Time passed. Many summers came and went with many more Tiani children taken by the Master Magi. But there was no sign of Aria anywhere. Word had quickly reached her caravan that she had not been on the road as was generally thought and while many of her kin had gone out into the plains searching for her, no one was successful. Not even Bellna with her gift of sight could find her daughter and so she resigned herself to knowing that her dear Aria was lost forever. More than a decade had passed and as the mists encroached on the plains once more a woman found the body of a Tiani girl lying on the ground. The woman saw how the girl had a pack with her, but how the soft clothes and quilts within it could not protect her from the arrows that were protruding from her back. She had been killed maliciously and the woman who found her was quite angry. “She was no older than I was when I ran away,” the woman who had found the girl stated as she looked to her mentor, barely able to keep her anger reigned in. “Why is she dead?”

Her mentor sighed. “The Magi do not tolerate runaways. They do whatever they can to ensure that they control the powers of others even though it is not their power to control.”

“Then how did I manage to escape Helyna?” she asked, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

“You escaped because the mists veiled you Aria,” Helyna, the woman who had found her explained. “It is the will of the gods that you should have a greater destiny.”

Aria looked at her mentor and protector through narrowed eyes. “What do you speak of Helyna? What greater destiny?”

Helyna shook her head, refusing to give the answer. “You know of what I speak Aria, you had the visions that took you not to Ki’en but to me.”

Aria sighed and nodded. “I know, but I am afraid.”

“We are all afraid of something,” Helyna stated wisely. “You must overcome your fears if you are to become the Witch of Arethain.”

“You know, I do not understand,” Aria began as she turned to her mentor. “You have said that I am to become the next Witch of Arethain, but why me?”

Helyna smiled. “Dear child, you know that answer to that question just as you know the answer to almost every challenge or problem that comes your way. You have the gift of sight and-”

“-and all I must do is listen to my inner heart for it knows all,” finished Aria with a sigh. “I guess that the time has come, has it not.”

Helyna nodded. “The Tiani can no longer be subjugated to the Magi, and it is high time that the Magi learn that they are not the only ones in Arethain who possess power,” she paused and turned to her young pupil. “You have the power Aria- use it to save your kin.”

Aria took one look at the smiling, elderly face of Helyna who had been her mentor over the years and nodded. Then turning back to the mist, Aria closed her eyes and allowed herself to become one with the water droplets around her. Helyna watched as her pupil disappeared into the mist before her. “Good luck Aria,” she whispered as the mist rolled away allowing the plains to be bathed in the golden light of the summer sun. “May you succeed in your quest…”

#

The summer sun was setting and twilight had descended upon the city of Ki’en when the mist rolled into the city. The simple merchants and peasants who lived outside the great castle walls hurried into their homes in fear. They knew the legends of the witch who lived in the mists and none of them wanted to meet such a fierce creature. But of course, the witch that they were afraid of was not the with of legends and yet as the mist rolled over the walls and began to seep through the cracks of the castle, even the Magi Dyrnel was nervous. “Double the guards,” he whispered to his Magi Apprentice a young woman whom he had taken under his wing more than a decade previous despite the calls from the Magi Council that she should be enslaved to a Magi household. “There is something afoul tonight.” And as he watched the mist roll into the castle from his post on the high tower, Magi Dyrnel was afraid.

#

But while the Magi Dyrnel was afraid, the grand ball in honour of the coronation of King Joran was taking place. Out of the thousand or so nobles and Magi that lived within the boarders of Arethain only three hundred were chosen to celebrate with the new King and all of them were dressed in their finest silk garments. The women all had their long hair done up in elegant knots on their heads with their most precious jewels around their necks. The men looked like feasting knights with their over tunics displaying the seal of the royal house- a circle with an upturned crescent moon within it, and a smaller filled in circle within the crescent. And overseeing it all was the new King, Joran a tall man with broad shoulders and hair that looked as though it had been kissed by the sun. He had a rosy complexion that brought out the blue of his eyes and it was he who first notice the mist.

