Footsteps imprinted in the snow led me forward, beckoning me to follow. Past stone monuments larger than any living tree, past buildings as wide as rivers, I followed dutifully. My eyes to the ground, I barely noticed my surroundings. What I did notice, however, was the bitter cold pounding against my thin silks. I possessed neither coat nor shoes. Behind me, my own bloody footprints joined those of the ones I tracked.

Here, I realized, as I slowed to a stop, here was where I was going. The sun was not visible, but I could feel its heat on my back as my eyes rose for the first time. They feasted on a view unlike any I had ever seen. Black stone covered by the pure white of snow contrasted with the crystal blue of the sky high above. A door, so massive I wondered how many men must be required to open it, stood regally before me. A large knocker shaped in the image of an eagle carrying a double-edged sword was at eyelevel. Knowing I must knock, I slammed the eagle against the door. The sound of the knocker hitting the door was not only loud, but threatening. I dropped the knocker in alarm and watched as the door swung open, no men visible. Heat wafted gently from the hall that was revealed, warming my cheeks. The hall itself was long with white engravings on the marble walls. At the far end stood a large fireplace, roaring with a red hot fire that consumed several large logs on a black grate.

I began my march to the end, stepping over the building’s threshold. Even as my foot passed through, the door slammed behind me. I didn’t turn to look at it. I knew it was closed. Such things always happen on their own.

Further into the hallway I walked, my eyes caught by the fire. It was the source of the warm air wafting with the scent of rose perfume. How it produced such smells was a mystery. My silks brushed against my skin. A log cracked in the fire with a resonating pop, sending sparks dancing in the air. One spark did not die until it landed on the marble floor, dancing and dying. My mind was strangely saddened by this, the reason for which eluded me. Someone stepped in front of me, blocking the fire’s light and warmth. A wash of cold soaked my skin and darkness consumed me.

Even as my eyes fluttered open, the old woman Sani stuck her manly head in my face, her sour breath penetrating my struggling nose. I coughed, trying to cover up a gag that had suddenly risen from the base of my throat.

Sani drew back, scowling. “Cover your mouth when you cough. Spirits might enter you and steal your soul if you don’t.”

I took a deep breath, savoring every last drop. I was so hot, burning. My skin was soaked with my own sweat.

Sani squinted at me. “Sit up, sit up. I have little time.”

I did as she said, wiping the sweat off my forehead with my forearm. “Be patient. I just woke up.”

Her eyes flickered with curiosity, and a passion I’d never seen before. It scared me, but I tried to keep my face calm.

“What did you see?” She leaned forward again, sending the smell of her breath in my direction once more.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. She was a wise woman. How dare I roll my eyes at one such as her? But my mind responded with a sarcastic comment, one I smiled to listen to.

She saw my snicker and scowled. “Did you see anything at all, girl? You know what happens to those who don’t see the dreams!”

My smirk disappeared. Of course I knew what happened to those who didn’t dream. My best friend hadn’t.

“Speak! And don’t leave anything out. Everything will be important.”

I backed away from the old woman and looked down at my hands as I spoke. I told her of my dream. I told her how I walked through the snow, following footprints the same size as my own. My footprints were bloody. I reached a door with an eagle knocker. The door opened, a fireplace was at the end of the hall. I walked toward it, and before I reached it someone stepped out in front of me.

I stopped speaking abruptly. I’d left several things out, things I felt she did not need to know. The coldness, the heat, my silk clothes, my fear. These were things I knew already. I knew what they meant. Isolation, pressure, riches, poverty.

Sani rocked back in her squeaky wooden chair. Her eyes roamed my face as I stared up at her, hoping she didn’t realize I’d lied.

It was a sin to leave anything back from a wise woman.

“Ah.” Her eyes drifted, staring past my head. “An eagle carrying a double edged sword. Snow. Bloody footprints, most ominous. A blazing fire. A person cold as ice.” She paused.

I waited, knowing it was unwise to interrupt a wise woman in her wanderings.

