“But she is a baby! She is only five.” Rotallius snapped. “We can’t just abandon her!” She glided across the large room to warm her hands at the fire. Her long gray hair flowed around her face and fell nearly to her waist. She turned to the figure standing in the doorway. “We have already lost so much.” Her voice broke and she stood for a moment, head bowed. “She is the only hope we have left.”
Plebius sent a frosty look across the room. “I know she is young,” he said. “But, she will be safe with her aunt. It is too dangerous for her to be here right now.” He sighed and crossed over to the large table in the center of the room. Moving a stack of books from a chair, he folded himself into the chair, stretching his long legs in front of himself, and sighed deeply.
Rotallius nodded. “I know,” she said. “But when will it ever be safe?” Her eyes flashed as she added, “I could take her.” She held up as a hand as Plebius started to protest. “I know I am old, but I could – and would – protect her with my life!”
“What do you think the Lord LacTiri,” he spat, “would do to her if she were discovered?” He added, in a gentler tone, “And to anyone who protected her?”
Rotallius sighed. “You are right, as usual. But how are we to protect her in that place?” Brows furrowed, she stared off into the distance.
Plebius bared his teeth in a smile which didn’t reach his eyes. “The Mark of her Father’s House will protect her. Besides, I have sent the birds. They will not only watch, but will let us know when she is ready to return.”
“Return?” a gravelly voice spoke from near the corner of the fireplace. A tall man stood there, wrapped in a long gray cloak. The eyes hidden beneath the cowl and his shadowed face both carried a scowl. “Are you sure she should ever return? There will always be danger for her here. LacTiri grows stronger each day and his power will grow each year in the winter. The little one will be safer in the human world.” His voice broke slightly. “Especially now that her parents are … gone.”
Plebius broke the silence. “She will – and must – return when she is old enough,” he said. He added, in a voice that brooked no further argument, “she must return; because she is the Girl of the Prophesy!”
A long silence stretched between the three, each buried in their own thoughts. The room seemed to become colder and darker. They all jumped when, with a whoosh, a tiny figure appeared in the doorway. “It is time. The Way is open, but not for long.”
Everyone looked at the tall man. “Greetings, Mindarro!” he said quietly. “I am ready,” he sighed. He closed his eyes as Mindarro whispered some words into the air around him. He opened them and found himself in a woods, next to an old tower. Feeling an unfamiliar weight on his face, he reached up and adjusted the thick glasses.
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