Lachsea, Ausicaa

Inside the witch's cave-like dwelling, Brenna sat upon a wobbly wooden stool beside Sorcha. Roshe snored loudly at their feet. The fire in the stove cast flickering shadows across their forms and faces. A strange calm settled over Brenna, as though her mind had disconnected from her body, pushing her to become a detached observer over the strangeness of her current circumstances.

"I wish to ask you a question, Brenna-girl."

"Yes, Sorcha?"

"What do you know about the threads of fate?"

"The threads of fate?"

"Yes, the threads of fate."

Brenna frowned slightly. "Well, when I was but a small girl, my servants used to tell me stories. Stories about how our lives are strung together by silvery threads that stretch to the stars, interwoven with the gods, so they may pull and tug at our lifelines whenever it suits their whims and fancies..."

Sorcha smiled. She appeared pleased with Brenna's answer. "Do you believe in the threads?"

Brenna's expression darkened. "I believe in them, yes. But, more than anything, I resent them. You claim the gods stole away my mother. They sealed her fate. I thought I could save her, but... I was wrong. I hate knowing how helpless we are amidst the grand schemes of the gods."

"Resentment cages the soul, child. It does none of us any good. There is more freedom in acceptance. What you define as 'helplessness' merely reflects the limits of mortality. Accept fate for what it is, in bliss or in misfortune, and immediately you transform from an immovable river rock to the waters that flow around it."

Brenna creased her brow in defiance. Her mind was resistant, choosing not to process Sorcha's imparted wisdom. "I am sorry. I do not understand."

The white-haired witch sighed. "Then the journey ahead shall be a taxing one for you. I will not mince words for you, child. The gods have their eyes on you. They do not mean to make you suffer, but you will. They do not mean to make you break, but you will. You must learn how to mend yourself again and again to bear the burdens handed to you... as I once did. As I still am."

"Burdens? What sort of burdens?"

"You are familiar with the fairytale about the girl and the wolf, are you not?"

Brenna felt genuinely bewildered now. "I am familiar with it, but I do not understand what a fairytale has to do with the threads and the burdens you speak of..."

Sorcha's gnarled hand reached up to tug at something on her neck. A thick silver chain appeared. She unclasped the chain and removed it from her person for Brenna to see. A large black iron key dangled from the necklace. A cluster of red rubies clung to the ornately carved handle. They glinted forebodingly in the firelight.

"Do you know what this is, Brenna-girl?"

"A key?"

"Not just any key," Sorcha murmured, "it is the Key of Aryss."

Brenna's eyes became round as saucers. "Surely, you jest!"

"I do not jest for this is no laughing matter," Sorcha chided. "I have guarded this relic for centuries upon centuries from dark, wicked creatures who mean to use it harm this realm."

Brenna's cheeks grew pale. Her mouth parted in fear. "Impossible! Magical keys only exist in children's stories. Fairytales cannot be real..."

"Whether you believe me now or later matters little to the gods. Time will not wait for you to lift the veil from your eyes. My body and soul are weary. I can sense my powers fading. Soon they shall be no more. The demons will come for me and this key when I grow too weak to fight them. Men of this realm have always been warlike and hungry for power, but the scattered, insignificant wars that they have waged thus far will seem like child's play compared to the havoc and bloodshed these Underworld creatures may wreak. Famine and plague will follow close behind. Like a twisted mother nurturing her demonic child, it shall give them great pleasure to watch our world burn. They will rot the hearts of men and fester in their souls until even the greatest of kings bend to their will."

Brenna's eyes welled up with distress. "Why do you threaten me with such dismal premonitions, Sorcha? The future you describe sounds too awful and fantastical to be true. I do not wish to speak of it anymore!"

"I am telling you these truths, Brenna-girl, because, as a Princess of Levose and a Princess of Zan, you are in a position to quell these impending fires. As of right now, there is relative peace and stability across the lands only because the true horrors of the Underworld's underbelly have not crossed over. Yet, your kingdoms are destined to go to war and incite the first spark."

"How do you know I will be able to resist these so-called demons? Perhaps they will rot my heart and fester in my soul."

"Perhaps they will. Perhaps they will not. Nothing is for certain, child. All I possess are intuition and hope. You are purer than most, Brenna-girl. I pray for you to remain as such."