“Yes,” her eyes drifted further into the unknown.

I glanced over at the scribe, making sure she was taking this down. I needn’t have bothered. Her quill was fervently scratching the sheet of parchment on the runic table. My unseeing eyes wandered back to the old woman. She was still staring off into space and time. This was a good sign, I’d heard. A sign of power. I ignored my own minds warnings of power and risings. It was the old woman’s prediction that mattered. Her mumblings would determine my future forever.

She smiled. “The eagle. It is the symbol of the great empire, the door of the great school. You follow footsteps, with your own bloody footsteps behind you. It will be a painful journey. What you follow will be elusive. The door will open for you, but you must take the initiative. Beware of the one with rose petals on her breath. Always walk toward the fire.” Her eyelids closed and opened with such rapidity that even my own magical sight almost didn’t see it. Her eyes were normal now as she looked to me. “Questions?”

The suddenness of it all felt as though I’d been soaked with freezing water. I nodded, stunned, my mouth agape.

“Too bad.” She grinned, displaying her rotting teeth. “I can’t remember a word I said. This is the way of the wise woman.”

My heart sank. I should have remembered, should have realized the purpose of the scribe. It was true. No wise woman ever remembered the prophesies she made. The scribe was required for the histories, so that the wise men could ponder them.

“Get out of the bed, have a drink of water to wash out the herbs, and leave.” Sani stood and turned her back on me.

Unnecessary, I thought to myself. The whole ordeal was unnecessary in the end! The prophecy had no direction, no pattern! What was I to make of it? What did it mean? Nothing I could see, and, as I took a sip of water, it suddenly dawned on me that the only reason for the dreams was to determine who would die and who would live. I was lucky. I would live.

I returned home, grumbling to myself. It was foolish to think the prophecy had anything to do with anything. Snow! What did snow have to do with it? It was summer! My mind roamed, scrambling for reasons why the entire ritual was worthless. I reached my house, walking ruthlessly up the dirt path to the door. But the door was blocked. A man stood in the doorway, glaring down at me over his jutting chin. My heart dropped to my stomach.

This, I knew, was the beginning.

I didn’t say a word as I walked up to him, knowing there was no need. He was the man who would take me to my future. My future was not in the village as I’d always thought. I would go, I knew, to the city of the monuments taller than trees, and snow whiter than an old woman’s hair.

He squinted at me. I squinted my blind eyes back. Surprise reflected in his eyes, in his face, in his entire body. He was not good at hiding his emotions as my people were.

“Mora?” He took a step away from me, as though seeking to protect himself.

“That is my name.” I was astonished my voice did not waver despite my many years of training.

“You are to pack your belongings and come with me.” His eyes roamed over me. “Bring warm clothes. And shoes.” He stared at my bare feet, apparently awed by the savageness of my culture.

“I will bring what I have.” I began toward him, and he moved eagerly out of the way, watching the blind girl make her way up the steps as though she could see.

I snickered once I’d passed him. What a fool he was. And this was the man who would be taking me to my future. What sort of omen was this? My sneer disappeared.

Ma stood against the frame of the kitchen fireplace. Her face was white, her hands shaking at her sides as she gripped the wall. I turned my face to her, and I smiled as reassuringly as I could. I did not stop to talk to her. That could wait. I made my way to my room, just past the rickety cupboard of herbs we kept for seasoning.

In my room, I stopped and stood still, taking it in for the last time. My bed on one wall. My window overlooking the valley. My clothes scattered on the floor. My black cat wound up tight as a ball on my pillow. A single rose in a vase on my window sill that now seemed to waft a dangerous scent my way. I did not like to inhale the smell now as I had this morning. My stomach churned at the touch of it.

I reached out to pet Sakur. She turned her yellow eyes on me and meowed plaintively. I nodded, confirming her suspicions that we were leaving. She merely yawned and returned to her blissful sleep. I sighed, wishing I could have such sweet peace of mind.

