“I have, I have been told, an unusual interest in Alti. I’ve studied the language and texts extensively. The kingdom was ruled by a single monarch, the srinn, though being expansive and largely wild, much of its affairs were handled by an elected council. Its military affairs were handled by the mesoh, the MASO of our modern day.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

"Yes Renzan srinn, I understand, sir.” The knight’s voice echoed down the vast halls of the Grand Castle of Altiannia, dissipating against the soundproof doors that split its walls. Heavy, wrought iron sconces filled with flaming blue watchstones sent dancing shadows against the stonework, casting light within the castle in conjunction with faintly glowing symbols placed along the walls and ceiling. During the day, a steadier but no warmer light would glance through windows placed high in the walls, but it had faded to a dull crimson glow with the sinking of the sun.

“We have not recently discovered any unidentified or unlicensed practitioners of the magical arts in Alti or outlying districts. We are working to close the case of the Issurak witch, but her whereabouts are currently unknown. The villagers will disclose no information on her. It’s possible they know nothing. At worst, she will not return to the cities, and will be isolated with the beasts.”

Cevora stood now, silhouetted against the dark walls with her ear pressed against the thick wood of the mostly-closed door, listening because she knew the conversation would turn to her own fate soon enough. Fifteen years had passed since the queen’s death. Fifteen long years…enough for Cevora to grow up, figurehead of the royal estate, beloved kuirsrinn – princess of the people, after passing the trials – and captive of her own birthright. Like her mother, dusty brown hair flowed in curling waves down her back from two silver barrettes. People called her beautiful sometimes, and rebellious others. Unlike her mother, her eyes were a darker shade of sea green, frightened, but not yet without hope.

“Your responsibilities to the city are secondary to those within this castle. I want you to turn all of your attention to monitoring my daughter. She clearly hopes to reconcile with the beasts, but we both know we’ll be at war with them within the year. If her divided loyalties reach the public, it will cause chaos. If she persists after the beasts are defeated, I may not be able to protect her from the outcry. Report everything suspicious she does directly to me, but word of this must not reach any ears other than my own. I want her safe.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

Cevora slowly twisted her fingers in the fabric of her thick gown. She knew the voice of the man in the other room. As childhood friends from the two most powerful houses in Altiannia, she and Illian had known each other their entire lives. At ten, the youngest of the Trent family had departed the company of his three older brothers to train as kivgha – a knight in the king’s company. She had been seven. How many times had she watched the kivgha train, peering around corners, tiptoeing between trees in the gardens? How many times had she and Sori, daughter of one of her mother’s kivgha, giggled as Illian struggled, only to bring him sweets from the kitchens when no one was looking? How many times had she watched him, alone in the late hours of the evening, training by the light of the ancient runes carved into the castle walls long after he had finished his duties to the crown? There was a reason he had proven true to the name of his family, becoming a fully appointed kivgha at the age of sixteen.

And at thirteen years, she had received her knight, kivgha of the kuirsrinn. Illian Trent. Her best friend, in a place where her friends numbered only Sori and dozens of people three times her age. But that friendship had ended with the death of her mother. Everything between them had been crushed by her father’s ambitions.

Her mother’s death had been her father’s death as well.

Since then, the king had been plagued by the failing relations between the kingdom of Alti and that of the dragons, and by the war that ever-loomed on the horizon. Early on, Illian had been forced to take up the responsibilities afforded his military family, leaving her to scheme with Sori, whose mother had also died that night. Together, they tried to uncover what it was that had driven the queen into the Issurak before her death. When the two of them had packed up their things and stolen away to the deepwood, it had been Illian who caught them, Illian who imprisoned Sori and later stole Cevora’s best friend away, leaving her to haunt the halls of the castle alone.

How could she forgive him? It was possible she never would.

“There’s something on your mind, Illian,” the king’s voice came again.

“I’ve received word from Atlantis that the plague is spreading.”

“The plague…” there was a pause and the rustle of loose fabric. The king’s voice grew hoarse as he continued, “Half a year more and Nersifral will be completed. If we have to close the ports before then, so be it.”

“Yes, Renzan srinn.”

“Inform Barrin that I want the dragons fully prepared for combat. He expressed concern last we spoke that the beasts would not be fully grown, but we can’t afford to wait. Six months, Illian. If the beasts have not made the first move by then, perhaps we will, and our dragons will be ready.”

A deathly cold silence followed the king’s proclamation, broken only by the crackling of the blue fires on the walls.

“Yes, Renzan srinn,” Illian finally responded. Cevora’s frown deepened.

“Dismissed,” the king’s voice rang in the corridors once more. His sharp, short footsteps receded from the audience chamber, and in a moment Cevora was turning away, moving down the halls and out of sight. Silent as a ghost, she whisked around first one corner, then another, but still when she reached for the door to the tower, Illian’s voice stopped her.

