Jonathan, his coal-black hair now peppered with gray and white, woke up to a strange humming. He got up and walked over to the source of it. The mantle. He quickly swayed side to side trying to find out what was making that noise. It wasn't humming really, it was soon becoming more like an eerie singing of some kind. His eyes widening as he open up the special engraved box that held the Dominion Jewel. He quickly picked it up and walked over to the window to see clearer, He was too focused on the jewel to bother lighting a candle. The voice grew louder, still singing and humming it's eerie aimless tune. It began to rise from his palm and glow brilliantly. As the voice reached a crescendo he noticed it began to sound like… 3 voices? Suddenly a bright light emanated from the jewel and he was blinded from the glare. When he opening his eyes he saw the jewel was…gone!
Had he not been blinded by the light he would have noticed the jewel quickly flashed 3 separate colours, blue, bronze and green before splitting into three and catapulting into the night. As it was, the Dominion Jewel as they knew, was gone. Jon ran off to rouse his wife and tell her. The whole incident was kept hush-hush, lest the information leak into surrounding countries who might want to try their luck against a now powerless king.
What no-one knew was that at the exact moment that the Jewel split, 3 still-born babies were brought into the world, silent and cold.
A girl, living in a lonely cabin in the far northern reaches of Tortall was born without a wail, she was dead, but before her mother noticed a sliver of something flashed and buried itself in her skin, the wound healing itself immediately, leaving a tiny leaf shaped scar on her chest, almost as if it were a pendant on a chain. The girl's skin began to take a more healthy pallor and she began to wail, protesting against this cold world she had been born into.
Somewhere along the River Drell in the far east of Tortall another still-born girl was born. This time there was a midwife accompanying the birth, but before she could utter a sound the baby awoke and began to scream. No-one noticed the tiny droplet shaped symbol that suddenly appeared on skin right by her wrist.
Deep south, in the desert, a Bazhir boy was born, cold as death. As the women began to weep, blinded as they were from their tears, not a single one saw the tint piece of something that buried itself in the baby's ankle, leaving a tiny pebble shaped mark. They were too overcome by joy as the boy began to wail…
For a brief second all of their scars flashed, then faded. The voices could wait. They had to wait, lest they consume the people that bore them. So unbeknownst to anyone, a tiny seed, drop or grain of magic settled itself down for a nice long, comfortable wait. Until it was ready…
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This is the rough beginning of a fic. The idea just suddenly struck me, wording and all. The words tumbled from my mind to my hand and here they are. All my writing seems to happen this way. In one big gulp of inspiration. Unfortunately I'll never finish this fic. I never ever finish my adventure fics. For some reason, after the initial boom of ideas, the story dies. So if anyone has ideas or wishes to take over after the next chapter pleas tell me… unless of course my some miracle I actually get enough inspiration to continue….the next chappie is in my head, I just need to write it. It should be posted by tomorrow. And by the way, I refuse to disclaim. This is a fan fiction website so obviously everyone knows some characters aren't mine. It should go without saying. So I won't say it.