Trial by Deception
Prologue – So It Begins

The shifting in the blue skies above was enough to determine that the day was waning. It was late in the afternoon, evening really, and the world surrounding the Oracle's Sanctuary was strangely quiet. There had not been a creature seen for some time now, and not even the wind rustled the tree leaves. The atmosphere of the Sanctuary and the forest around it was sombre; it was wrong.

Kneeling before a shrine dedicated to the Triple Goddess, the Oracle prayed. She sought counsel from her patron deity, and prayed to understand the shift in the universe. There was no reply, however. Sighing quietly, Emalia rose and stepped away from the shrine.

It was unusual for her prayers to go unanswered. Appreciated or not, whatever it was that was causing this uncertainty to envelope the Sanctuary would simply have to remain a mystery for the time being.

The sheer curtains of satin and silk that separated the Oracle from those who would seek her council were drawn aside, and she began to tread carefully to descend the stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, a man turned at the sound of her approach. From where he stood, Lucian, the man tasked with protecting the young Oracle, could see the concern etched upon her face. This did not sit well with him.

"My lady," he said. As she reached the landing, Lucian took her hand into his own and tucked it into the crook of his arm, keeping his hand atop hers as if he were afraid to lose her.

A small frown ghosted upon her lips, and she turned sightless sapphire eyes to him. Her unseeing gaze came to rest off-center of his chest, unnerving for those who were unused to her condition, but natural for the man escorting her now.

"Lucian," she said his name quietly. There was a hint of annoyance to her voice. "How many times must I tell you that you needn't be so formal?"

For a moment they were both silent. Lucian led his charge away from the steps and to one of the nearby wooden benches so that they might sit. It was only after he gently pushed her onto the bench that he finally replied.

"Countless times, my lady. But you should know by now that I will continue to address you in such a manner."

There was more silence as Emalia was lost in her own thoughts. The quiet tinkering of servants clearing away bowls of incense and burning candles was the only noise for several long minutes. That was until Lucian placed a hand on her knee in an attempt to draw her attention.

"Your council was not as it usually is, my lady. And you have been praying to the Triple Goddess for some time now. Is there something bothering you?" Emalia could not see his features, but the concern in his voice was evident.

"Yes," Emalia admitted quietly.

"And what is it?"

She sighed softly, and lowered her gaze. "I do not know."

"You do not know?"

"There is something - but what is it? I cannot say." She tried not to let on to the fact that she was extremely frustrated with this lack of knowing. She did not need to be an Oracle to know that Lucian would throw a fit if he knew how much this uncertainty bothered her. She had not been sleeping well lately.

He frowned with slight annoyance. "Did we not have an agreement that you would provide me with straight answers instead of the cryptic ones you give those seeking your council?"

"Lucian, you are one of the few people I would never be cryptic with. If I knew the answer to this question then I would tell you. Alas, I do not, so I cannot."

"Then try, my lady," he encouraged her with a pat on the knee.

For some time neither of them spoke. Lucian allowed Emalia time to gather her thoughts and consider her answer carefully. The young woman knew, however, that even if she had a lifetime to think on the situation, she would never be able to fully explain it to him. Not without guidance from her deity. Inhaling through her nose and summoning her patience, she decided to rely on metaphor - how else does one describe an indescribable sensation?

"I feel as though we are teetering upon the precipice of change. As though we will plummet into an abyss of the unknown, and I do not know whether it will be for the better or for worse." The sliver of fear in her voice was evident, and she could only hope that Lucian did not overreact. Unfortunately, it was a fear that she could not stop - the fear of events that her powers of prediction had yet to reveal to her.

Hearing the edge in her voice, Lucian raised his hand to brush a few strands of black hair out of her sightless eyes. These very eyes were useless for anything other than depicting emotions… and for seeing visions that ordinary eyes could not. He then cupped her face between his hands to look at her directly, though her answering gaze was always directed towards him, never at him.

"Come now, my lady. Even an Oracle cannot predict everything. All will become clear in time."

"I know, Lucian. But this, what I feel, it is wrong."

Gently he stroked her cheek with a calloused thumb, as though he was wiping away tears that were not there. He always hated seeing her troubled like this. It was hard enough when visions haunted her waking moments... but it was times like this, when she worried over the unknown, that were the worst. Especially when there was nothing he could do but offer her hollow words. What was worse, he was almost sure that she knew exactly how hollow they were. Emalia may have been blind, but she was perhaps the most perceptive person he had ever met.

"Soon it will become clear. Until then, I think you should rest," he finally replied in a soft voice. Lucian lent forward and placed a gentle kiss of her forehead in a rare loving gesture from the otherwise gruff man. Emalia sighed.

"I hope you are right."

Their foreheads touched in the gentlest of touches, and for a minute they remained like that, peaceful and comforted by each other's presence. In a moment, however, something drew Emalia's attention. She pulled away from Lucian and turned to stare toward the entrance of the inner sanctum, where she could hear heavy footfalls echoing off of the stone walls.

