Chapter I

The Lost Ones

As dusk began to settle, the girl knelt on her knees in the cold room made of dark night stones, praying before the carved busts in front of her. The light of the full moon streamed in through the window behind the bust, bathing her body. She clasped her hands to the knees of the bust before her, closing her eyes tightly as if never to open them again. "As you created us from nothing, protect your servants. Grant us children from the earth you shaped our bodies with, bless us with the wind from the breath you breathed into our souls, guard us with the fire you forged our hearts with, wash our feeble bodies with the waters blessed by your wisdom, illuminate our path with your light, and protect your servants from the darkness." She gracefully withdrew her hands from the knees of the bust, listening to the sound of her own heartbeat for a moment before opening her eyes and drawing a deep breath. "I am your needy servant, I beg you to protect us."

The young girl stood up slightly, running her fingers over the holy book she had left beside the bust. When she opened her eyes, she believed with all her heart, for a fleeting moment, that God was with her. "I am your humble servant," corrected the priest from the other side of the room. "Lately, you've been mixing up your prayers, and God would not be pleased with that."

"I'm sorry," the girl said, with the demeanor of a child who had been naughty. "May God forgive me. I can't seem to gather my thoughts because of my mother."

"The Creator is forgiving," said the priest. "Do you remember which chapter that was from, Lena?" Lena paused for a few seconds before answering, scrutinizing the old priest.

"Third volume, sixth chapter, and third passage," she said hesitantly.

"Second passage," the priest corrected. "Not good enough, but your effort is commendable." The man walked towards her with heavy steps, the sound of his footsteps echoing throughout the room. He sat beside the bust, his wrinkled, calloused fingers covering Lena's fingers on the Holy Teachings. "How is your mother? No new developments, I assume," he asked in a soothing voice.

"Nothing new," the girl replied. "She hasn't woken up yet. I overheard Rywell telling my father that she might never wake up again."

"Rywell?" the man asked curiously.

"The keep healer," Lena clarified. "He has always cared for us, sir. He is a kind and gentle man; I don't think he would lie."

"Ah, surely he isn't lying," the old priest said with a faint hint of arrogance. "Still, healers only aid people; it is the Creator who heals them."

"Then is there nothing we can do?" Lena asked with obvious sorrow, her voice trembling, and her sadness whispering through the stone walls of the room.

"Of course, our hands are not entirely empty," said the priest, taking the girl's fingers into his own. "What we must do is believe in God with all our being and pray for our loved ones with the purest of our feelings. Only then can we be sure that we have done the best for them."

"My mother wasn't very devout," Lena managed to say, yet she hoped God would help her.

"The queen was from the marshlands," the man affirmed, nodding his head up and down with calm. "Many of the people of the marshlands have strayed from the righteous path, the path of our gods. Still, our duty is to pray for them as well."

"Every night and every day, with all my heart." Lena had memorized this part; it had deeply affected her when she first learned the Teachings of Daias as a child.

"I know, dear. You have always walked the right path, allowing the light of God to illuminate your way. Just like Daias' mother, Mara." The man's fingers gently grasped Lena's chin, his thumb sliding down her lips. "You resemble her so much that if my faith were easily shaken, I would think you are Mara reincarnated."

Lena nodded, feeling a brief relief when the man's sulfur-scented fingers withdrew from her lips, though guilt soon washed over her body for thinking such thoughts. He loves me like his own daughter, she thought.

Aharran, the High Priest of the Great Temple of Daias in Aston, had been teaching the people about Daias' teachings for as long as Lena could remember. He gave advice to the king in the Noble Council like his predecessor, High Priest Karhman, protecting and upholding the sanctity of the king's reign. It was he who whispered Lena's name into her ear when she was born, she thought again, I am like his daughter.

"Rise, my child," the priest said calmly. When Lena stood up, she realized how numb her knees were from the stone floor. "It has been a while since night fell. I am an old man, and you should be a good child. Return to the keep, fly home, little bird." Aharran rose slowly. "If you see Ser Arlyn before leaving tomorrow, tell him he hasn't visited the temple recently. I expect him soon."

"As you command," Lena said, making a slight bow. She turned and walked softly towards the door. The broad hall outside the door was lined with colored glass windows along its moon-facing side, depicting six different figures: God and his five children. The images formed by the glass pieces refracted the daylight during the day, causing the vast hall to sparkle with dozens of different colors. As Lena passed by them, she felt as if the six images were singing to her. Of course, it wasn't a real song; the truth was the glass was quite old, and their curved structures had worn away in some places, so their song was just the hum of the wind blowing through.

