Pearl of the Stars

Long ago, before the earliest memories of the elders, there was a time when the land was wild. Wild was not the same as crazy nor disordered, not at all. Wild was a word that would climb the tallest mountain, run through the thickest forest, and swim across the widest ocean. Wild was the people, the stars in their eyes, and the splendor of the children.

Freedom dwelled in the deepest corners of the universe, and everything that basked in this freedom was good. The magical creatures were always conscientious in this freedom.

It was fear that altered the lands for the worse. Fear constricted the creatures to nothing but evil monsters, acting in rashness for simple nurishment. This fear darkened the magic, the very thing that was thought to be the world's strength.

Long after fear slithered onto the lands, a prince named Raphael was born into the Kingdom of Erequay. Prince Raphael was a wielder of good magic, wild magic. The old magic. This rare power was often called the magic of the cosmos, and the prince was one of the very few to be capable of using it. Darkness plagued the kingdoms, but this magic served as a diminutive light. People fought for it. They raided the prince's home in hopes of capturing him, and tried as hard as they might to force the cosmic magic onto themselves.

The prince soon became wearied. His blessing had somehow become a curse. At the mere age of seven, his family escaped the kingdom and hid somewhere far in the countryside, leaving the Kingdom of Erequay with no leaders and no guidance. The kingdom grew to be chaotic, and served as a dwelling place for evil. Its surrounding kingdoms offered no assistance, and the people became mad with a gripping insanity. Some dispersed, and others stayed to reek havoc. Erequay was no longer known by its name, but was called instead The Land of Night. Without Prince Raphael, The Land of Night was bathed in only darkness.

In The Land of Night, there lived an old witch called Bartha. Her home rested on the very edge of the land, near the great marshes that surrounded The Land of Night. With her lived a young girl known as Violet. Violet assisted the witch in making potions and spells, which were then sold to those who passed through the marshes and those who would deal with dark curses.

Those who practiced dark curses were known by most as the sorcerers, but their true name was Waldrom. This powerful group had attempted to take over the kingdom when the royals escaped, simply slipping into the castle and declaring themselves higher than the remainder of the people. But none considered them to be leaders, in fact, not many even noticed their presence. They were powerful, yes, but very secretive. The Waldroms kept to themselves and never failed to conceal their plans.

But Bartha and Violet knew a bit about these dark sorcerers. They knew the Waldroms were up to something, and they knew that the herbs they bought from Bartha were always rare and seething with power.

Of course the sorcerers did not come to the witch's house themselves, for they hated to show their faces and instead kept them buried in their spell books. But they did send a boy to collect the proper ingredients for them. A young boy who always dressed in the clothing of a peasant, not a magician. Bartha and Violet often wondered who this boy was. They, of course, knew him, but they did not know his significance and obvious connection with those who lived in the castle.

It was puzzling, but they asked no questions. Questions led to answers, answers led to secrets, and secrets led to unwanted things. They already knew too much, but what would happen when Bartha and Violet crossed the line of knowledge?

Violet was thinking about the possible consequences as she perched on the branch of a large elm tree, trying to reach the birds nest that sat nestled in the swaying leaves above her. Her fingertips brushed against the soft texture of a feather, and she quickly pulled it from the side of the large woven nest. It had taken her many days to find a nest like this one, and she had finally retrieved a feather from the rare bird that had built it. A cotzu bird, one with great emerald wings and a charming wide beak.

Sliding down the tall tree expertly, Violet began to run through the forest, letting the feather ripple as she clutched it in her hand. She was many miles away from home, nearly past the edge of the marsh, but if her feet were swift she might make it back before dark.

The smell of fresh wind and rotting bark combined to drift past Violet's senses. She loved the scents, sights and sounds of the marsh. They were her home, and she yearned to learn every part of them. Bartha was her teacher in this matter. The old lady knew nearly everything there was to know about herbs, trees, animals, and the earth beneath her feet. And how to mix them all together to make something magical.

Violet cared deeply for the ancient witch. Bartha was a mother, grandmother, teacher and friend to her. She did not know the whereabouts of her blood-family, but she knew that they had left her here in The Land of Night as a young child, and this was enough information to make Violet's feelings towards them bitter.

After nearly an hour of running breathlessly through the swampy terrain, Violet finally reached the little wooden house she called home. Darkness was seeping at the edges of the horizon, and the canopy of shrubbery above her made the air even more dark and choking. But Violet always felt safe in the cover of the marsh.

“Bartha! Bartha, I found one!” Violet laughed as she raced through the open door of the house, her heart beating rapidly with pride and motion.

But what she saw lying on the ground nearly made her heart stop still. She let out a startled gasp, and lifted a shaking hand to cover her mouth. Blood was splattered against the rug, seeping from Bartha's still body, a jaded dagger protruding from her chest.