It seeped into the ballroom slowly and did not attract the notice of the lords and ladies who were dancing to the lively music. But Joran did notice, and he stepped down from his diadem in order to investigate. However by the time he had woven his way through the throng of dancers and ascended the steps that led out of the grand ballroom he found no sign of the mist. Only a woman whom he had never seen before standing before him in a dress of dyed green silk that looked to be embroidered with spun gold. He noticed that she wore matching green dancing slippers around her feet and he saw that her raven-black hair was wound around her head in a large knot with sparkling green emerald clips keeping it all in place. Around her neck she wore a simple necklace of woven twine with a black stone resting upon her breastbone. In that moment, Joran knew that he had to know who she was, and the best way to do that was through a dance. And so when she turned to face him, he had one question;

“May I have this dance?” he asked, extending his hand to the woman before him.

“Pardon?” she asked back, her amber-brown eyes going wide.

“May I have this dance m’lady,” Joran asked again. “You have come to my coronation ball and-”

“You are the king?”

Joran looked at the woman before him, amazed that she would not know who he was. “Of course I am the King, what would make you think otherwise?”

The woman shrugged looking completely innocent as though she really did not know who he was. “I heard that King Fyr was an old man,” she stated simply.

“I am not King Fyr, I am his youngest son, Joran,” he stated with a bow.

“I am Aria,” she responded with a curtsy of her own. “And I must speak to you immediately sire.”

Joran nodded. “Of course, but you must do me the honour of a dance.”

“Of course,” Aria assured with a smile, knowing that she had to dance with the King if she ever wanted to talk to him about changing his laws against the Tiani Gypsies.

Being the King, Joran signalled the musicians to begin another song and the music changed from a bouncing jug to a romantic waltz. Joran then extended his hand to Aria who took it, a blush rising to her pale cheeks as she did so. Together, they descended down the steps to the floor of the grand ballroom where the guests made room for their new King and his dance partner. Near the diadem there arose a gasp. Master Dyrnel who had followed his suspicions to the grand ballroom looked to his apprentice with curiosity. “What is it Morani?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What do you see?”

“I see nothing master,” she whispered her eyes fixed upon the King and his partner. “I feel or rather sense a familiar presence,” Morani paused and looked to Dyrnel. “Master Dyrnel I believe that the woman dancing with our King is Aria.”

“Aria?” Dyrnel asked, turning his attention back to the ballroom floor as though he did not know what Morani was speaking of. “Are you sure? She was lost in the mists years ago.”

“I know that master,” she assured. “But Aria and I were best friends for the first half of our life.”

Dyrnel turned to his apprentice sharply. “You have, and will spend the rest of your life here among the nobles and the Magi of Arethain. Are you certain you know where your loyalties lie Morani?”

Startled, Morani took a quick glance at the woman who had once been her best friend as a girl before turning back to her master. “Of course,” she whispered finally. “I know where my loyalties lie.” Dyrnel smiled but said nothing. Instead he turned his attention back to the couple which was dancing in the centre of the marbled floor and he saw that they were laughing amicably.

“You are a mystery to me,” Joran said with a smile as he lead Aria around the floor. “You have the complexion of a gypsy, but you speak like a woman of the plains and you are dressed like a noble of my court. Where have you come from? And who are you really?”

Aria smiled flirtatiously and leaned in close to the King. “Do you really want to know where I come from m’lord?”

“Of course,” Joran assured. “I would not ask if I did not want to know,” he paused and then smiled playfully. “You’re not one of the fae are you? A creature of light and air, never to spend more than a night on this earthly plane?”

Aria laughed. “No m’lord I am no fae, I am flesh and blood like yourself. However,” she continued lowering her voice to a whisper. “I am a witch and I come from the mists.”

Joran’s eyes widened as he pulled away. “You are the Witch of Arethain?” he asked in shock. “You?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Aria asked, playfully raising an eyebrow.

“I was expecting the witch to be much older,” he explained as he looked into her eyes. “After all the legend of the witch has been around since my father was a young prince.”

Aria nodded. “That is true m’lord but that witch is growing old and she took me as her assistant.”

“Which explains why you are so young….”

“Exactly,” Aria said with a smile. “In fact I possess powers that the previous witch does not have.”

“You’ve enticed my curiosity.” Joran admitted as he bowed coinciding with the end of the waltz.

Aria curtsied and then looked up at the man who was her king. “I read palm’s m’lord. It is a gift that was passed to my people by the demi-goddess Huira and it is known to be quite accurate. Would you like to have a reading?”

“Oh yes please.” Joran stated with a gleeful smile as he took Aria by the hand and led her back to the diadem, the members of his court beginning yet another dance. King Joran sat down in his bejewelled throne oblivious to the Master Magi that was standing beside him. Aria was equally as oblivious as she sat down on one of the lesser thrones that was reserved for the wife of the king.