I turned to my chest, where I placed what few clothes I had along with my precious belongings. I did not need to feel for the clasp as the blind normally might. Though my eyes could not see, my mind could. There was no need to fumble about with my hands.

The chest creaked open, revealing my few objects. Though we were gifted to live in such a rich community, we ourselves were not rich. A comb, an extra silk blouse, another skirt, and a pair of sandals were all that immediately presented themselves. I picked these items up and placed them beside me as I kneeled down. Now I could see what hadn’t been immediately visible – a book, a tome so large I wondered if it was wise to bother bringing it. But it was my burden in life, just as my mothers was to be a widow. I must carry this book wherever I might go and learn how to read the words that were printed on its pages. So far I had not deciphered any of its words. Even its letters were unfamiliar, I thought as I hauled it out from the chest and silently opened the front cover. There, the strange scribbles greeted me. I sighed and closed it, realizing yet again that no matter how many times I stared at it I would not be able to read it. I set it beside me atop my clothes and turned my sight away from it. The book could wait, my future could not.

For a moment I cursed my people’s belief in fate. But I knew that what I cursed now once saved my life.

Once more I looked into the darkness of the chest. The darkness could hide nothing from me however blind I might be. There, in the darkest corner, was a catch that lifted when pressure’s applied. I pressed the catch, felt it pop lightly beneath my hands, and pulled the compartment door open. Inside the small compartment was a necklace that gleamed.

There are hundreds of stories about magical necklaces that have some extraordinary power. These necklaces always just happen to save the world somehow, whether it be by freeing people from a sure death or some ceasing of a natural disaster.

This necklace had only one power – the power to make me remember.

I tossed it in my hand, hardly looking at it, and stuffed it in my pocket. I gathered the things I’d pulled out of the chest and placed them carefully in a cloth bag.

I put shoes on.

Sighing, I turned to my cat who stared up at me with eyes brighter than the sun and fur darker than the cloudiest night.

“Well,” I said, “It’s time to go. Are you joining me?”

Sakur yawned again and began to shift. She stretched lazily and sauntered over to me.

I scratched her ears. “Well, then, we should go.”

I didn’t bother picking her up. She was willful cat and would not stand for that disgrace. I simply turned and she followed me out of the room. She had always been my faithful companion.

My mother still stood with her back against the wall clawing it. She stared at me in horror and pain.

It wasn’t to long ago that she’d revealed to me her fear; she feared I would leave, just like my father. And now that fear was coming true.

Fate, I sternly told myself. This is my fate and there’s nothing I can do about it. I must walk the path set out before me, even if my feet bleed behind me. My mother would never understand that. She’d always defied fate. She married a blacksmith, a man who would never amount to anything – and never did. He left when I was five. Why? Neither of us knew. He simply picked up his things, kissed my mother, turned to me and said, “Goodbye my little one.” He left.

Simple. Yet just as painful as this. Instead of my father, I was leaving and I suddenly knew how heartbreaking it is to leave one you love. Suddenly I admired my father for his simple words and straight face when he left us.

I could not keep my tears at bay. I felt them fall down my cheeks, over my lips, and drop from my chin to the floor.

“Mom.” I said, but I could say no further than that. My throat was threatening mutiny, taking courage from my tears’ rebellion.

My mother stared at me, her eyes wide with fear, her knuckles white. She shook her head as she suppressed a sob. “Leave.” Her voice, which was usually husky, was hoarse. She’d been crying for some time.

I didn’t want to leave. No matter what fate said I owed it I couldn’t leave my mother like this. I couldn’t leave her in rags, with tears falling down her face and her hair so unruly. She would fall apart, and, yet, fate had dealt this card, not I. I could no more deny my fate than deny myself.

I took a deep breath, tried to look into her eyes, and failed. My mouth opened as though I might say something, but nothing came out.

“Leave,” she whispered, and I knew I had her blessing as well as her forgiveness. Although she would mourn me, she would not hold a grudge merely because this was what I must do.

My heart tore at my soul as I turned my back on her, on my entire life, and walked out that door to follow a strange man into a strange world of black monuments.