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The Wizard's Legacy book 1: Glossary and Character List

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Black Dwarf – Reserved breed of dwarf who live in the remote territories of Flavency. They have midnight black skin, eyes of black, dark blue, or white, with hair colored black, gray, or white. They hate people and get along with the giants of their land. Blind ghosts - In Suvarian culture, gouging out the eyes of the dead and or dying is considered a dishonorable death. Thus, the superstition of blind, dishonorable ghosts arose and are feared by many. Also, one may lay a curse on another by foretelling their ghost will be blind or blind ghosts will haunt them. This curse originated from the War of the Royals once the rebellious Solarics were slain and rightfully blinded. Their bodies were left to rot within the depths of Fogranna Line’s eastern forested edge. Soon after, blind ghosts were seen by commoners searching for their bodies. The eastern side of the forest was abandoned, renamed Deep Wilds, and was reclaimed by the Wilder KinFolk soon after. Bronn the DogStare – The Head Fang of Fang Kin. He is a ruthless barbarian who hungers for more territories. He is known as a fearless leader with one pale blue eye and one dark brown eye. Cedany (Sid-any) – Olivia’s lady in waiting who began serving her when they were young.Cedar Folk – Wilders nestled beside Wolf Kin territory, Cedar Folk, consists of two Kins: Root and Shade Kin. Root Kin is known for its knowledge of herbs, roots, barriers, and so forth in terms of healing and poisoning. Shade Kin is a mysterious, reserved Kin often communing with Wraiths, thus learning dark arts, a little of The Pravus, only a few KinFolks know. Nearly every Flesh Thief derives from Shade Kin. Charnelic (Char-nell-ick) – The most ruthless of the Suvarian, elvish kindreds. Typically disturbing the peace, taking part in shady activities, and are keen on the dark, gory side of life; Charnelics are rarely trusted. Their skin is pitch black, hair dark, gray, white, silver, or, rarest of all, bronze. Their eyes range from white, gray, and black to amber, rust, and blond. They are the only mortals who have gray eyes, thus thought of as Wraiths at times and killed. During the War of the Royals, they sided with the rebellious Solarics and, once their rebellion was crushed, fled and became a renegade kindred. The name Charnelic derives from the word charnel, as in a charnel house, which is a building or vault where corpses or bones are piled; also associated with a violent death.  A putdown for Charnelics is ‘Runners’. When the rebels during the War of the Royals were defeated, the Charnelics were the first to retreat, avoiding slavery and mass slaughter, yet gaining a fend-for-ones-self persona. Cold Speaker – In Flavency, birds can be trained to speak, using dark arts endowed by Frost Ghosts (the Flavencen name for Wraiths), to send messages. They have the ability to speak, but must speak only to the person intended to receive to prohibit speech. If the recipient is dead, they are free to speak to whomever they chose. Crimson Rings - When a Song Bearer has reached Seer-hood, The Wizard adorns their wrists to a deep crimson hue, textured with intricate loops, lines, and designs, as a sign of their promoted position. Crown Haven – Duke Aldret’s estate, closest dwelling to Wraith’s Hollow, and place of refuge for Tulish royalty. Dar-o-gal (Darr-ow-gal) – White Dwarf mercenary leader who Prince Theron hired to find Lady Olivia. He was formerly a general during the Dragon War.Duke Aldret (Al-dur-et) – Half-giant, half-human duke who owns Crown Haven, nestled close to Wraith’s Hollow. In Prince Theron’s youth, Duke Aldret taught him strategy, geography, government, leadership, and several other subjects. He is considered a well-respected duke, regardless of his half-human, half-giant origins. His skin is pitch black, eyes a piercing, icy blue, and hands and feet disproportioned because of his half-blood disadvantage. Elshender – Proxy Elshender is a knight and proxy to Prince Theron. He is a large, well-built man, with long brown hair and a scruffy beard, who fights with two swords. He is the son of Baron Sedrick, though his lower-class upbringing hindered him little in supporting his prince since childhood.Flavency (Flah-ven-ci) – The northernmost realm, a frozen wasteland, home to dwarfs, giants, and, if legends are true, frost dragons.Flesh Thief – The Wraith-led craft to taking a skin, from a man or animal, and wearing it like the thief’s own skin. The skin is tightly synched against the thief’s body and, by dark magical means, their body adjusts to fit the skin’s shape, forming a snarling wolf to a graceful lady. The fleshy covering is uncomfortable and must be maintained by constant flexing and rubbing in oils to prevent cracking. The majority of Flesh Thieves are Shade Kin. Han Ci – The Treeling-infested country across the Ardi’on Sea, adjacent to Tulaun. Treelings dominate the land, happily living alongside snarling werewolves and mischievous pookas. Harts thrive amid the unending forest, however the Jaw Jin, the only humans to live in Han Ci, struggle to survive. Because trees do not require cities, they are few and far between. They worship the goddess of water, Sin Jo Lyn, god of earth, Won Show, god of sunshine, Tee Ahn, and goddess of fire, Yin Yah. The realm is in constant tension because of Han Ci’s callous nature toward the Rotten Lot: anyone who proves weak, disabled, or rebellious. Lumbermen continually chop down citizens deemed Rotten, selling their wooden pieces to other realms or, if not a Treeling, as slaves. Rebellion is within sight.   Head – The leader or chief of a Wilder Kin.Highest Melodies - This collection of songs The Wizard sang to create the worlds. The songs are alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword. It penetrates even to divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of glass hearts.

"Shattered Lives" Chapter 8: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

Chapter 8Valsara’s FateOlivia looked out the window of a narrow, cushioned wagon as she watched Crown Haven’s walls fade away. The battlements were slowly hidden by the Hilled Country’s green knolls and villages. The thunder of horses’ hooves, clink of armor, and hubbub of discussions filled the air. They journeyed down a dirt road carved out by countless travelers, horses, wagons, and carriers over decades of traffic. A few young trees cast shadows over the road between fields of wheat. It was late morning, and the mist had already lifted from the land. The sun’s warmth grew by the hour, and blue sky broke through the drifting gray clouds.Olivia could barely make out the tower where Theron and she had secretly met the night before. She smiled as her eyes flickered to the prince beside her, but her smile was short-lived. She glanced ahead past the caravan of knights and servants on foot to a dark green line at the end of the horizon. Wraith’s Hollow was waiting.Wraith’s Hollow was the tip of a larger forest, Deep Wilds. In turn, Deep Wilds was once part of another woodland, Fogrenna Line. All three woods bordered the other, for the individual three were once one whole forest, whose name had been lost in time. The tree line took root in Suvarian’s northern coastline, the beginning of Fogrenna Line, and curved along the eastern side and south through Suntar’s Pass, becoming Deep Wilds along the way. From there, it grew into Tulaun, and curved to a point between the Flat Plains and Hilled Country, known as Wraith’s Hollow.The forest’s division was caused by Suvarian’s War of the Royals, a decade of war and rebellion amid the imperial Solarics; the royal elvish kidred. During the civil war, the Charnelics and Sulphuros aligned with the rebellious Solarics whereas the Lunaris and Sylvaine stood beside their Solaric king. The final battle had taken place where Deep Wilds currently lies. The defiant Solarics and their followers were slain and left with eyes gouged out in disgrace. Their bodies were eaten by birds and ravaged by wolves until there was nothing left. Or so the Suvarians thought. In time, blind ghosts were sighted, phantoms of the slain elves. They wandered Fogrenna Line’s eastern side, and every elvish inhabitant fled from the haunted wood. As time passed, five families of barbaric nature found the abandoned land and settled there. They worshiped stones and called themselves the KinFolk. The five wild families, Wolf Folk, Cedar Folk, Sky Folk, Sea Folk, and Stag Folk, separated and established their own territories. Over time, the families grew to form Kins, separate tribes within the Folks, and a new race of people. Thus, the Wilders were born, and Deep Wilds was established.Wraith’s Hollow, Deep Wild’s pointed end, was overthrown by Lord Demus, as the legends say, and the Spellbinder allowed every kind of abhorrent creature to infect the wood. The disorienting trees grew so thick that a strong wind was unable to penetrate them. Nothing stirred within the shadowed forest, and many believed all pure life had fled long ago. All that remained was the decay of evil.Olivia eyed the forest’s dark line that met the sky, knowing the silent trees waited for them. She gulped a quivered breath and turned away, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. A hand came to rest over hers; it was strong and warm. Olivia glanced at Theron and saw that as one hand held hers, the other gripped the hilt of his sword. She smiled and placed her other hand on top of his; she knew he would keep her safe. Sobriina watched them as she sat on the other side of the wagon, Duke Aldret next to her.Theron took in a slow breath, and looked out the window to Wraith’s Hollow. He lifted his chin and clenched his jaw. Olivia thought he looked less like a prince and more like a knight. That morning, he had checked and rechecked his men-at-arms, Elshender with him every step of the way, saying all was as safe as it could be. The prince had ignored his Proxy, continuing his inspection until he was satisfied.Theron’s actions flattered Olivia. No one had cared for her as he did and, even though she had just begun to know him, she knew he was sincere. She lifted her chin and looked away from her betrothed, though the gleam of a smile remained in her eyes. They bounced down the road in silence with their cloaks on their laps. “How long will we be in the forest?” she asked.“Two days,” Theron said. His eyes did not move from the distant forest. “Not unbearably long.”Olivia’s smile faltered as her brows drew close together. “What if trouble falls, like a Charnelic or vampire or some dark being?”“We’ll take care of them. Vampires are fables anyways.” She scowled as he motioned to the ring of armed men who rode on horseback around the wagon. “They’re my finest men. I’m sure that they shall easily take care of whatever comes, if anything does.”Olivia nodded as she whispered a sigh. “And Valsara, she’ll help,” she muttered.“Who?”“Oh, um, Valsara. My double. It is amazing we are not twins; The Wizard must have known I needed her. We are almost identical. Same height. Same weight. Same hair and length. Same skin, though hers is a touch darker.”Theron and Sobriina exchanged glances as they sat across from one another. “Um . . .” the she-elf mumbled, “my lady—”“Are you certain this Valsara came with you?” Theron asked.Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why, of course she did. She would never be left home during a journey like this! She is here! Isn’t she?”Theron’s grip of Olivia’s hand tightened. “I’ll still keep you safe.”Olivia gasped with a shake of her head. “Why isn’t she here?”Krea gave Olivia a glance as she walked beside the wagon behind Cedany and Nan, their feet coated with dust from the road. Olivia noticed her quiet look. “Krea!” The lady-in-waiting jumped. “What are you not telling me?” Krea turned to Cedany for help, but did not respond. “Krea, what do you know?”“My lady, I can’t say,” Krea mumbled. “Countess Primis’s orders.”Olivia’s mouth dropped open as she looked to her aunt and uncle in their own wagon. They were drinking wine and staring out the window like a pair of solemn statues. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is Valsara?” she whispered.Nan sighed and laid a hand on the wagon’s window as she walked beside it. “Me lady, Valsara’s run off. No one knows where she’s at.”Olivia shook her head. “No, Valsara would not do such a thing. Something must have happened!”Nan stared at her, but said nothing.Olivia swallowed hard. “Something did happen. What? Nan, tell me!”“No one knows, me lady.” Olivia looked away and closed her eyes. She thought back to the last time she saw Valsara, a few days before their journey to Crown Haven began. Valsara had been helping Nan pack food for the saddle bags. She would not run away. She is too loyal! Too valuable! What happened to her? Olivia swallowed. She said nothing as her heartbeat quickened with dread.Sobriina leaned toward Olivia, her brow furrowed with concern. “Our Prince Theron’s men are the shining gem of knights throughout all the kingdom, dear Lady Olivia,” she said. “They will guide us faithfully to Henricien. No darkling could find victory there.”Duke Aldret glanced at the Lunairs as he sat next to her, but stayed quiet. Olivia shook her head and looked between her aunt and uncle and ladies-in-waiting, her mind whirling in thought.Sobriina studied Olivia and lifted her chin. “You do not believe me, my lady? I still see fear’s hold in your eyes.” Olivia lifted her chin and opened her mouth, but no sound came out. “Your mind takes in my words,” Sobriina said, “yet your heart is uncertain.”Olivia looked away, and color heated her cheeks as the three pairs of eyes watched her. A laugh suddenly lifted from her. “It seems you know me better than I know myself. But Valsara . . .”Sobriina grinned. “I shall try a second approach to convince you of our safe travels; it might be more effective than before. I have ventured through Wraith’s Hollow before.”Olivia’s mouth dropped open as her eyes bulged. “By the Silver Eye,.” she whispered. “Did you know, my lord?” Theron nodded and Duke Aldret stared at Sobriina with wide eyes.“Did you come upon the mysterious tower?” Theron asked. “I forgot to ask you when you first told me of your travels.” She shook her head and turned away.“Did you travel alone?” Olivia whispered in awe. “You must have been guarded by seasoned warriors!”“Yes, a portion of my father’s warmongers joined me. I have been shown the art of weaponry as well,” Sobriina said. “Not like Celeste. Hum. Such an odd one she is.”Theron’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s that?”“Oh, my younger sister. Anyway, I am comfortable with anything, may it be bow, mace, sword, or dagger. My heart turns more to the anelace, however. Something about the sword being short and sweet, I think.”“I see,” Olivia said. “Do you have one on you now?”Sobriina grinned and straightened her back with pride. “I have two.” Theron’s eyes widened. The wagon wheel suddenly fell into a divot, and rattled the passengers. They grabbed the walls, the open windows, and each other so as to not fall from their seats. In a moment, the road evened out and the horses snorted and stomped onward.Olivia heaved a sigh and pulled away from Theron. She had not realized she was clutching him so hard. She adjusted her done-up hair, and leaned closer to the she-elf. “However did you survive Wraith’s Hollow?”Duke Aldret gave Olivia a sideways glance and shook his head. “Why so dramatic? It is a dangerous wood, yes, but so is every other country road.”Olivia frowned and sat back against her seat. “Why travel with us, Duke Aldret? You are not needed, are you?”“The king commanded me to join. I believe he wishes my support in your matrimony. I will mentor and guide when the king or myself sees fit.”“I see.”“Wraith’s Hollow is still dangerous, yet not as drastic as my lady believes,” Sobriina continued. “However, The Wizard was merciful. When we ventured off Savior’s Way, my soul should have drifted from me on several counts, our lives were threatened so, but he barred its escape. And we shall travel down Savior’s Way, my lady. The forest’s single road is much safer than anywhere else in the wood. Therefore, the loss of Valsara will not bring dire consequences. You are safe with the prince’s men, and again, my lady, Savior’s Way is eerie, yet not as hostile as you believe.”Duke Aldret, who had said very little the entire journey, turned and faced her. “Why travel through such perils? ’Tis rash to leave Savior’s Way.”“I was not alone, my lord. My family’s Defender accompanied me; Defender Durno De Sheem.” Sobriina’s purple eyes flashed at the half-blood and her jaw clenched. “And it was anything but a rash act. I had to save my father!”Theron glanced between her and Aldret.Olivia watched Sobriina in thoughtful silence. “What, um . . . what did you find? Or are we prying into cracked areas of your heart?”“No, no, it does not distress me to speak of it.” Sobriina waved a dismissive hand with a smile. “As I said, my father was ill. No herb rooted in healing or plea to The Wizard could restore his breaking body. Therefore, after searching throughout Suvaria and seeking the wisdom of Healers and physicians alike, I left my home and sought after a cure as fast as my feet could fly. And I found myself there, my men and I . . . in Wraith’s Hollow. There was nothing of value along Savior’s Way; therefore, we had to search deeper. Away from the security of the road. And, amid the trees with all the shadows and coldness on one’s flesh, it did seem, well . . . Wraith-ridden.” Olivia swallowed hard and clasped Theron’s hand.“And yet,” Sobriina said as a grin lit her purple eyes. “Yet, as the minstrel GarishVerse said, The One in Red is still the master of the trees. And that He is. Then. Now. And forevermore.” Sobriina looked Olivia in the eyes and sighed. “The Wizard sang us a remembrance. Do you recall how it goes, my lady?” At this, the she-elf lifted her head and began to sing:Fear not the terrors of the nightNor the arrow that flies in midday.To not dread the disease that stalks in darknessnor the disaster that strikes in midday.A thousand may fall at your side,ten thousand may be dying around you,but these evils will not touch you. 1Olivia closed her eyes as the melody washed over her. “That he promised,” Sobriina said, “and his promises are our armor and protection. Take heart, my lady.” Sobriina patted her hand. “Take heart. These evils will not touch you.”



