The rosewood door was closed. And remained closed. No matter how hard she pleaded, begged, cried. Her father had simply taken her upstairs, with a stern face and a hard hand on her shoulder. He'd opened the beautifully carved door, and after she had stepped over the threshold, he'd simply turned around and left her there with the sound of the turning lock still pounding her ears.
Neria glimpsed her reflection in the mirror she'd had in her room all her life. It had been her mother's. The long strand of red hair stood out like fire in her otherwise darkbrown hair, and the ka'tara were already starting to show. They were vague yet, but she knew that soon, they would fleck her temples very vividly.
She'd always been able to read her father's face, but this time, nothing had shown but determiniation. As the eldest daughter of Cranna's prefect, she'd been the apple of his eye. Sometimes she thought they shared the same mind. Even though she was young yet, she'd been trained to replace him when the time was right. From her childhood on in, she'd been drilled in all the subtleties which would be expected of her once she had taken his place. But all that was over now. She would become a Patternbearer. But in all likelyhood, not for long.
As long as Neria could remember, the subject of the Pattern and everything that was concerned with it, was shunned in Cranna. Of course she would hear whispers of it among the corridors of the elite school she had attended, but every reference to it had been banned from school material long ago. Even though, as the prefect's daughter, she had had access to parts of the large library of Circha no one else of her age had had access to, she had not been able to find anything resembling the subject matter. Which of course bothered her to no end, because Neria had always been a very eager student and an intelligent one to boot. She'd loved to learn history foremost, a trait that came in handy while she was preparing for her later succession. That one of the most important periods in history had been scrapped from the books, was a malady she'd sworn to rectify as soon as she became prefect. Until then, she had to make due with what she learned from overheard conversations and whispered gossip.
Oh yes, she had been confronted with the Pattern before. Not long ago, one of her friends had started to show the traits. First, the strand of strange-colored hair had appeared, and not long after, the first faint flecks had started to show along the hair implant. Her friend had disappeared from her vision not soon after. Apparently, her parents had secluded her somewhere and after that, nature had run it's course. When she'd asked her father about it, he had simply said that the breaking through of the Ka'tara was too much for the people of Cranna: they simply burned up, as if they'd never existed. When she asked whether there was nothing that could be done about it, he'd merely shaken his head and had gone on to other subject matters. Such as the precise inclination of her head when she greeted the other prefects in the large Council of Cranna. As if she cared about that!
Her maid, Kiella, had been far more indiscreet when she asked about the Ka'tara and what happened to a person after they had started showing.
"You don't know m'lass? When that odd strand of hair appears, and the flecks come along with it, it means you are a Patternbearer. A magician. Of old, they were said to have tried to destroy the world. They didn't succeed though, and now this is their punishment. People with the trait in them simply are not able to survive the breakthrough. Lucky enough as it is, can you imagine the likes of them roaming around the world again? Tsss..."
And she'd gone on with braiding Neria's long dark locks with a shake of her head.
Now, those long dark locks were stained with color...and all too soon Neria figured she'd find out what becoming a Patternbearer would mean for real.
She could feel it in her blood. A burning sensation, a vigorous feeling really. There had been cases where young people her age had shown all the signs of developing the Ka'tara, and then had lapsed back into normalness just as easily. But Neria knew it wouldn't be so for her. She felt things had progressed too far. She knew that when she would lift up her hair, she would see the Ka'tara come together in a delicate spiral at the nape of her neck.
She paced the room. Back and forth, back and forth. One two three steps, mirror. Turn. One two three steps, window looking out on the west. Turn. One two three steps, door. The room had never seemed small to her before, but now that she was closed in, and knew she was not likely to leave it ever again, the walls closed her in. She sat down at the windowsill, and looked out. It would be the last sunset she would ever see. Circha's bay shone brilliantly at her, with the crescent beaches and the busy harbor a little further downtown. She remembered all the times she'd taken one of the horses out of the stable and snuck out of the prefect's mansion by the back porch. She had loved to drive the horse through the uncoming waves, sniffing out the salty tang in the air. Sometimes she'd just walk beside the horse, kicking up waves and looking for buried treasures in the silt sand. She'd found a worn stone once which upon closer inspection showed traces of human handiwork. No doubt it had been washed in from the drowned islands further to the west. Neria didn't know their names, but she did know that they had been a vast bulwark for Patternbearers once. Of course this was again something she had asked Kiella about. If her father knew how much the woman had disclosed to her over the years, he'd probably have fired her.
Apparently, of so Kiella said, the Patternbearers had been at anger with the world and had felt utterly superior. Superior enough to want to overthrow the government at that time that lead Cranna and its different prefects. They had managed to build a magical weapon, which they had used as a threat to force Cranna's government into submission. They had failed however. Somehow, by sabotage or by construction error, their weapon had turned against them and had caused the islands to sink beneath the surface of the sea. The natural forces which had been let loose had hit Cranna hard as well, and most of the prefect Cranna, which was situated on the northwest of the continent, had sunken below the sea at well. The entire capital had been swallowed, taking most of the library and the vast collection of scrolls with it. Everything had to be rebuilt, and by the time that was accomplished, many years had turned and much knowledge had been lost. Which was one of the reasons that little was known about these years.