“Now m’lord, I need you to give me your hand.”

“In marriage?” Joran asked, his blue eyes twinkling at the joke he made.

Aria shook her head. “If I could only be so lucky,” she stated with a smile, pleased with how at ease she was with the royal man before her. “No, I need you to give me your hand so that I can look at it and see what the future holds for you.”

Joran smiled and did as he was commanded, but as soon as Aria touched his hand she got a waking vision and it was the most powerful one that she had ever had in her entire life. Images of death, despair and decay flashed through her mind’s eye and they were accompanied by the sounds of swords clashing, women screaming and men dying. And amidst the splintered images Aria could see one more clearly than the rest. It was an image of the Master Magi who had wanted to take her away more than a decade ago and he was running the young King through with a shining metal sword. Aria could see the life draining away from the king’s eyes and she found herself screaming as though her scream could pull the life back into him.

What Aria forgot momentarily was that the images she was seeing was nothing but a vision and as such visions faded leaving her not in front of a dying man but the king who was staring at her with a perplexed gaze as her scream echoed around the now silent ballroom. Finally, when Aria realized that the vision had dissipated she looked to King Joran with fearful eyes. “M’lord,” she began with a wavering voice. “M’lord you must-”

“Seize her! She is an untrained!” interrupted a large voice and Aria turned to see six Magi men rushing the diadem. Startled Aria turned to Joran for support but the King was just looking at her with wide eyes and before she could dissolve into mist as she had done before, Aria found herself being hauled to her feet by the two of the Magi men.

“Please,” she begged as she struggled to get free. “Please let me go. I have to tell the King-”

“You shall tell his majesty nothing untrained,” ordered a voice, which Aria quickly discovered belonged to the Master Magi who had wanted to take her from her family all those years ago. “You are an untrained and as such you have been sentenced to rot in the dungeons.”

Aria’s eyes widened in shock. “What?” she exclaimed, shaken to hear her sentence without a trial. “What about a trial?”

The Master Magi laughed. “An untrained such as yourself does not warrant the respect for a trial.”

“Wait-”

“Take her away,” the Master Magi ordered ignoring Aria’s protests. And she knew that causing another scene would just get her into more trouble. So she silently struggled in the hopes that she would be let free, yet that was not to be. And as she was taken up the grand staircase she looked behind her shoulder for a moment and saw King Joran looking at her with longing and confusion in his eyes. Right beside him was a face that she thought she would never see again and it too held a look of confusion but sadness as well. ‘Morani…’ she thought with a start as she recognized her dear friend, but before Aria could call out to Morani, she was taken out of the ballroom.

#

She was thrown into a dungeon with no courtesy, and as she fell to the ground she heard the sound of boots walking certainly over the stone floor. “Well I seem to have caught a little rat,” the voice taunted and Aria turned to see the Master Magi staring at her through the dungeon bars. “What have you to say for yourself?”

Aria picked herself off the dirty cold floor and stared directly into the eyes of the Master Magi, “I say that your time of terror is at an end Dyrnel. I know what you are planning to do and I will not let you succeed.”

The Master Magi who was known as Dyrnel raised his eyebrow. “You know me?” he asked, a tone of amusement slipping into his voice. “How is it that you can know me? I do not recall giving you my name all those years ago.”

“That is true,” Aria agreed. “But you forget that I have the gift of sight and I will not let you enslave my people any longer…. And I will not let you kill King Joran.”

Dyrnel laughed. “Do you really think that you can stop me?” he asked watching Aria carefully.

“I know that I can stop you.”

Dyrnel narrowed his eyes, despising the defiance that Aria was showing. “We shall see,” he stated coldly. And with that he turned and left the dungeons with his red dress cloak billowing out behind him. Once he was gone, Aria allowed herself to fall back to the ground. She was furious at herself for getting caught, but she was more angry at Morani for not coming to her rescue.

‘I thought that we were supposed to be friends,’ she thought as she gripped the iron bars. ‘I thought-’

Aria? asked a voice, resonating in Aria’s head. Aria are you there?

“Morani?” whispered Aria her eyes darting to the shadows of her cell. “Mora is that you?”

There was a laugh which made Aria warm inside. Of course it is! Did you think that I had forgotten?

“You did not do anything in the ballroom,” Aria pointed out sadly.

I know, Morani answered with a sigh. But I could do nothing then.