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Highest Melodies ReferencePsalms 91:5-7 – Fear not the terrors of the night nor the arrow that flies in midday. Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness nor the disaster that strikes in midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand may be dying around you, but these evils will not touch you. 
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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.


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"Shattered Lives" Chapter 7: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

Chapter 7A Secret MeetingTheron cleared his throat as he sat on a bench beside a window. He was seated in the passageway between the Lesser and Greater Halls where Olivia and he had first laid eyes on one another. He thought she would appreciate that. Didn’t women like such sentimental things?He stared out the window to the courtyard below, and watched the wind play with the fruit trees. The moonlight was clear and crisp, and the stars covered the sky like leaves cover a tree. He pulled his cloak, rimmed in fox pelts, closer to himself and breathed out a slow, controlled breath to calm his nerves. It did not help.The castle was still, as most people lay in bed, lost in sleep. A few guards walked the battlements, illuminated by intervals of fires that burned bright orange against the darkness. A few servants hurried about, completing unfinished chores. The bread maker busied himself with the next day’s batch, and the candlestick maker finished her last vat of wax with a yawn and red-eyed stare. Other than that, the fortress was silent.A handful of Theron’s closest men knew of his secret meeting with Olivia. One stood in silence beside him, torch in hand. Elshender and another went to escort Lady Olivia to the passageway. Theron watched several bats dart through the courtyard in sporadic loops and a distant wolf howled. He shuddered and hoped it was not an ill omen.Theron cleared his throat again and looked down at his hands. He found they shook, and he had to turn away. This was ridiculous! He had met with this girl twice now! Why all these restless nerves? He closed his eyes and willed his heart to stop its violent pounding. He let out a slow breath and opened his eyes. “Wizard help me. . .”Footsteps fell on the stone floor, and Theron turned to face them. Olivia, her eyes wide and hands firmly held together, came into the soft light of the torch. Her eyes darted to the knights about her, then to the prince. She turned away. Theron frowned; he had frightened her. He inwardly cursed and stepped forward as she and approached. He took hold of her hands and swallowed hard.“My lady, I did not mean to alarm you,” he said. He was surprised his voice sounded so calm. Olivia glanced at him, her shoulders rigid and lips in a thin line. She said nothing, and fixed her eyes on the ground. “I only wish to know you.”Olivia took in a sharp breath and whispered, “And how, my lord, do you propose we do that?”Theron lifted his chin and he stepped back. “Only to talk . . . nothing more. I am a man of honor.”Olivia looked up at him and searched his face, the curve of his mouth, the sincerity of his gaze, and his soft hold of her hand. Her shoulders loosened as she let out a whispered breath.Theron shook his head. “Nothing more, my lady . . .” He grinned and cleared his throat. Theron motioned her toward Elshender. “Allow me to introduce you to Sir Elshender.” The large man looked down at her and bowed low. “He is my Proxy. We have charged into battle time and again. He has saved my life more than I can count.”“My lady,” Elshender whispered, and took her hand with a firm grip. He kissed it casually, and stepped back deeper into the shadows.“Now—” Theron swallowed hard and forced a smile.A small grin lined Olivia’s lips; he realized she knew he was more anxious than she was. He lifted his chin and continued, trying to ignore his coiling stomach. “Where’s your favorite place in Crown Haven?”“Um . . .”“Anywhere. We’ll go there, anywhere at all.”Olivia’s eyes darted back and forth before a smile lit her eyes. “There’s one place . . . a balcony. It has a grand view—but now it is night. . . .”“We will see the land in a new light, then. There’s a full moon.”She nodded at Theron’s words.“Lead on, my lady.” He stepped back and bowed as Olivia moved ahead of them. The silent few walked along the darkened hallways, their breath and light feet the only thing heard. Olivia led them down hallways, around corners, and finally to the tower’s stairway. Once they reached the top, she heaved open the door, and fresh air breezed across her face and caught up her hair.Theron watched the moon light her smooth skin and highlight her pleasing curves. She’s beautiful. His heart pounded against his chest. He cleared his throat and looked away before he let his mind wander. He glowered and clenched his jaw. Stones on bones. . .“Here we are, my lord,” she whispered.Theron stepped back and did not look at her, though he wanted to. He turned and faced Elshender as he reached for the door. “Stand here and let no one in.” Elshender nodded and turned to the men beside him.“Now.” Theron took in a breath as he faced her. “Let’s see this view you spoke so highly of.”Theron placed his hands behind his back as the two walked to the balcony’s edge. He gazed out across the moonlit countryside, his eyes narrowed in the darkened hours. A symphony of crickets chirped from behind Crown Haven’s wall, and the occasional owl soothed the night with its song. They could smell crisp rain and knew clouds rumbled across the horizon out of sight. A wind sharply raced against the tower, and stroked all things with its cold hands. Orange dots of village fires speckled the land beyond the castle’s wall, and told of other lives with tales to tell.Theron had come to the tower several times before, once with his mother, even. But tonight was different. Tonight he was with his wife-to-be, his future queen. Theron glanced at Olivia as she drew her shawl close against herself and breathed in the night air. Now that they were alone, he had no words to say. The night before, they had talked freely with one another, but now. . .“The wind must be chasing its shadow tonight,” he blurted out, scrambling for a conversation to begin.Olivia laughed, though her eyes did not smile. Theron moved to her side, but stayed an arm’s length away, and the two stared in silence. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She kept looking at him, but saying nothing. Theron gritted his teeth. He let out a slow breath as his heart slammed in his chest. What was wrong with him? He had killed Wilder hoards and chased the survivors back into Deep Wilds, by the Silver Eye! He could talk to a woman! Theron flexed his hands to keep them warm, and nervously cleared his throat.“Lady Olivia—”“My lord—”They both stopped and stared at one another. Theron smiled and looked away with a chuckle as Olivia tried to smile.“Carry on. What is it?” he said with a grin.“Well, I just—” Olivia swallowed hard. “I have heard you are a knight of valor.” Theron gave a half smile and turned away, shifting from one leg to the other. “You protect us from Wilders along the Western Border?”            “Any Wilders, my lady.”            “I hear they are a ruthless bunch. Are the stories true in their bloody and barbaric tales?”Olivia hushed as a muscle in Theron’s jaw flexed, and his eyes darkened with protective hostility. She stepped back and whispered, “You want to kill them all, don’t you?”Theron lifted his chin and looked away. “I’ve seen what those barbarians are capable of. I don’t want my kingdom threatened by their sadistic ways. They’re as bad as Charnalics.” He glanced at the land and his eyes narrowed.Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Olivia’s gaze trace a scar marking his right hand and a gouge in his collar. His hands were balled into tight fists. “Are the stories true?” she asked, her voice hushed and low. “Do they eat their weak children and worship stones? Are Flesh Thieves real, and can they . . . can they really live in a skinned corpse’s flesh?”Theron did not answer for a moment, faded screams echoing in his mind. “Sometimes stories are just stories. But not every time. Not. . .” His voice trailed off, a muscle in his jaw clenched.Olivia’s eyes widened as she stared at him. She hugged her arms around herself as the breeze grew. “What, ah . . . what other aspects of life do you find interesting?”Theron looked at her and cleared his throat, the sudden gloom enshrouding him lifting. “Uh . . . I enjoy riding horses and griffins and—”A gleeful grin broke through Olivia’s solemn demeanor.Theron stopped and smiled. “Why this sudden joy?”“Griffins.” A sparkle lit Olivia’s emerald eyes. “I’ve always dreamed of riding such creatures. They’re truly grand, and the king of all creatures!”Theron chuckled. “Not a common beast for ladies, I’m told.”Olivia looked away and lifted her chin defiantly. “If a prince can lie about being a messenger, I may be curious about griffins.”“I did not lie!” Theron laughed. “I am a knight, as I appeared, and I did have a message for you.”Olivia’s brows rose. “A prince does not customarily deliver his own messages.”“I . . .” Theron sighed. “Stones on bones.”Olivia grinned.“You know, I can introduce you to some. Griffins, that is.”“Oh, could you?” Olivia’s eyes widened. “I would love to learn how to ride them! It would be so nice to learn to fly.” She looked down at her hands, then up into the sky. An owl sailed overhead, its wings pulled against the wind as its orange eyes hunted for a meal. “To be up there, amidst the clouds and stars.” She sighed as Theron watched her gaze dreamily into the heavens. “To be free . . .”Theron’s smile faded. “Might I ask? Do you not consider yourself as free?”Olivia swallowed hard and pulled her shawl even closer to herself. “Not as free as I might wish,” she mumbled.And what holds you captive, my lady? Theron’s eyes narrowed as he searched her long face.She heaved a sigh and turned to the horizon. “My father and mother are very good people, very loving. I only remember feelings about them and a few hazy images. Nothing more.” Olivia paused; Theron watched her take in a deep breath as her shoulders sagged.“My mother died giving birth to my younger brother, Falcure. Father was very . . . He did not know what to do. It was difficult for him. Too difficult, in fact. So, he sent me to my uncle, Earl Quinn. I have lived with them ever since. And they are. . .” Olivia's eyes narrowed. “They are not like my mother and father.”“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but he knew that was not enough to soothe the wound.Olivia smiled, though her eyes were dulled, and looked up at him. “Yes, well. . .” She sighed again and brushed hair behind her ear as it waved about her. “That was a long while ago. My uncle and aunt taught me what is good and right. . . They did their best.” Olivia glanced at the gray moon.Theron watched her as he fought to find the right words. What could be said? He shook his head and decided to stay quiet. The distant conversations of the guards drifted from the towers as their fires waved against the growing wind. A bat shot past, mouth open in silent cries. The air dampened with the freshening smell of rain held in the bellowing clouds above.“So.” Theron cleared his throat. “What an interesting performance tonight. Don’t you think?” He saw her glance toward Wraith’s Hollow with tensing shoulders.“Indeed.” Her voice was low, and she turned away from the dark forest.Theron’s eyes narrowed and he stepped forward. He took hold of her hands and looked her in the eyes. Olivia tried to pull back, but stopped herself, though she did not meet his gaze. “I apologize for that Lord Demus tale,” Theron whispered. “I didn’t know they would retell such a troublesome legend. Yet, I will protect you. Always.”Olivia glanced up at him with a start.“If danger falls on us in that unholy forest, I will fight for you.”Olivia turned away, taken back. Her eyes fluttered frantically, as though never hearing such sincere reassurance before. She swallowed hard and took in a breath. “Is there any way around it?”Theron shook his head. “The Wilders are becoming braver each year. They have been sighted between the Flat Plains and the coast. Too dangerous. Too—”“More dangerous than to risk entering Wraith's Hollow? Risk falling into Lord Demus’s hands?” She motioned to the distant forest, her brow furrowed. “My finest men will be with us. They have battled dark beasts before. Besides, all that hides in that forest are old hags who are entertained by tricking travelers.”Olivia shook her head.“We may be lucky and catch a sighting of the high tower the legends speak of. It is said that whoever sees it will travel through safely, if that would comfort you.”“It is a simple tower and said to be in the northeast, far from Savior’s Way,” Olivia mumbled.Theron sighed. “My lady.” He lay a hand on her shoulder and she looked at him. “I will not leave your side. If the legends are true, then my sword shall always be ready. Ready for anything. Do not fear. And The One in Red brought us together. He will not allow us to be separated by such beasts of darkness.”Olivia looked him in the eyes and slowly nodded. Her grip on his hand tightened. “Thank you,” she whispered. She let go of his hands and stepped back; he stayed where he was, for he did not want her to move away. The wind grew strong and forced itself against the two. Olivia shivered and tried to wrap her cloak tighter around herself, as though to squeeze as much heat from it as she could. “We should go inside.”“Aldret will learn of our meeting if we speak inside.” Theron glanced at the door, then to her. “He has eyes everywhere, I swear. We could meet another time. . .” But he did not want her to leave. Not yet. Please not yet. He stepped toward her. Olivia watched him, but said nothing. The wind struck against them with force, and grabbed their clothes and hair. The chill seeped through their coverings, springing an idea to Theron’s mind.“Here.” He pulled off his cloak and draped it over her slender shoulders.Olivia shook her head with a raised hand. “My lord—”“Take it. Please.” Olivia held still, but the wind grew strong once more and whipped her hair across her face. She took the cloak and snuggled into it. She closed her eyes as the warmth thawed her fingers and shoulders. Theron smiled and looked away, his arms crossed to keep away the cold. The two looked out on the country they would rule. The stars at the horizon began to black out, one by one, as rain clouds rolled in. The bats had gone into hiding and the owl swooped away to find shelter.Olivia took in a breath. “What’s it like?”“What’s what like?”“Riding a griffin.”Theron smiled as memories flowed through his mind. “Oh, it’s like you’re on top of the world. And the wind is roaring and your hair and clothes are flying . . . and there’s nothing to stop you.”“That sounds wonderful.” Olivia sighed. “I’ve always wanted wings, to fly away, like a harpy. To sprout wings instead of arms, and bird’s feet instead of legs, as they have. And to go on an adventure.”“We can go on adventures.”Olivia did not respond as she notably avoided his gaze. He opened his mouth to question her silence, but thought better of it.“What about you?” Olivia asked. “What of your family?”A muscle in Theron’s jaw tightened. He was silent for a moment as he chose his words carefully, so as not to shame the king’s name. The cold night was suddenly sharper than before. “I . . . My mother and I are close.”“Hum . . . I thought so. You seem to know the ways of a woman, how to speak gently and what to keep to yourself. And what of the king?”The corner of Theron’s mouth twitched. “Father demands much.”“I should hope so.” Olivia smiled as she glanced up at him. “You’re the king-to-be.”Theron did not smile. His glassy heart shuddered at the images of the aged, crowned man. Theron looked up to the sky; he did not want to think of his father.“As you said.” His voice was as flat and impassive as possible. “They did their best.”“Indeed. That is all they can do.”Theron took a deep breath, not letting the old man ruin another good moment. Not this one. He gritted his teeth, the cold against his flesh nothing against the cold inside him.“Thank you for bringing me here,” she whispered. A smile softened his darkened stare. “I . . . I am beginning to see that The Wizard has found a . . . how’d you say it? A true man for me.” Theron gently nodded. Olivia frowned. “But . . . to be purely honest. . .” He looked at her. “I have to admit I am still. . .” “Nervous?” She nodded, apologetically watching his expression. “We’re in this together,” Theron said. Olivia’s creased brow smoothed as her moist lips parted. “Don’t worry.” Theron grinned. “The Wizard will guide us.”Olivia nodded and let out a sigh, smiling. “He’s good like that.”            “Yes. He’s always benevolent. . . To the very end.” They stood in silence, and a guard shouted suddenly, though his words were not directed at them. Theron glanced at her and eyed her stray, golden locks as they whipped about. The rest was done up in a tight braid. “I thought you liked your hair down and free.”            Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis improper. I am a lady, not a she-elf.”            “Ah, but it’s the real you, isn’t it?” Olivia did not answer. “And that’s who I long to be acquainted with.”            Theron watched a smile curve her lips upward. With a look to the right and left, she grabbed her hair and undid the braids until her hair flowed down her back. Olivia shook her head and ran her fingers through the fine, golden strands. The wind tossed it here and there, like a sea of sunshine. “I’m pleased you don’t mind me like this.” She sighed.            “I’m pleased you’re you.”            “Oh!” Olivia looked up at him with a smug grin. “You hardly know me, my prince!”“Come now.” Theron smiled and moved closer. “A girl who explores castles, who throws fiddles at knights, and meets with strange men without a guardian’s consent—”“Shhh!” Olivia giggled.“—is a girl who likes her hair down.”Olivia bit her lip and looked him in the eyes. “You’re not a prince.”Theron’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”“Princes aren’t like you. They’re so serious, so official.”“I can be a prince if you wish.”“No.” Olivia shook her head. “I like you this way better.”Theron smiled and grunted. “You are quite an odd find. . . In a good way, of course.”Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “I think you meant to say I am the most beautiful woman in all the realms! More elegant than a Suvarian she-elf; as refined as a Solaric and graceful as a Lunaris!” She grinned as her eyes danced with amusement.Theron nodded. “Yes, yes, that was on the tip of my tongue, but I . . . yes, was just going to say that.”Olivia laughed and shook her head. Theron smiled and she took his hand with her gentle fingers. With a gasp, she seized his hands and stared at them. “They are ice!”“I’m fine. Truly, I—”“We are going in.” Olivia pulled him toward the door, though he did not want to leave. “You should not have done that,” she muttered over her shoulder, yanking the door open and pulling him inside.“Would you rather I had not?”Olivia ducked her head and looked away. “I. . .” She let go of his hand and color rushed across her cheeks and nose. “Maybe not.”Theron smiled and rubbed his arms to warm them. Olivia glanced at him with a grin, and handed him back his cloak. He took it and thanked the One in Red for giving him such a fine treasure.



