As preparation for the launch of my serial, Quest to Karantiri, I post this prompt I was given, to write a story that told of a character who was alien to their world, or otherwise did not fit in. Shadowhome is a kingdom to the east of Kalvara, beyond the woods that the people of Karantiri do not know of.
"What?"
The woman is gasping, still out of breath on the birthing table, but her eyes are wide. What the priestess has said cannot be true.
"I...do not take prophecy for truth, Ariia, but..." High Priestess Sahfa tucks her wings tightly to her back, shaking her head. "Lutha is kind. This...I must have..."
"Priestess, you have never...never in your devotion to Her..." She cannot stop the tears. "You cannot promise me that what you have seen is false."
Sahfi's expression is carefully blank. "No, Ariia. I cannot promise that. All I can tell you is what I saw, and what I know of you...and how the two connect."
"Then take her away." The new mother's voice is broken with pain. "Take her away, and name her, Priestess. You will be the only one who can help her."
"As you wish." The nurses stay silent. It is all they can do.
---
The girl was raised in the care of the priestesses, never aware that she was not the child of them. They were all her mother and sisters; they were her family. She had one sister, who was like a twin to her, but in one fashion they were like the moon-time and the bright-time. Her sister was a talented shadow-walker, one of the best in all of their land. Her sister walked paths that only Lutha had tread before, she was sure.
But she...
She could not walk the shadows. Nor could she walk the light, like the highest of the priestesses.
She was the only hawk she knew who could not walk the paths made for them.
Lutha has a plan for you, the High Priestess would say. Time and time again, she repeated the mantra. Lutha has a plan for me. The Goddess has a plan for me.
And perhaps the Goddess did have a plan for her, as she slipped out of the temple and made for the waters. Perhaps the Goddess' plan included her stealing a boat from the nearby fisherman, setting what few belongings she had in the bottom, and pushing it—and her—into the water.
Perhaps the Goddess' plan included her being somewhere other than Shadowhome.
Because it was clear that she was no longer welcome there.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
For Rix's prompt of "an ill wind." Sent in Karantiri, this time with his Honor the Caller Meridnar - Carinth's father, during his time as Caller. 208 words.
The forests of Kalvara were quiet. The sunset caught the crystal and topaz of the Hall's construct, casting dazzling shattered fragments of light onto the marbled floor. A single candle flickered with a gust of unnoticed air – the tendrils of smoke from the remains of the evening's incense twirled up to the ceiling with innate laziness.
Meridnar was not at ease.
His Honor the Caller had served in the Hall of the Sun for decades now. He knew that within the next decade, he would choose to step down, and end the blood reign on the position. Too many Callers have died wearing the ring. His eyes traced down to Daranya, the symbol of his power, resting with hidden weight on his finger. I will not add to that chain. I will not force another one of my people – perhaps a member of my family – to that fate. I will end this cycle.
His eyes closed.
The future is not bright, but I daren't face it on my own. What comes on this turn of the fates is for the next Caller to lead, not I.
“There is a fell wind in this wood,” he said softly to himself.
For aldersprig's prompt of "the water of luck". I'm trying to write short ones this time, to keep you wanting more. ;) Set in the world of Quest to Karantiri, this time it's a mini jaunt into the world of the shadowhawks. 168 words.
The water here is sacred.
I'm not supposed to be at the fountain; people of my class aren't permitted. Only the light-walkers and the phoenixes may touch finger or feather to the water...but I do not have another choice anymore. The Goddess will forgive me.
...I pray that She will forgive me.
My feet are silent on the ground as I run. We are those that live in shadow, and I am the darkest of the nightwalkers – if I wish to be silent, I am silent. Only the wind rushes through my ears, and I cannot hear a thing.
Please hold on, sister. Please hold on.
She is the first of her kind on our island – the humans have never tried speaking with us before. And if I find the human and under my watch her health fails, I will be sentenced to death. I cannot let her fail.
Her clothing is beautiful. I think she is a queen.
This is a story based on a sideline race in my Karantiri series, the cossen. The are people of the elements – quite literally, an element born into a humanoid body.
Used Lyn Thorne-Alder's prompt of "Elemental Relationships".
Rimen sat quietly on the stone fence around his house, staring out into the night sky. It was winter now, the time he felt most comfortable. Lines of hoarfrost traced along the surface on which he sat, delicate patterns that with a touch of almost any hand but his, would melt away in an instant.
He had hoped the trip to visit the Queen of Karantiri would ease his heart. It would have made the occasion hurt less. But the fact remained that he and the Queen were always friends and no more...and that the people of Karantiri would never allow a cossen to sit on their throne.
...Never mind what his own people might think.
They were a people unto themselves, giving their help to those they trusted but refusing anything in return. As such, they lived very calmly – and very solitarily – in their own borders, never venturing outside. So his choices were fairly limited, when it came to courtship – at least, if he wanted to remain in the good graces of his kin.
Each winter, in the coldest month, they celebrated one day as a celebration of love and relationships. Most of the races he knew had some variation of it, though they weren't all celebrated the same way, nor at the same time. And this winter, Rimen knew exactly who he wanted to celebrate with.
But he couldn't.
From across the field, he saw a young woman in clothing of pure scarlet red step silently out of her door, peek back into the house, then shut the door again and come dashing over across the snow-covered grass. Steam rose from each step, and Rimen felt himself cringing at each footfall. But still he did not move.
“I thought I heard you'd come back,” she said breathlessly as she approached, staying several paces away but still close enough so that Rimen could feel the heat emanating from her.
“I delivered the message, and returned. King Stephen is passed – his daughter stands in his place.” Rimen turned to face her. “How do you feel, Nina?”
“Ill, as always.” She gave a humorless smirk. “I have never fared well in the winter.”
“I would assume not.” He stood, and held out his hand.
She seemed startled. “Rimen, you know we can't...”
“Please, Nina. Just for tonight.” She sighed, giving him a sad look but took the few steps forward and placed her hand in his. With practiced grace, he raised it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers, then let her hand go. She gasped at the burns that were already forming on his skin, but he didn't let her answer.
