-1Chapter One

Destiny Is Set

Imperial Princess of Aphveira, youngest duchess of Hermophs, nivea, witch, and crown jewel of the Empire, Zara Kisorag stomped about, flat soled sandals slapping hard against the snowy white marble floor, echoing loudly in the spacious, airy room. She was extremely flared in anger. The nerve of her father actually making a deal with that rotten, no good, Rowan foreigner claiming he would give her away in marriage to some spoiled, Rowan senator's son to continue the Empire's sovereignty was lubricious. And yet, to no consequence of the prosperously moronic idea, the general had agreed to send word to the Senate to inform them of the, what was it her father used? the solution to the problem of Aphveira.

Due to this, in a matter of weeks time, she would be leaving the only home she had ever know to sail far to the north, where the land was densely green and the sky lead grey with cloud coverage, or so she had been told and researched in Kalmus's extensive library. And what say did she have in it? None! Was she or was she not an imperial princess? Apparently, title and status as well as earned power was of no consideration. She had been informed with stoic resolve that he would indeed marry this northern boy, and travel to live with him. End of discussion, no debate required.

As she pounded the floor back and forth with her tiny feet, her flashing red hair sailed out behind her, then whipped around of its own accord when she pivoted after depleting stomping space. Her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides, ready to lash out if a soul dared to even step foot near the door. Her nails were manicured and long, and did not cut into the soft, smooth flesh of her palms. The cream colored gauzy curtains hanging over the large, open windows fluttered a bit in her wake each time she passed them. Her simple white, full length skirt did not hinder her as she moved; whether or not if it did, her anger continued to increasingly mount.

How was she supposed to wed a complete stranger? Flowing along that train of thought, how could one marry a member of a another race so far gone from her own the differences were staggering? The idea not only enraged her more, but would soon evolve into a headache. Then a stroke of genius hit her like the sun's rays did the desert sands. She could just run away!

As the mental suggestion took form, she stopped her feet beating pace, lost in the plotting process within her own mind. No, her father was a witch, and he would be able to call or track her with spells designed to find a blood relative. Knowing Emperor Amcron was adept and powerful in magic; he was skilled enough without it to keep his emotional child in check even though the princess herself was the strongest witch in all of Aphveira. Besides that fact, how was she going to live in the "real" world, having been raised in all the splendor riches could offer?

She crossed her arms over her blessedly large bosom, causing her tight baby blue, midriff revealing seamless T-shirt style top to crease in adjustment and glanced about her room. How could she leave all of this behind to struggle for food in the streets like a common peasant? She had no desire to be a street urchin. Her large four poster bed was canopied with gauzy cream curtains tied to each dark stained post, and the comforter and silk sheets were a brilliant starch white. Other than the plain palm tree wood bureau, the room was devoid of any other furniture. The walls were marble, as was the whole palace, and similar to the floor color, they were snowy white. The walls were bare, not one picture or idol in their vicinity.

Though appearing sparse to other nations, the decor of her room was stylish and up to date with the Aphveiran interior fashions. Bedrooms in her culture were meant only for sex and sleeping, and the mirror on the bureau was there to serve for putting on the required and fashionable makeup. Beside it on the floor stood a mannequin head holding a shiny, black wig with bangs covering all of the forehead and weaved to end at the shoulder. Resting next to that was a large trunk with the lid shut. It contained all of Zara's necklaces, headdresses, rings, earrings and other ornamental jewelry, as well as special gifts and trinkets from friends and family, and little idols of the Gods.

Tired of standing, she crossed and sat down on the bed, the mattress shifting to her weight. She sighed, finally coming to the realization that there was no possible way to escape her new found fate. She bit her full lower lip nervously, and as her eyes scanned the room in fear, they fell on a trunk hidden in the corner of her clothes ladled closet. It was simple, black, having no decoration or outstanding marks of any kind, with a lock hanging from the latch where it was meant to be pulled open. Inside, it contained all of her spell supplies. Now, why hadn't she thought to use magic to change her now parental imposed destiny? How could she have been so stupid!?

She rose and with five large steps was at the entrance to the closet. Pushing aside skirts, tops, and sandals of all style variety and color, she knelled and her hands clamped down firmly on the trunks smooth sides. She could feel the power within, even without removing the lid. Rising to a mid- standing position, she began to pull the trunk from the closet, the gold bracelets on her wrists jingling as they grazed one another and within minutes had it resting before her after she had placed a pillow under her backside to sit upon. With the key in hand she had found when she retrieved the pillow, she undid the lock and swung back the lid. First and foremost before her eyes sat a copy of her own Book of Spells. It was bound in strong, dark green leather, very thick and filled with magic. She picked this up and ran her hand over the cover, feeling the energy vibrating from the book.

