Their screams could've cracked the sky if it was possible. Gris cried and prayed their suffering would come to an end. A few people grew sick and weary from the scene. Especially from the pungent odor of burning flesh. He glared at his father who watched with a straight and firm face, eyes wide and shoulders tense as if he was trying to suck in the energy. The Commander stood with a grin on his face. Fire was literally a part of him. Something he enjoyed and knew its destruction. Gideon gulped down a mug of wine, cringing and openly turning away. Even his sister repulsed and clung to her mother who tried to appear brave, but Gris could see her body trembling.

Then the clouds, still throughout the evening, burst alive. Everyone watched them move like it never done before, clashing, and rolling in a thunderous rage above the Altar and its sacrifice. Gris pressed a hand to his heart sensing something terrible was about to happen. The screams of six of the Sacreds ceased, but for an odd reason Mageia continued as if she was fighting death.

Instead of her scream demising, it grew louder, conquering every ear. Everyone covered their ears and fright seeped into their souls.

"What's going on?" the King bellowed.

A low thunder followed and when Gris thought it was coming from the sky, it came from beneath his feet. The ground quaked and stirred. Everyone screamed and sought something to cling to. Then Mageia's scream came to a sharp stop that echoed like a crow's call to its young.

The clouds did a sudden drop into the realm and swept across the Altar and sent everyone standing to the floor and blew out every fire in its path. Gris grunted and felt an indescribable energy warp through his body as if he'd fallen into water and gulped a lungful. He coughed, throat and tongue sizzling.

When he sat up, he saw the clouds sweep across Ardania and disappear beyond his eyes. Then everything stilled. Not a single person spoke. Every eye was glued on the only pillar still on fire, but it wasn't normal fire. It was purple and it flickered gracefully. The clouds dispersed revealing millions of stars- more stars than he'd ever noticed before – all against a purple veil. The moon shined full and casted its light upon the purple flame.

Gris blinked a few times wondering if this was a beautiful dream, but it wasn't. This was happening.

"I was right..." he said searching for the King and caught eyes.

The King looked speechless and utterly afraid, and the Commander stared at his hands horrified by something else. Gris didn't wait to figure it out or speak to anyone. He climbed to his feet and sprinted across the Altar.

"Gris," the King shouted, but he ignored him despite the fear in his voice.

The soldiers and guards stirred back to life. Some relit torches while others ran to circle the pillar with swords in hand.

"Stand down," Gris ordered only for Lord Hercones to say the same, being helped onto his feet.

Gris shoved through the defense line uncertain of what to do. "Stand down, I order you," he said and felt the temperature spike in this area.

"What're you going to do Grisonce?" Lord Hercones said.

Gris had no clue.

"Should we wait until the flames subside or – or," Lord Hercones said uncertainly.

"We should clear the Altar," he said.

"You heard him, clear the Altar," Lord Hercones ordered and the soldiers hesitated before obeying.

Grisonce.

He gasped, startled by the whispering voice between his ears. He turned to face the pillar and stared up at the purple flames.

What was that?

"What's wrong?" Lord Hercones said, his old eyes still sharp enough to read him.

"I don't know," he said.

Grisonce. It called with a more strength. He shivered. The deep voice came from the purple flames.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" the High Priest said then gasped. "Gris, your eyes..."

He looked at Lord Hercones' fearful face. Lord Maurice too looked shocked and the two seemed to back or lean away.

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're gone..." Lord Hercones said.

Grisonce! The voice was louder and sharper now, sending a sharp pain through his head and his ears. He cringed and squeezed his eyes closed, but not for too long. He allowed the energy summoning him to guide him to the top of the pillar. The purple flames were bright and shining strong like the sun, but it didn't affect him for some reason.

He squinted into the flames and saw Mageia sitting on her knees. Her eyes were closed, and her long hair was now cut short to her ears. His face and body grew hot as his uncontrolled gaze soaked in her body free of covering. A strange marking adorned her chest, a hexagon with six small circles beside the sharp corners. It glowed on it's own with power coming from within her.

She was beautiful.

