She felt her heart thud and confusion well up inside her. He will listen. He has to listen… because if he doesn’t… She shook her head and faced him. “Have you decided?” she asked.

He stopped in his tracks, an arm’s length away from her. “I am doing my best to maintain order and control the situation,” the king said, “but, if things get worse—”

“Then Tasher has won,” she said.

“The court is frightened, and I am doing my best.”

“I cannot let you do this,” she said. Silence. The words hung in the air. Dread filled her, and her stomach threatened to heave. She clutched a hand to her stomach. Not yet, just a little longer. “You intend to follow Tasher’s lead.”

The king’s brow furrowed. “Do not speak lightly of this. There are few options.”

“If Tasher and the others have already decided, and you do not oppose them—”

“My love, some things cannot be changed.” He reached for her arm, but she flinched, pushing his hand away.

“Do not touch me,” she said.

“Tasher is right in saying that if it is between an entire nation and one baby, even if she is our baby, we cannot ignore what your grandmother foretold.” The king flung his arms wide, and he continued. “The child has golden eyes, Lara.”

She turned and walked towards the tapestry on the far wall. “Our daughter will not bring destruction any more than Gerlath posed a threat to us,” she said.

“No mother or father wants to give up their child, and forget Gerlath,” he said and followed her to the tapestry. “And ignore the signs if it pleases you. But, I cannot ignore this, because I am king and have to do what is right by the people I rule. I made a vow to do so, and I will not be the ruler to let this country—no, this empire—be wiped from the pages of history.”

“Empire?” She laughed. “But at what cost?”

He ran a hand through his hair and paused, then looked her in the eyes. “The price is not always the one we want to pay.”

“You are no emperor,” she said. Silence again filled the room, except for the tapestry lifting and settling against the wall with a breeze from the balcony. She reached out to press it back into place. “When things go wrong and destruction strikes, there will be one with golden eyes. Before them comes pain great and vast—”

“Enough,” he interrupted, “we all know the verse. Our scholars have gone over it time and time again.”

“And yet I see the same vision over and over again, and I am telling you our daughter is not the one, but you’re not listening.”

Shouts echoed in the hall, and armored feet clamored toward the open chamber doors. “What’s happening out there?” the king said and jerked his head towards the doorway.

“Tasher is coming with his guards trailing behind,” Lara said. “You know that. They already decided, and when they get here, they will kill me and our child.”

“Lara, wait. They will not touch you.” The king reached towards her, but two guards appeared in the doorway, and he turned once again. “I did not give you permission to enter these chambers.”

Then Tasher stepped past the guards with a sword at his side. “Your Majesty,” Tasher said and looked at Lara, “Where is the Princess Aleda?”

She was out of time. Lara murmured a single word under her breath, and the candles around them flickered and died, forcing them into darkness.

“Stop her!” Tasher shouted.

But Lara pushed the hidden door inward, crossed the threshold, and slammed the door behind her. Then she locked the door, uttered an invocation to seal it, and watched as piece-by-piece it turned to stone. She faced the stairwell. Four stories down. She took a deep breath and ran down the steps, her dressing gown billowing behind her.

She took the steps two at a time until she reached the bottom of the stairwell. It led to a tiny room lit by the fire in the cleft that ran along the wall. There was only a table in the center of the room where an enormous book lay open, and Bryle was skimming the pages. Another door stood along the furthest wall, and the manservant stood next to it. Aleda was crying in his arms.

“Your Majesty,” the man said, and lowered his head.

“Did you find it?” Lara asked Bryle, ignoring the manservant and her baby’s cries. She stopped in front of the table, while Bryle turned clumps of pages at a time. They needed to find the right page. “Wait, there it is,” Lara said and stopped Bryle’s hand.

She knew she would need blood for the completion. Sweat trailed down her temple. But she clenched her fist, reached into the pocket of her nightgown and pulled out the dagger. Lifting it from its sheath, she bore down on her wrist. A flare of pain traveled up her arm, and the blood flowed easily from the angular wound. A stream fell onto the pages in front of her, and she quickly dipped her fingertips in the splattered pools of blood, and with stained fingers, she drew a small star on Aleda’s neck. The blood settled and sunk in, creating a gold tinted mark. “I’m sorry,” Lara whispered and brushed the back of her hand across her baby’s soft cheek, speaking a summons to comfort Aleda and put her to sleep, before moving to draw the same emblem on Caius. Again, the blood faded and turned to gold. One task done.

“When the summons is complete, your life will be tied to hers. Do you understand?”

“Not quite, Your Majesty.”

“There is no time to explain. You will understand as time passes. Just know that she is a descendent of Zlatan, and her ability to summon will surpass others if she maintains her vow.”