She set it in her lap and opened the binding. She flipped through various spells, potions, incantations, and information until she came to the page she was looking for. She read the lists of ingredients and placed the book to the side. Reaching into her trunk once more, she pulled out jars of dried herbs the spell called for, magenta and purple candles, as well as a cauldron and an athmae. She set this beside the book, and took out thirteen white candles. Sprinkling salt and water in a definable circle around herself, she placed the candles on the circle and lit each one with tinder and flint, starting in the east.

She closed the trunk and set the herbs, candles, and tools on the lid surface. Placing the book in her lap once more, she formed a circle with the purple and magenta candles around the cauldron and lit these as well. Following the directions of the spell, she added to the cauldron the right amount of each necessary herb, and then used the athmae to prick her finger and draw blood. She squeezed some into the cauldron, and with a bang and a puff of milky white smoke, she was ready to begin the incantation. The cauldron continued to smoke, white streams of it floating high into the air and settling to form a wall around the circle.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Zara cleared her mind and focused on the goal at hand. She felt her need swell from her heart, and combined that with her will. When her eyes opened again, they were pure white, showing how far deep she was in magic. She glanced down at the page, still able to see clearly, and started chanting in the same tongue the priest had used to cast the glamour on the surface of the water in the scrying mirror out in the desert for General Tele Micro. Her voice was strident, filling the room with cracking booms of pitch and tone as she recited the words in front of her.

The smoke from the cauldron transfigured from white to deep, angry purple, and the purple and magenta candle flames shot straight in the air to blaze like torches. The smoke wall hovering over the circle began to swirl like a twister in a clockwise direction, roaring as it gained more momentum from the power fed to it. Just as she was about to say the last line of the incantation, the door to her room slammed open and an unblessed steel blade was thrown in the contents of the cauldron. With a resounding clap of thunder and an explosive burst of searing fire rearing out of the cauldron, the candle flames went back to normal and the purple and white smoke disappeared entirely. The spell had been broke before it could even began.

Zara's eyes went from pure white to instant black in a flash. She turned to look at the person who had interrupted her magical workings and her solid color eyes fell upon the tall, muscled form of her father.

"How dare you!" she hissed in Aphveiran, the hate clear in her voice. "How dare you break my spell!" she abolished, jumping to her feet and quickly crossing to her parent

"How dare you, daughter!" Amcron exclaimed indigently. "Using magic to alter the state of your destiny! How could you even think to do such a thing? Is this the dramatic way you wish to protest me?"

"This is no theatrical affair!" Zara snapped tightly. "This is the matter of my life we're debating here! And you go and throw it away by making me a bounty gift to save Aphveira!"

"I am the emperor," her father reminded her. "My nation and its people come first."

"You are also a father," the young princess retorted harshly. "I am your daughter! Why did it have to be me?"

"Because you are a nivea ," the middle aged but still impressive monarch replied, his tone much more civil. "If you weren't, it wouldn't have been you. You know that, Zara."

Touched by what he said, the solid black disappeared from the witch's eyes as she removed herself from the deep magic and they altered to brilliant green again.

"Now, stop being angry and cease fighting with me," Amcron commanded, his tone revealing orders never challenged. "I'm getting enough of that from your siblings."

"I'm not surprised," Zara admitted dryly, then turned her head to look at the mess of the ruined spell. "I should get to cleaning that up. You may leave now."

"I don't think so," the emperor disagreed, his eyes upon the spell trunk. "Once you have cleaned up your magic mess, I will be taking the trunk so you can't further try to use witchcraft to alter my decision."

Zara's hearing either just failed or had betrayed her, for she could not believe her ears! Take her spell supply trunk! What? "You wouldn't dare!" she proclaimed confidently, but inside she wasn't quite so sure.

"Yes, I will," he informed coldly. "Now, clean it!"

Zara methodically began the process of cleaning up her mess and to her dismay when she was finished, her father took off his belt and tied a secure knot to the latch. Then, very simply, he pivoted on his heel and left the room, the trunk sliding easily on the smooth floor behind him.

The young princess, even more outraged now, slammed her plain, undecorated door hard, then raced over and flopped onto her bed. She buried her face in her pillow and began to weep at the unfortunate and highly cruel turn her life had just previously taken. It seemed like days, not mere hours ago, when she had been fully carefree to do as she wished. And now? Now her life belonged to someone else. A man she'd never even seen before. How could she possibly find love in that?

Much to Zara's sheer and irritated displeasure, in two weeks time the Senate of Rowa had sent back a message agreeing to Emperor Amcron's terms of bribery. Within the following week she was to be escorted by General Tele Mico of the Rowa Republic Military to the far north land of Kisha, home of Senator Kirmiss's son, know only as "the Politician" to those who formed the majority of man power behind Rowa's might.

She had spent the two previous weeks holed up in the palace library, refreshing and re informing her memory on all sources of reference and information available on the Rowa Republic and its provinces, with extreme attention and focus on the province of Kisha. The land geography in descriptions by the authors of the books she was engulfing mentally compared exceedingly different from that of Aphveira. Large, dense green forests of hardwood trees as far as the eye could see, clouds almost perpetually covering one area of the sky or another, leaving it a dull shade of lead grey with patches of bright blue, rolling hills, titanic mountain ranges, and free flowing fresh water at every turn. It was a paradise compared to the hot, arid land of scotching sands, continually shining sun, and minimal water supply.

Yet none of this literate promised glory made the imperial princess even a small amount more anxious to journey to Kisha. The plain truth of the matter was Zara was scared to death to make a trip so far from her homeland, her mother country, without a member of her nationality or ethic background, to travel the seas for days to reach a land seeming more fable than reality. What could be done to counter the circumstances? The only possible route she had had was extinguished when her father took her spell supply trunk and used spells of his own to seal and hid the valuable, large wood box from her. Since the incident, she and the emperor had not been on civil speaking terms.

She was currently leaning on the marble rail of her balcony connected to the soon-to-be-not-her room, sandaled feet crossing ankles over each other. Her sleeveless, strapless, knee length lime green tunic fluttered slightly in a rare, tepid breeze blowing off the sluggishly moving Veras did the small leaves of potted parapus and lotus, and her glorious hair swirled lightly around her head. Her green eyes were outlined in bule-kohl to match her painted blue eyelids and they stared off into the sun setting distance, not resting on the splendor and multiple buildings of Kalmus casting loaming shadows, but appearing to watch the Rowan soldiers without any real interest or concern of their presence. Though they were far out of describable sight, Zara could make out from they way they moved in the desert's fading light that their bodies were heavily muscled and agile like that of the trained warrior. They continued about their tasks, preparing the evening meal and talking over the uneventful day. She sighed, wishing she could get a closer look at those hordes of men sweating and baking in their oven like armor. She could've had a good time flirting and being sly with the lot of them.

The soft sound of leather sandals slapping on the hard, glossy floor alerted the witch to the presence of another. She listened cautiously, pretending to not hear as the intruder moved at a steady pace to come to a halt at her side.

"How do you feel, Zara?" a proud and authoritative voice asked after a moment's silence.

"How do you think I feel, Leyv?" she countered, moving her eyes to look at her brother, the heir to the Aphverian throne.

"I don't know," he admitted ruefully. "If I did, I wouldn't ask."

Zara, hating to admit it even to herself, had to see the logic in her brother's statement.

"Are you going to answer me or am I going to have to pry it out of you?" Leyv demanded, folding his tanned arms over his white, sleeveless, midriff revealing top and giving his younger sibling a glare.

Zara was not intimidated by Leyv in the least, but choose to be polite and answer his question. "I'm scared of what's going to happen to me," she explained, her eyes returning the soldiers. "I'm leaving home alone for the first and only time to travel what seems like halfway across the world to wed a man I've never met, let alone seen."

Leyv uncrossed his arms and wrapped one around his sister's shoulders. "It's okay to be afraid," he assured. "Any person in your stead would be. Just remember by doing this you're ensuring our survival as rulers and as a sovereign nation."

The nivea rolled her eyes and looked heavenward. "I'm the youngest in this family," she pointed out, pushing her lower lip out in a pout. "It's not my responsibility to worry about our survival in any form!" she declared hotly. "As next emperor, that's your job!"

Leyv chuckled and brought Zara closer to him, then kissed her forehead. "Yes, it is," he agreed, smiling delightedly. "But as the most beautiful of us, it's your job to ensure our enemies our ensnared by you to let me find a way to survive."

Zara burst out laughing, her brown painted lips revealing white teeth. "As if I'd ever be so stunning," she rebuffed, wiping a tear from the moisture duct in her eye.

Leyv had been staring out into the city, watching the people of Kalmus mill through the broad lane avenues amidst the square and airy, usually two story, white and sand colored buildings of the city. He turned to Zara and gave her a baffled look. "You think you're not? Everyone knows you're the most beautiful of the nobles in all the kingdom."

