Blood Magic's Bond

The forest was calm, the sky peeking through a canopy of leaves, crisp and blue. Tall tree trunks circled around a small clearing, lush with grass and sprinkled with flowers. In the center stood a young woman, eyes closed, fingers stretched toward the ground.

With a thin face and sharp features, she was beyond stunning. Her dark red hair tumbled down in waves, tickling the sash tied around her waist, which accentuated her curves. While her dress could be considered revealing to some, with its plunging neckline and high slit, she found it elegant and freeing, a declaration of her womanhood, and truth be told, she didn’t give a damn what others thought anyway.

Feet bare, toes gently curling into the earth, the woman’s plump lips moved with purpose, muttering softly under her breath. A breeze began to stir, swirling her hair and rustling the trees. Her mouth moved faster and her fingers reached further toward the land beneath her.

The wind swept in circles, growing and building.

Suddenly, a horn sounded in the distance, and the air stopped.

Astasha's eyes snapped open, fiery gold, both breathtaking and terrifying. "Damnit." She sighed loudly, pursing her lips. She knew that horn; gathering energy would have to wait.

Astasha was a sorceress, a witch born of nature, trained in the art of harnessing its energy, and a good one at that. In fact, only four years prior, she had been selected by the King himself to become one of his trusted Royal Magic Advisors. Now, at twenty-four years of age, she was still the youngest to ever join their ranks.

It was in the village of Trevlin, just outside the castle walls, that Astasha had grown up, and while her dreams were of a simple life in a little home with her own apothecary, her mother would hear nothing of it, ensuring the man upon the throne learned of her daughter’s skills the moment they came to light. To be a member of the Royal Magic Advisory was a great honor, one she would have more willingly accepted, had it not put her heart at war with her duty, and threatened to expose her deepest secret.

With great reluctance, Astasha left the small town and moved into the opulent stone castle, leaving behind her mother's quaint cottage with its bright windows and surrounding garden. Though the wing she resided in was mostly open corridors and paths leading directly to the forest that gathered at the back of the palace, it often felt like a cage.

Astasha found herself frequently making the excuse that she needed to be in nature to gather energy, if only to escape the stagnant walls and breathe the fresh air. Not that she truly needed to. She could gather energy from practically any plant, flame, or drop of water.

Magic, like most things, required balance, a give and take. The more powerful the spell work, the more energy it consumed, and the elements were a never-ending supply to draw upon.

Having practically depleted herself of it while performing a complicated reading for the King's top advisors, she actually needed the boost this time, and the beckoning of the horn had interrupted her before she could finish restoring it.

But that sound was not one that could be ignored. It signaled the arrival of a guest, and an important one at that. Astasha knew her presence would be required, either to read the energy of the newcomer, or simply provide a show of power as one of the many forces the King had gathered about him.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped on her shoes, and headed out of the clearing, down a path that led to a private entrance into one of the Magic Wing’s many gardens.

She knew the castle well, and it took her no time to quickly make her way through the corridors to the palace entrance. It was designed with grandeur in mind, a great staircase leading to many landings, and at its center, a platform above the rest. Each of the podiums was designated for a different group; one, the highest military advisors, another, the Royal Entertainers. Off to the side, the leading chefs and cooks, the scholars, the merchants, and, of course, the Magic Advisors and Healers. The highest platform was for the King himself, a long, tall set of stairs leading down to it from the upper level chambers.

The area was bustling with people, all gathering and muttering. Astasha stepped quickly and gracefully around them, coming to stand  upon the landing just to the right of the King's station. Already waiting there, was an older, balding man with an air of superiority. He glanced at her with a furrowed brow as she took her place.

"Your energy is unbalanced," he quipped.

"My apologies, Grand Sorcerer Errant. I believe yours would be too had your gathering been interrupted. Where are the others?”

“Making preparations, of course.”

She looked at him curiously. “Exactly whose arrival is it we’re expecting?"

Errant's eyebrows raised. "Have you not heard or have you been too distracted to hone your senses my dear girl? The King's son has finally returned from his trials."

Astasha's jaw dropped slightly but she recovered quickly, for at that moment, the King appeared at the top of the stairs, and all fell silent and still.

King Josnan was a tall and powerful man, his long silver hair and aged face only adding to the stature of his position. Those who did not know him may have feared him, but the truth was, he was a fair and honest man. He was dressed in a combination of formal and military attire, as was custom for the arrival of any esteemed guest. Descending to his platform, his face was stoic, but Astasha could feel a buzz of energy coming off him, an excitement that could only be felt, not seen.

His son had left a couple of years before, to travel the land, studying and training, taking a journey every Royal was required to embark upon before ruling. It was a trial of sorts. In order to ascend the throne, an heir had to learn all there was of his people and lands, as well as conquer a new territory, and heal the sick. It was believed that until they had proven they could care for the kingdom in every way, they could not rule it.

No one knew when, or if, the heir would return, but it was monumental for them to do so. It meant that they had successfully passed their final challenge; the test of life and death, of good and evil, proving once and for all that they would rule with kindness and bravery, and not even pain or temptation could sway them.

Astasha felt her heart begin to race as she looked down the stairs into the entrance courtyard. Errant gave her a puzzled glance, no doubt reading the erratic energy coming off her in droves. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her mind and steady herself, but before she could, her breath caught in her throat.

The sound of a multitude of hooves could be heard, before a host of men rode into view, stopping at the base of the stairs, a great white stallion at its front. From the magnificent creature, lightly jumped a young man, tall and elegant, yet strong and brutally handsome, with lustrous, blonde, shaggy hair, and eyes as crystal blue as the winter sky. He made his way up the steps, his silver armor shining in the afternoon light, and came to rest on the landing in front of the King, who opened his arms wide.

"Welcome home, Prince Calder, my son."