Despite the late hour, the girl saw how lively every floor of the grand temple was until she finally stepped outside. Old men walked here and there with candle lanterns, others busied themselves with the art of marbling at their desks, and priests with quill pens struggled to write with trembling fingers. The temple was as it always was. Once, Lena's father had called the temple priests 'holy rats,' and as a child, Lena had laughed heartily at this. In retrospect, it was quite an inappropriate name for people who lived in the name of God.

When she finally stepped outside the temple, Lena saw those waiting for her on the high steps. Three knights and two handmaidens. As she began to descend the steps, Ser Darren Barrow hurriedly came to her side and took her arm. "We have prepared the carriage for you," the knight said, pointing to the moving cabin in the street. The carriage was adorned with two wooden wings and a faint griffin figure at the front. Before it stood two stallions, one white and one black, and the sleeping driver awoke with a start when Strong Brock 'gently' prodded him.

"Where are Cassa and Lieara?" Lena asked curiously. They, like the other two girls in front of the carriage, were her handmaidens.

"They wished to return to the castle early, princess," Ser Darren replied. "Lady Sarah and Lady Anrella preferred to wait for you."

"Good. At least I won't be bored along the way." Lena was actually somewhat hurt; lately, Cassa and Lieara had been doing this more often, leaving early every time she visited the temple. Cassa's excuse was simple; she could only ride back to the castle with her new lover, Garry Laxley, after leaving the temple. Garry Laxley was one of the high-ranking captains of the city watch, the Moonbirds, and he usually had to patrol the city during the day to maintain order. But Lieara had no such excuse; she simply used her father as a pretext. The girl was the daughter of the Lord Captain of the Bay, from House Borrand, and Lord Captain Karras was a man who had quite conflicting views with the priests of the temple. Yet, the times they were in were not a time for such excuses.

Lena's mother, Queen Alissa, had not awakened from her feverish sleep for over a week, and whispers within the castle spoke of her inevitable death. Sincere devotion to the gods might prevent this, but Lieara still disappointed her. After all, Lena's father wasn't very devout either, yet he managed to allow her to visit.

Thankfully, not all her friends were as distant from faith as they were. Anrella belonged to the House Huffle, lords of a small castle named Beetleburr near the city, known for their closeness to faith. And Sarah... Sarah was simply Sarah. Lena's closest friend and her favorite handmaiden. While the girl wasn't particularly devout, she would come to pray with Lena every night and day. And now, they were both here with Lena.

"Princess," Sarah said with a graceful bow, Anrella following suit.

"Sarah, Anrella," Lena greeted them with equal grace. She hadn't forgotten her knights either. "Ser Ardor, Ser Orthor." Ser Arthor was Ser Darren's younger brother, and both were members of the king's guard, the Hawks, the sworn brotherhood. Ser Orthor was different, a man too rough for the image of a knight in tales, but still, people chose their words carefully around Lena when he was present. Orthor was a member of the House Brock, who made their home in Cedarch. His towering height and barrel chest had earned him the nickname 'Strong Brock.'

"Your Highness has been delayed," Brock said, adjusting his long blue cloak. "We are about an hour past your father's permitted return time, princess."

"It is never too late to pray to Daias, Brock," said Ser Darren Barrow, holding Lena's arm. "Did your father not teach you this?"

"I never knew my father," Brock said with a smile. "I grew up under the king's wing. Though he didn't teach me much about faith."

Strong Brock's words seemed to amuse Ser Ardor. "The king is not a very devout man, yes," the young knight said, then turned to Lena. "But in these troubled times, even he must be praying, I am sure, Your Highness."

"Undoubtedly," said Lena, though she was not so sure.

With Ser Darren's support, she boarded the carriage, followed by Anrella and Sarah. The comfort of the velvet-cushioned seats made Lena feel sleepy for a moment. She parted the tulle covering the window with her fingers and waited for the knights to mount their horses. Before setting off, she paused for a few seconds, just observing the temple from outside. It was undoubtedly a colossal structure; unlike the black stones that lined its interior, the outer cladding was a creamy orange color. Each floor, supported by five columns on each of its six sides, was adorned with different images etched into large glass panes, each floor rising above the previous one, almost reaching the sky. The lower sections of the temple were made of night stones, just a little shorter than a person's height. Lena knew that before the Daias Temple was built and her ancestors founded this city, there had been another temple here, where different gods were worshiped. That was over a thousand years ago, of course, back when shapeshifters and skingivers roamed the land. Now, little remained of them, except for the structures they built, now belonging to Lena's father.