Cautiously, he touched the purple flames radiating heat, but it was cool and relaxing to the touch. He slid his hand further into it and Mageia stirred. He gasped, afraid he had done something wrong, but she did not wake up. The fire expanded and consumed him.

Grisonce Arlon, the voice said, but he could feel it come from behind him.

He turned on his knees and his jaw dropped. Standing on a white marble floor was a man possibly in his mid-fifties or younger. Gris couldn't distinguish the age because his skin was clear of wrinkles except beneath his eyes and on the corners of his lips. Gray had slid into his purple hair, hanging like curly drapes about his shoulders. He wore a white tunic and leaned on a silver and purple cane with a crystal ball on its top. But it was his eyes that instantly identified this old man. Purple like Mageia's, but darker and full of knowledge, experience, and wisdom.

"You're a Fairest," Gris said.

"I am," he said face remaining stern, but Gris could feel innocence and anxiety in this man, "Tiivon Seviine as you know as the Vanished King."

Gris nodded.

"I don't have much time," he said. "I'm appearing to you because if Mageia and I meet right now, it would cause her to Ascend immaturely, and reopen the Starliin. This will reveal the location of myself and the Ordained."

"The Ordained?" Gris said feeling a nasty pressure against his chest.

"The other Fairests," he said.

"I don't understand," Gris said.

"Valeera is in danger, has been for centuries now. Some of the Divines has become corrupted. Rasaal and Mesori are bent on shattering the Starliin to wreak havoc on Valeera. They also have captured and trapped the Ordained in their own realm. Dawnis and Danala wants to destroy Valeera and start over fresh. No one in the Serene or on Valeera can be trusted. You must tell Mageia to come to Fairlaana, seek the Last Fair Tree, smear it with her blood and only then can we properly meet. She will obtain the rest of her power and hopefully I pray it will free the Ordained. More will be explained once we are united. Do you understand?"

"Um... I guess so," he said unable to choose a question of the hundreds swarming his head.

"Good. Try not to leave her side, son of Komali. I will try and come to you again. Protect her and restore the anointing of the Komali line."

"But -,"

"Tell no one of this vision except Mageia. She will understand," he said.

Tiivon Seviine closed his eyes and the flames returned and passed through him. When he opened his eyes, the flames surrounding Mageia was gone. The sky remained a strange eerie purple now.

"Grisonce," he heard his father shouting from below.

He didn't know whether to laugh or to be afraid after receiving such a vision. Mageia still glowed and instantly he grew concerned that she might be cold. He took off his cloak and carefully wrapped it around her. He lied her down on the charred wooden platform and called for help. Two soldiers ascended and carried her down the pillar and placed her on a carrybed.

Gris was embraced by the King who checked his face and body. "What happened up there? I thought you were going to burn up."

"I am fine. I must protect her."

"What's going on?"

"I was right," he glared and shook off the King's hands. "Mageia Unknown is the Fairest. Promised by Hamino and prophesied by the Vanished King."

Eron stood flustered behind the King, skin almost sheet white. Lord Hercones pressed a hand to his heart and panted in an unraveling shock.

"You had a vision did you not?" Lord Hercones said. "I've read about what that looks like."

Gris averted his eyes to the floor, relieved they were back to normal.

"You had a vision?" the King said voice shaky. It caught his attention. He glanced at the beastly man who now stared at him as if he was a ghost.

"She must be protected until she wakes up," he said. "Use the royal ferry and take her to the infirmary. It's quicker."

"I'm coming with you," the King said.

"No," Gris said with angry force that made everyone freeze. "Come, Lord Hercones."

The High Priest bopped his head and followed the prince with Lord Maurice to the exit route. Used for when the Ceremony was over, royals and officials would sail upriver to the palace rather than the long way they came. The King and his unruly company would have to take another ferry. The last thing he needed was for ignorance to bother him at a time like this.

The vision and meeting Tiivon Seviine on such dire circumstances unnerved him. No one can be trust, floated repeatedly in his mind. He gripped the hilt of his sword as they traveled upriver. Gris knew his kingdom was going to fold on itself after tonight. By the wide eyes staring at the unconscious Mageia and the purple sky, he may just have to use his sword.