EDIT: This is now my first ever NaNoWriMo project, which probably won't finish before the deadline as there's only eleven days left of this challenge, but I'm excited to be doing it anyways.

Maggie Joveson collapsed onto her bed, and rubbed her eyes. Bad things were happening. Two days after she had turned thirteen, a ring of troublemakers who called themselves The Titans had begun to make themselves known. Strongly suspected by her father and his council to be what remained of the Wrongtreaders, they had recently bombed an old church, resulting in the death of a young buck and multiple injuries of others as well. They terrorized the public, and by the time the king's soldiers arrived they were gone. They were more than troublemakers, though. What Natalians complained to be lack of soldiers stationed in more rough areas had already resulted in three nasty and well publicized murders. And though her mother and father dismissed The Titans as "Nothing you need to worry about," Maggie was worried. How could she not be? And though she knew her parents were doing their jobs and trying to protect her, she felt as though someone had put a weight on her chest. This was her kingdom to inherit. Because this year for her birthday, her parents had given her more than a birthday present.

This year, she'd been given The Green Ember.

For her own safety, a very select few people knew this. Her family, the Blackstars, Jo and Maya Shanks were almost all of them. Her father choosing his heir would usually have been announced to the public. Another reason Maggie believed that The Titans were more of a threat than her adult family was letting on. She buried her face in the soft toy Elephant she'd had since she was three years old, and let the scent of lavender calm her nerves, and reduce the trembling of her hands. She took a deep breath, counted to five, and opened a drawer in the desk next to her bed. She pulled a leather bound journal from the cluttered compartment, and began to write. The journal was a gift from Maggie Weaver for her birthday this year, which she insisted Maggie was going to need now that she was a teenager, not to mention the heir of Natalia.

Maggie was putting her journal back in the drawer when a knock came at the door. This surprised her, because her entire family knew that if her bedroom door was closed, it basically meant "Leave me alone or I'll break your arm." But when she opened the door, expecting to see her mother or her father, it was Hannah.

"What do you want?" Maggie was aware that she was being rude, but Hannah had been avoiding her for the past two weeks, and anyway, they hadn't gotten along in years.

Hannah seemed taken aback. "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Oh," Maggie replied, stunned. Since when did Hannah care about her? "Come in, I guess."

Hannah entered the bedroom, and sat down on the bed next to Maggie. "It's just that you looked kind of…not good at dinner."

"I'm okay," Maggie replied, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

Hannah squinted at her. "No, you're not."

Maggie stared at her sister, stunned that she suddenly cared.

"Listen," Hannah continued. "I know we really haven't been friends for–well–years, I guess. And I've been acting like crybaby because Dad gave you the Green Ember. And I know I call you a pest all the time and sometimes I'm kind of mean and that's not okay. But I care about you. You're my sister. I'm here for you, and you look like you need to talk to someone."

Maggie sat stunned while her sister waited for her to react. "Hannah…" She choked on her words. "Thank you so much. I really do need to talk to someone. And I love you too, I really do." She grabbed Hannah in a hug, and they sat there, knowing that for the moment, everything was okay. When she pulled away, Hannah glanced at Maggie's journal, which was still sitting on the desk.

"Is that the journal Mrs. Weaver gave you?" She asked.

"Yeah." Maggie nodded. "I use it a lot. I write some poems, too."

"Can I look?"

"Sure." Maggie turned the page to the poem she'd written just that night, and handed it to Hannah.

Sometimes

I feel like

Adults just want us to stay

Innocent forever,

So that we'll always be

The little children

Of whom

They are so proud of.

But I am no longer a child.

I am a young woman,

I can take whatever

They throw at me.

And yes,

I'm afraid.

But I know I can do this.

My family may want me

To stay a child,

But

I

Am

A

Woman.

Hear

Me

Roar.

I will not be

Ridiculed by lords

And captains who say

"A princess can't fight."

They can say

What they want.

I'm

Taking action.

Hannah was silent for a little while, reading. When she looked up, she said "I've been wondering which one of us got Mom's writing talent. I thought maybe it was Edward since he's so little right now. But it's you, Maggie. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Maggie shrugged. "I dunno."

"Is it the same reason you didn't tell anyone you could sing?"

"Yeah."

"So," Hannah changed the subject abruptly, sensing that Maggie didn't want to talk about it. "You said you were gonna take action. What are you planning to do?"

Maggie's face grew serious. "Well, it's going to take a lot of planning, but here's what I was thinking…"

It wasn't until almost ten-O'clock that Hannah left the room, and Maggie settled in to go to sleep. But when she fell asleep, she was plagued by nightmares, most fuzzy and senseless. But one vivid nightmare stayed with her when she woke, playing over and over until she fell back into a troubled sleep.

In the dream, Maggie was in a cave, surrounded by smothering, inky darkness. The air was stifling and hot, and smelled of–she was sure this was it– death. The occasional high pitched screeches from above told her that the cave had bats, and liquid cloudy with a menacingly red substance dampened the walls. In front of her, a monstrous black figure perched on a throne of bleached white bones, and she realized with a start they were the bones of rabbits.

"So," The figure shifted, sending a cloud of sulfur Maggie's way. "This is the little princess. The one who will kill me. Perhaps there's been a mistake. The Preylords are not dead, Maggie Joveson. Ready yourself for war, little princess. I will enjoy the…excitement."