If any of you have been reading this i'm sorry to have to tell you that I've revised what i've written quite a bit. I do think its better so hopefully that counts for something. As a writer I find I spend 25% of my time writing and the rest of the time revising. I've discovered that writers are never truely satisfied with their work so bear with me. Here it goes from the beginning.

Prologue

            It was a cool summer night, and Symaia surrendered to it. She stood tall with her eyes closed her head held high. Her long hair flew around her twelve year old body like an ebony curtain as she held out her tiny hands to the sky. A burst of laughter escaped her lips and an irresistible smile adorned her golden-brown face. “Papa!” she called. There was no answer. “Papa! Where are you?” But all there was to be heard were the sounds of the forest. Symaia’s bright green eyes flew open in alarm. She turned around to find that she was alone, surrounded by only sycamore trees and singing crickets. She laughed. So the game had begun. She ran through the forest calling for him. Trees snagged at her wool-spun dress as she leapt by leaving no tree unturned no shadow un-searched. Symaia relished her time in the forest. It was as if the forest beckoned her with its melodious song and Symaia in turn sang in turn, her calls reverberating off the trees. She continued her song until she reached a clearing. Seeing her father’s figure she yelled in triumph: “I found you…” But her voice trailed off as soon as she realized that she had come to Ramok cliff, which stood hundreds of feet above the Jasmeian Sea. Symaia watched her father in amazement as he sat on Ramok’s edge, the most precarious cliff in the Malisian Kingdom. Not only was Ramok cliff dangerous it was also rumored to be haunted. Many a person had met their death as this very cliff, and here sat her father, dangling his feet off the edge. Jequeran Najhe had brown skin, a devil may care smile, and callused hands that could only be owned by a carpenter. The beads woven into his braided hair further accented his refined cheekbones and stubborn chin. A chin that she’d inherited.

From his dark brown eyes Symaia could see that he was lost. Lost in the world he often retreated to when he was alone. What was there that wasn’t here she wasn’t sure, but it often made him sad. Symaia suspected he was thinking of her mother, who she’d never had a chance to know, for she had died while giving life to Symaia.

Before Symaia could open her mouth to call out to him her father turned. “Come Symaia. Come see the view.” But she was frightened, terribly frightened. She couldn’t seem to move at all. “Don’t you want to see the view?” he asked. Symaia shook her head.

“I’m too scared Papa.”

“Scared?” Papa said massaging his bearded chin. “My little Malisian warrior is scared?” She nodded miserably hanging her head in shame. Papa sighed and turned back towards the sea. “I guess I’ll just have to experience this wonder alone.” He was quiet a moment and began to slowly lean over the cliff as if to get a better glimpse of something. “I wonder? What is that?” his eyes suddenly flew open in surprise as his feet slid off the edge of the cliff, his hands flying up trying to grab at something. “Papa!” Symaia screamed, running after him. She threw out her hands trying to grab a hold of him when he suddenly stood erect, a smile emerging on his handsome face. She felt seething anger quickly replace her fear as she realized the awful trick he’d played on her. “That’s wasn’t funny! I thought… I mean you could have…” she began to sob uncontrollably. She cried for her dead mother and the thought of being alone in the world. Could fate really be so cruel to separate her alone in the world?

Her father kneeled. “Hold on there, Syma. I’m sorry. It’s okay I’m still here.” He consoled pulling her to him. She hugged him fiercely.

“Don’t ever leave me, Papa. Promise you’ll never leave me.”

“I promise Syma. I promise.” He said quietly silently willing his promise true.

Suddenly a rainbow of light engulfed the sky, and Papa turned his head. “Look Syma. This is what I wanted you to see.” Symaia looked up into the sky, and was amazed by the rainbow light that seemed to bring life to everything it touched. It danced in the sky, twisting and turning like a magic carpet, until it grazed the water making it sparkle as if diamonds floated within it. Everything this rainbow-like light touched turned a different color. Symaia stared in wonder as the world before her blended into brilliant reds and blues, greens and golds, missing no hue or shade of colorful splendor. The forest seemed to reach out for the light, as if anticipating its magic. “Papa. What is it?”

“Lumière de la vie. According to arcane legend, like the fountain of youth, the light replenishes life.”

