Ninte’s head was swimming. She was dimly aware of her feet dragging along stone, and occasionally her toes would stub and bounce along the uneven ground in a way that she might have found painful had her head not been throbbing. Struggling to lift her head, she opened her eyes and winced as the effort sent a sharp pain shooting through her skull. Two guards marched on either side of her, each holding tightly to one of her arms as they hauled her forward without a care for her comfort. The guards were little more than blurred figures bobbing as they walked through an unending cloud of dark fog studded with golden orbs that floated past. They were saying something, speaking in breathless, hushed voices, but for some reason only a smattering of words made sense to her, the rest were jumbled sounds that made her head ache further as she fought to decipher them. After a moment, the nonsensical sounds began to meld into recognizable speech and the pain in her head subsided slightly.

“Look at her head,” the guard hoisting her left arm said. He spoke quickly and his voice was unsteady. “Never mind her eyes, what are those ridges growing out of her skull? They’re not natural, I tell you!”

“Aye,” replied the guard at her right arm. “She’s a creature sent by the Gods to punish us. We should burn her now, while she’s out. Before she wakes up and kills us all.”

Ninte’s heart began to race. These guards were dragging her to her death. She had to escape. She tried to move her legs but found they were weak. To move them felt like dragging a tree stump; heavy and clumsy. It was then that she noticed her feet were bound. Even if she could move her legs she was still trapped. Flexing her wrists, she found that her hands too were bound, and she became suddenly aware of the tight rope cutting into her flesh where she was restrained.

“There will be no burning,” came a third voice through the fog ahead of them. Ninte stopped trying to move. Squinting and struggling to focus as her head lolled from side to side in synchrony with the guards’ unsteady pace, Ninte could just barely make out a third figure marching in front of them. “Our orders are to take her captive to the manor, and so that is what we shall do. Are we understood?”

“But sir, you heard what they said. She just looked at the man and he collapsed dead as though he’d been stabbed in the heart.” Said the guard to her left.

“Are we understood?” came the third figure’s voice sternly, ignoring the guard’s comment.

The two guards dragging her grunted reluctantly in acknowledgement. One of them began to speak again, but Ninte was suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion accompanied by a bout of nausea that made her heave and wretch uncontrollably. She felt the guards let go of her arms in surprise and heard raised, panicked voices. She didn’t care. The dark fog became steadily thicker, closing in around her until all she could do was curl up into a ball, shivering and waiting for the feeling to pass as bile filled her mouth and trickled out over her sagging lips.

In a flash of white light, the darkness snapped into focus. Ninte was on her knees clutching something heavy tightly to her chest. No. Not something, someone. Pulling away, Ninte saw that she was holding the woman from her dreams. A trail of blood trickled down her cheek from the corner of her mouth and Ninte saw a shaft of smooth wood protruding from the woman’s back.

“Once again, I abandon you,” the woman said before letting out a rattling cough that left a red splatter on Ninte’s tunic. “May Eviyra, Goddess of Beauty, forgive me for my sins.”

The woman’s eyes rolled upwards, and her head slumped backwards. Ninte felt her go limp, but before she could react, the world melted away and darkness returned once more.

When Ninte finally awoke again, hours later, she was greeted with an intense throbbing in her head. Thankfully, the nausea was gone, at least for the time being, and she was able to prize open her eyes without being overcome with dizziness. Her face was pressed against cold stone, and, as she came to fully, she found that while her hands were still knotted tightly together, the bonds at her feet had been removed. She was lying in a dank room facing a wall of stone illuminated only by the flickering of a single small light source in the opposite corner of the room. A putrid stench filled the room, threatening to recall her bout of sickness.

With a grunt, Ninte managed to roll onto her back and lay there for a moment, catching her breath and waiting for the pain in her head to subside. It had been aggravated by the effort of rolling over, and she knew that if she tried to move too soon, she would vomit and fall unconscious once again. She lay on the cold stone for some time, forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths and willing her aching head to calm. Her toes were sore as well, and the lump on her shin where Veynar had kicked tingled as if to remind her that, despite her other injuries, it had been there first.

The sudden sound of muffled voices made Ninte’s breath catch in her chest as her eyes shot open. Someone was trying to come in. Willing herself not to panic, Ninte tried to lift her head. When the effort proved too much for her, she rolled onto her stomach and, somehow managing to avoid passing out as her vision swam, pushed herself up onto her knees and turned to face the sound. She steadied herself just in time to see a heavy wooden door slowly creak open. What emerged from the doorway took all of Ninte’s self-control to keep her jaw from falling open.

Standing before her as the door closed with a thud that echoed around the room, was the woman from Ninte’s dreams, holding a thin candle in one hand low enough that her face was still shrouded in shadow. They were separated by thick bronze bars, and in a rush of realization, she recognized where they were. The woman stared at Ninte for some time, long enough that Ninte began to feel deeply uncomfortable and dropped her gaze to a sparse pile of straw laying on the floor below.

“Should I be afraid of you?” the woman said finally, her shaky voice barely more than a croak.

