It was a familiar dream, the one that had haunted her sleep every night for the last two years. Something had triggered the memory, if only she could remember what it was. Every night, that fateful day came back to remind her of exactly what she had lost…
Her mother stood before her on the Plains of Destiny. She did not face her; instead, she stared out at the empty plains with mournful knowledge that was revealed only to her. Her mother, Shiira Riddick, was the leader of her people, the soothsayer that was able to see into the future as it pertained to the safeguard her people. Something had called to her that had worried her, or else neither of them would be here at this point in time. It was far too soon for this ritual. Why now?
Kneeling on the ground, Lyka Riddick gazed up at her mother and the look on her face brought about her solitary contemplation. Although she was only four years old, she was old enough to understand the utmost severity of the situation. She had inherited her mother's gift of foresight, but the visions that haunted her trances were nothing that a four year old should see. In her dreams, she saw only visions of fire and destruction, a man walking forward in armour holding a cord in his outstretched hands. Every time, she would wake with an ear-piercing scream that woke half of the village. There was nothing that she could do to stop these nightmares, because she was too young to begin her formal training into the occult arts shared by her bloodline.
Shaking her head discretely as not to disturb her mother's thoughts, she brought herself back into the present as her mother turned back to her.
Shiira faced her, her deep brown eyes looking on with maternal worry at her only daughter. The micro-braids fell off her shoulders in a waterfall of near black locks; there was a shimmer of gray to the braids at her temples, but Lyka dismissed it as a game of the setting sun's light. Her skin, always a deep tan, shone today with a sprinkling of gold dust. The off-white robes that licked her ankles and hugged her ribs, encasing her body and ending just above her chest to leave her arms bare, flickered in the breeze. A golden torque clung to her bare upper arm. These were the robes of a priestess, the robes of duty.
Unlike other days, there was no smile on her mother's narrow face, only carefully hidden concern. Furyans did not display outright emotions of fear or anger; it was considered to be weak. Happiness, however, was treasured and cherished among the warriors of her people; it was something to be proud of when one bore a smile on her or his face. Since childhood, Lyka had trained herself to mimic her mother. At four, she was easily the mirror image.
"Child, it is time for you to leave your people. A time has come to keep you safe from the upcoming dangers." Shiira's voice was like the wind: powerful and yet flowing with motherly grace.
"But Mother-" Lyka meant to ask about her visions, whether or not it was time for her to begin her training into the mysteries of the foresight that both blessed and cursed her. Even if she was so young, she needed to begin that training before the nightmares would haunt her forever.
Shiira held out her hand, silencing her daughter's questions. "You must learn for yourself the meanings of your portentous dreams. Now is not the time for that. It is time for you to fully understand what it means to be Furyan." A tear fell down Shiira's face before she hastily wiped it away. The wind moved her robes, revealing the silver handprint that shone on her heart through her breast-band.
Lyka was confused, but she did not speak. She was the progeny of two formidable bloodlines of alpha Furyans, the most powerful of her kind. Her father, unknown to her except in name, was the greatest of the warriors of her people, a fitting mate for the high priestess. All told, alpha Furyans were faster, stronger, stealthier, and more prone to violence than the rest of their kind; they also bore a penchant for making and using a whole variety of weapons, as they were capable of beating any opponent that challenged them. Her father was the best of them all. All of them bore that handprint, the reminder of their lineage and the power that it granted.
Lyka also bore the blood of her mother, the blood of a seer. Her mother's line was the oracle and the safeguard of the future of the Furyan people and of their planet, and had worked for the entirety of their lives to ensure that they would be safe from the scruples of other worlds. It was a great omen when the first child of Shiira and Richard Riddick was born a daughter, for only daughters were allowed to train in the occult arts. When she came of age, Lyka would take over her mother's place as the seer for her people.
Without another word of explanation, her mother crouched to the ground and placed her palm flat on the naked skin of her daughter's heart. A silver light shone from Shiira's callused hand, filling her daughter with shivering pain that imitated bone-shaking chills and horrible burns at the same time. However, Lyka said not a word; instead, she bit her lips and closed her eyes, grimacing through the pain that was part and parcel of this ritual. When the shivering began to subside, a painful rage accompanied with the grieving pains of countless lost generations filled the young girl-child.
"Only now do you realize the anger of our people, the fight for justice not yet completed. You, Lyka, must be the one to fight for your people when the time comes." Lyka knew her history: the Furyans were warriors only out of necessity. Other worlds had preyed on their precious natural resources, bringing their armies and their soldiers to kill their people in order to harvest that which was not theirs. Alphas brought the people together, and they clashed against the rising tide until their reputation alone kept them safe. No one wanted to fight a Furyan, let alone an alpha Furyan, for fear that they would lose their lives.
After Shirra removed her hand, a handprint remained; it was silver and glowing against the deep tanned pallor of her daughter's skin. Lyka was still shaking slightly as her body experienced the aftershock from the transfer of power. She was now considered an alpha Furyan, even if she was still a youngling. It was exhilarating and yet draining at the same time as her body adjusted to its new power. Still, she remained on her knees just as her mother taught her, a solemn little girl-child.
Shiira stood from the ground, pulling something from the pouch that dangled from the belt strapped around her waist. Wrapping it in a piece of virginal white cloth, her mother placed it before her on the sparsely growing grass. Lyka picked it up from the ground and opened up the package.
It was a belt knife, one that every alpha Furyan wore and was proud to bear. It was a sign to others that they never went unarmed into a fight, and that nothing would stop them from winning, even at the expense of their life. Lyka was looking forward to this day ever since she could understand the meaning of its significance; she just never realized that it would come so soon. She revelled in the deep blue-grey shine of the curved blade as she drew it from the confines of its leather scabbard, admiring the golden inlay of the wooden handle. It was a clear chime that rang through the air as the knife slid back into the scabbard with one smooth motion.
"Lyka, you must promise me this one last thing." Shiira slid her hand over her belly. Even though she was young, Lyka knew that her mother was going to give birth to another child, probably in the next four months. She had seen a squalling little bundle in the arms of her mother, but she was never with her little sibling. "You must protect your brother. He will need guidance in the years to come."
"I will, Mother." At that, Lyka stood up from the ground and began to walk towards her mother to try and give her any comfort to soothe the worrisome expression from her face. As she reached for Shiira's hand, her mother began to disappear into the mist before her eyes.
"Mother!!" Anguish filled her as she tried to run towards her mother before she was totally gone. She was almost there, could almost touch her fading clothes…