"We can go," Lena said to Sarah, who was sitting across from her. Sarah turned her head with a smile and opened the hatch at the top of the wooden wall behind her. "The princess says we can go, sir," she told the driver. The horses, with sleepy and tired steps, began to pull the carriage. The girl turned to Lena. "Actually, there's something I wanted to tell you."

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"I'm listening."

"The girls thought we might sit by the Bright Eye for a while. They asked if you'd like to join us."

"Are you going?" Lena asked.

"You know we hardly ever see them lately," Sarah noted. "We thought it might be fun," Anrella added.

"I'm not sure it's the right time for fun."

Part of Lena truly wanted to go and break the ice that had formed between her and her friends recently, but another part of her wanted to be by her mother's side, who was sleeping in the keep. Her mother needed her.

"I should stay by my mother's side, girls."

"I understand that you want to be with your mother, Lena, but you've been with her every night since she was asleep. You're not even sleeping properly. A little fun might do you good, believe me," Sarah said confidently.

"If you don't want, I'll return to the castle with you," Anrella offered. "But at least give it a try; didn't you say you wanted to spend time with Cassa and Lieara? Cassa even convinced Garry Laxley."

"I don't want," Lena insisted. Anrella nodded. "You can go if you wish, girls."

"We'll stay with you," Sarah said, unable to hide her disappointment. "In case you get bored, we can chat a bit."

Despite the girl's words, no one spoke a word throughout the long carriage ride. For some reason, Lena felt uneasy, as if her mother’s judging eyes were upon her. She should not be happy while her mother was in pain.

Of course, the queen was not such a woman; she was much softer, much more loving. Especially towards her children, especially towards Lena. Lena remembered her mother reading her stories from an old storybooks, hearing the song of Joalla the Fox and her love from her, and the tale of the Acorn King. At the end of each story, the queen would stroke Lena's hair and stay by her side until she was sure her daughter fell asleep. Once, Lena had managed to trick her; she wasn’t sure how old she was. Seven or eight, at most nine.

When Queen Alissa extinguished the candle by Lena's bed and left the room, Lena had held her breath, counting until she was sure her mother had gone, her heart pounding with excitement. Finally, after a few minutes, the girl had wanted to read her mother a story just as her mother had read to her. She remembered that night the moon was full just like now, and the light of the moon always seemed enchanting to Lena.

The girl had hugged the thick storybook on the dresser, leaving her room like a bird flying from its nest. She had climbed the high steps of the spiral staircase, avoided the guards as she sneaked through the corridors. When she finally reached her mother’s room, she had sat on the chair beside her bed, just as her mother had done, and opened the book. She didn't know which story to read, and at such a young age, she couldn't read the letters filling the pages. She only looked at the pictures and dreamed, and turned her dreams into words. Lena remembered how her mother had woken up in fright when she jumped off the chair to return to her room.

After that night, her mother had placed two guards at Lena’s door, and for several weeks, Lena had woken up each night to the sound of the guards at her door. Now, as her mother lay on the brink of death, Lena held her hand and wanted to read her a story to make her feel she was there, just like in the old days.

With these thoughts, Lena parted the tulle at the window and watched the city. She saw the Smiths' Street, the high building of the Merchants' Guild, the ramshackle houses on Wild Dog Hill. After the carriage entered King’s Road, it passed in front of Milk Spring Fountain, turned onto the road connecting to Raven Street by Moon Maiden Statue. Throughout the ride, Lena saw many shops still open; in Aston City, unlike the castle, the day ended much later. Yet the liveliest places at night were the inns, taverns, and brothels around Rainbow Road. So much so that some nights, the crowds were so large that they spilled from Rainbow Road to King’s Road. This was one of those nights, so the driver chose to turn to the castle from Raven Street instead of King’s Road. For some reason, the city's liveliness unsettled Lena. Their queen is dying, and they don’t even care, she thought. If she could, she would darken the moon tonight and convince the world that things would never be the same.