“Which vow, Your Majesty?”

“It’s all in here,” she said and closed the bloodstained book and shoved it into his arms. “I know you can read it. Now, go. She will sleep for a few hours at least. The door to your left, it leads to a tunnel. It will lead you far past the western gate, and there is a horse waiting for you there. Leave and go west, across the sea, as far as you can reach, to a land none of us have ever seen.”

“You will not come with us?” Caius asked.

“This is the most I can do,” Lara said. “Bryle and I will stay here.” She looked to the maidservant who remained next to the table, and the woman nodded her head.

“Yes,” Bryle said, “I will be here with Her Majesty. Do not worry.”

Lara reached out and opened the door to a small tunnel with a single unlit torch hanging on the wall. “Go,” she said.

Caius grabbed the torch, dipped it in the fire that still lit the cleft along the wall, and disappeared. Then Lara shut the door behind him. “Run far, run fast,” she said, and then sealed the door. Just like the first, the door faded and turned to stone, with only blood to mark where her hand had touched it.

Grandmother was right when she said they wouldn’t listen. She closed her eyes, tears fell down her cheeks, and she let loose a string of words from her mouth to bind Aleda and the man from Gerlath. Blood continued to flow from her wrist, a crimson puddle forming at her feet. Bryle hovered close to her and pressed a hand against her wound, and Lara’s composure began to waiver. Her body trembled with the loss of energy. “Your Majesty,” Bryle said, “you should heal yourself.”

Lara shook her head, and she slowly lowered herself to the floor and placed a hand over Bryle’s. “It won’t be complete if I do.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Call me Lara, like you used to, Bryle. And don’t cry.”

“I won’t,” she cleared her throat, “I won’t cry, Lara.”

A few minutes passed, and the sound of metal on stone echoed faintly from above, and a few moments more, and Tasher and his guards filtered into the room until the women were surrounded. Lara didn’t move from the place where she sat, and her vision went in and out of focus.

Tasher stepped forward, and his grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. “Lara, where is the child? Hand her over, and you will be spared.”

“You can’t kill me,” Lara said. “Not without a trial.”

“Where is she?” Tasher asked.

“Where is my husband?”

“He won’t be joining us,” Tasher said.

Lara glared in his direction. His appearance was blurry. “Then I have nothing more to say to you.”

“I will find out where you’ve hidden her in the end,” Tasher said. “Why prolong it?”

Lara felt Bryle’s grip on her wound tighten. “You won’t be able to find her,” Bryle said, “No matter how hard you try.”

Tasher tapped his fingers against the hilt of his sword, and his lips turned up slightly.

“The ever faithful Bryle,” he said and smiled. “Should we test the strength of a bond blessed by the ancient one of Zlatan?”

Tasher motioned to one of the guards, who grabbed Bryle by her hair and dragged her before Tasher.

“Leave her be,” Lara said and reached out with a bloodstained hand.

Tasher raised his blade to Bryle’s throat. He looked at Lara. “Say something, seer. Used too much blood, did you? Or maybe you are not blessed by the ancient ones after all.”

Bryle opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Tasher adjusted his grip on his sword and, with one swift movement, he slit her throat.

“Bryle!” Lara reached out to catch the woman as she fell. She was too slow. Too slow, too weak. The woman hit the floor and gurgled and groaned before she fell silent. Lara’s vision was hazy, but she could make out the pool of blood of where Bryle lay.

“Why don’t you heal her, Your Majesty?” Tasher said.

Lara felt sick. Something wasn’t right. “How did you make it past the wall so quickly? There is no other seer in this city besides me and no one else able to summon the power of Zlatan.”

“The ancient ones have blessed me, my dear,” Tasher said, and smiled again.

Lara’s vision was hazy, and she felt a presence beside her. Who’s there? She turned to look, but no one was there.

Tasher reached over, grabbed her by the throat and turned her to face him. “Where is she?” Tasher asked, dribble hanging from his lower lip.

Lara shook her head as much as she could. “I'll never tell you.”

Tasher chuckled. Then something flashed from beneath his overcoat, and two long, dark appendages with talons on the end tore through her chest with a single movement. Scorching pain engulfed her, and she plunged into the abyss, where everything was dark.

Who’s there? I asked the nothingness that surrounded me. A moment or a lifetime, and one of the ancient ones sat before me in tatters. What happened here? I asked. But the crimson rope that bound its mouth kept it from answering me. You are bloodied, bound, and silent. And I am no more. My dear Aleda, run far and fast, for the ancient one residing in Zlatan is dying, each one of its arms ripped from its body by those who sought its power and found it. So, run.