the
slick warmth from her woman’s flesh well.
As she lay there, nothing covering her, comfort and warmth
surrounding her, she was aware of the handmaidens moving slowly away. Their
golden eyes and dusky skin had been a surprise she hadn’t expected when they’d
disrobed.
In their place stood Muse, the Guardian—daughter of the
Sentinel Select.
Arabella stared up at her in fascination, amazed at the
heightened power she felt within herself, and the power she felt within this
being.
Violet eyes, pitch-black hair flowing around her. Dressed in
warrior’s leathers, a sword at her side, her creamy flesh so pure and pretty it
was enchanting.
She was a being with secrets though. Dark secrets she dare
let none reveal so she kept them close to her spirit. Secrets that could rock
the hierarchies of power…
“I cannot hide from you, just as Garron predicted,” Muse
sighed. “How humbling for one called a god to realize there is a power that can
see into the spirit she keeps carefully hidden.”
Arabella licked her lips nervously. “Your secrets are safe
with me, Guardian,” she promised. “As are the secrets of those you claim as
your own.”
Muse ducked her head for a moment before sighing as though
weary and staring about the Vale where she often found solace, Arabella
thought.
“This place is within Nirvana,” Muse told her then. “Did
your warriors tell you this?”
Arabella shook her head as she sat up slowly, staring
around.
Spora—that was the feathery stuff drifting through the air.
Pure magick in its second form after leaving the liquid pools where it bubbled
and swirled and played like living particles of dampness merging together.
“I had not known of Nirvana until I was drawn here,”
Arabella revealed. “I knew of the One, though humans call him by a different
name, and give him a bearing of retribution which does not sleep.”
Muse nodded. “Perhaps our One does not sleep exactly.” She
smiled. “He always seems to know when we are in need though. This land,
Sentmar, it was created by him for magick. There was only peace here until the
humans invaded our lands.”
“They say they tricked the Sidhe to come to this place, for
magick is evil, no matter its place, no matter its type.”
Muse nodded. “Humans twist what they do not understand.
Perhaps the One created their plane without such magick, and the two were not
to merge.”
“Perhaps.” Arabella thought this might be true. “What do we
know of such beings’ thoughts though?” She shrugged.
“And now we find ourselves here, Halfling,” Muse sighed.
“You are unique among our kind, among all magick. A creature created by untold
generations of building magick and careful tempering by the land around it. The
magick of your family line is of all magicks of the land. Over generations
magick has merged with magick as magickal beings have added to each
generation’s addition until the creation of the Seed emerged. You are the Seed
Sorceress. A creature of all the magicks of Sentmar brought into one. You will
birth a new magick in this land, one that may well prevail against human and
evil in future generations.”
Arabella blinked back at her in surprise. “Mother said my
line is Spry, not any other magick.”
“Perhaps she knew not of your other magick,” Muse said
softly. “It is a magick you have fought, have you not?”
“I have come to it with reluctance,” Arabella agreed. “I
knew the Vale drew me. I knew the warriors were mine. But I did not believe I
would be gifted with the chance to have them as they seem to believe we should
be.”
Muse smiled back at her. “They are to be yours forever,
Arabella. This place of magick we call the Vale, the Causeway they protect and
all its mysteries will one day breed a magick that no being can trespass or
manipulate without the protector’s knowledge. That will be your gift. The
magickal children born of you and your warriors, merging one day with the
children of the
slick warmth from her woman’s flesh well.
As she lay there, nothing covering her, comfort and warmth
surrounding her, she was aware of the handmaidens moving slowly away. Their
golden eyes and dusky skin had been a surprise she hadn’t expected when they’d
disrobed.
In their place stood Muse, the Guardian—daughter of the
Sentinel Select.
Arabella stared up at her in fascination, amazed at the
heightened power she felt within herself, and the power she felt within this
being.
Violet eyes, pitch-black hair flowing around her. Dressed in
warrior’s leathers, a sword at her side, her creamy flesh so pure and pretty it
was enchanting.
She was a being with secrets though. Dark secrets she dare
let none reveal so she kept them close to her spirit. Secrets that could rock
the hierarchies of power…
“I cannot hide from you, just as Garron predicted,” Muse
sighed. “How humbling for one called a god to realize there is a power that can
see into the spirit she keeps carefully hidden.”
Arabella licked her lips nervously. “Your secrets are safe
with me, Guardian,” she promised. “As are the secrets of those you claim as
your own.”
Muse ducked her head for a moment before sighing as though
weary and staring about the Vale where she often found solace, Arabella
thought.
“This place is within Nirvana,” Muse told her then. “Did
your warriors tell you this?”
Arabella shook her head as she sat up slowly, staring
around.
Spora—that was the feathery stuff drifting through the air.
Pure magick in its second form after leaving the liquid pools where it bubbled
and swirled and played like living particles of dampness merging together.
“I had not known of Nirvana until I was drawn here,”
Arabella revealed. “I knew of the One, though humans call him by a different
name, and give him a bearing of retribution which does not sleep.”
Muse nodded. “Perhaps our One does not sleep exactly.” She
smiled. “He always seems to know when we are in need though. This land,
Sentmar, it was created by him for magick. There was only peace here until the
humans invaded our lands.”
“They say they tricked the Sidhe to come to this place, for
magick is evil, no matter its place, no matter its type.”
Muse nodded. “Humans twist what they do not understand.
Perhaps the One created their plane without such magick, and the two were not
to merge.”
“Perhaps.” Arabella thought this might be true. “What do we
know of such beings’ thoughts though?” She shrugged.
“And now we find ourselves here, Halfling,” Muse sighed.
“You are unique among our kind, among all magick. A creature created by untold
generations of building magick and careful tempering by the land around it. The
magick of your family line is of all magicks of the land. Over generations
magick has merged with magick as magickal beings have added to each
generation’s addition until the creation of the Seed emerged. You are the Seed
Sorceress. A creature of all the magicks of Sentmar brought into one. You will
birth a new magick in this land, one that may well prevail against human and
evil in future generations.”
Arabella blinked back at her in surprise. “Mother said my
line is Spry, not any other magick.”
“Perhaps she knew not of your other magick,” Muse said
softly. “It is a magick you have fought, have you not?”
“I have come to it with reluctance,” Arabella agreed. “I
knew the Vale drew me. I knew the warriors were mine. But I did not believe I
would be gifted with the chance to have them as they seem to believe we should
be.”
Muse smiled back at her. “They are to be yours forever,
Arabella. This place of magick we call the Vale, the Causeway they protect and
all its mysteries will one day breed a magick that no being can trespass or
manipulate without the protector’s knowledge. That will be your gift. The
magickal children born of you and your warriors, merging one day with the
children of the
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