These are parts taken from Wyvernhail, the reason is not for profit or gain, but because understanding it can help understand Children of Destiny. This is the group that messed up, this is the group whose mistakes Celi has to correct.
~~~~~
Kiesha, the cobra high priestess of Anhamirak, stood in the doorway to her temple, holding her head high despite her obvious exhaustion. Cjarsa remembered this woman as having mahogany air, sun-touched skin and brown eyes, but Anhamirak's fire had dyed Kiesha'ra body as surely as Ahnmik's ice had dyed Cjarsa's. Kiesha'ra warm earthern eyes had become lakes of blood, and they were no long kind but eerily piercing as she beheld Cjarsa, whose power once had been the opposite-the balance-of hers.
Many things had changed since Maeve had abandoned their coven. Once, they had been the protectors and leaders of their people, priests and priestesses of the eight great powers, led by Maeve and kept in balance by her guidance. Now the powers were unbalanced.
The stain left on Kiesha's hair and eyes was nothing compared to the terror of the uncontrollable magics that had ripped through each of the Dasi in Maeve's absence. The serpents had blamed the falcons for the first assaults, saying that their worship of death and darkness had led to this destruction; Cjarsa's followers had retaliated, spitting their own accusations against the chaos-worshippers.
"You say you wish to end this," the cobra said to Cjarsa and Araceli in greeting. "Before more lives are lost," Araceli said.
They had been fighting for years. What else could they do? Anhamirak's domain was wildfire and war. As long as her magic was left unbalanced, there could never be peace.
"Yes," Cjarsa whispered. She had seen the future, seen the final fire that would consume them all. She knew that this had to stopped. "Come forward, child," she said.
When Alasdair stepped out from behind Araceli and held up a curious hand, Kiesha knelt down and let the tiny fingers wrap around her thumb. "Yours?" she asked Araceli, her expression softening.
"No," Araceli said, blinking back tears. "Brassal killed my daughter last night. Odd that it would be a priest of Namid, giver of life, who would destroy a child."
The python had crept into Ahnmik's temple, probably hoping to kill Cjarsa. Instead, he had found Araceli and her young daughter. Araceli was convinced that he had killed the child intentionally; Cjarsa believed it had been an accident. Like all their powers, Brassal's magic had grown beyond his ability to control it.
"Now," Cjarsa whispered, throwing out her own magic like a net. Araceli, Syfka, Servos and Cjarsa had spent the past three years concoting this spell, and now it drove Kiesha to her knees. The cobra screamed.
And the child screamed as well.
Oh, gods...hearing that scream, Cjarsa wanted to leave this world. The spell the falcons had created shredded Kiesha's magic, tearing it into two. One half of Anhamirak's power remained in the cobra; the other half burned its way into the child's soul. As it has painted Kiesha garnet, so it stained the child, darkening her white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes to the color of beaten gold.
It was too late to bring back the balance, and no one could control Anhamirak's chaos, but they hoped that this would cripple the serpents' magic before it could destroy even more.
Araceli was the one who took the little girl's tiny hands in her own and whispered gently, "Now you'll be able to fly, like we can." "Don't be kind," Cjarsa said. "If you are kind, we will never be able to do what must be done."
"Come, Alasdair," Araceli said, taking the young hawk's hand before Kiesha could recover and realize what they had done. "You have much to learn before we take you back to your people."
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