Finally, when they reached High Bridge at the end of Raven Street, Lena looked at the full moon smiling down on her from between the high buildings along the way. The moonlight fell on Deepwater Lake, on which Aston City was built, and even its reflection on the lake dazzled the girl’s eyes. With the moonlight following them across the bridge, the princess’s carriage crossed over the lake. When they finally passed through the inner walls of Deepwater, Lena heard her knights talking among themselves.

“Who wants to account to the king?” Strong Brock asked.

“For what?” Ser Darren replied.

“For the princess being late? She’s here now,” Ser Ardor objected. “Is the Deepwater Beast going to snatch her while she rides to the keep?”

Lena had heard this story from her father. The ancients spoke of a monster living in the depths of the vast lake upon which the city was built, preying on those who ventured into the water. Lena knew this was an unfounded story, yet the thought of a monster living in the lake she had grown up by always unsettled her. A few seconds after the carriage stopped with the wail of the horses pulling it, Ser Darren opened the door of the carriage. The knight helped Lena down from the carriage. Once her feet touched the ground, Lena thanked the knight and walked towards the castle with steady steps.

The stone steps she climbed slowly wound around the skirts of the castle. The castle that rose above the steps seemed like something out of a fairy tale. A broad island on the lake, with a fortress of six towers in the middle of three layers of walls. The tall towers of the castle shone like torches over the city.

When they arrived at the castle, Lena turned to her handmaidens. “You can go if you wish, truly,” she said sincerely. “I don’t want to leave my mother tonight. I don’t want to leave her any night. Each might be my last time seeing her.”

“It’s alright, princess,” Anrella said. “We’ll be with you, as always. The queen is a mother to us all.”

Anrella’s words were heartfelt and sincere. Lena knew this. The girl’s father was the castle commander of Deepwater. A few years ago, she had been betrothed to one of the city’s old merchants, yet the man was disturbingly old for the girl. Even Queen Alissa had been troubled by this, making the girl one of Lena’s handmaidens to prevent the marriage. Since then, Anrella always said every happy day she lived was a gift from the queen.

“As you wish,” Lena said. The keep’s broad wooden doors opened for her. The guards at the door bowed, those inside bowed, and those in the corridors bowed. The princess was tired even from responding to each of their bows.

“Ser Orthor, Ser Darren, Ser Ardor, you may go to your beds. I’ll be in my mother’s room,” she said to her knights.

“Your father commanded us to stay with you until you sleep,” Ser Darren said, shaking his head. “We can wait at the door, Your Highness.”

“I don’t intend to sleep, just as I don’t need three guards at my door in my father’s castle. Go and sleep; I command it.”

“As you wish, princess,” said Ser Orthor Brock.

After the knights left the group, Lena went to her mother’s room with her handmaidens. When she opened the door, she shivered for a moment as the cold from the room wrapped around her body. “Close the window,” Lena said, frowning.

From inside the room, she heard the voice of someone she hadn’t seen yet. “The window should stay open, princess.” When Lena turned her eyes to the source of the voice, her skin prickled. The Grave Witch... “I see you have left your room, my lady,” Lena said to the witch. “Not a common sight, I know. But my mother is cold. I feel it.”

“She needs to be cold,” the witch said. Lena noticed Sarah’s suspicious eyes studying the witch. “Rywell said she should stay warm,” Lena noted.

“Rywell doesn’t know much then,” the witch said in a serene voice, wrapping the thread around the slender twigs in her lap. “Forgive my insistence, princess. I’ve seen this before,” the girl said, frowning.

“Speak more clearly, Lady Lyngrave.” The witch looked into the princess’s eyes as if hearing the name for the first time in a long while. She left the thread in her lap.

“I tended to my brother when he was dying,” Lyngrave said, frowning as if her words had brought back memories she wished to forget. “I was at my mother’s bedside when she died. I couldn’t watch my cousin’s death, but I was with her as she burned from within.”

“I’m very sorry for your losses, my lady, but this situation is different,” Lena noted. The witch took up the thread again, wrapping it around the slender twigs from above and below.

“Each death was different,” she said, averting her gaze from Lena. “Your healer can’t understand this. My family also had a good healer in Blackgrave. While my relatives writhed in pain, the healer swore they would get better, claiming the plague was over.”

“You mean the Great Spring Plague?” Lena asked curiously. The girl only nodded.

“The plague ended long ago, my lady,” Sarah said, leaning against the window sill.