___________________________________

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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.


If you have any comments, critiques, or concerns, please comment below!!!

"Shattered Lives" Chapter 6: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

Chapter 6A Story’s Song
A child, seated far down the table, clapped her hands. “Minstrels! Minstrels!”Theron sat up and leaned forward as a band of traveling performers entered the Great Hall. He heard Olivia gasp beside him, and a smile lit her face as they watched the colorfully dressed procession. At the head, musicians played drums, fiddles, flutes, and lyres. A monkey, who sat on a man’s shoulder, tinged a pair of symbols in time with the music. Behind them leapt children, their faces painted white and their brows and lips outlined in reds and blues. They flipped and cartwheeled into the Great Hall, each climbing on the other and spinning off before they fell.A man armed with every blade imaginable, some Suvarian and others from Flavency, walked before a woman who led a muzzled bear. A plume of fire erupted from a man’s mouth, and Olivia’s grip on Theron’s hand tightened. Everyone flinched back at the sudden flame, and laughed. Theron smiled at Olivia, but she pulled her hand away and set it in her lap. He cleared his throat and tried to focus on the newcomers. A line of women danced at the back of the party. Though last, their revealing clothes and provocative sways held the majority captive.A large man, both in height and girth, dressed in a white cloak with leather boots, faced Theron and his lady as his performers encircled the room. He lifted his hands high and the music ended with a sudden boom!“My prince!” The man bowed low, as well as the performers. “I’m the Great GarishVerse! And this! This night you’ll all remember! May you, my most righteous prince, honor ah humble man, like me-self, and let these here fine performers open your eyes! To the wonders we’ve seen! To the stories we’re to tell! And to a night of show!” The fire-eating man breathed out another ball, and all those in the Great Hall yelled and cheered.Theron lifted his chin. “Welcome!” he called above the din.GarishVerse clapped his hands and bowed once more. His painted and costumed performers began their own show of talent as the music began again. Everywhere the diners looked, there was something to watch. Olivia beamed as she turned left and right to jugglers, the dancing bear, jesters mocking themselves, and musicians. Theron simply sat and watched her. He grabbed his horned cup, and took a sip of warmed wine as she faced him. “Did you plan this, my lord?”Theron smiled as he looked into her eyes; they were so bright, like the spirit of spring! He nodded. “Have you seen things as great as this before?”Olivia nodded. “Once. I was young and did not appreciate it. I do now, however. Oh! How wonderful!” She watched the children dance as they performed acrobatics around one another. She smiled and Theron watched as it curved her rosy lips upward and sparkled her emerald eyes. He had found her, the real her. Theron chuckled quietly.The fire-breather blew flames toward the royal couple and everyone recoiled with gasped glee. The music stopped and the performers stepped back as GarishVerse moved to the forefront. “And now, a tale of the ages.” His voice rumbled through the room and commanded all to still with held breaths. “How Wraith’s Hollow came to be . . .”A fiddle’s hypnotic song calmed the room as three women stepped forward dressed in brown and green. Tree branches were held in their hands, which they lifted overhead and began to sway back and forth as though in a breeze. Two of the children dancers stepped among the tree-like women and knelt on the ground. At this, GarishVerse began to sing in a thunderous baritone:
Long ago, when the moon was a childAnd before the snow battled springThere was a forest so tranquil and mildWho the world proclaimed as king
Theron and Olivia glanced at the tree women as they rocked in time with the music.
Men and women lived at peaceBetween the trees of greenNo one thought the dream would ceaseFor no evil or dragons were seen
GarishVerse’s eyes narrowed as his voice deepened further.
Yet, dragons lurk and evils prowlAnd look for a home to claimThus the wood saw a soul so foulLord Demus was his name
“Oh, look!” Olivia pointed as the fiddler’s music began to build. A figure dressed in black stalked forward,  his face hidden by a red-streaked, horned mask. Two slits allowed the man to see, but his eyes were black and hollow. He crept toward the makeshift forest like a cat, though the tree women and children did not acknowledge him.Theron shook his head as he stared at the antagonist who haunted many Tulish fables: the imaginary Spellbiner. He noticed a few children clinging to their mothers, though there was nothing to fear. He glanced at Olivia and frowned. Her eyes were wide as she clenched her hands in her lap; her knuckles were white. Theron looked back at the performers as GarishVerse continued.
He drew his sword, that blade of wicked fireAnd the trees trembled with fearThe people fled before the enchanted sireAs darkness drew steadily near
The man in black drew a wooden sword. Orange and yellow cloths were tied along the blade. He waved it before the trees, the bands of cloth flapping like flames, as the music heightened still. The tree women shook the branches in fear and the children leapt to their feet. They raced in panicked circles, but the man cornered them. GarishVerse motioned to the trees and man in black.
No battle cries were heardNo rumble of army’s feetOnly one man’s charmed word:“Now forest fall in defeat!”
            Olivia recoiled. Theron glanced at her again and saw her paled face. His eyes narrowed. What was wrong with her?The Spellbinder was only legend, a mere child story. He looked back at GarishVerse and his mouth dropped open. Oh. This was bad. They were to travel through Wraith’s Hollow tomorrow. Why tell the forest’s horrid legends now? Of all times!GarishVerse paused for a moment and continued with his song:
The people fled, those who survivedAnd evil flooded the trees to deathUntil all life could never be revivedAs light moaned its last breath
The tree women lowered their arms and stooped, their eyes half-closed and mouths a flat line. Both children ran, each in opposite directions, and the masked man lunged toward one. He slashed his wooden sword across the child’s middle and the innocent crumbled to the ground. The audience gasped and flinched back. Olivia closed her eyes and gripped her hands tighter. GarishVerse lifted his hands as his voice rose higher:
Then beasts entered, those creatures of night!They flocked into the shadowsAnd filled each lowly bush and tree’s heightMaking all their bloody hallows
A stooped man, draped in a wolf’s skin, hobbled to the trees. A child raced to and fro as a black veil covered her head and waved behind her like a phantom. A white-haired man crept to the tree women, his skin blackened by coal and an elvish belt wound about his waist. Theron smirked at the performers’ poor attempt to look like a werewolf, ghost, and Charnelic. The masked ‘Spellbinder’ nodded to those who joined him, his head held high and chest out.
Yet!
The music stopped and all eyes fell on GarishVerse.
Yet, there is one who can standAgainst such darkness and treachery as theseAnd reclaim the wooded land
The beasts’ grins faded as they looked to one another, then around them, their eyes wide.
The One in Red! The Wizard still is the master of the trees!
The beasts fell to the floor as the tree women smiled once again, and lifted their dead-like limbs. The masked man buckled to his knees, and threw his wooden sword on the ground. He put his head in his hands, and collapsed into a dead heap. The audience cheered and several whistled as dogs howled with the excitement. The men nodded and pointed to the masked man. The women whispered comfort to their wide-eyed children, and did their best not to look at the fallen man.Theron turned to Olivia. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin with a clenched jaw. Theron sighed and glared at GarishVerse. It was only a legend; he knew there was no such person as Lord Demus. An old wives’ tale, that’s all it was. He looked down, his fist clenched, knowing the facts did not matter. She was upset. “I did not know this was part of the performance,” he admitted.Olivia looked at him and smiled, though her eyes were still wide. “I—” Her voice cracked and she blushed. She opened her mouth, but sat back in silence. Theron leaned forward to speak, but her words cut him off. “My lord, if you are willing, I bid you good night and a merry evening.”“Oh, um . . . yes.” Theron stood with her. Cursed song! It scared her off! “My lady.” He took her hand and kissed it; her fingertips were cold. Olivia lifted her chin as she watched him, her lips curled in a small smile that only few saw. She pulled her hand away and, with her ladies-in-waiting, turned from the festivities.Theron watched his lady go, wanting her to look back, even a little glance . . . That’s all he asked for. His shoulders sagged as Olivia reached the doorway. He sighed and looked away.“Ah . . . there it is.” Theron turned to the speaker, who nodded toward Olivia. Theron looked back, seeing her hand on the door and eyes on him. He smiled and color filled her cheeks. She looked away, and then was gone. “Don’t look so defeated already,” the newcomer said.Theron, his smile remaining, turned around and faced the speaker; it was Proxy Elshender, Theron’s right-hand-man. He was a huge man, his shoulders broad and hands much larger than most; only Aldret stood taller than he. His long brown hair was tied by a leather strip, a thick beard covering his square jaw and chin. His brawny features were lined with faded scars, and he was dressed in a knight’s casual wear, but one of his two swords was still strapped to his back. His brown eyes flashed as he looked down at the prince and grinned. “You’re a knight, by the Silver Eyes, but I see you’re more terrified by this woman than the Wilder Trail Kin armies we faced last spring!”“Ah, a woman’s an entirely different battle to wage, Elshender,” the prince said. The two sat side by side, and took up cups of wine and ale. Theron sighed and shook his head. “A battle that I . . . I do not know how to win.” He glanced at his comrade and leaned closer. “Do you? Do you know how to win a woman’s heart?”Elshender grunted as he smeared pasted meat on a slice of bread. “I know they like to be kissed a lot.”Theron frowned. “No. No, I don’t believe so.”Elshender nodded as he took a bite, then shrugged. “Well, I like it, then,” he said behind a mouthful of food.Theron scoffed and smacked his friend’s arm. “This isn’t about what you like! What would she like?”“I don’t know. Ask the dame yourself!”Theron groaned and sat back. “You’re no help.”Elshender’s eyes narrowed as he grabbed a pheasant leg from a wooden platter. “I know the heart of a woman. I know what they’re like.”Theron looked at his Proxy, his brows raised in skepticism. “Knowing a woman’s heart and touching one are completely separate things.”Elshender chuckled and blatantly eyed a servant as she passed. “All the same to me.”Theron shook his head and turned to the dancing bear.“Why do you want to know, anyways?” Elshender gulped his ale and looked at the prince. “Huh? You don’t have to make her love you, you know.”Theron continued to watch the bear as it danced with its owner, a small woman dressed in black with a wide-brimmed hat. He lifted his chin and took in a slow breath. “A kingdom must be ruled as a man rules his family.” He looked at Elshender. “If my woman will not stand by me, then how will I ever inspire the same loyalty in a nation?”“But it’s love you’re after.” Elshender shook his head. “Not loyalty and the likes.”Theron took the golden circlet off his head and ran his fingers through his hair as he heaved a sigh. “I believe it is the same thing in the eyes of a woman—love and loyalty,” he whispered. “A woman who truly loves her lord will stand by him without question.”“Can’t always get what you want, though.”“That’s what I need.” Theron turned to Elshender and held his gaze. “Man was not meant to live alone. 1 I need her beside me.”Elshender nodded and turned away. He ripped a piece of meat from the pheasant leg and popped it in his mouth. He held out the platter of meat. “You want ah leg?” The prince shook his head and twirled the golden circlet on the table like a top. Elshender set down the dish and leaned back in his chair. He sighed as he eased into it, and eyed his friend with a strong gaze. “I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered. Theron’s eyes narrowed as he gave Elshender a sideways glance. “With all due respect and all,” Elshender dropped his voice lower still, “you’re not wanting to end up like the honored king and queen, do yah?” Theron scowled and glanced away, his brow furrowed by dark lines. Elshender’s brows rose and he pointed at Theron. “I’ll take that as a no.”Theron did not respond as the two sat in silence, and they watched GarishVerse and his fellow performers. The fire-breather sent a flame toward the women far down the table. They leapt back with screams, and their men seized the fire-breather and forced him from the hall with shouts and curses.Elshender sniffed and set down the clean pheasant bone. He licked his fingers and wiped the bird’s grease on his pants. “Then see her again,” he said. Theron’s eyes narrowed. “Tonight.” The Great Hall’s doors slammed shut behind the dangerous performer, and the protective men returned to their women with grins and playful nudges.The prince shook his head and frowned. “I am not going to violate—”“Meet with her to talk.” Elshender nudged him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just to talk. Women like that, way too much sometimes. . . . Just meet with her. Be yourself so she can be herself. She wasn’t her real self tonight, you saw that, didn’t you? How you described her when you first met last night’s not the same girl we saw here.”Theron sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to imagine what a secret meeting would look like. Yes, they had met a time before in secret, but now she knew who he was. “I would not know what to say—”“So let her talk. They always find something to say anyway.”Theron shook his head and looked down. “I don’t know. It’s been a long day getting here. . .”“You want to have her fancy you or not?”Theron groaned and looked at Elshender. They held one another’s gaze for a moment until the prince turned away.“Good.” Elshender nodded. “Meet her later tonight. Don’t think Duke Aldret would like it, though. Him, or the king—”“They won't need to know. And stop talking about it; you’re making me not want to do it.”Elshender grunted with a smile. “Yeah, get it over with. You’re all strange when you’re nervous.”Theron shot him a look. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t my right-hand man. . . .”Elshender’s eyes narrowed. “What!”“You know me too well. Can’t get away with anything!”Elshender grinned and took hold of his cup of ale. He grunted and drank it down in two gulps.The men sat back and watched the performers in silence. Theron gave Aldret a sideways glance, and knew the half-blooded lord, his former tutor, would not approve of another secret meeting. He would tell Theron’s father, the king. They would not understand why he wanted to meet with her. He wanted unity, nothing more, a loyalty that would last.But what if she rejected his acts? What if she forced him away? She could close him off, never to share who she truly was. He shook his head and spun his golden circlet between his hands. He did not have to pursue her; he was the prince. The future king! She was his, whether she favored him or not! No, he did not have to woo her at all. Besides, wounds of rejection could pierce deeper than an arrow.Thoughts of his mother and father crept in, remembering how they treated one another. They were fair to each other, but . . .Theron growled and gritted his teeth. He did not want that. He wanted to share life with a trusted friend, not a tolerated stranger. What kingdom would follow a man with a divided home? None. Theron lifted his chin and knew a bond had to be made. Then he would make it, for the nation’s sake, at least.“Elshender,” he whispered, “do you think it will work?”“Just shut up and do it.” Elshender pulled out his sword and carefully inspected the sharp blade. “You’ll conquer. Like you always do.”Theron sat in silence for a moment, the golden circlet spinning round and round and catching the fire’s light. With a deep breath, he lifted his chin and put the circlet back on his head. He thought of The Wizard and wondered if he would approve of their meeting.Overhead, The Wizard sat in the scaffolding of the Great Hall, his Red robe looped in and around the wooden support system, though none saw him. His fiery eyes were intent on Theron as they glowed from the shadows. He was smiling, for he alone saw the future and knew what it held.


___________________________________



Highest Melodies ReferenceGenesis 2:18 – The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.”

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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.


If you have any comments, critiques, or concerns, please comment below!!!

"Shattered Lives" Chapter 5: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

Chapter 5The Prince
            A great weight pressed upon Olivia’s chest so that it was difficult to breathe. Her stomach threatened to turn on itself, and her heart pounded against her body’s core. She was dressed in a furred, large-sleeved red kirtle. Her hair was braided and looped around her head, and silver threads were woven throughout. Silver chains hung from her neck, and a perfume from Suvaria’s King’s Bay laced her ivory skin.Olivia stood in Crown Haven’s courtyard atop the stairs which led into the castle. It was the following evening and the courtyard was filled with a sea of faces. The buzz of excitement and conversation made Olivia’s head spin as she watched the stewards race to and fro, making sure everything was ready. Duke Aldret stood beside her, dressed in his best finery and a blue cape.Earl Quinn and Countess Primis were on her other side; Quinn’s long-toed shoes slapped against the stone stairway as he impatiently waited. Countess Primis kept looking Olivia up and down, and glancing away with a grimace. The courtyard had been decorated in royal banners and flags, the red fabrics bright against the dull stone walls and people. The mud which had coated the ground for the past few days had been shoveled and removed as best the servants could. However, the dark brown muck was still able to latch onto people’s clothes and leave tracks behind them. Everyone stood close together as the sun set, and a cold took hold of them. But none were as cold as Olivia.The moment she dreaded had come.The prince’s royal caravan had entered Crown Haven moments before, accompanied by trumpets and drums. A red-and-gold-trimmed carriage came to a halt before the gathering, and its horses’ ears cocked to and fro as their bodies gleamed with sweat. A caravan of knights swarmed around the carriage, each brawny and firm, their armor dented by past wars. They looked down at all from their horses, and none met their piercing gaze.Olivia closed her eyes and tried to breathe. She heard the carriage door open and the crowd fly into cheers, shouts, and greetings. Olivia swallowed hard. He had arrived! The prince! The man she did not know! She could not do this! Could not! She wondered if her cousin in the Hilled Country would accept her if she fled. Olivia instantly banished the thought, and gritted her teeth. She could hear someone ascend the steps toward her. Slow steps, slow and strong.With a sniff, Olivia straightened her back and lifted her chin. She opened her eyes and looked at the stranger whom she was to marry. She blinked and her eyes narrowed. The knight she had spoken with the evening before walked toward her, though his knightly attire had been removed. It was replaced by furs from Flavency, blue silken clothes from Han Ci, and a golden circlet resting on his head.His sheathed sword swayed with each step up the stairs as a boyish grin played in his brown eyes. Olivia’s mouth dropped open as realization lit her eyes. The man stopped before her and his grin broadened. The assembly bowed low, but Olivia could not move, for disbelief held her in place. Cedany poked her arm and Olivia jerked down to a knee with the rest. The stranger stifled a laugh.“Welcome, Prince Theron.” Duke Aldret straightened his back and turned to Olivia. “May I present to you Lady Olivia, your bride.” Olivia looked up at the man, the knight she had spoken with, the prince she was to marry. Her mouth hung open and her eyes shamelessly gawked in astonishment.Prince Theron stooped and helped her rise. He held onto her hand and kissed it as he had the night before. “I know,” he whispered with a widening smile.–                 –                 –Theron’s heart beat against his chest as he watched Lady Olivia, the pair standing on Crown Haven's steps. His hands were clammy; he hoped she did not notice. The excited crowd’s roar dimmed as he gazed down at her, his eyes bright and alive. Color nervously brightened her cheeks as her emerald eyes darted to and fro. His smile wavered, remembering her conversational cadence the day before. She faced him again, though her shoulders were tense and her rosy lips pressed together.Oh, she was beautiful.“It is such a pleasure, seeing you again, my lady,” he whispered. Duke Aldret stiffened suspiciously. “And my words the other day were as true as ever.”Lady Olivia smiled, her eyes still flickering with uneasiness as she fidgeted with the hem of her robe, nodding. “It is an honor to be your betrothed, my prince.”Theron let go of her hand and stepped closer, but stopped when she stiffened. “The honor is all mine.” He held out his arm and Olivia stared at it for a heartbeat, her arms rigid at her sides. With reddening cheeks, she accepted his escort, took hold of his arm, and the pair walked into the castle. A fresh breeze gathered up Olivia’s golden hair and Theron’s cloak, as everyone bowed until their shadows had passed. They walked through Crown Haven’s doorway, and the guards on either side stiffened in salute.Theron took a deep breath of the castle he had known since he was a child. The musty smell of time mixed with distant fire smoke flooded his mind with memories. He, much younger, racing through the halls, wooden sword in hand, grinning with glee, as his nurse trailed behind.He had learned to ride a horse in that very courtyard. His tutor, Duke Aldret, had led him out of the gate’s protection—against the queen’s wishes, of course. They had ridden along Wraith’s Hollow, and the half-dead trees, sick with secrets and soaked with too much blood, had watched them. With wide eyes, he had peered between the trees in search of Wilders. His timid curiosity of the barbaric tribesmen had shifted to keen interest. Those were good times, good and distant. Now he was a man. Now he was to be king, and a husband.As they entered the Great Hall, Sobriina came into view, and Theron broke free from his thoughts. “A warm greeting to you, my respected confidant,” Sobriina said as she bowed low with a beaming smile. “It is a rich morning now that the king-to-be has at last graced these halls.” Theron nodded and Sobriina laid a hand on his shoulder as he paused. “We shall share our days’ excitements in due time, my lord.”“Indeed we will, Mistress Sobriina. I trust you have made my lady comfortable here?”Olivia blinked and glanced at him. “Yes, my lord.”“Good,” Theron said.The she-elf’s grin widened before she walked on.Theron led Olivia on, and could smell the cooks’ work drift through the halls and fill the room. Though the food had yet to be laid on the table, the tempting smells caused all to rush for their seats. He turned to Olivia and said, “I’m pleased she has been so helpful to you—Mistress Sobriina, that is.” He felt her body tense against him as she walked on without a word. He frowned and cleared his throat.“She’s very pleasant, my lord,” she whispered.A corner of Theron’s mouth twitched, recalling how unmasked she had spoken when they first met. He stared straight ahead, and wished he could draw the real Olivia out of the frightened shell she kept herself in. He could find a way, he knew. If he could subdue Wilders’ tribes and beat them back into their own territories, he could conquer a woman's heart. Couldn’t he?But she could reject me. He could be marred, deeper than from any Wilder weapon.Theron shook doubt from his mind and looked forward, finding the Great Hall decorated like never before. Flowers bundled together and dangled from lit torches, banners’ red fabrics billowed whenever someone brushed past, and waxy, pale candles flickered down the center of the long table. The wall-length fireplace roared, but the moist air still sent an underlying chill through the castle. Everyone was wrapped in thick robes or blankets and huddled close to one another and the fire.The floors had been scrubbed the best they could be, but as everyone filled the room, mud, hay, and remnants of the day’s work trailed in. A host of servants already stood along the walls, alert and waiting. In the kitchen, the cooks stirred their soups for the last time and rechecked the meats’ tenderness.Duke Aldret’s chair of honor was replaced by two chairs, one for Theron and the other for Olivia. Fresh hides of wolf skin draped over each to fight against the nippy air, and give a soft padding. Theron walked to his seat, and helped Olivia into her chair.“Many thanks, my lord.” She gave him a sideways glance, but nothing more. “Of course.” Theron cleared his throat and sat. He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, and eyed a dog as it scampered past. Those gathered sat in order of rank. Duke Aldret’s officers and chamberlain sat with Theron’s own commanders and men-at-arms toward the head of the table. Earl Quinn and Countess Primis sat across from Aldret, their gaze continually flickering between the table and their niece. Farther down, and away from the fireplace, sat the squires, their masters right beside them. Next were the stewards of Crown Haven. The castle’s women and the few children present were seated last of all; the children nudged and giggled among themselves as the women gossiped and pointed between Theron and Olivia. Dogs slunk along the walls and eyed the table, for they knew it would be filled shortly.The Seer, who sat on Theron’s right, stood, and the clamor of the assembly hushed as each looked to the ceiling with hands outstretched. The Seer took in a breath and lifted his eyes upward. “May the Wizard grace these halls, just as Tulaun’s future king has graced Crown Haven.”Theron glanced over at Olivia and found she was watching him. She flinched and looked up; he tried to stifle his chuckle.“And may The Wizard’s cloak of crimson shelter the royal union over us.” The Seer smiled. “As a mother hen shelters her chicks with her wings.” “Let it be so!” The gathering’s words echoed through the stone room, and conversations began again.Theron sat back in his chair as a squire poured wine into his horned cup. He glanced at his wife-to-be and stroked his chin, sensing the tension in her shoulders and tightly held hands in her lap. Her eyes were downcast, and refused to look his way. Theron cleared his throat again and shifted his weight to one side. He knew this was the same woman he spoke with the other night. The same one! Why couldn’t he speak with her the same way again?He took in a breath and opened his mouth.A cheer interrupted him as the head cook and his servants entered the Great Hall. Theron grinned as the smells of foreign seasonings filled the room, spices from Nauvoo Isle and herbs from Han Ci. Wooden platters of pork, pigeon, and venison were brought in, breads were lifted on servants’ shoulders, pairs of servants carried soup cauldrons between them, and baskets of fruit were carried by children. A roasted boar and two peacocks on silver plates were set on the table before the royal couple. Pastries and larks-tongue pie were set down beside salads of mint and leeks.Theron reached for a basket of bread and held it out to Olivia. She looked away and took a small loaf with a nod. “Many thanks, my lord.”Theron sat back and ripped off a piece for himself. “Was your travel here well?”“No more than one should expect, my lord. The roads were decent and the petty thieves kept a somewhat healthy distance.”Theron nodded and set some bread into a bowl. He motioned for the soup, and a servant ladled the meal over the bread. “I am pleased to hear that.” Theron noticed she had not touched her bread; he frowned. “I was very grateful The Wizard allowed our meeting the other night.” Olivia looked at him, and glanced away. “You play the fiddle well.”“Thank you, my lord.” Theron dabbed at his soup-soaked bread with a knife and listened as his men playfully fought over a drumstick. Olivia’s eyes darted to the prince and she took in a sharp breath. “So, are you truly a knight, then?” she asked, her voice small.“Indeed.” Theron nodded. “I am the keeper of the Western Border.” Olivia’s eyes widened. “The Wilder tribes don’t have a chance as long as my men and I stand guard.”“Yes, I had forgotten. I heard that was your duty. . .” A frail grin lifted Olivia’s rosy lips. “You battled against them, then?”Theron nodded somberly. “I have.” He turned away, the grip on his knife tightened. “Several times. Storm Kin, some of Cedar Folk. Mostly Wolf Folk. The Head Fang, Bronn the DogStare . . . he is very—” The prince sighed. “He enjoys killing.”Olivia’s smile gave way to a wide-eyed stare. She had upset him, something she never intended. Unsure of what to do, she sat back and turned to those around her for help. She looked to Nan, but found her busy with a pigeon’s wing.“No matter, though,” Theron said with a shrug and a glance at her. He eyed her rigid shoulders and wide eyes. Stones on bones! He cursed. “Truly. No matter at all. I did not mean to upset you.”Olivia looked his way and nodded graciously, the grip of her hands loosened. Theron turned back to his food and heard her breathe out a deep sigh.“I am honored to be marrying a warrior, my lord,” she whispered.Theron grinned. “And I, a woman of such beauty.”Color seeped into Olivia’s cheeks as a grin played in her eyes, yet she did not smile. “You flatter me, my lord.”“I speak the truth.”Olivia’s smile broke through as she looked down at her laced fingers. She took hold of her bread and ripped off a piece. “And now will you recite poetry and Solaric sonnets in order to woo my heart?” Her grin widened playfully and Theron smiled.“No,” he said. “You don’t want to hear me sing, and I have no skills of wooing, I’m afraid.”Olivia lifted her chin and took a bite of bread. “Good, it is better that way.”Theron threw back his head and laughed so loudly that others looked their way.Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she smiled. “Why laugh? What was said?”Theron dabbed at his soup with a final chuckle. “You are an odd one, my lady.”“Oh.” She sat back and pulled her bread apart.“No, no, no.” He took hold of her hand and met her gaze. “I have never enjoyed predictable, common people anyway. You, my lady, are a refreshing joy.”Olivia grinned and ducked her head, brushing a wandering strand of hair behind her ear. Theron’s smile grew as he sat back, but did not let go of her hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but heard something above the crowd’s murmur.Several conversations hushed to a stop as everyone turned in their seats. The dogs stood and began to bark, ears erect and tails wagging. Flutes, drums, and a lyre’s song drifted into the room. Prince Theron beamed as he looked from one excited face to another, for he knew who was coming.



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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.



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"Shattered Lives" Chapter 4: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

Chapter 4Sacred Creature
            “Ain’t proper to keep that hair down!” Nan cried. She crossed her arms and watched Olivia walking from her chamber, the young lady’s long hair ending below her waist and flowing behind her. “You’re no she-elf or barbaric Wilder heathen!”            “Nan, only the lords can’t see me like this!” Olivia smiled as she looked over her shoulder. “Commoners won’t be bothered, the servants and the like. They see this all the time. Besides! It’s just for this morning, honest by the Silver Eye.”            “Ah . . . and what of Countess Primis?” Nan lifted her chin. “If she lays eyes on you—”            “She is gathering herbs in the gardens. Stop worrying, Nan!” Olivia smiled as she continued to walk away.            “My lady!”Krea and Cedany followed their mistress with grins and playful whispers against Nan. “We won’t be terribly long, Nanny dear!” Krea called over her shoulder.Nan opened her mouth to speak, but shut it. She glared at the young ladies and walked back into the chamber; the door slammed behind her.It was early morning and the servants, who had been up long before the sun, raced here and there to prepare the household for the day. Women bustled in from the wells with buckets filled to the brim that splashed onto the floor with each step. Men carried in the day’s kill of deer, hare, and pig for that night’s meal. The candlestick maker’s daughters rushed throughout the castle and put out last night’s torches. Boys busied themselves with the livestock, mucking out the stables, feeding the chickens and goats, and making sure the horses were well. The distant smell of oily fires hovered about the kitchen as the cook finished preparing breakfast. Bit by bit, the castle rumbled with life as the household awoke.Olivia led her women to her favorite place in the castle, a tower which was built into the eastern wall. The women carried woven baskets filled with cloth and sewing tools, and they clung to their wool cloaks and each other as the morning’s chill seeped through the stone walls.Krea giggled as they walked, arm-in-arm, and shook her head. “Nan said you’re acting like a child. Just you wait, she’ll mock us and imitate how we speak too. I hate when she does that! She’s too good at it!”Olivia grinned. “Let her. She’s the one who misses all the excitement!”They squeezed past bowed men who carried baskets of fresh bread made the night before in order to be served that morning. Cedany shook her head and gave her lady a wary look. “What if we wander into a room we’re not allowed to—?”“Oh!” Krea shot her a glance. “No words like that. This is an adventure!”“Well,” Olivia whispered, “we cannot jeopardize Duke Aldret’s hospitality.”“Right.” Cedany nodded. “We just don’t want—”“To have fun?” Krea smirked. “This is silly talk, both of you! Silly, silly!”Olivia sighed and breathed in the morning air; it was sharp and fresh. She smiled. “Yes, I guess we will be fine. We will! Ah . . . this is what I need . . . to laugh and be with my ladies!”Cedany muttered under her breath, and glowered at the servants who passed.“Where did this happiness come from, my lady?” Krea asked and poked Olivia’s arm. “By the One in Red, a cloud followed you everywhere just yesterday.”“Oh . . .” Olivia looked away and grinned as color seeped through her complexion. “I spoke with a fair gentlemen—”Krea gasped and giggled, though Cedany’s eyes narrowed.“He was a messenger from the prince. . . . He soothed my worries.”“My Lady,” Cedany whispered and leaned forward. “You are to be wed. Shouldn’t toy with a—”“Ah! I said he was the prince’s messenger!” Olivia shot her a cold look.“Then why talk with—”“He was a knight; now enough of this, Cedany! I want to be at peace!”Cedany looked away, and Krea glanced between the two.“Did he have a fine face?” Krea whispered.“Krea!” Cedany snapped.Olivia’s grin widened. “Yes.” She looked away. “Very fine, indeed.”Cedany frowned and Krea giggled with closed eyes and a wide smile. Their voices hushed as four women passed by, their hands full of clothes and blankets to be taken and washed. They bowed until Olivia’s shadow moved beyond them, and pressed on.They rounded a corner, and Olivia smiled as she lengthened her strides. “Here we are!” Her vividly green eyes sparkled and she hurried to a closed door at the top of the stairs and threw it open with one forceful heave. Crisp morning air brushed across their faces as the sun lit the darkened stairway. A smile spread across Olivia’s rosy lips, and she heard Krea and Cedany gasp behind her. The tower gave way to a balcony which overlooked the wild land beyond Crown Haven’s walls. The women stepped to its railing and took in the breathtaking view.The colors and freshness of the day caused Olivia to forget the prince for a brief moment. She looked out and saw the Hilled Country rolling to the east as one grassy hill rose up onto another. Mist linked the hills together and lazily moved between them. To the west, the Flat Plains stretched on like a green-and-gray cloth, and Olivia knew her home was beyond that horizon.A thick line of black ripped through the eastern skyline. Olivia’s smile faltered as she stared at Wraith’s Hollow. The sun did not shine on the distant forest, and she wondered what horrors lay within its shadows. They were to travel through that Wizard-forsaken place. She would discover, all too soon, what the forest hid from the light. She looked away with a shiver.The three women drank in the fresh air until their lungs were full and content. “The Wizard made another beautiful day,” Olivia whispered. Krea and Cedany nodded as the women sat on wooden benches across from one another, Olivia on one and Krea and Cedany sharing the other. Stitch-work and tools were taken from the baskets and the women chatted as they sewed patterns of forests and men-at-arms into the fabric. A morning breeze grabbed at their hair and clothes with gentle fingers.As Krea and Cedany talked of the cook’s foul mood the night before, Olivia’s eyes turned across the land once again. What a beautiful morning The Wizard painted. She liked it, very much. There was a long moment of silence, and Olivia listened to the distant birds as they sang to the sun. She knew it was doubtful The Wizard would speak to her, but she still sent her thoughts his way. Well, the birds sing to you.She watched the birds flutter among the fruit trees in the courtyard below and sighed, her shoulders and chest loosening. She felt peaceful at the moment, the eye of a storm. She thanked the One in Red for the gift, and enjoyed it for the time being.The Wizard was not with her. Perhaps he was across the Ardi’on Sea to speak with the sons of the wind, or at the highest point along Blue Ridge to mediate a dispute between the stars. He might have been among the unending forests of Han Ci to teach them the heart of a Treeling, or walking upon the most distant sands to ensure the sun did not singe the earth. He could have been anywhere, and yet, he heard Olivia’s thoughts.            Falling in love would be nice, but . . . Olivia’s lips became a tight line as she looked down at her hands. She glanced at her ladies-in-waiting and watched their whispers and laughs; she knew they would not understand. I don’t think affection will take shape in either of us. If only you could be here. If only you’d tell me what to do.            The Wizard stopped what he was doing. He looked at Olivia.The light breeze grew and struck the three women. Each held their stitch-work in firm hands as Cedany and Krea’s conversation hushed. Cedany’s eyes narrowed as the wind seized their hair and cloaks. It was not a natural wind, so sudden and sharp. No, this wind had been sent.Olivia looked straight into the abrupt gust as her stray hair waved about her, deep in thought. If only The Wizard was a shadow, constant and beside her. If only she knew what to do. If only she knew how to be a queen.Krea’s brows rose and she looked at Olivia. “Are you speaking to The Wizard?”Olivia turned to her and opened her mouth to speak, yet froze. Her green eyes widened as a cardinal soared through the air. Its vivid Red wings carried the bird through the wind and it landed on the balcony. Cedany gasped as Krea smiled in wide-eyed amazement. “A Sacred Creature,” Krea breathed and reached forward, her fingers outstretched.“No!” Cedany wrenched her hand away from the bird, her eyes wide and her face pale.Olivia stared at the bird and eyed its Red features. The bird’s beady eyes looked up at her, its head cocked at an angle. It held her gaze and stared deep into her; Olivia felt its eyes pierce to her heart and command complete respect. She swallowed hard. She let out a quivered breath, slow and controlled. Cedany looked between the Sacred Creature and her mistress. She lifted her chin. “What did you say to him, my lady? What did you tell The Wizard?”Olivia did not look away from the cardinal as it stared at her, stared at her soul. Her mouth was dry. Her heart beat against her. Her hand tightly held the other. Forgive me. Indeed, you are here, Olivia thought with a gulp. Forgive me. The bird blinked and chirped a song-like tune. It leapt off the balcony and flew into the courtyard, out of sight.Lady Olivia shivered and looked down, her brow furrowed, as she shook her head. Forgive my doubt. . . .The Wizard smiled and he looked to her with his silver eyes flecked in a fiery glow. His blood Red robe trailed behind him and his hair, long and whiter than white, lay about his shoulders. Both robe and hair constantly moved as though brushed by a silent breeze. He saw her delicate form, though she sat leagues away. Olivia looked to the horizon and knew he was watching her, ever protective and vigilant. A fragile smile curved her lips.            “My lady?” Krea leaned forward, brows drawn together and eyes narrowed.Olivia looked to her companions and shook her head. She took up her needle and began to stitch a pattern. “We are not out of his sight. Isn’t he faithful?” She smiled at them, but they stared at their lady in silence. “Faithful as the sun . . . Hmmm, as the sun . . .”Cedany and Krea glanced at one another. “Yes, my lady.” Krea nodded and she took up her needle.Cedany eyed Olivia, but shook her head and leaned close to Krea. “Don’t ever touch Sacred Creatures.”“I wasn’t—”“T’wer! I saw! Your hand would have fallen off or burst into flames if you had!”Krea’s eyes widened. “Stones on bones! Really?”Cedany lifted her chin with a nod.Olivia looked back to the sun’s rays and thought of The Wizard. He watched them, though they could not see him. She looked for the cardinal, but could not find the Sacred Creature. She sighed and ran red string through her fingers. She eyed the scarlet cord and was grateful the One in Red knew her distress and did not chide her for it.            As the sun lifted higher into the pale blue, a smudge-faced child raced to the tower’s steps and told the three women, with a bow and a small voice, that breakfast was ready. Krea braided Olivia’s hair as Cedany gathered up their things.Once the lady’s hair was appropriately in place, the trio walked to the Great Hall. As they entered the large room, a wave of several conversations flooded over the women. The shouts of servants, orders of masters, the occasional bark of dogs, clangs of wooden and metal utensils, and the crackle of the wall-long fireplace mingled together until it was one large, rolled-up sound.The baron, friends, the chamberlain, and the commander-of-the-guard sat along the table’s benches as they ate their morning meal. At the head of the table, in the only chair available, sat Duke Aldret. On his left was the Seer and to the right was the baron, who was deep in conversation with his lord. Young servants lined the walls, their hands stiff at their sides and eyes directed to the seated men and women. Dogs pitter-pattered between the people with constant eyes on the table for the food that was to come. Thick warmth spread throughout the room as the fire and body heat grew. The wall-length fireplace’s fumes rose above the gathering and curled in the rafters high overhead. It slowly found the opened windows and ventured outside, but not without leaving the sharp smell of smoke behind. The servants, who had slept in the Great Hall the night before, had rolled up their mats and stacked them in the corners. On the floor lay bits of hay and tracked-in mud, small puddles from the water girls’ spills, and dried food which had fallen from the table the day before that the dogs had missed.As Olivia moved across the room, several conversations fell to a whisper, and many looked to their queen-to-be. Olivia’s cheeks flushed red and she took a step back with a sudden lurch. Krea and Cedany glanced at their lady and looked back at those seated. A few hushed words whipped through the room. Olivia took in a deep breath, lifted her chin, and focused on her bench beside the Seer. Her steps flowed from one to the other as she swallowed hard and pressed on.The watchful eyes burnt into her flesh and made her skin tingle. A steward stood and pushed out the bench for her. Olivia sat, glanced at those around her, and looked away. Countess Primis sat beside Quinn; her eyes bore through Olivia and into the wall behind her. The young woman turned away from her aunt, and a lump formed in her throat.The Seer grinned at Olivia and stood. A perfect stillness fell across those gathered and each looked up to the ceiling and held out their hands. Olivia whispered a sigh of relief as everyone turned away from her. The Seer closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. “You sang all that there is into existence, Great Wizard. Therefore, sing into our lives to create the beauty only you can see. Let it be so!”Everyone cupped their hands together, with a thunderous clap, and drew their hands close to their chests. The Seer sat down, and conversation rolled in again. Duke Aldret nodded to Olivia in greeting. She returned the welcome and placed her hands in her lap, her laced fingers white.         Nan, who sat beside her, eyed Olivia’s hair and grunted. “Glad to see you’re right and proper again.” Olivia did not respond as she grabbed a piece of bread from a wooden platter. She dipped it into a cup of goat’s milk and took a bite. “Thank The Wizard Countess Primis didn’t see those wild locks this morn!”Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Nan. “Well, she didn’t. . . .”Nan grunted. “Just like a half-naked Wilder heathen! She’d be rightly short with you for sitting out, too. That cold morning chill. ” She shook her head. Olivia opened her mouth, but shut it, looking away with a shake of her head. Nan drank her own milk and continued, “She would be saying, ‘My dearest girl! Do not destroy this nation by becoming an unsuitable queen!’ ” Olivia grimaced at Nan’s perfect imitation of Countess Primis’s voice. “Would give her a heart attack—”“Enough, Nan!” Olivia hissed and shot her a hot look. “Aunt Primis didn’t see, and she doesn’t know! Shall we keep it that way?”Nan leaned back in her bench. “Meant nothing—”“She’s always like that! Unreasonably concerned of others’ opinions of her.” Olivia’s eyes darkened as they flicked to her aunt. “I still should have ridden that griffin!”She thought back to the day a messenger had arrived at Earl Quinn’s castle; he had traveled on a griffin. She had never seen such a beast before and her excitement to ride such a grand animal, half lion and half eagle, had overtaken her. But no, Countess Primis had forbidden it. “You could slip and fall.” Olivia’s smile had faded at her aunt’s words. “You would die. Besides, it is ghastly cold up there in the heavens; your young health would render no resistance against the chilled air. If the flight wouldn’t kill you, your weakened body would.”Olivia shook her head and wished there was a griffin to soar among the clouds with. She longed to see what it was like to be above the world. It sounded so peaceful, so free.“Could we not talk about my aunt.” She was not asking.Nan stared at Olivia for a long moment, and her brow softened. The two women looked away from one another and continued to eat. “Don’t you be too hard on her,” Nan whispered. Olivia’s lips tightened to a pale line. “She raised you all in all.”“What do you know?” Olivia snapped. “You have served me no more than a handful of months!” Nan gasped and stared at Olivia with a blank expression. She opened her mouth to explain herself, but Olivia turned to the Seer beside her.“Honored Seer?” Olivia asked and forced a smile. Nan’s eyes narrowed as the young lady turned her back on her. “How can one be chosen as a Seer?”The man grinned as he set down his wooden cup and turned her way. Beside him, his Song Bearer peeked beyond his Red Master to the young beauty. Their eyes met and the Seer’s apprentice ducked and turned away. “The heart.” The Seer pointed at his chest with a nod. “’Tis where all begins with The Wizard. He looks deep within one’s own soul, past the innards, the marrow and hardened muscle, to the glass heart. The Wizard doesn’t see nation or bloodline or past. A heart can be cracked; it can be marred by past harms, or harms by the keeper’s own nature. However, The Wizard may see deeper, and still consider such brokenness as beauty. He finds the best hearts—the broken ones mostly, for broken ones can be molded more easily than perfect ones. You see?”Olivia nodded and moved closer. “And what of the Crimson Rings, honored Seer? How do they come about?”“Well . . .” The Seer rolled up his long sleeves and revealed the thick red loops wound around each wrist, discoloring his skin. Lines curled and flowed with one another throughout the rings and patterned his flesh. “Long ago, during the end of my apprenticeship as Song Bearer, I knelt and asked The Wizard for them. Then, I felt someone else was in the room, something else. An overpowering presence that no mortal or Wraith could stop. And that was when I noticed the Crimson Rings. They just appeared. Out of nowhere.” He chuckled and stroked one ring, then the other, and felt the texture of each curling line. “Such are the ways of The Wizard. Um . . . might I ask, my lady, how is it you do not know such common things?”Olivia glanced away and cleared her throat. “My uncle had a Seer, yet he was old. He had no strength for children, for such was my age when he was alive. He passed to The Land of Eternal Day before I had grown in curiosity.”“I see. And do you know why Seers are denied shoes?” he asked. He wiggled his bare toes as he asked this; they rested on a piece of gray rabbit fur and were covered with callouses and dirt stains.“Yes,” Olivia said in a flat voice. “To remind Seers, by the wet, cold, and muddy ground, that a Seer is still mortal. It is to get rid of any pride. Pain does that.” Olivia fought against a hard tone, but failed. “Was there anyone?”“Anyone what, my lady?”“Anyone in the room with you. When you got your Crimson Rings.”The Seer grinned and nodded his head. “That there was. The Wizard stood over me.”Olivia gasped and her mouth dropped open. “Then . . . then how is it you’re alive? Who sees The Wizard and lives!”“Some. Some do, my lady. But, yes, others have met doom after looking into his eyes of fiery silver. And then there are those who are filled with his Red. They, and myself, are who truly see him.”Olivia’s brows knotted curiously as she leaned in to listen. The Seer smiled and continued, “If someone is willing to become a slave to The Wizard, and give him complete authority, Seer or not, they are given the responsibility of his Red. It fills them, guides them, and speaks to them.”Olivia stared in startled astonishment. “But, isn’t the Red his source of magic?”The Seer nodded. “Thus, whoever is filled with his Red are filled with his magic. They carry The Wizard’s authority and supremacy, becoming more powerful than Wraiths even. It is a high and dangerous walk indeed, for with authority comes responsibility, and with powerful strength comes battles to wield it.”Olivia sat in thoughtful silence, her brows firmly knotted as she tried to imagine a life filled with the Red Magic. “What was it like, honored Seer?” Olivia moved closer still, her voice low and eyes wide. “What’s he like?”The Seer looked away and blinked several times. “It was . . .” He shook his head thoughtfully. “I have never been more terrified in all my days.” Olivia’s brow furrowed. “It was as though I was a baby bird and he . . . he is a lion. One of power, and claws, and fangs. The king of the beasts! For a beast he is. And yet . . .” A grin broke through his distant gaze. “Yet, I was filled to the fullest measure. Filled as I have never been before.”“Is that when you were filled with the Red?”He nodded slowly. “I think so.”Olivia swallowed hard and glanced away. She blinked thoughtfully and shook her head. The Seer’s head tilted to one side as he watched her. “What is this, my lady? I see your heart is troubled.”Olivia peered at the elderly man and looked to the ground. “I—I longed to see him, but his magic is too great for me. . . . How foolish I can be sometimes.”“Nay, dear lady.” Olivia glanced at the Seer as he shook his head. “One should hunger for The Wizard, as a man hungers for honor. Shan’t be difficult to find him; he is everywhere. In the forests, winds, animals, earth, in the very air we breathe, my lady. Yes . . .” The Seer smiled. “Would be foolish to try to hide from him. Good thing we are on his side, yes?”“Agreed.” However, Olivia’s hands were clenched in her lap. She looked around at the walls, the ceiling, and the dogs which sat by Duke Aldret with wagging tails. Was he there, at that moment? She shook her head and smoothed her hair. She sighed and took another bite of bread. Her eyes closed, as though to force her fears of The Wizard and Prince Theron from her mind. She was not successful.–                 –                 –            A figure stood in a vacant room and its eyes darted to and fro, first to the locked door, then to the opened window. A white feather lay on the ground. Icy eyes watched from a shadowed corner, and blue feet dug into a chair’s back. The wood paled with frost.The figure turned to the door to leave. “Wait,” the snowy owl whispered. The figure froze, but did not turn to face the bird. “The Master says: Lady Olivia will be dealt with. In Wraith’s Hollow. Wraith’s Hollow . . .”The figure’s shoulders relaxed with a sigh.The snowy owl’s head cocked at an angle and eyed the back of her covert companion’s head.“Very good,” the figure said with a nod. “I shall obey.” The snowy owl said not a word. The figure faced her and the owl lifted her head. “How did the master seem? Angry? Afraid? Excited?” The bird said nothing. She watched her comrade grumble and turn away. “Wish you could say more than what we give you to say. Stupid bird . . .”The snowy owl’s eyes narrowed. She leapt forward, spread her wings, and shot toward the figure. Without a sound, she extended her frost-enlaced talons. The figure ducked with a gasp as she passed. The owl flew through the window and was gone, a chill following behind her.



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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.

"Shattered Lives" Chapter 3: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

Chapter 3An Unexpected MessengerIt had been two days since Olivia and her companions’ arrival, and the buzz of their coming had taken its toll on the young lady. She sat beside a window, her emerald eyes turned out to the unfamiliar horizon. A lazy wind brushed her cheeks and loose hair, the locks crowning her in threaded gold. She had succumbed to the longing of freed hair and undid Krea’s work that morning of braiding and looping and fastening. Though unpinned hair was unladylike for a woman of Olivia’s position, the risk was worth it. Her shawl slipped from her sage green dress’s shoulders as she plucked a fiddle laying on her lap. Her fingers skipped from one string to another and created a thread of notes knotted together until it was a balled mess.She was in a silent passageway between the Lesser and Greater Halls. An unlit torch rested in its sconce on the wall behind her, and the occasional pitter-patter of servants’ feet broke the silence. Olivia had been with Countess Primis and the other ladies of the house for the retelling of Sir Garen the Brave and his valiant adventures.It had not taken long for Olivia’s worries to return upon hearing Sir Garen’s so-called knightly stature; it reminded her of the strange man who was to call her his wife. She could not sit there and listen to such outlandish acts of love and of men of valor, always true, always noble. Chivalry. What does that even mean? Memories of Earl Quinn proved that not all men were as the stories portrayed.Haunted by questions, Olivia slipped from the room of women and found the lonely window to sit by and think. She knew Countess Primis would scorn her, but a moment’s peace was worth it. Her thoughts blurred together with the fiddle’s song.Olivia gazed to the lands at the edge of the sky, her brows knotted together. She longed to be there, to be free and out in the wild world. She wanted to walk the plains, as the commoners did, and see the world at her own will. Oh! What would she find out there? She would hike the Blue Ridge and ride across the Hilled Country on a white horse with her hair down like a Suvarian she-elf. She would do so much and find so much more. Maybe a man, a good man, was out there. Someone who would love her, and she would stand by his side no matter what. Was there such a man?Definitely not a prince. Olivia swallowed as the fiddle’s song jarred from one note to another. He will always demand his way. She knew she would be another prized horse in his stables, something to parade before his lords, the same as her uncle had done to Countess Primis.Olivia looked down at the fiddle and blinked back tears. But she was not a horse, not spoils from war to be paraded! Her stomach trembled. Olivia groaned and threw the fiddle from her lap. The wooden instrument clattered across the floor until it slammed into the far wall and spun to a stop. Olivia put her head in her hands and longed to meet the prince. Just get it over with. This is torture!            “My lady?”Olivia gasped and sat up straight, eyes wide.“Whoa!” A knight took a step back and held up his hands. “Calm yourself; I didn’t mean to startle you.” Olivia breathed out as her shoulders relaxed. Red flooded her cheeks and she pulled up her fallen shawl.            The knight’s armor had been removed, yet he still wore his padded arming coat, boots, and sword. His dark brown eyes looked away and he bowed in respect, his arm sweeping as he stepped back. “My apologies, my lady.”Olivia’s eyes flickered over him and she noticed his firm physique and dirty blond hair. She turned away as the crimson in her cheeks deepened. The knight straightened and rested a calloused hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes narrowed when he saw her uncustomary loose hair. Olivia lifted her chin and smoothed her hair down over her shoulders in defiance. “’Tis how I like it,” she stated, knowing he would not question her.The knight half smiled and turned away. “I have a message from Prince Theron,” he said.Olivia’s heart leapt into her throat and choked the words she tried to speak. “He—he’s here?” Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard. “He has arrived?”The knight glanced at her with eyes narrowed, his head tilted at an angle.“He was to be met with celebration and, and everyone in the house out to see him!” Olivia laid a hand over her mouth as she looked outside, and her eyes darted to and fro across the land. “He couldn’t be here yet!” She shook her head and firmly gripped her hands. “Can’t be . . .”The knight looked her up and down as a muscle in his jaw twitched. “The honored prince sent me on ahead. He is encamped a half a day’s journey away and will arrive tomorrow.”Olivia closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, her body loosening. She smoothed the creases in her green dress and put her head in her hands. She smiled and forced a relieved laugh.The knight turned away and shifted his weight. “You act like it’s, um . . .” He cleared his throat. “Like it’s Lord Demus you are to marry, instead of the prince.”Olivia sighed as she straightened her back and regained her composure. She shook her head and shrugged. “Demus . . . the prince . . . what does it matter?”The knight’s brows rose.“I could be marrying a tyrant, just as horrid as Lord Demus. I could be marrying a corrupt man, a harsh man, a man who sees me only as a pretty thing to show off, not a companion to cherish!” Olivia ducked at her harsh words as they echoed from wall to wall. She glared down at her white-knuckled hands and bit her tongue, realizing the magnitude of her pent-up distress. The knight watched her without a word. She continued, but her voice was a low whisper, “I will be getting a stranger, and he . . . he will be getting a plaything.”The knight lifted his chin and breathed out with a slow whoosh. He smiled, but, just as Olivia’s laugh, it was not real. His brown eyes were wide with surprise and rimmed in sadness.“He will be getting a companion,” he said and cleared his throat. Olivia turned his way and held his gaze, her eyes narrowed. He continued, “A partner to share life, and the kingdom, with.”“Yet, he will not be there when dangers come.” Olivia forced a smile and shook her head, though the shadow did not lift from her stare. “You know we’re going through Wraith’s Hollow? Yes. We are. He doesn’t know me. Therefore, why would he stay by my side if attackers befall us, heathen Wilders or Shadow Minstrels? Hags of dark magic. Wild Elves with their bows and axes! Even, Wizard save us, Lord Demus! No one can resist that Spellbinder! The prince won’t stand by me! Why? Why would he? I am a weak girl, you know. Weak and scared. No. Who would love that?” She shrugged and looked out the window. “Who would . . .” she whispered as she wrapped the shawl tighter around herself and rubbed her arms.The knight watched her for a moment, then moved forward and looked away. “My lady. May I speak freely?”Olivia eyed him.“As to share from a man’s perspective, for I personally know Prince Theron. I have for several years.”Olivia lifted her chin and breathed out heavily. Hadn’t Mistress Sobriina asked her the same thing? “Just this once,” she whispered and folded her hands in her lap.The knight nodded and looked out the window. “The prince is a good man. A warrior in his own right. His honor and own conscience will not permit him to leave you when danger comes, as you claim. And . . .” The knight half grinned. “And you’re not the only one, my lady, who does not know who you will marry. You are a stranger to him, too.”Olivia saw the sincerity in his soft gaze and had to look away, her brow furrowed. The knight cleared his throat and stooped to pick up the thrown fiddle, holding it out to her. “Any man, prince or commoner, would take one look at you and vow to protect you, against the world if need be.”Olivia glanced up at him.“Any true man, that is.”“And the prince?” She took the fiddle and he met her gaze. “Is he a . . . a true man, as you say?”The knight nodded, then shrugged. “As true as he can be.”Olivia swallowed hard and looked down at the instrument. She ran her fingers along the taut strings and the carved wooden sides.“Do not worry, my lady.” The knight put his hands behind his back and looked out the window once more. “The Wizard knows all.” Olivia smirked, but said nothing as the knight glanced at her and smiled. “Yeah . . . never enjoyed that one either.” Olivia grinned. He sighed and scratched his scruffy chin. “The fact that The Wizard knows what will be hasn’t always been . . .”“Comforting.”“Yes, that.”Olivia looked the knight up and down and plucked at the fiddle, the notes loud in the quiet hall. She turned away as color seeped into her cheeks, admiring his shamelessly calm confidence. She hummed a sigh as she strummed the fiddle and glanced out the window. Far across the land, thin columns of smoke rise into the air amid flagged poles. The prince’s camp,she thought. Olivia’s smile faded and she looked down at the instrument in her lap with a heavy sigh. “Is the prince like you?” she whispered.The knight glanced at her and blinked with widened eyes. “Um . . . My lady?”“Never mind.” She shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck, her shoulders ducked in embarrassment. “Forgive me. What was the message?”He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. “Message?”“The prince. He had a message?”“Oh, yes, yes, yes!”Olivia stifled a laugh and set aside the fiddle to hear the news.“Prince Theron bids you welcome.”Olivia leaned forward and waited. “And . . . and that’s all?”The knight nodded. “What more is needed, my lady?”Olivia shook her head and sat back, her arms crossed. “I don’t know. I just thought . . . never mind. Thank you kindly for coming, dear knight.”The knight bowed and stepped back. “The honor is all mine, my lady. Now, I must return to camp.”Olivia frowned and stood to her feet, dress swishing about her. “You must be tired from your journey—”“Indeed, yet the prince wishes a report on the well-being of his lady.”Olivia turned away, her frown deepened, and she cradled herself in her arms. “I see. Well, report all is fine and she waits with anticipation upon his arrival.”The knight frowned skeptically.Olivia noticed his stare and shot him a look. “I’m not telling him I’m horrified at his coming! Oh! And please don’t—”“I will only tell what you wish me to tell.”Olivia’s shoulders relaxed and she nodded. “I thank you.” She smoothed a crease in her shawl, and gave the distant camp a sharp, quick look.“And I thank you, for giving me the chance to meet my future queen.” The knight stooped and took her soft hand in his calloused grasp. He leaned forward and kissed it gently.Olivia smiled sheepishly.“My Lady.” The knight smiled and pulled away. He stared at her a moment longer, then turned and walked down the hall.Olivia watched his long strides and high chin and straight shoulders. Her grin blossomed, but she shook her head and looked out the window to the camp. She thrummed the fiddle’s strings again, yet her song was no longer irregular. It flowed from one note to the next as the young lady sighed and lifted her chin. She hummed to herself, a song of The Wizard’s might against a storm, and a smile danced in the emerald depths of her eyes.



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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.

"Shattered Lives" Chapter 1: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

PrologueA young boy stared down at his warm and sticky hands. Night veiled all, yet he knew what slicked his fingers; blood, but not his own.His shadowed form stood amid a cluster of cottages. The village slept on, oblivious and undisturbed. Horses soundlessly slept in their stalls. A bat flailed past, its fanged mouth open in a silent scream. A breeze touched all with cold fingers. The lad’s mud-caked bare feet sloshed back and forth as he frantically grasped for reality. The night’s chilled air forced goosebumps along his arms and he shook; not with cold, but with terror.At his feet lay another lad, sprawled and trembling. His labored breath filled the silent village as his hands clasped his stomach, blood pouring from a gaping slice onto the sludge-covered ground. The attacker stepped back, his chest heaving. He let the knife slip from his hands. The two looked at each other with equal horror.A scream tore through the silence.The attacker wheeled around. He eyed a young girl beginning adolescence standing in the doorway of the cottage nearest to him. Her face paled, whiter than her nightgown, as the dress dragged across the door’s threshold. He swallowed hard. She looked at him with a hand over her mouth, her eyes glistening with tears. She backed away, her beautiful face contorted by panic. “No, no, no,” she moaned, shaking her head. “Ralker, get up. Please, love! You can’t--we’ve got to marry and be together and . . . Get up!” The youth watched her hug herself, rocking, a gesture he knew meant horror filled her. He wiped his hands on his clothes as though to hide the blood, never wanting to cause her pain. Red blood smeared with the mud already soaked through the fabric. The wind raced between them, her nightdress flapping like a trapped bird’s wings. She turned to the murderer, her watery gaze searching his hunched form, as she fumbled to understand. “What did you do?” He turned away, suddenly cold. “Warrick! What did you do!” Her words pierced the lad’s heart.He fumbled for words as he listened to Ralker’s desperate gasps. The girl scoffed, tears streaming down her paled cheeks. “How could you do this?” Warrick had no reply, his heart quivering. “You’re a dog, Warrick. A Wraith’s dog!”Buzzing whispers lifted from the cottages as a dog began to bark. Voices drifted through the village and people stepped from their homes. Some lit hissing torches and looked out with squinted eyes. The guilty lad stared at each in turn, his fire-red hair bright in the torches’ glow. A shiver snaked up Warrick’s spine as he saw their wide eyes, confused and searching for answers. They would see his bloody crime, see the young man battling for life at his feet in the mud.He turned back to the lass as a tear slid down her ashen cheeks. “How could you—”He charged down the muddy streets and through the village he had once called home. His lungs burned as he ran. His eyes looked intensely into the darkness that lined the horizon. As he rounded a corner, he slammed into a man. They staggered and nearly fell. The murderer caught himself and hurtled onward before the man could react. A wail jutted through the night, and he knew the villagers had discovered his deed. Ralker lay dead in the mud, and Lahanna . . . she had looked at him with such hatred—           Warrick flew from the village. The wind slapped his face, stinging his nose and cheeks with ice. His heart beat against him as he ran over one hill, then another, the hills’ tall grasses tangling his legs like green fingers. The darkness on the horizon grew nearer until he could see the forest’s jutting silhouette. The young man stopped once he reached its edge, and collapsed.Warrick’s loud gasps rattled in his throat, and his stomach turned.  He doubled over with a cough and vomited. His chest heaved, fighting for air as the night’s cold, the villagers’ distant cries, and the vomit made his thoughts spin. He groaned and spit the vile taste from his mouth, eyes closed tight. Hearing distant shouts, he jolted upright and looked back. The village was dotted with dozens of torches. As he watched, some grew nearer. They were coming for him.The lad turned back to the forest, but he did not rise. Warrick stared at the horror-infested trees as they swayed in the cold wind, remembering unsettling tales told and retold about the haunted wood: Wraith’s Hollow. The forest’s shadows seemed darker than the night. An owl called. It was a low, mournful song. He froze and looked for it, his eyes leaping from tree to tree. He knew the owl’s orange gaze could see his hidden form. It could tell the villagers where he knelt! It could be hunting for his blood too! With a labored breath, he struggled to his feet, and stepped forward.A stooped form blocked his path.Warrick let out a cry that hurt his throat, and fell back, gaping at the stranger who appeared out of nowhere. Before him stood a tall man hunched with age, dressed in a cloak with the hood drawn low. The wind wafted over the cloak, distorting the dark fabric like a shadow’s sadistic dance. He held his hands before him and toyed with golden rings strung on his fingers. A sharp nose poked from the hood’s empty mouth, and two eyes, so gray they appeared black, stared down sharply as though trying to cut the boy in two. The gray eyes twinkled with dark amusement.A smile twitched at the corner of the stranger’s mouth. “I’m terribly sorry, Warrick.” The stranger thumbed a ring and began to pace around the young murderer. The lad hunched lower into the grass as his hair stood on end. The stranger grinned, his cloak waves of black in the wind. “They should not have denied you Lahanna.”The fallen boy swallowed hard and wiped his mouth, smearing blood and grime across his face. Warrick said nothing as his mind whirled with thoughts he did not understand. The owl hooted again, long and low, like a mirthful laugh.“But you must come now, and speedily.” The stranger held out his hand, his eyes sharp as knives. “They are coming. I will take you to your new home, to a hidden world. I will train you to be strong and invincible so no one will have the power to refuse you any wish again.”The haunted boy stared up at the elder. He looked so tall, so powerful. Villagers’ voices drew closer still. He flinched at their distant cries and wiped his mouth again. “Lad. Do you know how long you shall kick when they hang you?” Warrick ducked low, his breath shaking as it hissed through his clenched teeth. “Your face will turn blue and your tongue will swell, protruding from your purpled lips. You must come with me. You have no other choice. You know that.”The villagers shouted orders, organizing themselves to begin the manhunt. Warrick swallowed hard and rubbed his throat, already feeling the noose coil his neck and wrench the life from him. With numbed fingers, he took the elder’s hand. The boy stood and faced the stranger as the wind blew between them. He looked into the man’s gray eyes; the shadow of power was in their depths. With a nod, he glanced back at all he had ever known, his village, his family, his love—“Don’t look back!” the robed man hissed. The boy stiffened and dropped his gaze. “Don’t ever look back.” He motioned to the Wraith-infested forest, and the two walked forward. With a swallow, the boy stepped under the tree’s gnarled branches. His gaze hardened as the darkness enveloped him.He did not look back.

      Chapter 1Stranger, my BetrothedLady Olivia swallowed hard, and eyed the king’s royal summons clutched in her hands. She bumped shoulders with her three handmaidens, cramped in her uncle’s wagon. The thudding of horses’ hooves and creaking of wagon wheels pounded in her ears. She had seen a gang of beggars trailing behind them, like dogs looking for scraps at the dinner table. They were getting braver; a few were caught within their camp the night before.Olivia shivered and pulled her wool cloak closer, her blue kirtle offering little resistance against the late morning cold. Mist hung over the land between the destitute villages and towns they passed. Her long blonde hair wound about her head, woven with silver ribbon bought from Han Ciese merchants on her fifteenth birthday.Her emerald eyes darted out the wagon’s window to an oversized sedan chair held by two poles between a pair of horses. Within the carrier sat two outlined figures wrapped in thick furs as their dreary gaze turned away from the other. As Olivia watched, one shadowed profile shifted and dark eyes fastened onto her. Countess Primis lifted her chin and glared at her young niece with eyes as cold as the morning. Olivia grimaced and looked away.A lump formed in her throat, and she clenched her hands together until her grasp threatened to destroy the summons. A small hand reached out and lay over Olivia’s. The young woman looked up, and her eyes met with those of the seasoned woman sitting across from her. The woman’s wrinkled face and gray-speckled hair contrasted from the two other handmaidens’ younger, vibrant features. Olivia and the aged woman stared at each other in silence until the younger looked away with a heaving sigh.“What do most think when they meet their fiancé, Nan?” the young lady asked, her voice as small as her courage. The conversation between Olivia’s two other attendants, Krea and Cedany, hushed to silence.            Nan smiled, though her brows knotted together. She shook her head and sighed. “Oh sweetie, I don’t rightly know. Excited n’ maybe little jittery, I’d say. Just take a deep breath . . . that’s a good gi’l.” Lady Olivia took another breath of the rain-dampened air, but her knuckles were as white as ever.            Olivia looked out the window again, past the barricade of her uncle’s men-at-arms, a few knights, and squires on horseback. Their armor was still wet from yesterday’s rain, and their gray cloaks matted against their backs. Her gaze lifted beyond her aunt and uncle’s own litter. Her rosy lips stiffened to a thin line as her mind drifted. Prince Theron . . . Prince Theron . . . Why must it be a prince!Couldn’t she marry that viscount who visited last spring or the knight with the long beard who only talked about his falcons? But the prince! Olivia looked down at her hands and thumbed the red seal. The waxy surface was smooth and hard. A prince was different, making her life difficult. A prince meant she would be queen. Olivia closed her eyes tight as a weight pressed on her chest and threatened to crush her glass heart.“Sweetie.”Olivia blinked and turned to Nan.“Talk to me, child.”            “I do not wish to talk.” Her eyes avoided Nan’s stare. She shifted her weight in her seat and lifted her chin, attempting to look unaffected. It didn’t work.            “You must. You’re driving yourself close to crazy with this boy.”            Olivia shot Nan a sharp glower but turned away, swallowing a retort and clearing her throat. “Where is Valsara? I have not seen her for . . . stones on bones, I cannot remember when!”Nan’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you try to change subject.”“Krea, have you seen Valsara?”Krea helplessly glanced between Nan and her lady. Cedany nudged her, and Krea shook her head without a word, her head bowing.“Huh,” Olivia hummed thoughtfully.“My lady, talk about the prince!” Nan urged.Olivia snuggled deeper in her cloak and flicked a strand of blond hair from her eyes. “Where’s Valsara?”“And why must you know so badly?” Nan crossed her arms over her chest.“A lady should know where her double is,” Olivia said. “Without her, my trek through Wraith’s Hallow will be much more dangerous! And those beggars they caught the other night! The men-at-arms swore they came straight to my tent. My tent!”“They were just looking for grub, my lady,” Nan muttered.“I need Valsara. Where is she?”“Stay focused, Olivia. We’re talking ‘bout you and that prince fellow. Forget Valsara.”Olivia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s not a mere fellow!” Cedany and Krea bit their tongues and tried to shrink against the wagon’s seats, their lips closed and eyes darting from their lady to the older woman.Nan waved a finger at her mistress. “He’s still a lad.” She smiled. “He still puts him shoes on one foot at ah time, and he still practices sword handling, and hunting, and everything them men do. He is just a mere fellow.” Nan mimicked the young lady with her last words. Olivia shot her an annoyed look. How absurd Nan made her sound! But she knew Nan was accurate; she could always mimic voices with perfection.“The Wizard wants you to marry that man, sweetie. He’s leading you here ’cause he wants you here.”“Yes! Yes!” Krea grinned as she set down her needle and thread. “That’s what he’s doing! Sorry . . .” She ducked away from Olivia’s stare and hid behind Cedany with her stitch-work covering her face.“And The Wizard won’t lead you wrongly, my lady,” Cedany said as she wound blue yarn into a ball and elbowed Krea away.            Olivia looked between the three women and shook her head. “The Wizard did not orchestrate my marriage. It is unusual of him and unkind of you to suggest it.” She huffed and looked out the window. “Unkind . . .”            “Ah! But what if he’s doing just that?”Olivia opened her mouth to respond, but she found no words to say. She shook her head and focused on the world outside the wagon. A smudge-faced girl followed a band of geese down the road and avoided a limping man and his gangly dog. Krea and Cedany exchanged glances but continued their busywork. Nan watched her mistress and sighed.The wagon jolted down the muddy road, and the villages’ farm fields gave way to small trees. The land transformed into rolling hills, and the number of travelers lessened. They were nearing Wraith’s Hallow. Even the commoners knew to stay away from the infected forest. It never made sense to Olivia why Duke Aldret would build his estate so close to the Wizard-forsaken tree line, or why the royalty of Tulaun sought solitude there. She looked up and saw a hawk soaring high among the gray clouds, its beady eyes staring down, feathers waving in the wind. Olivia sighed and leaned her cheek against the window’s frame.            Uncle, she thought. Her eyes darkened to narrow slits as she glanced at the litter. She glowered at one of the darkened forms lounging inside. Why is he so . . . so . . . ?            She stopped in mid-thought. Earl Quinn did not deserve her curses, though it seemed so at times. Olivia knew if her father was in her life, he would have asked for her approval of the matrimony instead of agreeing without her consent. She knew he would! He may be a self-centered, grief consumed man, but not a cruel one. Olivia gritted her teeth. She let out a slow breath, and closed her eyes as her thoughts flowed on.            The only thought which brought her comfort was, when married, she would be free from Earl Quinn and Countess Primis. Though they allowed her to grow up under their roof, teaching her everything a woman of nobility and grace requires, Olivia was never treated like a wanted family member. She was a nuisance to them, misunderstood and ill-treated. It was as though they never considered her heart breaking at such a young age. A young girl who loses her mother should not be handed to another family member and expected to live life as though an empty hole had not been carved into her soul. Olivia’s furrowed brow relaxed as her eyes darkened. She would be free of their constant critiquing, never pleased frowns, and Uncle Quinn’s sudden blows. Olivia took in a breath, the cold air chilling her nose, knowing freedom was worth her present turmoil.            Yet, what if the prince was worse?  What is the prince like? What if he already loves another? Does he have a temper? She touched her cheek and prayed the mark of Earl Quinn’s slap was no longer seen. She adjusted her hair and tried not to think of the other night when he had struck her. She had been afraid of the beggars creeping about her tent and reacted with screams and blubbering tears. Earl Quinn had not understood her outburst, and refused to tolerate such behavior.Olivia lifted her chin with a deep breath, though her bottom lip trembled. The responsibility she would hold! She would be the hostess for lords, be present at court and stand by her king, and conduct business when needed. Who knew how many other endless tasks? Olivia wondered what would happen if Prince Theron died after they were wed. She knew the kingdom would be given to her family, as was the law. Custom demanded she promptly wed another, but a man she chose herself, with the advice of others of course. She would have to lead a nation she scarcely knew. She shivered, and knew she could not live under such a weight.Olivia glanced out the window and saw two birds perched on a tree, their winged shoulders touching each other. Does The Wizard really want me to marry Prince Theron? she wondered. He wanted her to be at peace, and to live an abundant life. That’s what he sang of, right? An abundant life?



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Highest Melody ReferenceJohn 10:10 – “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy, I [God] have come that they may have life and have it abundantly.”


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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7
Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.Hearts of glass.

