Cold, sticky, mud squished under the heavy leather boots of the seven travelers as they pressed on the last bit of the way through the massive silver-barked trees of the ancient /Glowing Silver/ forest- or as the human’s named it, Eirian Forest. Two of the travelers, humans who went by Heddwyn and Jesse, had come from the Anhallan Empire in the west as soon as word had reached them of attack on King Samuel and his wife Ann, the rulers of the eastern Kingdom of Anhalla. The others with them were Desertkin, who had teleported them as close as they could to where they needed to go and remained with them to assist if there was any need for it.

            There was nothing they could do for Samuel or the lovely Ann, but the orders sent out by William, father of the King, were to have the exiled princess and her guardians executed. Something that could not be allowed to happen. That girl was their final true hope against the darkness spreading across the world, the only one who could honestly put an end to the Empress Corin’s rule…and she was the last true descendant of Juyinette, who should have been the rightful Queen all those years ago.

            The younger of the humans, a 15 year old boy whose legs were much too long for his own good and auburn hair refused to stay neatly pulled back, climbed up onto the large root of one of the trees to try to see further ahead than the underbrush would allow. “Look!” he pointed ahead of them, his deep blue eyes lighting up a bit as he caught sight of a chimney and smoke. “We’re almost there, uncle.”

             “Get down, and stop dawdling, boy. Last thing we need is you to alert the whole world that we’re coming, or to become the target of an arrow. Have I taught you nothing?” The older man demanded, pushing some branches of one of the younger trees of the underbrush aside with his dark wood staff. “We still need to get there and get out with your adopted sister, which won’t be any easier if there’s soldiers there who know we’re coming.”

                Excitement gone the young man quickly leapt down off the root and hurried to keep up with his uncle. He hadn’t thought of that, but he should have. Ever since going to the Empire with his uncle, taking on his middle name as his first and a new identity all his uncle had done was try to teach him how to survive and how to be more than a farm boy- or spoiled prince. Both lives seemed so far away now that he wasn’t sure he could ever go back to being either of them. As a Prince he had been Xander, second child of the King. His few years as a farm boy in the south, something that he’d been  after being secreted away with his youngest sister in order to keep her safe from their grandfather, had been tough but nothing compared to living as a young man in the Empire and trying to find the artifacts belonging to the Avatars.

               “Quiet now,” Jesse warned him as they got closer. “Stay out of sight unless you get the signal that we need you.”

                “Yes, sir,” Heddwyn whispered back and focused his mind on the present and not the past. Something was wrong, he could sense it – and his uncle and the Desertkin were growing tenser with every footstep, the Desertkin warrior’s hands going to their weapons—staff or curved sword depending on the warrior’s preference.

                It didn’t take much longer for the runaway prince to spot physical signs of the problem. Chickens were running around the small clearing, obviously in distress, the hinges to their pen broken. The old goat and her kid were laying slaughtered in their pen and the garden, where the inhabits of the house grew as much of their food as they could, was stomped flat. Without thinking Heddwyn moved forward only to have Jesse catch his arm in a vice-like grip. “Just because we are east doesn’t mean that it’s any safer to play the fool, boy,” he hissed, annoyed. “Should have left you with Amanda.”

                Heddwyn opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and shifted back a step to let his uncle be just ahead of him, a move which at least got his uncle to believe him chastised enough to not need held back. The warriors moved forward, nearly silent, and then one turned and signaled to them. /Horse hooves,/ the robed man stated in elvish nodded towards the garden. /Your people have come here already./

                Jesse frowned and moved to the broken door of the cabin, not sure what they were going to find inside. “Get the chickens back in their pen,” he ordered Heddwyn. It was just something to distract the boy really, and they both knew it, but Heddwyn didn’t argue with him and just got to work while Jesse stepped inside, one of the female warriors slipping in behind him, just in case there was any need for her assistance.

                Inside was worse than the exterior had been. The table was overturned, one of the legs snapped clean off, pages from books were scatted across the ground which was covered in the broken bits and pieces of dishes and what other few belongings had been kept in the main room. At the fireplace the fire was threatening to burn out of control, a pot hanging over it boiling over- its contents hitting the flames with loud pops and hisses. Jesse motioned towards the fire and the Desertkin moved to put it out while he continued his search for any signs of the three that had lived there.

                It wasn’t until he neared the steep stairs leading up to the loft where the two girls would have slept that he noticed a hand sticking up from under the debris near the large, broken, window at the front of the cabin. Worried that it might be his adopted niece, terrified to think of what could be happening to her if it wasn’t, Jesse made his way over and pushed the broken things, and the patched curtain, aside.