The young witch purred under this compliment, the words going to her head. Did they really? she asked herself, glancing down at her sandaled feet.

Leyv removed his arm. "Come, we must go in," he commanded firmly watching as the Sun God's chariot sank behind the far disnant hills in the west. "The celebration of your betrothel is in a few hours, and you know how long it takes to prepare for a party."

Zara complied, and followed her brother from the balcony and in past open doorspace covered by rippling gauze curtains on quiet feet.

Smoldering gold sun beginning to be unbearable even at the early morning hour, the entire city of Kalmus had gathered on the sides of the hard paved streets to see their youngest princess off. Bright silks and cottons in every color and style design in top fashion stood clashing loudly against one another, their wearers seemingly oblivious to the farce of their mismatching clothing. Zara was carried on a gold inlaid multi- hued jewel encrusted litter, with white curtains pulled back and tied to the canopy poles. Four large and muscled young men in tan loin clothes hauled the princess through the broad lanes, sweating glistening like sun reflecting of the Veri upon their darkly tanned skins.

She wore the customary black wig, with strands of gold braided in the delicate, real human hairs and flashing sapphires sewed to the edges and the customary blue and brown face makeup. On top of her head was a large pair of gold, bull like horns, with a perfectly round orb resting in their center serving as a headdress. Lotus carved gold earrings dangled from both ears, and around her neck rested a long necklace made of four sets dark blue and gold beads, with a gold falcon head as pendent which lay low upon her chest. Her top was made of light gold flicks sewn together bodice fashion. It showed all of her smooth, flatmidriff and was paired with an extremely short and white pleaded skirt, revealing hairless, tanned legs bent and resting on each other. Her sandals were white, consisting of countless straps, and wrapped all the way up to her knee, with a slightly pointed heel; a new and sexy risk she had taken in the name of fashion.

Palace guards in loose and ribbed flowing white, shin length skirts large, one piece gold necklaces reaching to just above their nipples, carried spears and swords, eyes ever watchful on the crowd, a small distance behind the princess.

She waved a manicured hand to the common people of the capital, and once or twice graced them with a beautiful, joyous smile. Behind her lying eyes and that false grin, however, beat a raging heart and once more towering anger. This was the day she started to sail up the Veri and began the long and painfully agonizing trip to Kisha. This was the day her life would be given over to another race, and she would be forgotten by family, friends, and possibly, the Gods.

When her entourage came to Kalmus's harbor, her litter was lowered to the ground and she was offered a jewel bedecked hand. She lifted herself with the hand's owner's support out of her aching slow mode of transportation, and when her head was ducked out she met the eyes of the High Priest of All The Gods. She tipped her heavy head slightly in respect, and let the older and wizened man lead her to an altar erected before the bridge to her waiting ship.

The priest took his position behind the altar, and Zara knelled before it. He began to speak in the tongue of magic, and the princess listened with half an hear as the eunuch called down blessings and continual protection for her through this journey and the rest of her life. When he finished, thunder boomed across the land and lightening flashed from a cloudless sky, letting it be known the Gods had heard the prayer. Silently Zara thanked the deities, and once more with the priest's help, rose to her feet.

"Thank you for your prayer," she intoned to the bald man. "I hope the Gods are favorable to me."

"As do we all, my child," the priest said, folded his hands in prayer, and bowed. Then, he faded into the crowd of nobles.

At that point Zara was ambushed by the noble families of Kalmus, each giving her hugs and kisses and tears, bestowing blessings upon her for a safe journey. At long last, the only family left to say their farewell was her own.

After receiving a hug and kiss from each, her father was the only who remained.

The emperor looked regally stunning, and moved with authoritative grace to stand before her. "Are you going to ever forgive me for what I had to?" he asked, his black eyes searching his daughter's.

"At this time, I would say no," Zara admitted honestly. "You have angered me beyond words, Father, and I am not sure if I'll ever get over it."

Amcron sighed deeply, and a flash of regret crossed his countenance.

"However, one day, it may be possible," the nivea finished, and steeled herself for any reply her father might choose to make.

"That's understandable," the monarch replied, and smiled lightly. "Why don't you give me an embrace, for the publics sake?"

She leaned and wrapped her arms around her only living parent, who hugged her back tightly. "It's not just for the people, Father," she whispered into Amcron's ear.

Thank you," the emperor said and broke the hold. "A safe trip you will have, Zara."

The young witch nodded, and with a final wave to the crowd, began to move across the wooden bridge to the ship where her destiny awaited to take hold.