Cevora turned slowly to stare at him. There was a pride in the set of his shoulders that she did not remember, and she had rarely seen him in his resplendent crimson and black armor.

“You should not listen in on the king’s conversations,” Illian warned softly. There was an edge to his voice, more caution than anger. Cevora ran deft fingers through her hair, all the time aware that he was studying her closely.

“What kind of father is too afraid to face his daughter, and sends one of the kivgha in his place? He would have you spy on me…I have to do my own spying.”

Illian looked unconvinced.

“He is making a mistake, Illian. If you have any sense of right and wrong left, you’ll try to stop him. If the Issurak is destroyed—.” Illian held a finger to his lips and his armor clanked softly.

“Kuirsrinn,” he began with an icy edge to his voice. She bowed her head to hide her respondent scowl. “I am, as you noted, kivgha, and this is my duty. The Issurak forest and its inhabitants do not fall under my care, but a certain princess does. I must monitor her to all extents within my power and report her behaviors to the king, most especially if they appear at all suspicious or rebellious in nature. You would do best to remember that.”

“What about Zarius?” Cevora asked, peering at him through her lashes. “Do you think the king will stop when the dragons beyond the wall are dead?”

Illian watched her, eyes dark. “I will not abandon him, kuirsrinn. We are all in danger. I know this. You know it. The dragon who I bonded with knows it better than either of us. He suns himself on the ramparts, staring out over the Issurak – a sanctuary to his kind, but not to him – and knows the day will come when he will be ordered to tear apart the beasts that should have been his brothers, his sisters. But make no mistake. We will be no better off.”

“Peace with the dragons is—”

“A dream, Cevora kuirsrinn. A comforting dream whose time has not yet come,” Illian stated firmly.

Cevora stared at him. Illian smiled and bowed slightly, bidding her goodnight, before he turned and strode swiftly away. The heavy scuff of his boots filled the stone corridors. Some emotion Cevora could not name had flickered behind his brown eyes. There was a message in his words – he was up to something.

She opened the door before her and stepped through quickly, gathering her gown to wind up the long staircase to the upper floors of the castle. When she reached the top, however, her eyes were drawn back down to the depths from which she had ascended.

A dream whose time has not yet come.

Something in the air was making her tremble, and her heartbeat quickened as she drew her eyes away from the stairs and took a hesitant step towards a window set into the cold wall. Its glass, rare in their country though it was, was slick and free of imperfections. It cast a rainbow glitter across her gown as she looked out into the golden sunset.

Altiannia, and beyond its grand gates the outlying city of Alti, were spread out before her in a great circle that encompassed much of the land around the castle. Within Altiannia itself, there was little besides the grand castle, a few large stables and houses, the hastily emptied wing of the armory that had been reserved for the dragons, and a great moat that was fed underground by the Altian River. It shone with a golden hue cast by the setting sun. Long ago it had been said that the land was named Alti by the Atlantians, a name adopted as tribute to the larger and better populated continent of Atlantis that had originally spawned both sister isles. But Alti was no longer a shadow of the larger country; it was a second, glimmering facet of the magical world.

And the city of Alti, the main trade center and port of the entire island…her eyes drifted across hundreds upon hundreds of darting shapes roving about the distant buildings, people making their final preparations for the coming night in the waning light of day. This city, however great it may appear to be, was dwarfed by the trees that stood at its edge. Even the massive MASO construct, rearing from within the castle’s central gate, was dwarfed by the soaring boughs of the Issurak forest.

A smile graced the princess’s lips, rare and fleeting as a fallen star. The forest itself crept forward like a living thing, a beast that had eaten into the heart of Alti and sat closely nestled amidst the human habitations, offering shade but nothing more to the creatures beyond its borders. It was a massive beast of green, red, and silver hues, endowed with great magical power more terrible even than that of the dragons that called it home.

Cevora closed her eyes, reaching with her senses. Yes, the forest was there, as always - a dark, heavy smudge against the horizon. But today there was something there that had not been there before, another great magic that danced at the very edges of her senses, barely eluding the grasp of her mind. What was it?

Her eyes snapped open again as the last traces of red sunset drained from the sky. All color swiftly followed, until only the deep, velvety black of a night sprinkled lightly with stars remained. In the new darkness, she frowned and clenched her hands into fists.

“Why does he not see that we must, at all costs, uphold the Keliarn Agreement? The beasts must feel the same. When the forest is gone and the dragons defeated, we won’t gain anything. Not even revenge for my mother, who was killed by some rogue creature with a hatred of mankind, a creature probably long dead already itself.” Tears began streaming down her cheeks, and Cevora dashed at them angrily with her fingertips. “I must do my duty to protect the creatures that live in our land, no matter the cost to me. No matter the cost to any of us.”

She looked at her fingers, clenching and unclenching them so that the slightly bloody nail marks in her palms faded, and then watched as her warm magic seeped into the shallow wounds and they vanished.

“I will not let Alti be destroyed,” she said softly, “by anyone.”