                Laying in a rather large pool of blood, stabbed repeatedly in the neck, chest and abdomen, was the soldier who had been charged with guardianship of the princess. Jonathan Rush, former Captain of the Royal Guard and leader of the Underground- a secret human group that was working against William and his supporters. Jesse brushed some of the debris out of the man’s brown hair and then glanced around. His sword was laying nearby with blood on the blade. Meant he’d at least caused injury to one- hopefully more- of his opponents.  “May the Goddess take you into Her realm,” he said closing the man’s eyes before getting up to search the rest of the cabin for signs of the inhabitants.

              Up in the loft the two cots and their bedding were tipped over, both chests were completely dumped out- leaving girl clothing and smaller personal items scattered all over the floor. It was difficult to maneuver up there, as the loft was narrow and the ceiling rather sloped but Jesse did his best to pick his way through until he was sure there wasn’t a body up there.

                Back downstairs he went into the only other room of the cabin, a bedroom that had once been used to house kings and consorts while out on hunting excursions. The large bed was covered in things that had been in the wardrobe- men’s clothing, weapons, small mementos- and several containers of alcohol that had been stored in there were overturned and filled the air with their pungent odor.

                Sighing, he stepped out of the room and headed outside into the cool autumn air, walking slowly down the wooden steps. /The Ladyship is not in there, nor is the other girl,/ he informed the warriors. /Their guardian, however, will require a proper funeral./

                Two of the Desertkin, both tall, dark tanned men, stepped past him without a word to retrieve the deceased body. /There wasn’t anyone down in the cellar,/ One of the other women informed him, having already gone down to check. /We will spell the cellar door and the bird’s cage so the scavengers do not get to them before the elves./

                Jesse nodded, that was a good idea- and it was good they had thought to search the cellar already, he had- in truth- forgotten there was even one here. “Do you think they killed her, Uncle?” Heddwyn asked after a bit, coming over to stand near him.

                “I think, we have to have faith that she’s smarter than your grandfather and those who serve his will,” The man answered after a bit of silence, not sure if the strawberry haired girl could have escaped this or not, but unwilling to give up hope. “We’ll spread out and search the forest, but if she is alive she is likely long gone from here.”

              “Sara!” Xavier yelled, climbing over an overturned swing set as he picked his way through the destroyed park. This wasn’t good at all. He had just run into the strawberry haired girl at his High School and convinced her to go for a walk with him at a nearby park after school- hadn’t even managed to talk to her about anything yet and already he could have lost her. His pants snagged on a branch that had fallen from a tree, making him stop and fight to free himself from the stupid thing.

                Of all the evenings for an attack to occur, it just had to be this one, didn’t it? Worried and irritated the sophomore went back to searching for the girl he was certain was the one they’d been looking for. It was a few minutes before a moan drew his attention over to an overturned tree and he relaxed a little, spotting the long strawberry hair tangled up in its branches. “There you are!” He moved over and carefully pushed the branches aside, off her thin frame, glancing for any visible signs of injury. “Are you hurt anywhere? How is your head? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

                “I’m fine,” the girl answered, though she didn’t protest to him steadying her with his hands as she sat up, taking a few moments to glance around them before looking up at him with frightened sapphire eyes. “What was that-that…thing?”

                “The ten foot tall black bear that had a really bad temper and red eyes?” he asked, to confirm to her what she had seen was exactly what he had seen- and fought.

                There was a hesitation and then she nodded a little. “Yes, that- was it rabid or a zombie or something?”

                Xavier might have laughed about the zombie comment if it was any other time. “It’s called a Daimon,” he explained. “They’re servants of the Order of the Serpent. Most can’t be out when the sun is still up- but, there have been exceptions.”

                “There’s no such thing as the Order of the Serpent,” Sara denied, though something in her expression told him that she wasn’t so sure about what she was saying, “I think it’s time to go home, shouldn’t even be out as it is. I just meet you in chemistry and my world is suddenly filled with Daimon rampaging through parks and talk about a super-secret Order that died out years ago. Next thing I know you’re going to tell me you’re some alien from outer space and need my help.”

                Xavier studied her quietly for a little bit before sighing and helping her to her feet, keeping his arm around her waist to make sure she stayed there. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Sara, it’s a bit much. Can I offer you a ride home?”

                “Yes,” Sara agreed, though she looked upset. “That would be appreciated.”

