Lord Sarus stood on one of the many parapets of the palace, surveying the sight of the city below. It was not a beautiful city; at least what lay outside of the palace grounds was not. The palace itself was neither lacking in size nor grandeur; the city beyond it was completely impoverished.

Of course this was not necessarily a terrible thing. The people of the city were completely dependent on him; they knew no other way to live. Sarus had reigned ever since the Great War and all those who would have remembered a life before the sky had gone black were dead.

He had made sure of that.

As it was, the people revered him as their savior. Indeed, he was the one who made sure they had food and were free of disease. They revered him for his power and his generosity. He was the one who kept them from the brink of starvation. The fact that they were too lazy to find a way to improve their homes and surroundings was not his problem in the least.

He rested his elbows on the stonewall and propped his chin on his hands. A small frown crossed his face as he contemplated the information he had received from the Guardians the night before. He knew that they weren't wrong; the Guardians were never wrong, he had made sure of that when he created them. But if they were never wrong, then a gifted child had been found outside of the palace compound; a gifted child from a family with no history of the gift.

This was strange for several reasons, the first being that no child inherited the gift unless one of its parents possessed it. Secondly, Sarus made a point of keeping the gifted that had passed the ordeal inside the palace walls, so as to keep a watchful eye on them.

Sarus sighed and began to slowly pace the circular roof, his hands clasped behind his back and his blue eyes fixed on the ground before him. It was extremely rare, but it had happened before; usually as a result of one of his gifted elite begetting a child with a common villager.

Sarus laughed softly to himself and shook his head at their incredible stupidity. No gifted child went unnoticed by the Guardians and the Guardians were completely loyal to him. Every gifted child had been found, regardless of where they had been hidden. The parents had then been killed for their deception, as a warning to others who might try the same.

However, both of the parents of this child were accounted for, and neither had the gift or any trace of it. Sarus stopped his irritated pacing and stared at the city once more. He could vaguely remember a few instances when such an anomaly had occurred. In each case, the child had been very weakly gifted and therefore easy to eliminate. The more gifted children that could be killed in the ordeal, the better. With each death, Sarus' throne became more secure.

His frown faded and was replaced by a placid, self-assured smile.

He turned abruptly and began a swift journey down the stairs that spiraled through the tower. When he came to a torch-lit landing he took the door to his left and walked swiftly through the long, marble corridor. Three sets of stairs and five hallways later, he entered his private chambers. The man standing guard in the anteroom rose to his feet and put his right fist over his heart. He bowed his head.

"Lord Sarus."

"At ease, Mero," he answered. When the man had straightened his neck and both arms hung at his sides, he continued. "I have a job for you. Another child has been found. Her name is Cira Galaic and she resides outside of the city walls. Go with a group of your guards and bring her to me in the testing room first thing tomorrow morning."

"Outside of the city, your Grace?" the man asked in confusion. 

Lord Sarus restrained himself from lashing out with his power. "Is that not what I just said? Carry out your orders at once, Mero; do not question them."

"Yes, your Grace."

With his fist on his heart, Mero lowered his head in respect once more before exiting the room.

.

The harsh knocks on the wooden door of the hut awoke the entire family immediately. Cira's father, Hiral, rose first from the pallet he shared with Tana and hurried to answer the door. The night was completely black; the only light came from the mysterious ball of light which hovered near the left shoulder of the tall man standing on the threshold of their home.

By the dim light of the man's magic, Hiral could make out the elaborate robes worn by the gifted palace guard. The man's face was young but full of wisdom and knowledge of suffering. His black hair was long and touched his shoulder blades. It was worn in a tightly woven braid; yet another sign that he was one of the gifted elite.

Hiral bowed his head and lowered to one knee before the frowning man. Inside, he shook with fear. He had learned that his daughter possessed the gift when he had come home to find her and his wife crying in each other's arms. He had been devastated by the news and had done his fair share of weeping. Cira had always been so precious to him; and now he knelt before the man who would take her away to face almost certain death.

"Honored one," he whispered in respect. It didn't occur to him that the man he knelt before was less than half his own age; a gifted man was a gifted man, and was thus held above all other men, regardless of age. Among the gifted, superiority was measured only by the strength of one's gift. "What brings you to my family's home?"

"I have come seeking the one named Cira Galaic. The Lord Sarus wishes an audience with her. She is to be tested as she has the gift." The voice was harsh and lacking in human kindness.

"I shall get her for you, honored one," Hiral spoke softly and turned from the door. Behind him, in the shadows, stood his wife and daughter. Tana held their daughter close, a fierce look of anger in her eyes. Cira stood with her face buried against her mother's side. Hiral felt as though his heart was breaking. He wanted to hold Cira as close as he could, and never let her go. 

