Snippet #2085232

Takira knelt beside her sister, her limbs shaking, Aron's shared images still fresh in her mind. Standing, she turned and grasped her brother's hand tightly, eyes glimmering with tears. "I know you worry, brother, and I know I am young, and weak." The Dark Lord, a God Takira had heard of only in stories and legends, had appeared before them, threatened her, threatened Aron, threatened Mora. She would not stand for it. "But I will allow no one to disrespect her in her own home. Please, if you can, brother, find Caylim. She will know why the Moon has left us. I must send a message of my own. I only pray I will be strong enough to send it."

She dashed from the room, out into the sunlight and to the stables, where Turka, her Arabian steed, stood, pawing the ground and snorting. The warmth from the sun felt false, and even being outside brought no joy to the young girl. She was scared, and angry, and wanted to hide behind Mora's skirts the way she had as a child, have her soothing voice say it was all a bad dream. But the nightmare was real. And very few things could be done if she hid herself. Throwing herself onto Turka, she grasped his mane and together they flew across the grounds, out the front gate, leaping and twisting, til coming to rest on the highest hilltop that side of the valley. The people had been angry, had thrown things as she passed, screamed terrible things at her as she rode. Already disliked, Takira was now hated, and her siblings...she only prayed they would be safe inside.

Her horse snorted unhappily--even he could sense the darkness around--but she lay her hand on his nose to instill him calm. Glancing around, she took a deep breath, and dug inside herself, trying to loose the power as she had done only once before. A gentle glow surrounded the tiny sprite of a girl, and she lifted her eyes to the sky, her dark gaze cold as stone.

"You listen to me," she hissed, her voice booming, carrying to the Old Gods. How, she did not know, nor care. "You may have returned. And I may be a child, know nothing of your power, your past, your abilities. I may be nothing but a glorified druid. But I will not forgive you. You have insulted my sister inside her own home, tried to strike fear into my brother and I. You have control of many things I do not. But I will promise you one thing." Her image pulsated, revealing a large and ferocious dragon beneath her skin, if only for a moment. "You will not harm her. Not while I breathe. Not while my heart beats. I will do everything in my power to stop you. Lilith abandoned me once, and I can only believe it was that she feared the power inside me. I am peaceful, I am foolish, I am young. But I am every creature that walks, swims, flies, LIVES on this earth. And you have made an enemy in me. Do not fear me, for even as I fear myself, I am too stupid to understand what it is I do. But fear the beast, Old Ones. Fear the blood-thirsty creature that crawls beneath my living flesh."

The glow faded almost immediately, and she collapsed onto the grass, panting and shaking violently. The power she repressed terrified her, so she bottled it up. Her dagger had fallen to the ground beside her, and she took it in sweaty hands, nickering gently for Turka to come help her stand. He trotted over and tucked his nose under her arm, pulling her til she leaned against him for support.

Was that truly wise? Turka asked her, nickering and snorting gently, speaking the language only Takira herself understood. To involve yourself with the Old Ones, was that wise?

"Probably not, Turka," she panted, and smiled hauntedly before pulling herself onto his back again, "probably not." She turned him towards the town once more, and bid him walk as she lay against his back, aching and shaking.