“It’s beautiful,” Symaia whispered, imagining what it would feel like if the light were to touch her, to wrap around her like a favorite blanket. “Where does it come from?”

Papa sighed and thought for a moment. “No one’s entirely sure. Some say the sprites deep in the Golden Forest, others claim it’s the sorcerers, but you know what I believe?”

“What?” Symaia asked looking expectantly into his soft eyes. He looked up at the sky.

“I believe the light comes from your mother.”

Symaia turned her attention to the stars above. “You mean mother is sending down the light?”

“Mmm.” Papa confirmed. “From the Heavenly Gates.”

Symaia clutched the silver ring, containing a single amethyst, hanging from a chain around her neck. Papa had given it to her earlier today. It was the only thing she now owned that had once belonged to her mother.

Symaia looked up again. The brilliant light took this opportunity to fly over their heads, like an electric breeze. She had to touch it she suddenly realized. She had to touch what had once been her mother’s. Symaia stood, determination in her heart. “Symaia,” her father called. “What are you doing?”

“I going to catch it papa,” Symaia explained.

“You can’t. It’s unattainable…”

Symaia ran off before her father could protest further. Unattainable she laughed. Since when had that ever stopped her? The light flew in front of her, fast as lightning. It was worse than chasing a lightning bug in a storm. Symaia struggled to keep up, but she managed, following it through trees, rocks, and tall grass.

Finally getting under the lumiere de la vie, Symaia reached up to grab it, finding it just out of reach. She ran further into the gray mist of the night. Her foot stumbled upon a rock and sent Symaia flying through the air. She held out her hand to regain balance but her hand fell into what felt like a blanket of pure fire. Symaia screamed as the blanket engulfed her in white flames. Her body convulsed as energy surged through her body in sporadic spurts. As she opened her eyes she saw the world in colors she had never seen before, except she had she realized. These were the colors she’d seen in the lumiere de la vie. She must have touched it when she went flying through the air. Symia’s mind began to ripple with thoughts, so chaotic she couldn’t discern them. She pulled her hands around her ears trying to shut them out. As she opened her eyes she saw the colorful world of the lumiere de la vie fade slightly, not fade she realized. It was as if a shadow had fallen over it. And that’s when she saw it. The shadow took the form of a person and slowly dislodged itself from the exterior of the lumeire. Symaia rubbed her eyes and looked again not believing her eyes. The figure began to walk towards her. Symaia held her breath without realizing it. As this nebulas form approached Symaia could discern some of its features. It was if his form developed as he approached. She could see long Symaia lay frozen unable to take her eyes from the figures chilling gaze. The figure seemed unaware of Symaia’s presence for a time. The figure held out what looked like the beginnings of an arm. The figure motioned for Symaia to take it. Should she take it she wondered. Should she take the hand of a man who’d been birthed from the shadows? Before Symaia could contemplate any further, the eerie figure and the colorful world that had surrounded them dissipated only to be replaced by gray mist. She coughed. Symaia realized that it was not mist at all but smoke. The thick smoke clogged her airways and blurred her vision.

Symaia searched for the figure with the chilling blue eyes but he had vanished in the gray haze of smoke. She coughed as the smoke continued to fill her lungs. Where was it coming from she wondered? Her mind screamed for air as she crawled along the ground trying to escape the smokes strangling grasp. While she crawled Symaia could feel the ground vibrating with violent hoofbeats. She sent a silent prayer to Yamen for safety. The hoof beats grew louder. “Symaia” a voice called from the distance. Symaia screamed as she felt strong familiar arms grasp her upper body and shirk her out of the way. Symaia hit the ground with a painful thud. “Symaia?” the voice asked concern apparent in his familiar voice.

“Papa?” Symaia answered shakily.

Her father ran his hands along her body as if to ascertain there weren’t any serious injuries. “I’m all right Papa?” Symaia said with a touch more strength.

The horseman had apparently stopped and dismounted, for Symaia could see a tall dark figure running towards them. The figure wore a dark cape. His hair was blond so blond it could be mistaken for white. Concern etched his electric blue eyes. “Alkin!” Symaia cried.

Alkin, the locksmith’s apprentice and Symaia’s closest companion, ran to their side, terror in his eyes. “Symaia! Jequeran!” he called.

Symaia’s father immediately stood alert helping Symaia to her feet. He began to pull her from the worst of the smoke. “What’s happening, Alkin?”