Brenna's mind teetered on the brink of half-disbelief. She didn't know whether to reject the witch's horrific prophecies outright or question the soundness of her own mind.

"I would not know how to wrap my thoughts around such a monumental endeavor, Sorcha."

"That is why the gods have brought me to you, child. I will help you. I will guide you. Play your cards right, and you will be able to contain the chaos. You can become the bridge to unites both kingdoms and save man from himself."

A chill slithered down the girl's spine. There was something so resolute and utterly immovable about Sorcha's demeanor that made Brenna second guess herself.

In a hollow-sounding voice, she inquired, "Assuming... I am not going mad and that there is an inkling of reality in your wild claims, how could I possibly achieve what it is you are campaigning for me to do? I doubt the Emperor himself could bring peace to Zan and Levose!"

Sorcha nodded. "It will certainly not be easy. However, a task is only as possible or impossible as you determine it to be. If you embark down this path with the same single-minded pursuit as when you first sought me out to find a cure for your mother, then what obstacle would be great enough to stand in your way?"

Brenna scoffed. "Look how that turned out, Sorcha. Look where my mother lies now. Ashes in the wind."

"You are correct, your mother died, but—I challenge you to set aside your bitterness for a moment and think, Brenna-girl—of what your efforts gifted her. Five additional years of peace and happiness with you in this precious realm. She would have passed much sooner had it not been for your sacrifices."

Brenna's gray eyes misted over. Her chest ached from missing her mother. She wondered if Sorcha spoke the truth. Had it not been for the bierchae root tea, would her mother have surrendered to gray lung within the year as Dr. Waevers had predicted?

In haunting tones, Sorcha emphasized further, "These small victories are what we must live for, fight for... It is what gives meaning and purpose to humanity as a whole. Without it, we become soulless, wretched creatures. No different from the demons who wish to overtake us."

Brenna sighed weakly. "Alas, I think... I am beginning to understand what you are trying to convey to me. Tell me, then, Sorcha, what would the gods have me do? My mother, before she died, intended for me to marry into the House of Givenue. Would you suggest for me to go through with the marriage?"

Sorcha shook her head. "No, the Givenue boy is no good, but... there is another who may be of great service to you. When I read your tea leaves again, not too long ago, I observed a knot and a twist in your threads that had not been there before. There is a man named Ariss who may be able to help you ascend two thrones through only one war."

"Only one war? So there will still be bloodshed, after all? But I thought you said..."

"Small victories, Brenna-girl, focus on the small victories! Would you rather fight one war for a lifetime of peace? Or sit idly by and watch the entire world collapse into ruin? Remember, child, anything worth having requires sacrifice."

Brenna frowned as she tried to process Sorcha's words. "A man named Ariss, you say? Do you mean, the Commander Admiral, by chance? I remember my mother once told me he was not to be trusted anymore."

"Your mother stands correct. Do not go to Commander Admiral Ariss," Sorcha muttered in mysterious tones, "your threads must not intertwine with his dismal fate. Go to the younger Ariss boy. Your future, Brenna-girl, lies with the Commander Admiral's son."

"O gods, if all of this proves to be true, what an extraordinary turn my life is about to take," Brenna whispered in a slow, withering breath.

A sudden, paralyzing thought crossed her mind. What was to become of Sorcha amidst this grand scheme conjured by the gods?

She turned to the witch with a frightened expression. "Sorcha?"

"Yes, child?"

"What did you mean earlier when you said the demons will come for you when you grow weak? You are a witch. You are supposed to be immortal. How could your powers disappear?"

Sorcha smiled calmly. "Do not worry yourself with my matters, child. I have long since made peace with my fate."

Brenna's lower lip began to tremble. "Will you... die?"

"As I have stated before, my powers are not my own. The gods give, and the gods take. I will hold out for as long as my breath sustains this creaky old bag of bones, but... shall I let you in on a secret, Brenna-girl?"

"What secret, Sorcha?"

"I do not fear my end. In fact, I look forward to it."

Brenna gasped, "What? How could you utter such blasphemous nonsense?"

"Because," Sorcha explained with a touch of sadness, "only then will I be reunited with my beloved. I have kept him waiting all this time."