Birthright: The Contested Seat

Lyra

Lyra steadied her hand over the sick man's brow and channeled her magic slowly. The air between her hand and his forehead rippled like heat waves on a hot summer day. Though the magic looked similar to something perceived as hot, it was rather cool. His sweating face, distorted with pain, began to ease into one of relief. It wasn't long before the man was softly snoring, and Lyra withdrew the steady flow of magic.

As soon as the magic ceased, Lyra felt lightheaded. Magic didn't come freely, and Lyra had been using it all day to help ease the pain of those suffering from Torren's plague. She sat down next to the man on his mat for some time until the room stopped spinning.

"My princess, you really should go home to rest. You will be of no help if you yourself are incapacitated," came the familiar voice of Ersa, First Healer to the Royal Family.

"Maybe you are right. If I use any more magic today, I may not wake up in the morning. Sometimes, I wish magic didn't have to draw on our very essence for power."

"That is the price you pay when you are blessed with the gift, but so many are doing well because of you and some may even pull through," said Ersa as she wiped the sweat from Lyra's brow.

"While that may be true, my brother is in Alwyn this very minute, putting down a group of plague deniers who have been trying to breach the wall and sail for other lands," said Lyra as she monitored the man's breathing.

"The people don't see that your parents are only trying to keep the plague from spreading outside of Torren. Even the people who are not yet infected must remain to keep other realms from becoming tainted."

"That, among other things. I'm not entirely sure that the plague is the only reason my parents have for keeping everyone here. There was no one trying to scale the wall before the plague, when they had the free will to leave if they wished. Now, it's like this sickness has opened their eyes and driven them to reconsider the wall's purpose. They think my parents, their own king and queen, are holding them prisoner," said Lyra as she tried to stand. 

Moving to her side, Ersa helped her up.

"The people love your parents, and they love you and your brother as well. Don't fill your head with such conspiracies at such a young age. They will be like to drive you mad dear."

Lyra smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"Thank you, Ersa, I will retire to my quarters now. Wake me if someone takes a turn for the worse."

Lyra stepped into the brisk night air and drew in a deep breath. Even the air smelled of plague. No one knew what brought it here. Every mage dedicated their magic to finding the cause and when none was found, the sorcerers of the Enchanted Cities and even the mysterious druids of the Whispering Cities came to Callalaya to offer their magic.

Even with the combined power of all those gifted with magical abilities, no one could trace the plague. It was baffling, and even terrifying. There wasn't much that could terrify the people of Torren, for magic solved most of the problems that troubled other lands. However, the plague was real, and it was taking lives.

Being met by her handmaidens, Lyra began her walk up to the castle. She worried about her twin, dealing with the rebels in Alwyn and wondered if it was going well. She hadn't heard from him in a fortnight and worry had overtaken her.

After entering her chambers, she felt she had enough energy to contact her brother. Being twins, and of a magical bloodline, they had the unique ability to communicate with their minds. The longer their conversations held, the more energy it took from them.

She sat down at the foot of her bed, shut her eyes, and extended her consciousness outward. Feeling his consciousness near, she called to him.

"Warren?" she thought out.