The Fated | The Gate To Avalon

| prologue |

1277 A.D

The oil lamp gleamed dimly in the small room bedarkened by the end of day. A priceless chiffon curtain blackened by sooth and dirt did little to block the soft rays of the moon. Spurning the nightly buzz of insects in the undergrowth and in the cracks of the age-old walls, a willowy woman sat awake scribbling away on a tattered parchment stopping briefly only to brush her graying hair behind her ear.

She scribbled, hummed and scribbled again; dipping the feather into the vat of ink on the table. On her shoulder sat a sleek jetty raven, its claws curled tightly around the stiff material of her dress as it watched with red eyes in an eerie silence. She stopped writing after a while and scrolled through the parchment to correct any wrong words. She dropped the quill in the vat of ink, perching near a table filled with various oddities. When she found what she sought, she wobbled back to the end of the room and pulled out a vial of silver dust.

The knife gleaming malevolently in her hand, she muttered a few words, an ancient spell laced with black magic and slashed across her palm without so much as a flinch, letting blood drop generously onto the parchment.

The slick form of a bird, with feathers like molted ink cawed loudly, beating its wings until it flew up to recline at the window sill.

"Hush, Gorrack. Your interruption is not sought after." The woman scolded her pet, returning back to her work.

She sprinkled a few pinches of the silver dust onto the parchment and sealed it with a wave of her hand. A gleeful smile curved up on her face.

"This will ensure that the Evil One does not intercept the message. Her dingy trolls are everywhere." She said to herself, the wry smile still on her face. The bird squawked in support, shaking out its wings.

She quickly scribbled another note, this time addressing the head of Scirha Coven, Morwenna Líera telling her about the parchment and the truthfulness of the prophecy of Dhara. She asked her to make certain that the parchment didn't fall into wrong hands lest a great disaster befall the entire realms, for it was priceless. She asked the coven leader not to let her find the hidden message for as long stayed she was alive; it was crucial to all if the parchment and its contents were hidden from public eye for a long, long time if possible. She wrote and wrote until a tear fell from her eye and soaked the aging paper.

She folded the paper with a sigh and muttered a few ancient words and then in a blink of an eye, the paper vanished with a bright spark straight to its rightful receiver.

With another hefty sigh, she beckoned her pet to her. The raven squawked as it perched upon her shoulder. "Oh, Gorrack, at this hour 'tis only you I trust not even my own magic!" She exclaimed, scrubbing her eyes.

She tied a string to the parchment and then fastened the other end to her pet's claws. "Gorrack, you will take this parchment to the house of Eire-Cawdor and straight up to Heiress Líera's window. Wake her if she is asleep. Do not leave the window until she takes it from you. No one else should intercept it for it belongs only to Líera, do you understand?"

The raven cawed once more and lifted its wings ready to take flight.

"Wait, Gorrack!"

The woman unclasped her necklace; an intricately-made golden chain bedecked with little diamond pieces and finally finished up with a very large crystal gem that looked awkward on her neck.

She freed the gem from the pendant and watched it gleam, felt the power radiate off the uncut stone. It sparkled in the dim room, sending waves of light piercing through the darkness. So much power in a small stone.

With her magic, the woman secured the stone inside the parchment and muttered spells to shield the raw emanation of power from the gem. Soon, the raven took off to the skies, the priceless gem and parchment tied to its claws by a string. The woman muttered prayers to the Mother goddess, speaking her hopes of the valueless items reaching the right receiver else all might be lost.

She made no copies of the parchment.

She never left the old cottage.

A week later she was found rotten and decomposing, a vial of poison next to her body.