I'm sooooo sorry! I got stuck, and then I really was going to update last Wednesday, but I couldn't finish in time, and a certain part(you'll know when you read it, it totally stands out from the rest) took me two days to get right. I finished yesterday, but I couldn't get it typed up until today. Please don't kill me!

I always forget the disclaimer. Don't own it, 'kay? Go away. NO! I meant after you read and review it. Come back…please?

Thanks to silver.shadow, celeste, Drunken Little Monkey, Anyanka, Kitty, Lady Lana, Starlight, Ninsetta Tristel Sundar, AerinBrown, Ellia Silvermist, Darke Angel, Miss Chips, and Arsahi for reviewing. Particularly to the people who were encouraging and the ones who poked and prodded until I felt so guilty I had to update. Double to AerinBrown because she reviewed twice. Lana, bite me. You're in trouble when you get back from camp. YES, ANYANKA, I AGREE, NOT UPDATING IS A BAD THING. *HINT, HINT, NOT SO SUBTLE HINT* *clears throat*To Darke Angel, yes, Esaeldera is pretty important.

*sigh* You guys probably don't even remember what the story's about. Let me refresh your memory. It's gonna take a while, but at least you'll remember where everyone is.

*corny, overdone television voice* LAST TIME, ON UNSPUN:

A rope was being separated into four strands, slowly and painfully.

Unspun. The thought drifted to her like a whisper.

No, stop it, stop it, she thought as a sense of urgency washed over her. The rope had to stay together. If it came apart—

***

Coppercurls and the Trader said they got rid of their students. I did too. Funny how this stuff happens, isn't it, Bag? Is yours gone?

***

She dug a little deeper and pulled out a stack of letters. Regrettably, she hadn't had time to read them. I have time now, more than I know what to do with. She flipped it open.

It was from Pasco.

Lady Sandry, you're supposed to keep me out of trouble. How could you let me go with Mistress Kalaryn? You should have hit me over the head and tied me up until she left.

She had me try this awful stretch…

***

"Lark? Where's Comas?"

The dedicate looked up, startled. "You mean I didn't tell you? He's staying in the dormitories.

***

Sandry turned and saw three wagons coming to a halt a little bit away from her. A figure climbed out of each.

Being the farthest away, Sandry picked up her skirts and ran. They were all about five feet apart when-

Sandry felt herself blown back with a soundless explosion. She felt a line of pain etch itself onto her arm as her sleeve ripped on a sharp rock embedded in the ground. She carefully used her other arm to help herself up, flinching, then looking around at the others.

Their conditions weren't much better. Tris rubbed a bump on her head with an irate expression. Daja sported a bruise that stood out even on her dark skin. Briar growled a few curses as he gripped an arm he hadn't landed on properly.

"What was that?" demanded Rosethorn. Their teachers had run up to investigate when the four had gone flying.

"Who knows?" replied Niko. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "My best guess is that their magic wasn't used to being apart so long, so when they came back together, it came back together-explosively."

***

They were silent for a moment, the honeyed summer air making them pleasantly lazy. Briar's voice floated through the thick atmosphere of the room.

"What was with that explosion earlier?"

Tris opened an eye to look at him. "You heard Niko. It probably had something to do with our magic."

"I've never heard of magic doing that for no reason."

"Just like you've never heard of magic being spun together before. Still happened to us, didn't it?"

***

She felt the mass of swirling winds in front of her. Without warning, one flew out and whisked around her violently before dispersing.

Her surroundings faded, and suddenly she saw the sturdy rope that had been haunting her dreams. A shadow whipped up its length. Suddenly the four strands unraveled and shot out, disappearing into the darkness around her.

She heard scurrying and a flood of cursing in Briar's room before he came out with his blanket. Tris and Daja crashed down the stairs, in the same condition. "You too?" Tris asked.

***

Esaeldera kneeled on the floor. Briar offered a scarred hand

Gently the Esaeldera ran a finger over one of the creases.

The girl gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She dropped Briar's hand like a hot coal, shock registering in her eyes…

Esaeldera's frantic panting didn't cease. She wavered. Briar reached out to steady her.

"Don't touch me!" She scrambled backwards, so she was sitting instead of kneeling. "Give me a moment." She buried her head between her knees. The vivid skirt and dark curls worked together to hide her face. "Too much…"

Sandry heard her struggle to steady her breathing. A flash of red drew Sandry's eyes to the other girl's hand.

It was a wreck. Blood seeped from small, messy puncture wounds, and shallow cuts crisscrossed the skin. It looked like Esaeldera had dragged her hand though thorns.

