Dhara's life was turned upside down once before, and she had recovered nicely from it, thank you very much.
Then the king dies, which is enough cause for worry, and the reason for all the past upheaval in her life walks in through the front door wit...
Dhara had been in love, once. She had met a guy back home in Torbend, and they had dated for 3 years. She had been so sure that he was the one, and then he had chosen to live a life that didn't include her. He claimed that it was for her good that he wasn't taking her with him, but how did that explain anything? They were in love, had planned their life together, had sworn to each other that they would be together through everything and anything, then he decides that leaving her was for her good? That was rubbish.
Immediately he left, Dhara had to leave Torbend. Brynn, her best friend since university, lived in Malia, a large town that was about 4 days away from Torbend on horseback, 2 by car. The pitying stares and well-meaning words of comfort had been too much to bear, so she called Brynn, who readily invited her over, and she had been in Malia since then.
She became the most sought-after charm maker and spell caster in her part of Malia, and wasn't ready to hear about relationships or marriage or any of that, even though it had been 10 years since Malachi left. Sure, she had met guys, dated a few, but her heart wasn't in it. When she met the right one, she would know.
Her parents and entire family were worried because she was thirty years old, had no prospects, and had no kids since she strictly adhered to The Creator's rules of no sex outside the matrimonial bed. Others were more flexible with it; her mother surely wouldn't mind, but Dhara refused to indulge, for personal reasons.
Dhara sat on the porch of her home, Owl perched somewhere on one of the beams that held up the roof, out of the sun and asleep. Clients came and went, picking up their purchases or placing orders. Brynn worked at the Malian Mage Headquarters as an Analyst. Her mage power was the ability to ferret out information, no matter how obscure, and see patterns in data collected that could predict future happenings or interpret past events.
Her flighty attitude made people underestimate her, usually to their detriment, and because she was so good, she kept her hours at her job, something no one else could do.
Brynn was at work, a rare thing, and Dhara patiently talked with those who weren't sure what they needed, when her wind chimes tinkled, a deeper sound than one would expect from a wind chime. Dhara tensed, then looked up casually. The street was as busy as it got at 1 in the afternoon, with solar-powered cars moving noiselessly beside trotting horses, and the occasional enchanted cart or carriage. School had closed for the First School kids, and parents and guardians dropped them off, while others went on a break from their jobs.
Everything seemed normal, but Dhara had spelled her wind chimes to alert her of any danger. There was danger; she just couldn't see it. She glanced up to see Owl awake and glaring, her gaze roving around the porch and beyond, where she could see.
If Owl was awake, whatever the problem was, was life-threatening.
"Uh, hey, everyone," Dhara said, getting their attention. "Please send your requests via orb. Something's come up, sorry I have to cut this short."
The 7 people thanked her and left, promising to send her their questions as soon as they got home. Once they were out of view of her porch, Dhara got up, took her charm basket and leaflets into the house, and grabbed a broom on the way out. She locked the door behind her and paced the length of the porch, sweeping and muttering under her breath. Owl flew down and settled on the back of the chair, occasionally ruffling her feathers and looking around.
Dhara walked back and forth 3 times, and as soon as she stopped in front of her door, a greyish light appeared ten feet away. Her house was about 30 feet from the road, and her lawn was carpeted with thick, low growing grass. The light grew into a man-sized hole, and men dressed in black armor stepped out of it.
Dhara resisted the urge to let go of her broom and wipe her hands on her linen pants. She sorely wished she was wearing some stretchy pants, but that couldn't be helped, now.
5 men stepped out of the hole and stood, waiting. A final person walked out, a woman in a grey, hooded, floor-length coat, the same color as the pulsing light that Dhara recognized as a portal. The kind only created by a very powerful Dark sorcerer.
The woman walked up to the bottom step of the five steps that led up to the porch and stopped. She carefully pushed back her hood and looked up, a smile on her cold, beautiful lips.
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After the Queen's 2 weeks of mourning, Malachi was reassigned to be Prince Lucius' Chief Guard. Everyone knew the reassignment for it was: a demotion. He couldn't decide how he felt about that. His second-in-command, Damien, had been made Captain of the Guard, and Malachi was happy for him.
He took his reassignment seriously, as he did everything else, and shadowed the young boy everywhere he went. But, since Prince Lucius was the youngest prince with no real claim to the throne, Malachi's duties as his Chief Guard were a bit more relaxed than before. He entertained ideas of traveling, of taking a long-overdue leave and going to Torbend to see his family, and to inquire after a lost flame.
He deliberately didn't seek out any information about Dhara in the ten years since he left for the king's palace, and avoided asking of her from friends and family back home. They hadn't parted on the best terms, but he had hoped that time and distance would do some healing.
And ten years went by.
Malachi followed his royal charge as he walked through the palace gardens, a favorite past time of his. The 8-year-old was quiet, as though perpetually deep in thought; soft-spoken, and polite. The palace staff liked him for that last part and went out of their way to be nice to him, even though he was half-sorcerer spawn.
The gardens were a vast, well-tended jungle of trees, shrubs, topiaries, fountains, and flowers of every shape and color. Prince Lucius stopped at a cleverly cut bush that depicted a dancing satyr. He stood there, studying it, when Malachi felt a tingle, like they were being watched.
"Your Highness..." he started, just as the satyr leaped to grab the prince.
