Chapter 8 – Blohein and Armaël.

Myra stared at the woman standing in front of her. Her hair was the same colour as Myra's and she had the same emerald-green eyes. Her face was young looking but ancient all at once. "How do I know you?" Myra breathed, for it seemed that she had known this woman all her life. The lady smiled, "My name is Blohein," she said, "and I have been waiting for you for a long and lonesome time."

"But why?" Myra asked. She didn't understand why anyone would be waiting for her, she who was practically an orphan. Blohein smiled once again, "You have never been an orphan, dear, or ever nearly one. If you were, I certainly would have come for you." Blohein's dress rustled and whispered as she moved to sit on one of the many cushions dotting the floor. She chose a large gold one and indicated that Myra should sit too.

"Who are you?" Myra asked as she sat down. Blohein reached out and took hold of Myra's hand. "I am your aunt, your mother's sister," she said tenderly. Myra blinked a couple of times and shook her head. "No, that can't be true. My mother was an only child and an orphan, too. How can you be her sister?" Myra noticed that Blohein's eyes were watering and she was nearly crying herself. Memories of her mother always upset her. She was there when her mother died and had felt that it was always her fault, a notion her father believed in too. She remembered vividly how she had raced across the street to get out of being dolled up and her mother had come after her, and was kicked in the head by a horse that had reared at her when she dashed into the road. Myra shook her head, trying to escape the memories and looked at Blohein, who was now steadily crying, sharing Myra's pain and grief. "It wasn't your fault, my dear," she whispered, taking Myra into her arms, "your mother, Armaël – yes named after the tree, would have welcomed it. She despised your father." Myra wiped her eyes, "How do you know?" she asked. "Your mother told me everything. She told me how she fell in love with him, how he had wooed her and swept her off her feet. She told me that not long after they were married, she discovered she was pregnant and when she gave birth, well, the baby was a still-born and that was the beginning of her troubles for the little baby had been a boy. A boy, your father had wanted terribly. So a year came and went and Armaël became pregnant again and when she gave birth to you, your father was angry and even more so when your mother never conceived again. He started to hit her and scream at her and everyday was a new hurt. She only stayed for you," she stopped and tucked a piece of Myra's hair behind her ear. "Why didn't you come and get me?" Myra whispered angrily. "I suffered and went through hell growing up. I have been raped and beaten till I was nearly dead! Why didn't you come and save me?"
"Because Myra-Armaël, there were things you needed to do," Blohein replied.

"But you said, if I was an orphan you would have come for me!"

"If that was the case, your fate would have been different and your destiny would be here, in the Elf Grotto," Blohein reached up and took off her wooden circlet that looked like someone had woven the two wood pieces together. "This is the Sorceress' band. It will one day belong to you, but only until you have mastered your gift."

"What gift?" Myra asked puzzled. "The gift you have inherited from your grandmother. Your mother, unfortunately, never inherited it, but I did and I saw your fate and saw that it was clearly entwined in the magical arts and with a man, Cierwan whom you already know and who you will be greater than. This Cierwan the Seer, he is looking for you – the Key, and whether he knows it is you yet, I don't know but if he doesn't now, he soon will."

"What do you mean?"

"Cierwan is a good and kind man, it is no wonder that you love him," Myra started at this- she had gotten used to the idea that Blohein could read her mind but can she now read her emotions too? "But he will need to learn to love you too, if what he wants to achieve can happen."

"What do you mean?" Myra cried out desperately, not caring if she is repeating herself.

"He can not love yet. His heart is too sore after losing a woman he loved."

"How did she die?" Myra asked and Blohein sighed. "She didn't die. She ran away with an artist more like herself, you see, she was a poetess." Myra sat stunned. "But he said his mother was a poetess,"

"Oh no, dear, his lover was a poetess and she taught him to open up and to speak. Have you not noticed he talks an awful lot for an Ayorthian?"

"How do you know all of this?" Myra asked, suspiciously. Blohein laughed, "Because Cierwan and I are good friends. He came to learn from me once." Myra's eyes flickered to Blohein's circlet warily. "It has been a day of many discoveries, my love, perhaps you need to rest?" Myra nodded numbly and was shown the way to her room by Yelon and collapsed on the bed into a dreamless sleep.