Disclaimer: I don't own the recognizable characters...but I do own the plot and Vayga, and all the other characters that I decide must be in this little world...(smiles sneakily.)(well...almost sneakily.)
WildSong: It takes place close to 13 years after the Scanran war.
FanFictionFantom: Kel isn't blonde in thebooks(or at least I never thought that) but lately she's been in the desert training. And the sun bleached her hair.
Thank you to my reviewers!
Of a Prophecy and DenialChapter Two
I glared at the room around; not that is was displeasing, no. But because it was his. The King's. Purple tapestries covered the walls; golden rugs, the floor. A bed that could hold three horses was pushed against the wall.
I sat in the one corner of the lavish room that did not have a piece of furniture in it. Fuming couldn't quite describe my mood. That knight Keladry had dragged me into the room. And locked me in. Having never really had a home, or been in actual rooms, this caused great discomfort for me. And there was no way out that I could find.
Six hours and counting. I wondered when I'd be let out of the room. It had to round twilight.
Suddenly, a small noise reached my ears. Could it be?
The door creaked open slowly as I fumbled to my feet. I rushed at a door that had admitted an enormously tall man, but the door closed and locked before I could escape through it.
Frustrated, and anger like mad, I slammed my fists against the unyielding wood over and over again. Soon, I could no longer feel my hands and arms. Defeated, I sank to the floor, and finally paid attention to the tall man. His skin and eyes were dark, and his long back hair had a streak of gray in it.
He stared at me, a confused and disbelieving look on his face. "You're a little girl…" His voice was breathy.
"I'm a young woman, bub." I crossed my arms over my chest from where I sat on the floor. "Who are you, and what do you want?" I glared at him, none to happy that he was here.
"Numair Salmalin." He snapped out of his dazed and confused expression. "I'm here to tell you a story."
"I'm not a child, Mr. Salmalin. Take your story elsewhere."
His face hardened. "You're a brusque one, aren't you? And no, I can't take my story elsewhere. You have to listen."
"Fine, Mr. Salmalin. Get on with it."
An ancient looking book suddenly appeared in his hands. He opened it, stirring a layer of dust on the pages. And he read, "Three nations will unite. A bloody war will ensue. The bloodiest known to mankind. The silver one will appear, on them is the balance. They are the only one able to win this war." He stopped and looked up.
"Oh, very interesting, Mr. Salmalin." My voice dripped with sarcasm.
"There's more. The silver one will carry the three marks upon their face. The three marks make the old symbol Fallen Star, in which their name means. The silver one will be alone, and carry the curved swords." I stared at the floor.
What was he playing at? Three marks…Fallen Star…No! I refuse to believe this pile of horse manure!
"Vayga, have you ever wondered why no one would help you when your family was dying?"
My eyes never left the floor. "Shut up." It was low, a whisper.
"Have you ever wondered, Vayga, why no one would take you in?"
"Shut up." I arose to my feet, my fists balled in anger. But my eyes never left the floor.
"We couldn't intervene, Vayga. We couldn't change what was meant to-"
"SHUT UP!" I yelled, my eyes finally rising. The suddenly silver air around me snapped with electricity. "Get out. I refuse to hear any more from you." My voice wavered with rage.
"Vayga, you're in denial-"
"GET OUT!" The silver air shot at Numair, one tendril drawing a line of blood on his cheek. He touched the blood on his cheek, eyes widening, and silently left.
I sank to the floor, my knees no longer able to hold me. I stared at my hands, which were covered in silver dust.
I looked down at my clothes, then the floor around me. Silver dust. Could it be true? Could what Numair said be true? Could I be this silver one? The Fallen Star? No. Absolutely not. It's not true, Vayga! IT'S NOT TRUE!
