Prologue: Bewitched
Malus woke from her deep slumber. How many days have I slept? She could not tell from the light or the creatures around her. After such a long time, her bird friends had learned not to trespass upon the domain she ruled. It saddened her to know they no longer would sing to her sweetly. And yet she took comfort in the fact that she could no longer hurt them.
Deep from her black roots in the earth she could feel her kin move. The warriors flexed their arms and gripped their weapons in cold fingers. The sleepers stirred and looked out beyond their land. Those that sailed stopped turning in circles and began to waver on the horizon, uncertain. The siphoning creatures cracked with pent-up fury. The children stopped their destructive play and wandered to the edge of their cities, looking for bigger prey.
She turned her eyes to where they all gazed. At the center of everything, a dark temple stood, an unwelcoming presence in the harsh land.
At the top of the temple, where only she could see, she saw Dormin awaken and speak loudly in a language Malus had never heard before. She grumbled as she attempted to move, feeling the same lost hope she had experienced the hundreds of times she had tried before. The only thing she could move was her many-ringed fingers. So she sent her life to the tips of them. Up and down her arm until she felt she was not completely stone.
She gathered clouds around her, relishing their touch, feeling the warm touch of her children and husband and friends in the clouds icy kiss. She made it rain, so she could feel like she could cry.
She bitterly cursed herself for her inability to do anything as Dormin spoke. The sickened land seemed to shake beneath her darkened feet. She felt immense hate rise in her throat as she listened to him, able to speak his thoughts, while she could never speak hers. She could never feel anything but despair. She could never do anything but kill. Kill and remember what had killed her. She could not even truly die. She could never be human again.