"Your hand!" Those cuts hadn't been there before the reading.

The girl in question didn't hear.

Esaeldera's mother had returned from the privy (none of them had noticed her go) and spotted her daughter huddled on the floor, blood seeping from a mangled hand.

"Esaeldera!" The sharp bark made everyone look up. "What happened?" Her voice was much more gentle now that she had gotten her attention.

Esaeldera was looking around wildly, not really seeing the room. Sandry heard Esaeldera mutter something that sounded like "miyat Osertamon" before dashing out of the room.

Briar was puzzled. "Maya-whatsis?"

Lisern (Esaeldera's mother, sorry I didn't mention it earlier) shook her head. "Miyat Osertamon. Miyat is the title for the caravan's Storyteller."

Tris fiddled with her spectacles. "Storyteller?" She reached down to pet Little Bear, who was obviously trying to get her attention.

"The miyat keeps track of things that need remembering, like the caravan's deeds, legends, messages from the gods, and such," Lisern told her. "Why would she go to the miyat?" That seemed more addressed to herself than the redhead. "She rarely speaks to him, so it must be for information she needs, not a personal opinion. But why would she need to know something from him all of a sudden, unless—no. That's impossible. Not in this day and age! It's been centuries since—"

"Rosethorn?" Niko came into the room and spotted the kids. "Do you know where Rosethorn is? The Water Temple needs her yet again…" They shook their heads and caught sight of Esaeldera returning with a man they didn't know.

He was old, judging by the white of his hair and the creases on his face, but he held himself up without a trace of feebleness. Despite the creases, his face revealed strength and something akin to haughtiness.

Pale, nearly colorless eyes regarded Briar, Tris, Sandry, Daja, and finally came to a rest on Niko.

"You are Niklaren Goldeye." The deep voice was slightly gravelly, the remnant of the rumbling he must have possessed years ago. He inclined his head gravely in acknowledgement.

Esaeldera pulled at the man's arm before Niko could reply, looking strained. "This is no time for the niceties! Don't you understand? If—"

"Understand what?" Rosethorn appeared. Seeing the size of the gathering in the tiny room, her mouth twisted wryly. "I suppose my invitation to this little party was lost?"

These people really have to stop going in and out, Daja said through the link.

Tris added irritably, If they don't stop interrupting each other and not telling us what's going on—

—I'm going to put something poisonous into their soup, Briar vehemently finished for her. She saw something important, and I want to know what it is!

By that time, the introductions had been made. "Rosethorn, the healers need more cough syrup. They seem to have shattered a cabinet full of bottles again…"

"Don't let them harass you into being the messenger bird, Niko. I don't care what those flaming incompetents want this time, they can deal with the mess themselves."

"With utmost respect, Dedicate Rosethorn, Master Goldeye, I believe my daughter has something important to tell."

Finally, said Briar. "What did you see?"

Esaeldera looked as though she didn't know how to explain it. "I don't exactly see…" Most of the room just stared blankly.

"My daughter is something of an empath."

Esaeldera glanced at her mother gratefully. "I'm don't think I'm a mage exactly, but it's similar to mages communicating mind-to-mind with contact, except it's not necessarily current. I can pick up the stronger emotions that you will have, and occasionally physical sensations as well, like heat, cold, and pain, although—" she turned her hand over, which looked as though the scratches had never existed "—they fade quickly, but I only got Briar's present state and his near future, about a few weeks."

"So what's in my future?"

She met his eyes squarely. "Fear. Confusion. Suspicion. Denial. Scorn. Loss. Betrayal." The last word seemed to echo slightly.

She shifted her attention to include the girls. "Then I felt the magical connection. It's round, isn't it?" Sandry nodded and fished the lumpy circle of threat out of her bag. Esaeldera waved her hand over it and flinched. "It's powerful, just as the four of you are. I felt the extent of those powers. They're foreign to anything I know, but one I think I may have identified…they say you see magic unaided. It's true, isn't it?" More silent nods.

"Then I've no reason to believe I overreacted. Your ability to see magic, the extraordinary rumors—I was reminded of something I heard when I was little. At first I thought it was a legend. Then I talked to the miyat and found I was wrong. Not a legend, but a prophecy dictates your futures." She paused here. "He said that you are the Guardians."

"What's a bleatin' Guardian?"

Osertamon surprised them all by speaking. "The original prophecy is in a dead language. The translation is somewhat cryptic, but you will agree that they are the Guardians.

"The darkness, sealed dormant for many a dawn and dusk,

Will break free of its gleaming scarlet bindings

For the final battle.