                The walk to his beat up red truck was silent and slow, Xavier keeping ahold of her to make sure she didn’t fall over and helping her up into the passenger side before getting in himself. “Where are we going?” He asked, buckling himself up. Probably somewhere close to where he was living with his uncle and mother in the rich outskirts of town, or up behind the college, since she had pointedly done her best to avoid being within view of a large black limo that had pulled up to the school when they’d left it earlier that afternoon.

                “310 Luxman Drive,” Sara responded, turning her gaze to stare out the window and clenching her hands together on her lap.

                He’d guessed right- back behind the college- and the address was familiar even, though Xavier wasn’t entirely sure he could place it off the top of his head. Maybe it was somewhere near his grandfather’s house? He turned the radio up and headed off in that direction letting the music fill the silence between them as they made their way up through the streets onto the mountainside.

                As they pulled up the grey-stoned mansion with the black iron gate, Xavier frowned a little. “You live here?” he asked, not sure how it was possible. The address might not have been overly familiar- he barely ever saw his father or grandfather- but the building was something he could never forget from when he’d been much younger and his parents had been married still.

                “Yes,” Sara confirmed. “Thank you, for the ride, Xavier.” She was quick to open the door and jump out with her backpack. “Goodnight.”

                Xavier watched as the modestly dressed girl ran up the driveway to the large red door, trying to make sense of it all. Had his father and grandfather moved without telling any of them? Not like he really cared- he’d never gotten along well with either of them. Or had father remarried? Poor woman if he had. Grandfather could still make him do anything he wanted him to even in this life and had no respect for anyone’s wishes but his own. Not much to do, he guessed, except go home and ask his mother if she knew what was going on and that Samantha’s reincarnated self was living there.

              16 year old Samantha clung to the reigns of her horse, staring ahead at the white city, Sahar, her once home, surrounded by fields ready for harvest and a strip of green, untouched grass at the very base of its gates, as the small party came to the top of a hill, bringing it into view. “Are you sure-“

                “Yes, your highness,” one of the two surviving royal guards that had been sent to retrieve her, her slave, and their guardian answered. “Just- stay close until we get you inside and up to His Majesty.”

                She felt her stomach knot up on itself as she studied the massive city at the base of the White Mountain. The only things that stood taller than the gates and towers surrounding it was the Temple and the Palace, both white giants at competition with each other as to whose towers reached highest.

                The closer they got the larger everything seemed, and soon enough the small party of four was at the Southern Gate where merchants and travelers were filtering in and out. One of her escorts handed a paper to the closest city guard and informed him that they had to get to the palace, immediately.

                There was a couple heartbeats of tense silence before the guard stepped back and waved for them to pass and go into the city streets that were bustling with activity. Commoners, slaves, and merchants moved out of the way of the royal guard’s horses, and it was a straight line to the palace gates on the main street, but it still took them an hour to make their way there.

                Once again one of the royal guard had to inform another- a palace guard this time- as to their reasoning for being there. The palace guard stepped aside much quicker and they rode quickly down the stretch of drive and right up to the courtyard. “Get Her Highness up to her father, Gibbons,” the brown haired guard ordered as his partner jumped down to help Samantha off her horse. “I’ve got the miss and the horses.”

                “Yes, alrigh’,” the younger one responded, carefully keeping ahold of the princess just long enough to make sure her feet were stable on the ground before stepping away. “Le’s ge’ up, ma’am, if ya’ll stay wit’ me now.”

                Samantha nodded and stayed just a step behind him as they headed up the thirteen ivory steps to the main doors of the palace. Once inside he quickened his pace, though was careful not to leave her behind, heading to the library and taking the stairs in the tower attached to it up to the top floor of the palace where the royal family’s sleeping and living quarters were located and then darted out of the library and down the hall straight to the entry to the Ruler’s Chambers.

                The royal guards just outside the Ante-room let them pass without question and once there he slowed down. “Cap’n,” he greeted the black haired man standing in the chamber. “Got here fast as we could, sir.”

                “Highness,” The Captain greeted after glancing the girl over with his dark hazel eyes. He didn’t bother telling her to follow him as he turned and opened the door to go inside the outer chamber, passing through the lavish and massive room without seeming to notice how much of a contrast it’s wealth was to the dirty covered and plainly dressed princess following with the guard that had brought her up to him.

                “What is she doing here?” A tall, grey haired man snarled moving immediately towards them and away from the bed that he had been standing over.

                “The King sent for her, sir,” the Captain replied, hardly intimidated by the man. There were healers and others around so there was no fear of him using his magic to harm anyone. Not if he wanted to remain a free and living man, anyway.