“It ended long ago and has returned,” the witch hissed. “The plague is back, this is true, Your Highness.”

“You speak so confidently,” Lena managed to say. She walked to the bed and took her mother’s hand in her own. It wasn’t hard to feel her body’s chill; for a moment, she checked her mother’s pulse without thinking. She’s still alive, she told herself, her heart is still beating.

“I know more than this, princess, but I speak of very little that I know,” the witch said. She began to tie the twigs entwined with threads and flowers together.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked. The witch didn’t answer. “What are those twigs? Is it a spell? What kind of ritual is this?”

“A prayer,” the witch said, her eyes weary from the questions, turning to Sarah. “A prayer to the gods, each one of them.”

“What prayer?” Lena asked this time, unable to conceal her curiosity.

“For a merciful death,” the witch said, swaying the twigs in her fingers like leaves in the wind. “Trust me, princess. If you intend to wait here tonight, you’ll need this.” Lyngrave placed her prayer beside the queen’s pillow, near her head.

“I don’t understand, what are you saying?” Lena asked, grabbing the woman’s wrist.

The witch directed her pale gray eyes at Lena’s bright blue eyes without flinching. “The queen will die tonight, Your Highness. There’s nothing we can do but plead for mercy from the gods.”

Lena pushed the woman’s wrist away. “Get out,” she said with clear anger. “Out. Out!”

The woman nodded, pausing for a moment before leaving the room. “Leave the window open, Your Highness, truly.”

Lena didn’t even deign to respond. “What does this mean?” Sarah asked harshly after the woman left, slamming the door. “What does she think she’s doing? Witch!”

“She only prayed,” Anrella said, breaking her silence. “She loved the queen too, after all.”

“To the gods,” Lena said with disgust. “The heretic, the demon gods. There is only one god, and it would be better if she hadn’t prayed at all rather than pray to them. May God forgive us for this.”

“Do you think it’s really the plague?” Sarah asked curiously.

“No,” Lena replied confidently. “The witch is whispering a false song. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” Regardless of the words she had spoken, Lena silently prayed that the woman was wrong.

“I remember the day Ser Arryn brought her to the castle,” Anrella said uneasily. “I was also uneasy when I first saw her, but after all this time... she doesn’t seem that bad.”

“I don’t understand what Ser Arryn sees in her,” Sarah said with disgust.

“Arryn Stout lost three wives,” Lena said, always saddened by the man’s story with his wives. “The first was the witch’s cousin. As she said, the girl died of the plague.” After the death of his first wife, Anna Lyngrave, Arryn had struggled for a long time, finding solace in the teachings of the Temple of Daias. The High Priest had once told Lena, “Some deaths lead us to walk the path of God.” When Lena had mentioned this to her father recently, the king had scoffed and said that some deaths darken life too much, leading people to seek meaning in the first light they see.

“Admittedly, marrying his cousin at her grave after writing songs for his first love isn’t exactly heartwarming,” Anrella said.

“I bet the witch enchanted him,” Sarah countered. “The grave whore! You should tell the king what she did here, Lena.”

“I’ll talk to my father in the morning,” the princess said, holding her mother’s hand tighter. “He’ll speak to Ser Arryn when he returns, and if necessary, Arryn and Lyngrave can leave.”

“Is there any news from Ser Arryn?” Anrella asked. “It’s been a while since he set off. Do you think they’ve reached Old Watch?”

“I hope so,” Lena said. “My mother would want my brother by her side. At least she would want to see him one last time.”

Ser Arryn Stout was a young knight and son of the Lord of Order in the Noble Council. He occasionally advised the king in the council and was one of the few names the king trusted unconditionally. Now, with the queen in this condition, Ser Arryn Stout was on his way to bring Lena’s exiled brother from the Marches, with many esteemed knights and soldiers in tow. Lena had been wondering for days about her brother’s reaction when he heard the news. Would he blame the king for the seven-year exile that had separated him from his family? Or himself? Lena couldn’t know. Her only wish was for her brother to return to the keep as soon as possible and give their mother one last kiss on the cheek. The prince should come before death, Lena told herself.

As the girl thought of this, her body shivered with fear for a moment. A raven, brought by the winds of the dark night, had perched on the window sill and let out an angry scream. Spreading its wings in all its fury, it allowed the blood flowing from its right wing to drip onto the floor of the room. It turned its trembling head rapidly from side to side, meeting Lena’s eyes with its black ones.