As Ninte looked up she saw the woman had lifted the candle and its light was illuminating her face. Ninte looked up at the familiar scene. She remembered the anger she had felt upon first seeing the woman in her dreams. She felt no anger now. No urge to lash out or spit in the woman’s direction. Now there was only sadness. Choking down the infuriating lump in her throat, Ninte closed her eyes and tears began to flow down her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.

Ninte knew what came next. The candle fell from the woman’s trembling hand, her breathing changed and together they wept quietly, facing one another separated by the metal confines of Ninte’s cell.

“Who are you?” Ninte asked at last when the two of them had shed the bulk of their tears. A surprised look passed over the woman’s face.

“You don’t know?” She asked, sounding somewhat relieved. When Ninte shook her head, she continued. “If you promise not to hurt me or my guards, I will untie and feed you.”

Ninte nodded slowly, unsure whether to feel suspicious or grateful. The woman stepped over to the door and knocked sharply on the wood. It opened swiftly and the cell was ordered to be opened. At first, the guard refused, but his objections were silenced by an icy stare from the woman. He brought out a large ring of rusting keys and, after taking a moment to find the correct one, unlocked Ninte’s cell. When he unsheathed the blade that hung at his side, Ninte started and jumped away, which in turn caused the guard to step back with a whimper. The woman smiled softly and gestured for Ninte to hold out her hands. She did so and the ropes at her wrists were sliced open. Relief was instant as blood rushed back into her numb hands.

“Thank you,” she muttered to the guard who was standing so tensely he quivered slightly. He nodded curtly but said nothing.

Next, the strange woman led Ninte up a winding flight of stone steps, two more guards following closely behind, their weapons drawn. The guards remained with them until they arrived in a room dimly lit with lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Long wooden tables lined one wall, while the opposite side of the room was filled with fireplaces and stoves. Knives and pots hung against the walls and above their heads, and when the woman opened a large door to one side, Ninte glimpsed more food than she had ever seen before. For the brief moment that the door was open, she saw huge wheels of cheese, baskets brimming with fresh vegetables and dried meats hanging from hooks in the ceiling. When the woman emerged from the room, she dismissed the guards who seemed to know better than to argue, then she set about preparing a meal for Ninte. She sliced some of the dried meat, quartered several tomatoes, ripped up leaves of lettuce, and brought out an enormous loaf of bread from which she cut thick hunks before slathering them in fresh butter.

When she was finished and had placed a plate of food in front of Ninte who had taken a seat at one of the long tables, she slumped into a place next to her and smiled. Ninte had not realized just how hungry she was, and she dug in ravenously as the woman watched.

“Now that we are finally alone, I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Nevayi. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said the woman, looking expectantly at Ninte.

“Ninte,” she replied once she had swallowed a mouthful of bread, butter smeared across her lips. Nevayi smiled at her again, but allowed Ninte to finish her food before moving to speak again. Ninte beat her to it.

“Who are you, Nevayi, and why have I been seeing you in my dreams?”

Nevayi paused, her mouth ajar. For a moment she was speechless, then finally she cleared her throat and fixed Ninte with a gaze that seemed to pierce her soul.

“I am the wife of Lord Aviliyon Ariyon, and, as it turns out, I do have an idea as to why you’ve dreamt of me. But first, please tell me a little about yourself. I want to hear everything.”

And so, for reasons she did not quite understand, Ninte told Nevayi everything. She spoke of her upbringing, how she was treated, her adoptive parents and the reasons she left. She even told Nevayi about her powers. Ninte was not the kind to easily trust strangers, but somehow it felt right to pour her heart out to Nevayi. At first, her story came slowly, but the more she spoke the more she wanted to speak. She wanted Nevayi to know everything about her life. When she was done, she took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, unsure if she had done the right thing, but feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Ninte had been so wrapped up in her own story, she had barely looked at the woman sitting beside her. Now that her tale had been told, she looked up at the woman with wide eyes. Nevayi had tears rolling down her cheeks and she covered her mouth with one hand. Ninte immediately felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” Ninte said cluelessly. Nevayi let out a noise that could either have been a laugh or a sob.

“You have nothing to apologize for, child,” Nevayi said. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have known when I saw your eyes and head, but I had to be sure. You are my daughter, Ninte.”

This time, Ninte could not stop herself from staring with her mouth gaping open. It was as if she was in some sort of trance.

“Years ago, the night the Mano attacked our village, something awful happened to me. Months later you were born, and the pain of that night clouded my judgment. Aviliyon and I decided it would be best to leave you in the hands of the Gods, although it seems the gods have a cruel sense of humor.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Ninte said.

“There is much to explain, but for the moment, know this. We should never have left you in the woods that day. It is something I have regretted ever since, and while there is nothing I can do that will make up for my past actions please know this. I will never abandon you again.”

Tears welled in the corners of Ninte’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted by the two guards barging into the room.

“My lady!” the first guard exclaimed, “You must come quickly, Lord Ariyon is in bad shape and your sons have just arrived.”

“Eviyra help us,” Nevayi muttered and looked over to Ninte. “As I said, there is much to explain, but my husband is gravely ill, and I fear that my sons think they both have claim to the rule over our town. Join me. As now is as good a time as any for you to meet your siblings.”