It took a moment longer for Lucian to hear what she had heard, and it wasn't until a young man had already pushed open the doors of the inner sanctum that Lucian had come to stand.

He unsheathed his sword in a practiced move and stood between his ward and the approaching man. The contrast between the gentle caregiver, and the fierce man with thunderclouds in his aura was striking.

Upon seeing the barrel-chested man with sword in hand, the younger man came to a sudden halt and froze.

"State your business here," Lucian ordered.

Frightened by the sword, the man hesitated for a second before he was able to stutter out an answer.

"I have come to deliver a letter to the Oracle."

"From whom?" Lucian asked, unsatisfied that this man didn't pose a threat.

"Uther Pendragon, the King of Camelot."

A mummer went through the crowd of servants that had begun to gather. As they whispered softly amongst themselves Lucian narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He very much doubted that the Uther Pendragon, the king who despised magic with a venomous fury, had sent the letter.

Apparently, however, his views were not shared. Emalia stood and stepped forward from behind him to stand at his side, and placed a hand on his arm to lower his weapon. Lucian glanced down at her then back at the courier before finally sheathing his sword. While he may not have trusted the man, he trusted Emalia's judgement.

"Please bring me the letter," she instructed in a gentle voice.

Once again, the small man hesitated before stepping forward. With shaking hands, he held out the letter to her. When she made no move to take it and only stood with an outstretched palm, he glanced upwards nervously - and was shocked to finally realize the meaning of her vacant stare. Wordlessly, and looking slightly apologetic, he laid the letter in her palm and retreated to a safe distance to await her reply.

With the letter in her grasp, she turned away from both men. Her fingers skimmed over the surface of the letter in search of a seal in wax and when she found it, she swept a thumb gently across its surface.

As her fingertips felt the contours of the seal, a small frown formed upon her lips. To her knowledge, it was indeed the Pendragon seal, but Emalia had trouble understanding why the King - the very man that had nearly wiped out her ancestors - would be contacting her. Uther had never attempted to hide his dislike of magic, and this letter made her feel as though she was contemplating an elaborate trap.

"You," Lucian snapped at the fidgeting man near the doors. Emalia would not ask Lucian to read the letter until he had left. "Make yourself scarce."

This time he did not hesitate. The man simply turned away and took off running to escape the hellfire glare of the Oracle's guardian. Once the man had excited the inner sanctum, and the doors had slammed shut, Lucian turned his attention back to the young woman at his side.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her back to the wooden bench that they had been occupying. Lucian reclaimed his seat by her side and pursed his lips in thought. "You do know what the letter is concerning?"

"No," Emalia replied softly, her eyes still staring vaguely downwards, in the general direction of the letter in her hands. "Read it for me?"

Lucian slipped the letter out of her hands and only after he had examined it carefully did he break the wax seal. Emalia heard a rustle of paper against paper before he cleared his throat and began to read:

"I find myself in the uncomfortable position of asking for your assistance. A plague has befallen Camelot and I am powerless to stop it. It is killing my people at an alarming rate, and my only court physician has fallen to the illness and is no longer able to offer his assistance. I have been forced by my desperate circumstances to take steps that I would otherwise abhor. Several renowned physicians have been powerless against this plague, and have diagnosed it to have magical roots. With your extensive knowledge of magic, you may be able to help us cure this blight. Camelot has never had trouble from the people of the Isle of the Forgotten, so I am putting my faith in the belief that you are no more evil than your magical roots would dictate. Therefore, I ask you to travel to Camelot and aid us. You have my word as King that no harm will befall you during your stay." Lucian stopped and seemed to tense beside her - she could almost hear his teeth grinding. Her brow crinkled.

"Lucian? What is it?"

Without explanation, he continued reading.

"Should you refuse or ignore this plea for help, it will be taken as a sign of aggression, and the Isle of the Forgotten will henceforth be branded as an enemy of Camelot."

A number of minutes passed by and no one uttered a single word. They simply allowed the young woman time to process the information and the request asked of her. While no one spoke, they all shared the same thoughts.

Why had a plague fallen upon Camelot? What did it mean for them? Would she be able to stop it? The majority of thoughts, however, were stuck in the ruts of concern - for what would happen to their beloved Oracle if she agreed to venture to Camelot? It was an unknown and frightening answer that responded.

Like them, Emalia was lost in her own thoughts.

She struggled to give a balanced appraisal of the situation, but even as she did, the Oracle knew that she would travel to Camelot. She had no choice in the matter, potential animosity with Camelot be damned. Innocent lives were at stake, and if there was a chance that she could save them, she had to take it.

"Lucian," she said his name softly as she turned in his direction. "Ready a party of your men."

"My lady?"

"We depart immediately."


A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading. Reviews are always appreciated. c: A big thank you to Star Crossed Writer for beta-ing, and being such a wonderful help so far. c: