Chapter 2

Niall rubbed at the raised mark on his wrist, two crescent moons flanking the full moon. He'd been born with it, they all had. He was one of many warriors who, marked in the womb, were raised in the training center until they were assigned to a Lady's Guard. He surveyed the training field, filled with his brothers as they went about their morning drills. All of these golden men had been the only family he'd known and he loved them, as much as a warrior could.

He covered his black hair with his helmet and fixed his emerald eyes on his next opponent. As they neared their assignment the warriors began training with real weapons more often. No killing blows were allowed, but blood was encouraged. He hated it.

Niall knew all of the lessons and rhetoric by heart, but he still didn't believe in it. He didn't like fighting, or hurting, others. He didn't mind the physical activity and appreciated the art of fighting. Mostly he hated hiding his magic. Guardians weren't supposed to have magic. There were myths and legends that the warriors were told as children. Cautionary tales about magic-wielding guardians causing some disaster or another, they were meant to prove why they did not have magic.

"The gods," one of the masters would explain, "knew that the souls chosen to wield great physical strength could not also master the elements. Our wills just are not as strong as those of the Diaga." They all thought it was terribly logical and fully accepted it.

Except Niall, but he was a good actor, had to be. Doctrine stated that any guardian caught using magic would be executed. Niall was too attached to life to embrace death so easily.

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪

Silver striped obsidian created a feeling of flying through the night sky so quickly that the stars themselves couldn't keep up. The flames of the candles made the silver dance, deepening the illusion. Rhia wished, for a moment, that she really were flying away with those stars but then her thoughts were forced back to the prayers being murmured all around her in preparation for the ceremonies. The same types of prayers were being said in the temples of the other major gods and goddesses. Inductions were both important and lengthy, lasting a full three months. A lunar cycle for each stage of life and the three phases of the moon to honor the Mother.

Rhia studied her intricately embroidered black silk ceremonial robes. The silver threads had been expertly stitched in to elaborate runic phrases and prayers. She should have been focused on her own litany but her mind continued to wander. Not only was she starting her life as a priestess of Ilunara but she was also preparing to receive her first guard. She had dreamt of him the night before. In her dream a giant of a man with golden skin and hair as black as night strode powerfully out of the mists of the forest to stand before her. His eyes had been the deepest shade of green she had ever seen, they had nearly glowed with the power he exuded.

"He is yours," a voice like the tinkling of bells had whispered in her ear. "I am giving you more than you can imagine, child." Rhiannon had turned them to face the soft spoken guest. Ilunara had been radiant with her shining black hair that swirled with silver and seemed to shift on it's own. She was wearing a simple sheath that appeared to be the moonlight itself draped over her perfect hourglass figure.  The stars themselves seemed to twinkle in her midnight eyes. The Mother was exquisite and in her perfection had been the inherent knowledge that this was a real celestial visit and not the product of imagination.

Having had many visits from the goddess Rhia hadn't questioned...much. "He's a guardian, Mother, how can he be a gift?" She had noted the raised birth mark on his wrist. It matched her own mark, concealed by her clothes. That meant little, all guardians were marked by the deity that had chosen them for service.

The goddess merely chuckled at the girl's insolence as she faded away, taking the dream with her. As her gentle laughter faded Rhia was left wandering through the dream-wood contemplating what Ilunara had meant.

She was still pondering the message now, but with little illumination.