“And what about now?” asked Aria, a feeling of expectation rising within her.

Now we put our plan in motion.

#

Aria was deep in meditation when she heard the sounds of someone else coming to visit her. When she opened her eyes she found a cloaked figure on the other side of the bars and instantly she was on her guard. “Who are you?” she asked rising to her feet. “What do you want?”

The cloaked stranger pushed back the hood to reveal his face and Aria was shocked to see King Joran standing before her. “M’lord?” she asked. “What are you doing here? Have you come to free me?”

Joran sighed and Aria could see that there was much sadness in his eyes. “I want you to know that this is not easy for me Aria. You have enchanted me but I must do as Dyrnel commands.”

Anger and betrayal rose up in Aria and she was shocked to feel the intensity of such feelings being directed towards the king. And Aria refused to give the king the satisfaction of knowing her true feelings. “How can you listen to Dyrnel?” she asked. “He is not King of Arethain is he? He has done nothing to warrant my respect and I do not understand what he could have done to you m’lord to ensure such loyalty and devotion.”

“Aria,” Joran began, his voice holding a shocked tone. “Dyrnel did all that he could to save my father’s life after he had saved mine during the plague that struck the city years ago. I owe him my life and-”

“-and you owe him nothing,” Aria interrupted angrily, shaking her head. “He will kill you.”

“Never.”

“He will,” Aria insisted, as the memory of her vision came back to her. “He will kill you on the tower on the night that the Tiani attack the Magi.”

Joran looked at her suspiciously. “And what night is that?”

Aria opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of war cries from beyond the castle walls spoke for her and with a knowing smile she closed her eyes, dissolved into mist before the king’s eyes and vanished into the cracks of the castle. Though she was not corporeal she could still sense and almost see what was going on around her. She could see her kin, the Tiani gypsies attacking every Magi stronghold in the city but more than that she saw that the charge was being lead by her own litter brother- but he was not so little anymore. Aria recognized other faces as well, her mother Bellna was treating the wounded townspeople, and her father Lehan was by fighting along his son’s side. Aria’s heart leapt at the sight of her family in tact but it was then that she sensed a cry from the great tower. Aria turned her attention to the tall peak and she saw that King Joran was fighting Magi Dyrnel and that he was losing. Cursing inwardly at the foolish king she descended upon the tower and blanketed it with fog effectively stopping the battle which she had stepped into the middle of.

“I see that you are not so untrained at all,” Dyrnel stated with a measure of respect in his voice as she revealed herself. “Where did you learn such a talent? Surely not from a Magi rogue or otherwise…”

“No,” Aria answered confidently as she stepped closer to Dyrnel the fog surrounding them completely. “I learnt it from a witch.” Then, before Dyrnel could do anything she unleashed a little of her power and as she expected, the Master Magi met her blow for blow.

“You’re going to have to do better than that witch if you ever want to defeat me.”

Aria narrowed her eyes, disgusted at how he spat out the word witch. “If you want me to do better than that, then I shall oblige.” And with that, Aria called on the mist and directed it into Dyrnel. It seeped into his pours slowly dissolving him as it did. Then, when she sent the mist away she found that only herself and Joran stood upon the tower.

Are you alright Aria? asked Morani, her voice resonating within Aria’s mind.

Yes, she answered back. Dyrnel is gone and the king is safe.

As are our people, Morani replied. They are free Aria. We have done it.

Yes my friend, Aria agreed a smile breaking onto her face as she telepathically communicated with her friend. Just as I have foreseen. Joran then stumbled over to his saviour clutching his side as though he was wounded and looking around as though he was searching for Dyrnel. “He is gone,” Aria answered knowing that that was the assurance King Joran needed. “I have sent him to the mists and because he does not know the mysteries he shall never be able to regain his true form.”

Joran looked at Aria blankly. “He tried to kill me.”

“I know m’lord,” Aria replied breaking off her telepathic link with Morani. “I did tell you that.”

“But how did you know?” he asked looking into her amber-brown eyes. “How?”

Aria smiled, pleased that her visions had not come to pass. The king was still alive and her people were free. Only parts of the city were burning and though she was not in dire straights she did have to rely on herself to save her people and the king. “I am the Witch of Arethain m’lord,” she answered plainly. “And I know all.”

AN- And there you have it. Thus ends this stage for Aria. But do not fear, a sequel is in the planning stages in my mind. So keep a look out for it and review this if you get the chance.