"Neria?"
A quiet voice reached her ears through the panelled door. Phaedre. Of course. Neria jumped from the windowsill and knelt in front of the door, looking through the keyhole. A bright green eye, as green as her own, stared back at her.
"Oh Neria, I can't get the door open..."
"I know sweetheart, I know..."
"Daddy has the key and he will not give it to me. Please Neria, you have to find a way to get out of there!" Her sister's anxious voice filled Neria's eyes with tears.
"Oh sweetheart, I can't. I can't climb out of the window, you know that. And there is no other way to leave the room than by the door."
"Kiella says you are going to die! And we are not allowed to mention your name at all downstairs in the staterooms. It is as though you never existed. It is so unfair, Neria, I can't loose you, please stay with us!" Phaedre's voice broke and all Neria could hear now were her quiet sobs.
Her sister and she had always been two of a kind. Where Neria went, Phaedre soon would follow. Even though Neria was two years the elder, the two were a spitting image of eachother. The same delicate faces, the same dark hair, the same luminous green eyes. The great painting of their mother which hung below in the dining room made it clear where these features originated from. Sometimes, Neria had found her father staring at the two of them with a pensive look in his eyes. She knew they always reminded him of their mother, and that was both a comfort and a pain.
After their mother died giving birth to Souffra, their youngest sister, Phaedre and Neria had grown even more close. The little ones were taken care of by their nurses and were too young to realize that one pillar in their existance had been rudely taken away from them. Neria was old enough to keep up with her lessons and get by, but Phaedre had been lost without her mother. Their father had the entire prefect to mind and had little time to console his daughters. Phaedre sought her comfort with her older sister, and together they managed to weather that difficult period in time.
"Phaedre, I promise, I will find a way to be with you again. I swear. You didn't think I would let a little thing like this keep me from you?"
She tried to make her voice sound as cheerful as possible, but her younger sister wasn't fooled.
"You are only saying that to make me feel better. Kiella says that with the Ka'tara and all, there will be nothing left of you in the morning. You will just have vanished, burned up into thin air. And I will be alone..."
Neria could hear her footsteps thud down the long flight of stairs. "Phaedre! Phaedre, please come back, I don't want to have to miss you already, please!" Sobbing, she buried her face in her hands. Why? Why her? Why did she have to fall victim to this old curse?
Neria glimpsed her reflection in the mirror she'd had in her room all her life. It had been her mother's. The long strand of red hair stood out like fire in her otherwise darkbrown hair, and the ka'tara were already starting to show. They were vague yet, but she knew that soon, they would fleck her temples very vividly.
She'd always been able to read her father's face, but this time, nothing had shown but determiniation. As the eldest daughter of Cranna's prefect, she'd been the apple of his eye. Sometimes she thought they shared the same mind. Even though she was young yet, she'd been trained to replace him when the time was right. From her childhood on in, she'd been drilled in all the subtleties which would be expected of her once she had taken his place. But all that was over now. She would become a Patternbearer. But in all likelyhood, not for long.
As long as Neria could remember, the subject of the Pattern and everything that was concerned with it, was shunned in Cranna. Of course she would hear whispers of it among the corridors of the elite school she had attended, but every reference to it had been banned from school material long ago. Even though, as the prefect's daughter, she had had access to parts of the large library of Circha no one else of her age had had access to, she had not been able to find anything resembling the subject matter. Which of course bothered her to no end, because Neria had always been a very eager student and an intelligent one to boot. She'd loved to learn history foremost, a trait that came in handy while she was preparing for her later succession. That one of the most important periods in history had been scrapped from the books, was a malady she'd sworn to rectify as soon as she became prefect. Until then, she had to make due with what she learned from overheard conversations and whispered gossip.
Oh yes, she had been confronted with the Pattern before. Not long ago, one of her friends had started to show the traits. First, the strand of strange-colored hair had appeared, and not long after, the first faint flecks had started to show along the hair implant. Her friend had disappeared from her vision not soon after. Apparently, her parents had secluded her somewhere and after that, nature had run it's course. When she'd asked her father about it, he had simply said that the breaking through of the Ka'tara was too much for the people of Cranna: they simply burned up, as if they'd never existed. When she asked whether there was nothing that could be done about it, he'd merely shaken his head and had gone on to other subject matters. Such as the precise inclination of her head when she greeted the other prefects in the large Council of Cranna. As if she cared about that!
Her maid, Kiella, had been far more indiscreet when she asked about the Ka'tara and what happened to a person after they had started showing.
