The Gifted Sisters And The Golden Mirror

Chapter Four- Vera

For as long as I can remember, the mountainous terrain that we live in has forever trapped heat. Even now the ground smolders and sends up a disorientating haze as we head down the hill to Black Ridge Castle. And year round, occasional thunderstorms have kept us from completely drying out.

There are some who talk about how they wish our winters could be like those of the West. They say the snow can get as deep as you are tall there. I've never seen snow up close; sometimes I've seen white on the tops of mountains, but that's my only experience with the stuff.

As we get closer to the castle, the massive fortress seems dark and uninviting. It's made from the black obsidian stone mined in the peaks. It's a rare stone that holds special value to our kingdom; it's worth more than the diamonds and rubies that are also mined. However, the combination of the three allows the king to never have to worry about falling into poverty. Of course, one can't say how the rest of the kingdom is faring. Let's just say the king doesn't know how to share.

Servants take our horses the moment we arrive. Without waiting for Bruce, I head inside.

The castle is bustling with servants in every corridor. They're preparing for the oncoming celebration. Without a single glance my way, they move around me, focusing intently on the tasks at hand. They know what's in store for them if everything isn't perfect.

It's another year for the Eastern King to celebrate, hoping for it to finally be the year my magic manifests. I curse the Enchanter who issued the damn prophecy. Even more, that he sent a Woman of the Scree to live here. The king says she was a gift, but I know she's here to keep an eye on me. The Enchanter will want to know if someone other than he himself has any magic.

I only hope that whatever gift I receive, it will be something that allows me to escape this life of torment. Even if it means leaving my friends behind.

I enter the Throne Room—an enormous room with large black pillars. A single chandelier hangs down from the ceiling, an object I've wished many times to drop down upon the king. One of the many different fantasies I've cooked up over the years.

Historical tapestries hang along the walls, depicting the gruesome beheadings and whippings the people of this land have had to endure. The king never fails to remind people what could befall them. I hate it all.

King Kgar sits regally on a brilliant piece of forged art, built also from black obsidian stone. His throne is made from one solid piece, and the back arches up at least ten feet.

Placed on a raised dais, the height gives him the excuse to look down his long narrow nose and judge with his hooded, dark eyes.

As always, the Woman of the Scree sits next to him. Her cool, relaxed posture doesn't fool me. Her rich brown hair falls in layered waves past her shoulders, and down her voluptuous frame. She is a creature that captures the lust of any who gaze upon her. She's pure evil.

I bristle when her black voided eyes follow my every move. I can never tell when the Enchanter is watching through them. It was one of the many benefits the Enchanter gained when he sent the Scree out. He created them for this very reason—to spy. Therefore, I don't trust her.

The sneer on the king's face becomes more prominent the closer I get. The thump of my heart beats loud, and I try to find my center. His black robes drape around him flawlessly, his blond hair standing out in stark contrast to them.

Some say the king's sharp features are attractive, but I never could see it. His black soul is all I see, making him far from anything to admire.

A golden crown encrusted with large red rubies sits on his brow. His fingers are covered in ornate rings. He looks ridiculous.