Disclaimer: Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey; this fic and original characters belong to Senashenta and/or Arach and/or Kierseth. :)

Notes: This fic was originally started as a round-robin writing game at an old rp I was in (Stealing Hearts, run by Firefox); we only ever got a prologue and two chapters in, though. Still, I like the ideas in it, so I'm picking up where we left off years ago to work on writing more of CD.

The original title was "Crystal Kumani", but I'm not very fond of that (despite the fact that I'm the one who came up with it in the first place), so I'm changing it now. :P lol.

CRYSTALLINE
Prologue: Crystal Fire
By Senashenta

Hypnotic.

That was the term to describe the swelling of the water before her, Moya Velkya decided absently, as her chocolate brown eyes swept the seemingly endless shoreline of Misish Island. Beyond her sight, the Icepack Sea spanned the horizon—and aside from the occasional splash of a fish, everything was still and silent.

This was what she liked the most—being alone with the sea, and feeling the wind, awash with the scent of the winter to come, as it skipped across the sand. But moments like that were rare and few... which was why she treasured them the way she did. Moya had learned at a young age that the world was harsh and cruel—but somehow, with the breeze and the sea, if not with humanity, she could pretend that there was room for forgiveness.

With a sad air, her fingers traced down the pattern of scars that marred her left shoulder and arm... a rose vine design, which he had said suited a lovely flower such as herself. It matched the petal marks that had been burned into a circle around her left eye, accented by her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair.

The knife that was held loosely in her other hand slipped, dropping to the ground with a muffled thump, and the sand shifted around it almost nervously. The blood that coated the same hand dripped down to join the growing pool at her feet.

The sun will set soon...

The night would conceal what she had done, but not for long. Soon—too soon—someone would notice that both she and the Lord were missing, and when they set out to find them, her sin would be discovered. A death now rested on her soul, and somewhere in the depths of her mind she knew that she had just condemned herself to Hell.

—and yet—

—somehow—

—she did not feel remorse—

A feather touch on her ankle made her look down.

Bright eyes stared back, and a paw tugged at the hem of her skirt. Her arms felt heavy, but Moya bent and picked Resshin up—his leathery wings fluttered anxiously, and he blinked compassionate green orbs at her. Confusion seemed to radiate from him, and he kept turning, whiskers twitching, to look toward where the Lord's body lay in the shifting sands.

"You're free of him now." She whispered, "we are both free."

Resshin's twin tails lashed restlessly.

Around them, the wind rose and the sea began to murmur. The tiny Change Beast in Moya's arms mewled softly as the elements danced together—a storm was blowing in from the waters, but she was beyond caring, and instead reached to rub a smear of red from Resshin's brown fur.

This was not the Lord's blood—the life giving liquid that had stained Resshin's cheek came instead from Moya. From the wound the Lord had managed to inflict on her, seconds after she rammed the knife that now lay on the earth into his stomach. He had jerked back, of course, and her fingers caught on the blade, pulling it from him and at the same time biting into her own flesh.

Her blood had mingled with his, and his with hers. Even after the last traces of life ebbed from him, she could feel him with her. Angry. Violent. A dark presence, crouched in the shadows of her mind, and a stain on her being that she knew she would never again be rid of.

Resshin scratched at one of his huge batlike ears, and his nose twitched, stretching into the breeze—an angry roar began to rise from the sea, echoing across the shore—and the waters began to rise, splashing up onto the beach.

—and then—

—a Voice—

:Sinner, defiled and damned—you are none of these things, Moya Velkya.:

Beautiful as the dawn, and blindingly radiant, a shape rose from the swirling waves—wings of silver fire flared brightly, and the water retreated from its form, content to whirl at its feet and reflect its holy shine. Its Light banished the darkness of the approaching night as its depthless sapphire eyes lit upon the single figure in front of it, stained with blood and yet somehow still pure—

And Moya's heart welcomed the warmth of the Light, opening to it and accepting it thoughtlessly and helplessly, but with a newly blooming sense of hope. Eternal crystal pinned her where she stood, and illuminated even her soul, exposing everything she was and everything she had ever been.

"An angel of death."

The words were little more than a breath.

:Not an angel of death, sad one.: That same wonderful, musical voice told her firmly, and a fleeting touch of its Mind left a feeling of love, acceptance and purity, scorching away everything else—including her memories—and filling an empty place in her heart that had existed for as long as she had lived. :An angel of life... a Virtue. And you are to be Mine—:

Its Light flared, forcing Moya's eyes closed—

—and when she opened them again, the darkness of the encroaching night had returned, replacing the holy Light. But unearthly blue eyes continued to pin her in place, as a beautiful silver form watched her from the shallows, illuminated by the setting sun and shining with a power all its own.

The creature in her arms made a stifled squeaking noise, and she looked down at him. A name came to mind, swimming up from a now-sealed place deep within her own being; "Resshin...?"

:Yes, little one.: The Being told her comfortingly, :yes Moya, he is called Resshin.: The breakwater retreated, and the great luminescent stallion paced gracefully toward her. :And I... I am named Phoenix.:

The world fell away, and though her memories were gone she did not feel empty. Unconditional love rushed to fill the void—and she was no longer simply Moya. She was part of something greater, and a certainty that she no longer belonged in Tolmassar asserted itself.

She belonged somewhere else...

She had a purpose...

A reason for being...

Together, they were meant for greatness...

:I am named Phoenix,: the new Companion repeated, :and you, Moya, are my Chosen.:

"Chosen..." she agreed vaguely, then; "...and now... to Valdemar."