"You don't know m'lass? When that odd strand of hair appears, and the flecks come along with it, it means you are a Patternbearer. A magician. Of old, they were said to have tried to destroy the world. They didn't succeed though, and now this is their punishment. People with the trait in them simply are not able to survive the breakthrough. Lucky enough as it is, can you imagine the likes of them roaming around the world again? Tsss..."
And she'd gone on with braiding Neria's long dark locks with a shake of her head.
Now, those long dark locks were stained with color...and all too soon Neria figured she'd find out what becoming a Patternbearer would mean for real.
She could feel it in her blood. A burning sensation, a vigorous feeling really. There had been cases where young people her age had shown all the signs of developing the Ka'tara, and then had lapsed back into normalness just as easily. But Neria knew it wouldn't be so for her. She felt things had progressed too far. She knew that when she would lift up her hair, she would see the Ka'tara come together in a delicate spiral at the nape of her neck.
She paced the room. Back and forth, back and forth. One two three steps, mirror. Turn. One two three steps, window looking out on the west. Turn. One two three steps, door. The room had never seemed small to her before, but now that she was closed in, and knew she was not likely to leave it ever again, the walls closed her in. She sat down at the windowsill, and looked out. It would be the last sunset she would ever see. Circha's bay shone brilliantly at her, with the crescent beaches and the busy harbor a little further downtown. She remembered all the times she'd taken one of the horses out of the stable and snuck out of the prefect's mansion by the back porch. She had loved to drive the horse through the uncoming waves, sniffing out the salty tang in the air. Sometimes she'd just walk beside the horse, kicking up waves and looking for buried treasures in the silt sand. She'd found a worn stone once which upon closer inspection showed traces of human handiwork. No doubt it had been washed in from the drowned islands further to the west. Neria didn't know their names, but she did know that they had been a vast bulwark for Patternbearers once. Of course this was again something she had asked Kiella about. If her father knew how much the woman had disclosed to her over the years, he'd probably have fired her.
Apparently, of so Kiella said, the Patternbearers had been at anger with the world and had felt utterly superior. Superior enough to want to overthrow the government at that time that lead Cranna and its different prefects. They had managed to build a magical weapon, which they had used as a threat to force Cranna's government into submission. They had failed however. Somehow, by sabotage or by construction error, their weapon had turned against them and had caused the islands to sink beneath the surface of the sea. The natural forces which had been let loose had hit Cranna hard as well, and most of the prefect Cranna, which was situated on the northwest of the continent, had sunken below the sea at well. The entire capital had been swallowed, taking most of the library and the vast collection of scrolls with it. Everything had to be rebuilt, and by the time that was accomplished, many years had turned and much knowledge had been lost. Which was one of the reasons that little was known about these years.
"Neria?"
A quiet voice reached her ears through the panelled door. Phaedre. Of course. Neria jumped from the windowsill and knelt in front of the door, looking through the keyhole. A bright green eye, as green as her own, stared back at her.
"Oh Neria, I can't get the door open..."
"I know sweetheart, I know..."
"Daddy has the key and he will not give it to me. Please Neria, you have to find a way to get out of there!" Her sister's anxious voice filled Neria's eyes with tears.
"Oh sweetheart, I can't. I can't climb out of the window, you know that. And there is no other way to leave the room than by the door."
"Kiella says you are going to die! And we are not allowed to mention your name at all downstairs in the staterooms. It is as though you never existed. It is so unfair, Neria, I can't loose you, please stay with us!" Phaedre's voice broke and all Neria could hear now were her quiet sobs.
Her sister and she had always been two of a kind. Where Neria went, Phaedre soon would follow. Even though Neria was two years the elder, the two were a spitting image of eachother. The same delicate faces, the same dark hair, the same luminous green eyes. The great painting of their mother which hung below in the dining room made it clear where these features originated from. Sometimes, Neria had found her father staring at the two of them with a pensive look in his eyes. She knew they always reminded him of their mother, and that was both a comfort and a pain.
After their mother died giving birth to Souffra, their youngest sister, Phaedre and Neria had grown even more close. The little ones were taken care of by their nurses and were too young to realize that one pillar in their existance had been rudely taken away from them. Neria was old enough to keep up with her lessons and get by, but Phaedre had been lost without her mother. Their father had the entire prefect to mind and had little time to console his daughters. Phaedre sought her comfort with her older sister, and together they managed to weather that difficult period in time.
"Phaedre, I promise, I will find a way to be with you again. I swear. You didn't think I would let a little thing like this keep me from you?"
She tried to make her voice sound as cheerful as possible, but her younger sister wasn't fooled.
"You are only saying that to make me feel better. Kiella says that with the Ka'tara and all, there will be nothing left of you in the morning. You will just have vanished, burned up into thin air. And I will be alone..."
Neria could hear her footsteps thud down the long flight of stairs. "Phaedre! Phaedre, please come back, I don't want to have to miss you already, please!" Sobbing, she buried her face in her hands. Why? Why her? Why did she have to fall victim to this old curse?