Seven Years Later

Amaya looked over at Jasmine. Her blue eyes were about to burst into tears. The sun was setting, a cool breeze blowing into the room. The princess sat beside each other, a long silence stretching between them. They had become close friends, their fathers often traveling to see one another. But tonight would be the last night they would sit together for some time. Tonight, Amaya was to leave Edom and travel to the Land of the Black Sand.

"I do not see why Creon will not tell my father where you are going. It isn't fair that you have to be cut off from everyone for who knows how long!" Jasmine said with a sigh. "Don't worry. I'm sure everything will turn out alright. After all, it is just a neighboring kingdom…"

Amaya looked at her best friend. For once there was someone at court she looked forward to seeing. And now they would part forever. Well, not forever, until she became a queen. She rose and walked to the balcony. Her hair was tied back into a loose bun with a white lily on the side. Her dress was a long, flowing white dress with a golden rope tied around her hips and hanging in front of her. Crossing her arms over her stomach she turned so that her back was to her kingdom.

"Why me? Am I to be only a pawn for peace?" she asked, her eyes looking confused and worried. Jasmine could tell she had been crying today during the time Creon had locked her away for trying to escape to the streets.

Jasmine sighed, rising and going to embrace the girl, "You are not a pawn. You are doing what is right for your kingdom."

Even to Jasmine's ears the words sounded forced. The door opened, two guards stood ready to take Edom's only princess to a land of darkness.

"Don't end up like me, blindly following the orders of others. Jasmine, I promise, I'll find a way out of this," Amaya whispered, stepping towards the doors.

Though the procession resembled that of a wedding the atmosphere filling the streets was as if a funeral pyre was being carried through the gates. Guards surrounded the entire party. At the head was Creon, sitting upon a fine white stallion. Behind him marched guards, followed by servants with gifts fit for a king.

In the middle of the gold and jewels four guards carried a covered seat, the curtains drawn tight to hide the figure within. Her legs folded to the side, skirt spread to cover them, sat Amaya. Through the thin fabric she could see the torchlight. In the streets a few of the women were near tears. Creon had a history being a cruel ruler, thinking only of what looked best for the kingdom, no matter whether or not it hurt the people. Amaya and her mother had been the kinder side of royalty. Now, neither would be living within these walls.


Standing on a balcony overlooking a realm of darkness stood a dark figure. He watched the light make a pathway through the empty streets. Behind him a paler figure approached, a boy, roughly the age of the princesses.

"She's here," he said calmly. He watched the back of the sorcerer before him. Soon, soon he would be able to strike. Clenching his hands, still covered in flesh and blood, he looked at the light.

"So, the Princess of the Dead returns?" Mozenrath said with a laugh.

"She is to be your princess, boy! Be careful not to upset her this time. I do not know how patient King Creon will be with her running back home for a third time," Destane turned, casting a glance at Mozenrath that sent waves of pain through the young man's body. He shivered, yet remained standing. It was nothing new…

"Take her to her room, Mozenrath."

The boy bowed, and made his way towards the doors that were now opening to allow in the princess and her escort. After directing the King and those bearing jewels where to meet Destane he turned to the princess.

She stood silently beside a guard, head bowed in respect. Even Mozenrath had to admit that there was a beauty about her. He stepped towards the worthless distraction, "Follow me, Princess."

He led her down the hall, far from the watchful eyes of guard or father. The silence cut deep into both of their minds, broken only by the sound of their footsteps.

"I see things have not changed," Amaya said after a moment more. She could see her room in the distance, at the top of the tower and across from the apprentice.

"He still plans to hold the wedding after some more training… for both of us," Mozenrath halted, turning to face the woman. He pushed her against the wall, pressing close so as to pin her. Gasping, the princess did not cry out for help. She knew it was useless. Destane would allow them to work out their differences as they willed, long as they both lived.

"You listen, and you listen well, Princess. I will have the gauntlet. And you will help me take it."

There was an edge to his voice, something hard and heartless about the way his body held her's. She shivered, nodding dumbly. After a moment they parted, he to his room and her to her own. Locking the door against all magic that would invade her sanctuary she fell upon the bed.

Why was she so willing to blindly follow such a heartless and cruel man? Even if she knew failure meant certain death.