may not write it, depends how it would fit into my plot (You see, I can do plots, I just can't do romances)... I don't know how often I'm gonna post new chapters, but the next one should be up before Christmas... I hope you like it ~ARTY~


Chapter 1

"A hundred years from now, my child, in the sly and smeary hours of one dark winter night, beneath a cold and starless sky decisions will be made. A prophecy was written to such a degree many, many moons ago by your great grandmother and your descendents will see the wrath which shall be released. The prophecy is not specific, it mentions not who, or what, or even exactly when, these decisions will take place, or who they shall effect. The one who shall make them has been prophesised about before, many times, and will be prophesised about again; such is his great power in the tiny smudge of his victorious history.

"The prophecy tells of a convening, a converging, of good and of evil within the Castle walls, Wizards with necromancers and necromancers with Wizards, but only one can prevail. The one the prophecy speaks of will be a boy, a boy of pure heart and uncanny magykal ability, who alone will settle the fates of all around him. His choice will be of life and of death, and for life to prevail death must come first.

"However, child, think no wrong of this boy, he is choosing between his family and his love, for each fall of opposite sides of the divide between good and evil and therefore only one may survive. Thus it is written and thus it must be."

The girl gazed at her mother in amazement. She was about thirteen, but she looked older. She had emerald green eyes, but no magyk. She was not one of the lucky ones. "One hundred years is too long for us, mother. There was never a way which we could live to see this great decision, this great divide. Why do you tell me of this? Am I to pass this to my children and they to pass it to theirs?"

"No, my child. As strange and unbelievable as the prophecy makes itself out to be, it will happen, but you, my child, are to be a part of it. You see, daughter, your destiny is as much entwined with the prophecy as that of this boy. Read on, my child…"

The girl apprehensively took up the scroll of paper and began to read aloud what was written upon it. Her eyes widened slowly. "From the wreckage of the failed alliance shall rise a new hope, a new people, a group of settlers who shall rebuild the dreams of those before them. The Castle shall be consumed with death and Hell shall descend upon those who dwell there. Magyk will destroy the souls of those around it and only those who do not have its power will be spared. Then, from the ashes of the once great city shall appear a saviour, a woman whose years exceed her appearance, who has never in her life experienced the horror or splendour of magyk, for though her body was chosen to wield it, magyk itself was rejected from her very soul by the tumultuous power within. This is the woman who will be chosen, and she alone shall have the power, to govern the lands for many more years after the failure of the alliance. Thus it was written and thus it must be."

"You see, child? It describes only you," the mother said in a hushed whisper. "There is no-one else who it could describe."

The girl shook, with tears and with anger and with fear, with conflicting emotions that held power over her weak soul. "I do not wish this to happen. I have seen the horror brought by magyk, therefore I cannot be the woman described. I shall have perished long before these events come to pass. I can only hope to pass the message to my children and that one of our descendents, mother, can fulfil the prophecy instead."

"There is but one the prophecy describes and you are she. You shall survive the next one hundred years without the use of magyk and you shall restore the fallen Castle to its former glory, as it is written in this text."

"Mother…" the girl began, but her words had died before they even left her mouth. "This is not possible…"

Her mother grinned, as ran her fingers through her daughter's copper-coloured hair. "Perhaps not in my lifetime, child. There is, you may know, a man still living here, the last Alchemist. Find this man and he will show you his secrets, do you understand, child? Only an Alchemist possesses the power to live eternally without the use of magyk and there is now but one practicing Alchemist alive. Find him."

"What of you, mother?"

"My time grows short. I can hear it in the wind that time has had its fun with me. The magyk within me is not a gift, it has brought me nothing but misery, and it is magyk that will, one day, destroy our great civilization. Be thankful that you are not cursed as I am."

Tears streaked the girl's face as she gazed at her mother, the weakened Wizard, again. "Don't leave me, mother," she breathed, masking her sobs.

"Child, it is written nowhere that the great and famous woman who saves the fallen might of the Castle has her mother in tow… My time has come, dear, let me go. Death is planned long in advance and we mortals cannot halt it, you understand. For thus it was written, child, and thus it must be…" the woman said, her voice growing weaker until virtually a whisper.

As a daughter watched death take her mother from her she let out a little cry of anguish. Her mother's last words still haunted her head as she sat in the still silence of the small room that she had learnt to call home. 'Thus it was written and thus it must be'. Over and over, faster and faster, until she knew what she had to do, she knew where to turn. She would follow her mother's instructions to the very letters that had been scrawled on the parchment still clasped in the fingers of the dead Wizard. The girl took up the parchment carefully, so as not to disturb the body of her mother. The neighbours would find the body in due course. She hastily pulled on one of her mother's old Wizard robes and wrapped it tightly around herself; her green eyes making her seem every part a real Wizard.

She made her way to the river, where she gathered herself into a small boat and floated away downriver, fearful but excited of what she would find there. One sentence, however, echoed around her mind.

'Thus it was written and thus it must be'