“The king’s warriors! Their here, destroying the village! You must get out immediately! Not even women and children are safe.”

Jequeran stood still. And suddenly Symaia realized that the screams in her head were actually coming from the direction of the village. Fire illuminated the sky. Papa pulled out a silver handled dagger from his robes. He looked at her, then Alkin. “Alkin! You must take Symaia with you.” he said calmly.

“No Papa!” Symaia screamed. “You can’t leave me.”

He shushed her. “Be brave little one. Be brave.”

Large tears fell across her cheeks. “But what about you? Why are you leaving?”

Another scream pierced the night. Father looked to the direction of the village then back to Symaia. “I must try to help those left behind escape.”

“But they’ll hurt you! You promised Papa! You promised you’d never leave me!” She cried. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “They’ll take you away from me.”

Her father pried her arms away and gazed at her seriously. “I know that it seems like I’m abandoning you Syma, but I’m not. I can’t leave these people to die at the hands of those men, royal or not!” he said the last angrily. Papa took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. “I can’t help anyone if I’m worrying about you. Do you understand?”

Symaia wanted to scream that she didn’t. She wanted to pronounce all her selfish reasons for wanting him to stay… but she couldn’t. Instead, she nodded her head, as if Yamen had willed her compliance.

Her father gave her a tight smile and a quick kiss on the forehead before placing her hand in Alkin’s. Alkin helped her mount the horse that stood nervously sensing the imminent danger.  Alkin climbed up behind her and they rode off into the woods. She could hear Alkin whispering comforting words. “It’ll be alright Syma. You’ll see him again. Every thing will be alright.” 

Despite Alkin’s words Symaia still felt troubled. She let her hands fall onto the thick sweaty coat of the horse feeling the utmost dread.

Symaia suddenly gasped as a torrent of thoughts flew through her head. These thoughts were not human but Symaia could sense intense emotions. Fear. Exhaustion. The horse she realized. These were the thoughts of the horse! Symaia lifted her hands in surprise. This of course caused her to lose balance in the saddle. Wet grass was the last thing she saw before her world went black…

Days and nights wore on, but Symaia couldn’t tell the difference. She vaguely grasped that she was lying in a bed, a cool towel over her head. As she was in and out of days, she was also in and out of dreams. She often got images of a the shadowy figure with eyes the color of deep pools. Every time the dream came to her the more solid the figure became. He generally wore blue robes that rivaled his eyes, and often wore a pained expression when he saw her. He was young she knew, though she wasn’t sure how for his face remained unfocussed. Sometimes they would just sit and stare at each other, neither of them speaking a word. Symaia had tried to walk closer to him but she always met some invisible shield that kept her back.  She wasn’t sure how long it took her to remember her village, and that her father had disappeared into its fiery depths.

Suddenly Symaia sat up, shaking all over. It took several seconds before the world aligned and her mind began to clear. “Papa!” She screamed. Light attacked her senses. Symaia quickly shielded her eyes and screamed once again, “Papa!”

“Now, now dear” a voice said coming to her side. “None of that.”

After Symaia’s eyes had adjusted she saw a tall man dressed in white push her back in bed. “Who are you?” she asked. “Where am I?”

“I am Dr. Remes, and you are in the hospital of Ganai.”

Confusion clouded her mind. “What? But where’s my father… and Alkin. Yes Where’s Alkin.”

“He’s gone back to your village to look for any survivors. And I don’t know of your father as of yet. But we have many people who’ve drifted in from the village unconscious and unidentified.”

Symaia removed the bed sheets. “I must find him. Show me where they are.”

The doctor put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, now. You are in no condition to be doing anything. Not until I’ve properly examined you first anyway.”

“You don’t understand” she started trying to remove his restraining hand. As her hand touched his something Symaia could only characterize as a powerful explosion filled her mind as thoughts rammed through her. “This girl is getting to be quiet difficult. Perhaps I should send for a nurse. It’s been such a long day, and I’ve had no sleep. Yes after this patient I’m going to my office for a quick nap…”

Symaia’s head throbbed with the onslaught of the thoughts mixed with her own. The doctor’s thoughts she realized.

“Poor child. Her family is probably dead.”

“Stop it!” she screamed. “My father is not dead!”

