Prologue

Dust sifted through the window in a slow, lazy motion. It lingered in the air longer than it should have, making the small form crouched on the floor cough. The sound was repressed, but sharp and striking. The mist surrounding the building seemed almost alive as it swirled at the sudden noise. The girl looked up in fear, listening for any slight sounds to indicate that she had betrayed her position. No, the silence of the glen was complete. She settled back into her chair with a relieved sigh. There was nothing out there.

Ironically enough, no one heard the cough, but a lone figure did hear the sigh. About to pass by the small cottage, seemingly uninhabited, the figured began to move towards it. Moonlight filtered through the trees, glinting on the teeth revealed by the advancing figure's grin. As it approached the cottage, the form drew out two wickedly sharp knives. With a short laugh that made the occupants blood freeze, the door was kicked off of its hinges to fall nosily to the floor. At this sound, other creatures in the forest began to move towards the commotion. But of course, it was already too late. Upon their arrival, a silhouette stood against the full moon, briefly illuminated as a vastly tall, vaguely human shape, before it vanished with a triumphant howl.

There was some scattered murmuring among the remaining figures in the glen. No one wanted to be the first to enter the cottage; who knew what could be lurking in there? Aside, of course, from the body of the heir to the throne of Mar'ia, the clan of immortal witches who now made their living by aiding their mortal kin in eliminating the creatures that ran rampant after dusk. The current leader had made the decision to join the "crusade against darkness", as the heralds had taken to calling it, against the advice of his counselors and advisors. After centuries of seclusion in the vast, unexplored regions of forest in northern Europe, the Mar'ia clan had at last stepped out of legend and into reality, joining the ever- growing battle against other immortal creatures, ones with intentions less pure than that of the witches.

The decision, while for the most part opposed, was not a surprising one; after all, the lines of t he mortal witches had been born of one of their number, Match. However, to become actively involved in such a battle had been viewed as too risky by most of the court. But Malvin, Head of the Clan, would not be persuaded against his rash action. His wife Helen had been the victim of a vampire soon after the birth of their daughter, Elise, whose body was undoubtedly lying in the cottage before them. Thirsty for revenge, Malvin had answered the pleas of his brethren in the west for assistance against such creatures. As things stood now, however, it seemed as though the Mar'ia had bitten off more than they could chew. The immortals in the area against whom the Mar'ia now fought had responded with instant malevolence, attacking the hunting parties the Mar'ia sent out and killing any who strayed too far from their village. In recent times, however, the fighting had escalated to the point of outright attacks on the city itself, and Malvin, fearing for his daughter's life, had sent her into the woods for her protection. Whomever- or whatever- had killed her must have found the situation very humorous, giving the barking laugh just before the killing. But now, the scouting party that was to have guarded her had to retrieve the body, and explain to Malvin that his only offspring was dead.

Finally, Aravac, the head of the party, stepped forward. Cautiously, he entered the hut and looked around. No lights had been allowed for fear of betraying the heir's position, and it took him awhile to adjust to the gloomy interior of the building after the brilliant moonlight outside the cottage. Approaching the chair, he glanced about just long enough to confirm his fears: Elise lay sprawled on the floor, eyes unseeing as she gazed at the ceiling. With a shudder, he left the grim scene behind him, the others following him back into the dark forest where the night swallowed all trace of the group.

(Later)

Malvin slammed his fist onto the desk as he listened to Aravac's report. Tears of rage and sorrow dripped unnoticed down his rough cheeks.

"Must they take everything? Every last thing I hold dear?"

Aravac looked worried, and not without reason. Since the death of his wife, his actions had grown increasingly unpredictable, and no one knew what would set off his wrath next. Aravac felt that he was the next victim of his king's anger, and yet he also felt he thoroughly deserved it. With a bowed head, he waited for the king's anger to unfold.

To his surprise, the king said nothing. He merely stared beyond Aravac, at the door to the library where he had been working. Turning, Aravac noticed a figure in a long blue gown standing at the doorway. Black hair fell in spirals around her face, which was tan and flushed with an emotion Aravac could not recognize. Her beautiful form commanded attention as much as her unusual eyes did, the color was a blue so deep and perfect that Aravac almost lost sight of the room around him as he gazed at her. Removing the cloak she had been wearing and folding it neatly over her arm, the woman approached the king's desk. Moving with catlike grace, she came to a halt before him and folded her hands in front of herself neatly.

"Beg pardon, majesty, but I heard of your troubles and felt the need to offer my assistance, if you will take it." The woman spoke, or sang really; for her voice was musical and lilting, with a strange accent that caused her to draw her vowels together ever so slightly.

"Your assistance?" Malvin whispered, in a haunted sounding voice. "What assistance could you possibly offer?"

The woman smiled secretly to herself, then replied, "More assistance than you know, Majesty. I can defeat the creatures who plague your lands with ease. I can help you rebuild this land into a stronger realm, and land of peace and plenty. I could even" she leaned closer, and the last words were whispered in a voice with less strength but somehow more power than she had ever used before, "bring back those you long for most."

The king's eyes glazed over at the thought of his long lost wife, and now daughter. To be reunited with them, to be able to see them, touch them, was more than he could ever hope for. And this simple woman would help him see them again, and more? It was almost too good to be true.

"Truly?" he whispered, his voice thick with longing "truly you could bring me my deepest wish?"

"Truly, Majesty. It is the way of my arts. I ask but one thing in return for my assistance."

At those words, Aravac slipped out of his daze. That was a warning sign if ever there was one, and now his suspicions were confirmed: there was danger here, and a plot as thick as the mist outside the city gates. He began to speak, and usher the woman out of the door, but the king held up his hand.

"What is it you seek?" he asked, his voice gentle but stronger now.

"Only a time in this library, Majesty" the woman replied. "I do so love to read".

"That is all? You only wish to see the library?'

"Yes, Majesty. And to use it for my own purposes without interruption"

Aravac was now very worried. The woman wanted only the library? Certainly, there were old books there, valuable ones too, but there was surely an ulterior motive to the woman's request. Again, Malvin silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"You can have it. You can have it all, just please, bring back my wife and daughter to me!"

The woman gave herself a small, satisfied smile. "It can be done, My lord, but only through the defeat of the creatures that plague you."

The king's face twisted with rage at the mere thought. "Yes, of course. We must destroy them!"

The woman laughed out right at that. "Indeed we must, my lord. And I know exactly how to destroy their leader: Avia!"

The king stroked his beard thoughtfully. "yes, ridding that band of- creatures- of their leader might just finish them. But she is older, wiser, and fiercer than the rest of the lot put together!"

The woman looked at him, all trace of humor gone from her face, and it struck Aravac that eyes that could be so full of mirth one minute could become so hard, cold and merciless the next. "But not invincible, my lord. No one and nothing is without weaknesses. And as it happens, I know hers."

The king must have noticed the change in her character, for his next words were more guarded than before. "Who are you, in any case? And how is it that you arrive at such a time when my need is greatest?"

The woman's lilting, musical voice must have answered, and the king nodded in approval, but a clap of thunder drowned out her words to Aravac. Aravac was going to ask her to repeat herself, but the woman was already following the king out of the library. Aravac glanced out the window, and his suspicions were confirmed: although it was a foggy night, the moon shone down unobstructed by clouds; there was no storm.

. . .Those who forget their past are doomed to repeat it