"Shattered Lives" Chapter 2: The Wizard's Legacy book 1

Chapter 2A Half-Giant and She-Elf
Lady Olivia, her eyes closed, gasped as the caravan stopped. Her breath quivered as she drew it in. She peered out the wagon window and dared to look around, for they had reached their destination. The grind of weathered gears filled her ears as the only fortress’s gate closed behind them. A high, stone wall surrounded the keep, and lookout towers were stationed along the perimeter. Archers and men-at-arms kept a watchful eye of the newcomers, fires flickering beside each lookout post. The guards stared down at the visitors, hands on the hilts of their swords, until they realized the strangers were harmless. Their shoulders relaxed as they returned to their muttered conversations.A castle stood before Olivia, its weathered stone face etched by time, its dark windows watching the commotion below. Flags tossed this way and that from the castle’s towers, the dampened crimson fabric contrasting with the gray sky and the rain-pelted brown land.The smell of grease and smoke drifted from one side of the castle as cooks prepared the day’s meal. The lowing of cows, squawks of chickens, and neighs of horses could be heard from across the yard. Stewards rushed to and fro directing the daily progress. Two young boys shoveled the mud-caked courtyard to find dry ground for Tulaun’s future queen. The castle was Crown Haven, the halfway point where Olivia and Prince Theron were to meet at last.A throat cleared close to Olivia and she glanced up with a start. She stiffened at the sight of Aunt Primis, and her eyes darted to the ground. Countess Primis stared at her niece and abruptly flicked a stray lock of hair behind Olivia’s ear. “You are to be queen!” she hissed. Olivia cringed at the touch of her cold fingers. “Therefore, carry yourself as such.”“Yes, my lady.” Olivia’s voice was small and hushed.Countess Primis’s eyes narrowed. “Is that how a queen speaks? So timid and small!”“No, my lady.”Primis heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Do not disgrace my family!” Olivia’s hands clenched together. “Do not encourage your uncle and me to dread the day we took you in. Never forget our hospitality!” Olivia did not answer as she felt Countess Primis’s glare burn a hole completely through her. “Get out.” Primis stepped back as a servant opened the wagon’s door. Her glass heart beat against her chest and she thought of crying, but it would only make matters worse.Olivia stepped out of the wagon onto a stool to keep her from the grimy ground. Cedany took hold of the end of her kirtle and held it above the mud. The servants, squires, and men-at-arms attended to the horses and luggage with grunted commands and practiced efficiency. Countess Primis and Earl Quinn followed Olivia as Krea supported Olivia’s arm, Nan trailing last of all. They walked from their wagons to a wide stairway leading to the battered oaken doors of the castle’s main entrance.Lady Olivia glanced over her shoulder at her aunt and uncle. Why let her lead? They had never given her the higher privilege before. They stared at her and Olivia turned away, though she knew they were critiquing her with unmerciful precision. When will they ever leave? Soon. When I am proclaimed as queen. She tried to lift her chin and find hope in her aunt and uncle’s departure. Along the castle’s steps, on either side, stood the stewards, the chamberlain, and a host of workers. Each was dressed in their best shoes and stockings; their cloaks had been washed the day before, and the hay had been picked from the earth-toned fabrics. The estate’s Seer stood to the right of Crown Haven’s lord. His small frame was dressed in a crimson robe that dragged the ground and his bare feet were icy and blue in the chilled wind. Beside him was his Song Bearer. Though the young apprentice was not dressed in red, he was also bare-footed. Crown Haven’s duke stood at the head of all, and a Lunaris was to the left of him, the she-elf smiling as Lady Olivia approached.The duke was an enormous man, and he stepped forward to help Olivia up the stairs. “Greetings. Crown Haven welcomes Tulaun’s forthcoming queen.” He was an aged man, his coal black skin wrinkled and his hair speckled with gray. His oversized hands and feet revealed his blood was not pure: he was half man, half giant. Olivia eyed his intricately detailed tunic and furred sleeves and collar. She had not expected a half-blooded duke to be as wealthy as he, yet she remembered the half-blood had tutored the prince, and wealth always follows royalty.The duke stooped low to take hold of Olivia’s hand, his black fingers contrasting against her ivory skin. She saw his eyes were pale blue and looked as though they were made of ice. “I am Duke Aldret, and it is an utmost pleasure to open my dwelling to you and yours, and to see you again.” He bent down and kissed her hand. Olivia wanted to pull away, for she could smell him; fruit wine with an underlying smell of quail’s flesh.She forced herself to smile. “May The Wizard forever grace your halls, my lord.”He released her hand and stood to his full height, high, high above her. Olivia swallowed hard and looked away. Duke Aldret turned to lead them inside, but stopped as his icy eyes fell on Nan. “What is this? A Wilder!” Olivia stiffened at his sharp voice. Nan’s jaw clenched as hateful looks from all assembled were cast upon her. A guard on the closest lookout tower notched an arrow onto his bowstring.“No,” Olivia whispered with a shake of her head. “She was born and raised close to Deep Wilds, yet is not one of them. I swear by the One in Red.”Duke Aldret turned to Quinn and motioned at Nan. “Her darkened skin and brown eyes say otherwise.”“She is not a Wilder,” Earl Quinn said as he stepped forward, his jaw set and eyes ablaze. “I kill such barbarians. I favor the mace over the sword. Their weak skulls crack easily against it.”Duke Aldret grunted with a nod. “Worthy answer.”Olivia let out a breath as he turned away. Nan’s nostrils flared, and she gave Earl Quinn a hot look. She held her tongue and lifted her chin as the hostile looks withdrew, one by one.The half-giant motioned to the Lunaris beside him, and she stepped forward. Her skin, slightly hued with powder blue, was unusually tan for a Lunaris, and her long hair blew in the breeze like black waves. Her eyes were purple and the ears peeking out from her hair were turned up at the tips. Her several ear piercings and free hair set her apart from the women of Tulaun. Her tall, slender form bowed low and with grace.“Mistress Sobriina les Desoreel of O’Taro Province is the name I was blessed with,” the she-elf said. “I will be your faithful servant and beside you, as a shadow.” She stood to her full height and smiled down at Olivia.“I am grateful.” Olivia nodded respectfully. She noticed Sobriina’s fine belt, and the silver broach embedded in the leather. She was a royal friend, no doubt, and a pure Suvarian elf too. Her company would be interesting.Sobriina’s smile broadened. “A hot bath has been drawn and sits in waiting for its lady.” A smile finally blossomed on Olivia’s rosy lips.Duke Aldret moved back to let Olivia pass. “Mistress Sobriina shall inform you, my lady, when repast is prepared.”“Thank you, my lord.” Olivia bowed and ascended the stairs, her ladies-in-waiting and bodyguard beside her. As she passed the castle workers, each bowed until her shadow had gone by. Olivia watched them out of the corner of her emerald eyes and frowned. She had been bowed to before, but not like this, not like one with royal blood in their veins.“Earl Quinn,” the half-blood duke said. Olivia turned a listening ear as Duke Aldret and her uncle nodded to one another in a wordless greeting.Earl Quinn straightened once Aldret lifted his head, and motioned to the stiff woman beside him. “You remember my wife, Countess Primis.”“My lord.”“Countess Primis.” Aldret took her hand and kissed it as she bowed. The half-blood smiled politely, yet unemotional, and turned back to Quinn. “The legality of the marriage will be deliberated upon the prince’s arrival.”“When?”Aldret shrugged helplessly. “The Wizard alone knows. The prince is dependably unorthodox. However, it is predicted that within a fortnight he will come. Possibly sooner. The Western Border is still in need of him, for Wilders keep threatening the boundary. The barbaric tribesmen are resilient, yet not impossible to defeat.”Earl Quinn nodded. “So I have heard.”“How was the journey?”“Eventful,” Quinn muttered. “Suspected intruders—cursed peasants!—came into camp one night.”“By the Silver Eye.”“If you will follow my steps and guidance, my lady.” Olivia looked up the stairs to Sobriina as she gestured to the oaken doors of the castle. She glanced away and took in a breath before continuing. As two stewards opened the doors, Olivia wrapped her cloak tighter to her body, and followed Sobriina into Crown Haven.The entrance gave way to the Great Hall. The high ceiling and length of the hall caused all sound to echo from one end to the other. Guards stood on either side of the doorway, their eyes directed ahead, weapons sheathed but ready. One had a dog seated beside him.Servants bustled past, heads lowered in a bow until their queen-to-be walked by. The hall was adorned with tapestries that told stories of ancient heroes, both historical and fictional. Amid the seamed stories were life-size tapestries of past royalty. Olivia looked up into the sewn eyes of several queens and noticed some smiled, yet most did not.I’ll be up there, too. Olivia pictured herself dressed in furs and finery, stitched into a tapestry to hang for all to see. Her eyes fell to the floor and she swallowed. A wall-length fireplace blazed and filled one side of the room with orange light and warmth. Smoke billowed about the high ceiling and gradually found its way out the opened windows.Wolfhounds sat beside the fire and crunched fresh bones; their moistened noses twitched as the new arrivals passed. A lengthy, wooden dining table lined with benches ran through the center of the hall. Though the fire burned and tapestries warded off the cold air, a chill still seeped through the stone walls and floor.            The small party followed Sobriina as she climbed the stairs and walked down a long passageway. “I am closely bound to the royal family,” she said as she led with long strides, her back straight and head high like any Suvarian nobility. “It was they who asked me so favorably if I could offer a helping hand to the nation’s fresh queen.”Olivia nodded. “I am grateful, yet you are far from home. O’taro Province, correct?”“Indeed.” Sobriina nodded. “I was already here, in Tulaun, when the prince needed a woman’s touch in welcoming you.”“And why were you in Tulaun?”“Because of my father, Master Offron de Desoreel. Illness snuck its way into his life and would not leave, no matter how hard we tried. I went to find a cure.” They rounded a corner and caught two children singing as they carried armfuls of firewood. The youngsters quieted, and the women smiled down at their round, soot-dusted faces.“And did you?” Olivia asked as they continued on.“Did I what, my lady?”“Did you find a cure for your father?”Sobriina’s smile twitched. “Yes. He is well now. The prince and I met as my quest came to an end. I was in need of shelter, and he-” She grinned. “-He has an open heart. Friendship was bound by firm cords that shan’t fray. He specifically wished I would help his future maiden settle upon her arrival. I am rightly pleased he did so.”Olivia glanced at the she-elf. “Hum,” she mused. I hope he’s friendly to me.“Ah . . . here we are.” Sobriina came to a stop and motioned to Olivia’s assigned chamber. She opened the door and faced the young lady. “A pleasant bath sits in waiting, and your luggage will be brought up.” Olivia nodded as she walked into her new room, followed by Nan and the two other ladies-in-waiting. Olivia’s bodyguard stationed himself on one side of the door and did not move, his arms crossed and his gaze as firm as his shoulders. Mistress Sobriina stood at the doorway and fidgeted with one of her several earrings. “If you need anything, simply shout, and I shall fly to your side.”“Very good,” Olivia said over her shoulder.Sobriina watched Olivia, her purple eyes searching. Olivia turned to the she-elf and her eyes narrowed questioningly until Sobriina took a breath and stepped forward. “May I be so bold, my lady, as to speak as friends whisper in the darkened hours?”Olivia blinked and lifted her chin. She crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back. “All right.” This shall be interesting.Sobriina uncrossed Olivia’s arms, and gently took hold of her hands. Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but no words came to mind. Sobriina held the young lady’s gaze and smiled. “Prince Theron would be a prince among men even if his blood was not royal. He is a good man. A fine man! Your heart will join firmly to his faster than lightning, for I have felt his friendship and kind words. Our souls were bound without trying; therefore, I know your heart will cling to his soon enough.”Olivia looked away and almost pulled back, but she held her ground as Sobriina studied her. “If I were in your skin, I would thank The Wizard for his blessed hand. You are fortunate.”Olivia faced the she-elf, her head cocked to one side. “You are elvish. Do you not follow the Suvarian way of revering your dead Solaric kings? Aren’t they your supreme beings, not The Wizard?”“Suvarian kings, though noble and worthy of a higher standing, are still elves. They lived. They died. The Wizard can never die. But do not stray from the topic, my lady.”Olivia looked at her feet and huffed under her breath. Sobriina squeezed her hands, and released them. “The prince will arrive in due time. I suggest you prepare your inner self for his coming.” With a smile and a graceful bow, the Lunaris shut the door. Olivia let out a held breath and closed her eyes, rubbing her temple and not knowing how to receive Sobriina’s words. Nan watched her lady, her brows drawn low in concern, but said nothing.“Look at this!” Olivia opened her eyes and saw Krea spin with arms spread as she stood in the middle of the chamber. “What a room!” she exclaimed with a childish smile. Olivia glanced around for the first time and a glimmer of a smile broke through the shadow in her eyes. The four women gazed in awed silence.A dozen candles sat on long holders throughout the room as they waited for night to fall and their wicks to be lit. An open window allowed light to shine through and illuminate the space. A rug of gray sheep’s wool was placed in the midst of the stone floor, and a bed, made of a wooden frame and a hay-cushioned mattress, rested in a corner. Three woven mats were rolled up and tucked to one side for Nan, Krea, and Cedany to roll out and sleep upon.Two tapestries lined the walls on either side; their thick fabric helped ward off the late morning’s cold. The stitched handiwork depicted a great battle between Tulaun and the Wilder tribes from Deep Wilds. In the midst of the chaos stood a tall, strong figure dressed in a blood Red robe with white hair billowing behind him. He stared out across the battling knights and painted barbarians, eyes burning silver. Olivia stepped closer to the artwork as she studied the Red-clad warrior. She reached up and lightly touched the man, the detailed stitches smooth over her fingertips. Nan watched as Olivia leaned closer to the One in Red and her fingers curled until they dug into the tapestry. With a heavy sigh, she turned and looked away.            “Ah, sweetie . . .” Nan shook her head and Olivia looked with sagged shoulders. Nan frowned and turned to the younger ladies-in-waiting. “Krea, get food for the mistress. Cedany, check on that bath.” The two women nodded and bowed to Olivia. They took one another’s hands and rushed from the room with whispers and giggles. The door shut behind them and Nan walked to her mistress’s side, taking hold of Olivia’s hand.            Olivia stepped back and shook her head, her eyes turned to the floor. “I wish he could tell me his will.” She eyed the One in Red, the focal point of the tapestry, and sighed. “Life would be much simpler if The Wizard was always beside me.”            “Ah . . . but you be with him.” Nan grinned. “Not the other way ‘round.” Olivia looked away, but said nothing. She shook her head and smoothed back a loose strand of hair. “He has a right idea for you, sweetie.” Nan stroked her hand and her smile grew. “And it’ll be nice, and whence you’re old, you’ll look back and be glad.”            Olivia shook her head and swallowed. “I will be unloved. And misused—”            “Earl Quinn’s just one man.” Nan frowned and her grip on Olivia tightened. “Not all be like him.”            “And to be queen!” Olivia threw her hands in the air and crossed them over her chest. “How . . . I just . . . I can’t! I can’t be in such a position!”         “Sweetie.” Nan reached up and tilted Olivia’s chin so that their eyes met. “Do you trust The Wizard?” Olivia’s lips tightened to a thin line as she looked away and nodded. Nan grunted and put her hands on her hips. “Then stop this worrying. He’s got a plan. He always does.”“Yes, however—”Nan held up a hand and shook her head. “None of that talk! If you trust him, then trust him!”Olivia looked at her, jaw clenched as her eyes misted. At the last moment, she sighed defeatedly and her arms fell at her sides. She sniffed and removed her cloak.“It’ll be all right.” Nan leaned closer and the hard look in her eyes softened. “All things work together for good . . .”   “To those who are called according to his purpose.” 1 Olivia put her head in her hands as she recited one of The Wizard’s several songs from the Highest Melody; a vast collection of magic-filled songs The Wizard sang in creating the realms. She sighed and looked at the pale light that streamed through the window.Easier said than done.–                 –                 –It was raining again.The air was cold as water poured and lightning lit the night only long enough to see the shadows. All lay asleep in Crown Haven, save the guards. They huddled close around fires along the battlements and cursed Sin Jo Lyn, the Han Ciese goddess of rain. Even the stars looked for shelter against the chill and thunder, for the night was unusually dark.Lightning flashed like rage.A distant white bird could be seen, a snowy owl. Darkness covered her as the lightning hid. Thunder rumbled past and the night split again. The bird drew nearer to the estate, her powerful wings flexing with white swoops. None saw her reach the castle. None saw her dive through a window.Without a sound, the owl sailed into a room and a pale, gloved hand stretched out for the bird to land on. Her six long toes gripped the hand; the black talons dug into the glove. Frost ringed the owl’s icy blue feet and crusted along the glove. The bird’s pure feathers were fluffed against the cold, yet it did not hinder her.Once landed, the owl shook water droplets from her shoulders, splattering them on the floor. She was a Flavencen fowl, from the most northern country ruled by dwarves and giants with whispers of legendary frost dragons. It was an icy white wilderness where hearts only as cold as the land could survive.The snowy owl looked like a common owl, save her blue feet. Yet, she was not common and her blue feet, if sighted, scared most away. She was a Cold Speak, a beast whose tongue had been trained in the art of words. Such birds were rare and only came from Flavency. Their sole purpose was to relay messages and information, and they could only say what they were instructed to say, not a word more.The Cold Speaker stared at the one whose hand she rested on with unblinking eyes.“Hello, my talkative friend,” the owl’s comrade whispered, careful not to touch the owl’s blue feet. The bird looked at the speaker, her gaze strong and concentrated. “The master failed us. Lady Olivia is still alive.” The speaker sighed and continued, “Killing a fearful dame during her journey here should not have been difficult! They think it was only peasants who entered her camp. Peasants could have been more effective than the master’s own assassins! Poisoned air . . .” The owl’s snowy head cocked to one side. “No matter. Tell the master his men failed him, though he may already know. He probably does, that all-seeing man with his Wraith Eyes and violent ways! As for me . . .” The shadowed speaker grimaced and hesitated. “Ask him what my orders are.”The snowy owl spread her wings and lifted from the hand. She shot through the window into the cold night once again. She battled against the rain and turned her sights to her destination, a distant forest.Wraith’s Hollow.



___________________________________




Highest Melody ReferenceRomans 8:28 – And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. 


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 “We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7Hearts like fragile clay jars.Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.                                                                                                                 

Can Ministry and Art Coexist?

A while back, my church asked me to speak at our youth group about incorporating artistic talents with ministry. I thought I would share with you as well!
Growing up, I was rarely nervous at church, until someone said ministry. Whenever a missionary come to my church and spoke, I always wanted to run and hide, plugging my ears from their message. Why, you may ask? Because I knew I could never be a missionary. I thought I was a horrible Christian. I couldn't pack up all my belongings, travel across the ocean, and sit in the dirt with someone who doesn't speak my language, trying to share Jesus. I thought I let my Savior down every time I freaked out whenever missionaries, outreach, street ministry, YWAM, or any other ministry was mentioned. I always felt knots in my stomach and crippling shame.
I wanted to be a good Christian though, so I tried to do mission outreaches. In high school, I went to Mexico for a week to build houses. I also did an outreach for the homeless. My family and I had always helped at church, assisting in nursery, children's church, and baby-sitting the VBS kids. I tried to really get into it. I tried to be my best, to be the good missionary Christian I knew I should be. But it never seemed to work.
Missionaries and people with outreaches always talked about their work with a passion and excitement I couldn't grasp. I was missing the peaceful joy of the Lord they all had while ministering. I thought I wasn't doing it right. I thought I wasn't being holy enough or saying the right magic words to make people want to become a Christian. It was very disturbing for me.
Then one day, when I was thinking about my shortcomings, something occurred to me. God had never told me he wanted me to be a missionary. He never told me to partake in outreaches, he never directed me to go to third world countries, and he never open doors for me to go either. All he instructed me to do was write.
So I asked God, “is my ministry writing?” I think he had been trying to tell me that for a while because he said very gently and very obviously that yes, my ministry is my writing. That was why whenever I did outreach it felt forced and not fulfilling. God wants me to write, not becoming a missionary, so He was not going to make me feel like I belong where I do not. Sure, I still had a good time and felt God on the mission trips, but not like I do when I write.
I think the church community focuses more on the obvious ministry outreaches whereas God seems to bless an individual with talents to be used for the kingdom. I am an artist. Artists are not usually spoken of in a ministry setting. However, that doesn't stop God. He still sees my work as a ministry and still spurs me on even when I think nothing good will come from The Wizards Legacy.

What's your proof? You may be asking. For all you know, I could be another artsy, tree-hugger who just wants to keep doing what I'm doing and slap a religious sticker on it to say I'm holy.
If you feel out of place when people talk about typical ministry and you are drawn to something artistic, dance, paint, pencil, pen, music, and so much more, that's okay. God is a God of creativity and Imagination. Just look at the sunsets, our galaxies vastness, the human body’s intricacy, and the goofy strangeness of the Platypus, and you'll see what imagination our God has.
Present to God your artistic talent. Allow him to shape it into ministry. It'll look different, it'll look strange, and people might not think that it's a mystery at all. That doesn't matter. All that matters is for you to do what God calls you to do. And He will bless the works of your hands.

Well, I have two forms of proof.
First of all, artistic ministry is found in the Bible. During King Solomon’s reign, a man named Bezalel was “filled with the Spirit of God with wisdom, with understanding with knowledge and with all kinds of skills” (Exodus 31:3). He sounds like a spiritual Guru to me! A guy with that kind of wisdom and authority should minister and preach without breaking a sweat, right?And, best of all, he was an artist who, and I quote, “was gifted in all kinds of crafts” (vs. 5). He was the man in charge of making the temple of God beautiful. He oversaw the ornate carvings. He led the stitch work of the priest intricate uniforms and the curtain to the Holy of Holies. He carried out God’s detailed design of the Ark of the Covenant. He had great responsibility and God blesses the works of his hands. He used his artistic ministry to bring praise to God and frame God's glory within the splendor of the Temple.
My second piece of proof is this: a ministry led by God will change people's lives and give people revelation about who God is and what he has done for them. True ministry as blessed by God and is not just human effort but Divine effort. Therefore, you be the judge when you read my books. I have had readers tell me their eyes were opened to a side of the Spiritual World they never considered before. Others said they could relate to the struggle and lies certain characters heard and learn for themselves how they should respond when hearing those lies. God's word does not return void and what he touches does not die. My books are saturated with his truths and I know he writes with me every day. Take a look and see for yourself if art can be a true ministry. Click here.
Because I have pursued writing, God has lead me to speak at various churches, sharing what I have learned and, hopefully, inspiring others to follow the dreams God has given them. I have been on the radio, had a TV interview, had several books signings, and several conversations that would not happen without becoming an author. Each time I speak, more people are learning how to use their gifts for God. Please understand, I am not talking against standard ministries and outreaches. They are much needed in this world and I greatly respect those able to pursue it. I know I cannot. I simply want to encourage you to discover what path God has for you. What talents has He gifted you with? How can you bring glory to His name? Ask Him.I asked Him countless times what my mission for my life is, and He was silent for an annoyingly long time. You know why? Because I was not ready to hear it. My lack of confidence in my writing would inhibit my trust in God’s dreams for me. Nor was I ready for such a responsibility. So, if you ask God what ministry He wants for you and He doesn’t answer, don’t be discouraged. Continue life, developing your craft, may it be art, people skills, caring for others, baking, sowing, serving, leading, teaching, and so on. He will reveal His dreams for you when the time is right. Trust Him. 




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