The doctor stood back for a second, eyebrows cocked in surprise. As their hands lost contact the thoughts stopped, though the headache persisted. “Well no I didn’t say he was. I said…”

“You said my family was probably dead!”

“No I said you could search for them when I’ve finished examining you.”

Symaia grabbed the cots railing trying to stand when suddenly the voices returned only they were no longer the doctor’s.

Symaia suddenly got an image of a woman leaning over a sick man’s bed, her face full of despair. She took the man’s limp hand and cried, “Don’t let him dieYamen! Please. How will I support my family…”

Then the image vanished to show another man with a leg wrapped in linen held up by a set of pulleys. She could feel his thoughts. “When will I be able to leave this confounded place!”

The image changed again and she was watching a small boy no older than five or six coughing blood into a handkerchief. His skin was jaundiced and his body gaunt. A dog laid his head in the boys lap dreading what was to come. Then the image changed. Symaia looked at the same boy with sightless eyes. A man dressed in the dark robes of a holy man stood over him.

“May he rest in peace and…”

The images continued to swirl through her head.  Symaia fell to the floor hands over her head trying to block them out. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming. She sensed the doctor was trying to help her up but she screamed at him to keep his distance. What was happening to her? Was she possessed? Tears flooded her face. “Leave me alone!” she cried. She banged her head against the floor until the world once again fell to darkness.

Symaia woke to find herself in a darkened room. Her hands had been strapped to the railings on the side of the bed with leather thongs. She could vaguely recall scratching and clawing at the doctors and nurses who were trying to restrain her.

Now her head pulsed with invading thoughts as her hands touched the thongs.

“She’s possessed.”

“Oughtn’t we kill her now and spare her this.”

“Poor child…”

Symaia moaned unable to rid herself of these voices. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t had them until the night of the fire. Could it be…she wondered. Symaia removed her hands from the railing and the voices suddenly stopped. Then she touched the railing again and the voices resumed their noisy clamor. She looked at her hands in dismay. They looked the same to her. What was different? The lumiere de la vie! She had touched it. Could this be the source of this…power. Symaia wasn’t sure of what to call it. Annoying companion seemed more accurate.

Symaia was still staring at her hands when the door to her room slid open. Symaia quickly shied away as light flooded into the room. She could hear footsteps approaching her bed. Finally she looked up at the man who’d entered her room. Symaia sighed. Not a man, just Alkin she realized. Alkin’s hair was clumped and matted like he hadn’t washed it in days; his robes were in similar disarray. His pale face was covered in black soot, but his eyes. His eyes were what startled her. They still held their translucent color but they seemed… haunted, like they’d witnessed much more than they ever cared to see. “Alkin,” she croaked.

Alkin silently kneeled by her bedside. “I’m here.” He said. “Oh Syma, can you ever forgive me for leaving you. I thought you’d be safe here in the hospital.”

“My father?” she asked.

Alkin didn’t blink. A chill went through her. Alkin had always been an open book. Why was he on his guard now? “We’re still looking.” He said.

Symaia was not satisfied with this answer. On impulse she grabbed one of his hands.

Symaia gasped as she received images of blackened bodies under rubble and blood flooding the streets. Symaia could feel the horror and anguish Alkin felt as he walked down the corpse-ridden streets of Ramok.  Their once prosperous village had fallen to ash and rubble. Symaia could feel Alkin trying to pull away but she held fast. She had to see what had become of her father.

She got another image of Alkin sifting through rubble, hoping to find survivors when his eye caught something hit the light. He dug deeper and pulled out a silver handled knife. The knife really was a work of art. Symaia had seen those peculiar markings many times before.

Symaia pulled away from Alkin and came back to her small-unlit room. She closed her eyes tears streaming down her cheeks. “You found it,” she whispered.

Alkin looked confused. “What? Symaia, the doctor has said that…”

“The knife,” she interrupted. “It’s in your right pocket.”

Now Alkin looked seriously taken aback. He moved his hand to his bulging pocket. He hesitated before slowly removing it from his robes.

Symaia made herself breathe, though it was a painful task. So she was not mad. These images she had received were real. They had actually happened.

“Symaia. How did you know?”

She looked at him solemnly. “My father is dead.” She said flatly. “Leave me Alkin.”

Alkin stood and promptly left.