                “My son did not send for such a…a traitorous snake,” He snarled but took the paper that the guard who had accompanied them in brought forward to him and looked it over, his lips growing white as he pursed them together and eyes narrowing.

                “As you can see, sir,” the Captain said after giving him just enough time to scan it. “His Majesty’s orders were explicit- the fact he is on his death bed does not negate that.”

                “As His Majesty wills,” the old man ground out but didn’t move aside, making the newcomers have to skirt around him, the Captain inserting himself between the man and Samantha as they did, in order to get to the bed.

                Those gathered near the side of the bed that the King was laying on watched their approach in silence though the black haired boy hardly looked as relieved to see them as his twin sister, a sweet young girl with auburn hair and hazel eyes, and their cousin the current Elder Futhark, a tall young man in his early 20’s.

                Samantha didn’t have long to look her younger sister and brother, or her cousin over though as the middle aged king whispered her name, earning her a nudge from the Captain closer to the bed. “Majesty,” she greeted, hesitating for a moment before kneeling at the side of the bed. There or not she was still a traitor by his own decree, so sitting on the edge of the bed and calling the dying man father would not be acceptable.

                “You’ve grown,” he moved his hand to rest it on top of her head, though it was obvious the movement hurt him. “I’m sorry, I’ve done you an injustice.”

                “What? No…don’t be sorry,” she stumbled over her words not sure what to say.

                “I absolve you of all crimes,” he continued as if he couldn’t hear her. “You were too young to have done what you were accused of. I should have…”

                “Majesty?” Samantha lifted her head when he didn’t continue talking.

                He was white as parchment and struggling to move the hand that had rested on her head towards his neck. “Elder,” he said after a moment. The young man moved to lean over and unclasp the chain on the man’s neck, careful and silent, and then moved back out of the way.

                “Samuel! What are you doing?” the old man demanded, moving towards the bed at that. “Joseph-“

                “-is my third born,” the King answered, though there was a touch of fear in his voice even though there was nothing the man could do to him in that moment. “Samantha is first. Hand, girl, hand.”

                It took her a moment before she understood and numbly shifted to put her left hand within reach of his. The entire room seemed to have gone completely still and silent with everyone just watching as he pressed the royal pendant, symbol of the ruler of the kingdom, into her palm and clenched his fist around hers until she was sure the edges were digging into the flesh and drawing blood. “Rule well,” he urged.

                “Yes, father, sire,” she whispered, “if that is your will.”

                He went quiet, staring into her eyes, fist still clenched around hers, and it took her a few moments to realize that those stunning, dark blue eyes had gone empty. “That’s it then,” one of the healers in the room muttered after letting the silence pass for a few moments, moving over to carefully help the girl free her hand. “May the Goddess welcome his soul into Her realm.”

                On some level Samantha was aware of her sister breaking into sobs while the healer helped her free her hand from the dead mans, but she couldn’t get past the feeling of being numb and wondering if this was all some twisted dream long enough to do anything about that. A blast of fire that only missed her because a shield that absorbed the fire’s energy was thrown up inches away from her jerked her back into reality though and she became well aware of the fact her grandfather, William, had just tried to attack her in front of everyone there.

                “Arrest him,” Elder Futhark demanded of the soldiers as he moved to assist magically, stepping around Samantha to do so.

                The Captain called for more guards, as he drew his sword, his voice thundering through the room so loud Samantha wondered if yelling was a specialty of his.  Before William could get another spell cast three guards that had been standing along the walls in the outer chamber, and seven more that had been in the ante-room and the hall outside came rushing in, one after the other, swarming the man that their Captain indicated.

                Thinking better of the fight, in the current situation, William raised his hands in surrender and allowed himself to be arrested and removed from the room. “…he’s planning something,” Elder muttered watching several of the guards escort him out.

                “Perhaps so, sir,” the Captain muttered, moving up to stand beside him and keeping his voice as quiet as he could. “I’ll combine efforts with the Palace Guard to make sure that whatever it is doesn’t occur. You have a duty, however.”

                “Yes- right- thank you, James,” he muttered, turning to look back at the bed and the remaining members of the royal family while the Captain moved out of the room. “Escort the Prince and Princess to their rooms,” he ordered two of the remaining guards. That would take care of part of the problem- they could cry in peace and get some black mourning clothes on….and he could focus on the lost looking young woman, still kneeling at his uncle’s bedside, and running the kingdom during the time of mourning in preparation for her ascension to the throne.