Corners, Guardians, Chosen four

As there be one darkness, one mother, one battle

But one victor may emerge.

'Tis the sacred duty of the Guardians

Four gifted with illuminated Sight

To shelter the Chosen 'til the shadows descend.

But only the Chosen may dispel the shade unseen

To duel the darkness in their mother's blood

For her fate is that of all.

"What's with all the riddles and metaphors? Why can't these blubbering seers ever say anything out straight?" Rosethorn's annoyance was palpable.

Niko stroked his chin. "Magic doesn't reveal the world's secrets so freely. There's always a margin of error. While many receive images and sounds from possible futures, a handful of others seek different means. Symbolic premonitions nearly always occur, but the price of the accuracy is the clarity of the event foretold."

"Huh?"

Niko glared at Briar. "The tradeoff for getting news of an event almost certainly will happen instead of one that just might happen is that it's harder to understand."

"So what does the prophecy mean?" Sandry asked, intrigued.

Esaeldera answered, indirectly. "You see magic as light, am I correct?"

Nod.

"As I thought. That was what originally reminded me of the prophecy. 'Illuminated sight.'"

"Who says it's us, though? I bet tons of other people can see magic. Niko for one. And he's a lot better." Briar looked as skeptical as he sounded.

"But he is only one man,: Esaeldera countered. "The four of you are boned magically. You've all performed unheard-of magical acts. You are fit to be the stuff of legends."

Daja traced the star on the brass cap of her staff. "Don't make us sound so big. Most of the time it was do it or die. The rest of the times were accidental."

Sandry nearly grinned at this. The spinning of their magic's, their first astonishing feat, had been accomplished when Sandry had been terrified of being crushed in a quake underground. Desperate for survival, she melded their powers. Daja herself had somehow magicked metal to simulate a live tree while eavesdropping on one of Tris's conversations. Shortly after, Daja had shoved a forest fire trough her body, melting the brass cap on her old trangshi staff. It had stuck to her hand, flexible enough to be ignored, and very similar to the metal of the tree. Sandry remembered all this while the Trader paused for breath, then continued, "And the rest?"

Tris blinked thoughtfully, only half-aware of her surroundings. "The part with '''Tis the sacred duty of the Guardians to shelter the Chosen' obviously means we're supposed to protect the Chosen, whoever they are."

"Sounds easy enough. We go find these 'Chosen' people, with just about no clue who or where they are, and protect them from something we know nothing about." Briar always did have a gift for sarcasm. "You can't be serious."

Osertamon was disdainful. "I assure you this is a genuine prophecy concerning you and your friends." There was a hint of exasperation as he glanced at Niko. "Ask the truthsayer, if you do not accept my word. I have told you no lies."

Niko stared at Briar in a way that said plainly, Do not be rude. "No need to doubt him, Briar. I he had been lying, I would have said so."

Esaeldera was clearly amused. "Denial."

Briar rolled his eyes but shut up.

"What do we know about the Chosen?" Sandry asked.

"When I first told him my suspicions, miyat Osertamon had said that he suspected the mother of being a powerful mage. Perhaps she is destined to save the world, or something similar. 'Her fate is that of all.'"

Lisern nodded. "But first her children must 'duel the darkness in their mother's blood.'"

"It sounds like a disease," Osertamon added off-handedly.

Lisern's eyes widened at this. "Maybe it is…do you think the Chosen are healers?"

There was a trace of a smile on the miyat's heavily lined face. "I believe we have found our Chosen. (That old twig-in-the-dung smiles? Briar asked the girls magically.) "Do you remember Greendale? The lost children you returned to their home?"

"The children of the village midwife?" Esaeldera asked.

"I sensed that they were exceptional. Did you not feel their power?"

"I thought it was my imagination," she admitted ruefully. "They were unusual already. I haven't seen quadruplets before or since then."

"We've made progress, then." Rosethorn smothered a yawn. "Why don't we stop for the night? We'll work on the rest tomorrow."

Well, how was that? The prophecy was really hard to write. At least this was longer. It was double the usual length when I wrote it out on paper, even without all the author's notes and the "last time" stuff.

Oh, just a note: The whole "Chosen" and "Guardians" deal does sound a lot like "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", but I swear it was not done intentionally. When I planned it, I already knew the use of the word "Chosen" as they have it, but I couldn't think of anything else I could use. The "Guardians" part I'd already decided on long before the last few episodes aired. Basically, not my fault.

I'm gonna try to have a mailing list for when this is updated. Include your email in the review if you want to be in it.

Reviews, please. Try to include your guesses too. I always love to read them, they're entertaining.