The Dark Shall Rise

Navaira galloped up to the crags, and she dropped off her horse, smiling through the rain. Her skin glistened from the water slowly running off her to the ground. The Mistress of the Darkness had pulled her red flaming hair back into a ponytail. She appeared to be only about sixteen years of age…eight years older then the child. Her eyes were the color of lilacs…light purple. She was wearing a black midriff with sleeves that hung loosely over the shoulders and black pants that a djinn would wear. Her radiant and fierce beauty reminded the child of a desert princess. Navaira glanced around, and she laughed another cold-blooded laugh from deep within her throat. It was almost as if she knew where the girl was hidden. “Young one, your attempt at hiding is futile. Come out now, and I will not harm you. All I wish is to speak with you.” When the young one did not reply, Navaira’s anger flared. She began to recite a prophecy: “What marks Navaira’s evil start? A young child, firebrand at heart. If she shall awaken, shall be Navaira’s demise Unless the child should not rise. On the eve of her eighth, Shall end the Asgarnian race. And Navaira shall reign Unless she shall rise again!” “If you choose not to come out of hiding, I will make it to where you will have no chance to ever rise!” she cried angrily into the black sky. Then she stopped, grew quiet, and lost all traces of anger. She turned her head slowly and began to stride to the spot where the young one hid. “Come out now, child. I’ve sensed you. Power like yours is easily detected. Hiding is futile.” The young one stepped out cautiously, for she had no other option. Navaira smiled again. The young child’s muscles tensed, and Navaira began walking toward her, smiling. “Child, what were you thinking, hiding from the great Navaira?” She was walking ever closer. Rain never letting up. Never ceasing in the rising darkness. The closer Navaira drew to the girl, the colder the air around them grew. She was just a few feet away, and it became bone chilling. Her eyes looked ice cold as they locked onto the child’s own. Out of the darkness a young voice cried, “Shanellé!” The pair snapped their heads in the direction of the voice to see a stream of pure golden light shooting out of the forest surrounding the crags. Navaira reacted and shouted out a spell of her own, but she was aiming at the girl. Purple light streamed out of her palm just as the golden light sliced through the darkness and struck Navaira from behind. She fell forward on her face. Purple light struck the girl, and she flew backward into to the earth as well, sending a shock through her. She cried out in pain, and electricity illuminated the air. Navaira, however, rose to her feet, laughing. The young voice cried out again. “Shanéva!” Gold light diffused through the night once again. As the light struck her, Navaira cried out in pain. This time, it hit her harder. “Fine!” Navaira cried, and she mounted her horse. She rode off into the night. “She is yours for now!” The young one lost all consciousness then. All went dark. Who is the girl in the blue dress with blond hair and brown eyes? And what does Navaira, the Mistress of Darkness, want with her on her eighth birthday? Her name is Liyah Encarcerá of Asgarnia.