The man's voice took him from his reverie.

"There is little time," he said firmly, but not completely unkindly. 

Cira's head rose and looked into her mother's eyes. Tana forced a weak smile and held her daughter close one more time —one last time. She kissed the top of her daughter's head and smoothed the soft brown hair.

"I'll be back, mama," Cira whispered in a shaking voice. "As soon as my training is over I will come back to you both."

"I know," Tana whispered. "I love you, Cira."

"As do I," said Hiral as he put his arms around the other two members of his family. "I love you, my daughter."

"I love you, too," she cried. "Both of you."

When she finally left in the company of the palace guards, Hiral and Tana stood framed in the doorway of their home, watching their only child leave them for what they feared was to be forever. Tears ran down Tana's face as she stood in her husband's arms.

"She's gone," she whispered. "That's the end of it, you know." 

"She will survive," Hiral tried to assure her.

Tana shook her head. "Even if she does, we will never see her again. And there will be no other children." Tana's hand went instinctively to her abdomen as she broke off in to a fit of sobbing. "There wouldn't have been any if ... "

"Shhh," Hiral said as he held her closer. "It was fate that brought her to us. We were meant to protect her from Sarus until she could be protected no longer. We did our part; we protected and loved her. We will see her again, Tana. The prophecy will hold true."

They continued to stand in silence, even after Cira was out of their sight. They stood there until the sun had risen behind the stormy sky and they could make out the shapes of the rest of the city. They remained standing there long into the morning when the screams could be heard from the palace at the center of the city; and they stood there until the screams had stopped. At last they entered their home, not knowing if Cira was alive or dead, but knowing that all they could do was trust in the fates. 

.

The testing chamber was round with a massive, domed ceiling. The walls appeared to have been made of gold, and the floor was made of gold, silver, and blue colored tiles, laid to look like an intricate compass. There was no furniture in the room and only one door, which, when closed, blended into the rest of the wall so well it was as if it didn't even exist.

Cira took in her surroundings with such awe and reverence that she didn't even notice the robed figure standing in the center of the compass until he cleared his throat. When she saw him she dropped instantly to her knees and touched her forehead to the floor.

"Rise, Cira Galaic," he commanded.

She did as she was told but did not look him in the eye. It was a known fact that no one was to look the Lord Sarus in the eye. It was appropriate only to look over his left shoulder. However, it was enough—she was still able to observe him quite well.

She supposed he was about thirty years old. His black hair reached just past his shoulder blades but was not braided like the hair of the other gifted elite she had seen in the palace. His robes were long and black; the only other color on him was the silver clasp on his robe and the silver earring which hung from his left earlobe. His eyes were blue, a rare sight in the city. She had blue eyes but had never met anyone else who had.

"Are you ready to begin?" he asked.

She nodded resolutely, still staring over his shoulder. "Yes, your Grace."

"Then the ordeal begins. It ends when you manage to prevent me from harming you or you cease to breathe. Is this understood?"

"Yes, your Grace."

He gave her a small smile, though it seemed one of amusement rather than kindness. He turned to the gifted guard who had escorted her here from her home. "You will remain here, Mero, as a witness."

"Yes, your Grace."

Sarus turned back to her. "Good luck, Cira."

"Thank you, your Grace," she whispered.

Then the pain began. It started at the tips of her fingers and toes and worked its way laboriously through her body. It didn't take long for the first cry of pain and surprise to reach her throat. She could feel the cold tendrils of his magic twist through her mind, making it feel as though her brain was being torn apart. She held her head in her hands, screaming at the overwhelming pain. She saw his face, calm and collected. This was only the beginning of his abilities; he was just warming up to his magic.

Cira felt her face and head and looked over her body. There was nothing to indicate pain, no blood, no burning; the pain was all in her mind. She closed her eyes and took her mind from the distraction of the pain, trying to make herself realize that it was all in her mind. As the pain continued to course through her, more urgently than before, it became more difficult to convince herself that the pain wasn't real. It felt real, more real than anything else.

But it wasn't.

And she had the gift.

But where was it?

She searched deep within her mind, beyond the pain and the fear. She searched for that part of herself which could save her, the only thing that could save her. She had to find it now, while the pain was still only a figment of her imagination—before he really began tearing her apart. Deeper and deeper she searched, with no knowledge as to what it was supposed to look like, or feel like.

There—a glowing sphere of light, deep within her mind.

She felt it with her mind.

The pain began to ease.

She let it grow, urging it to envelop her entire body and mind. In her mind, she pictured herself being embraced by the glowing sphere. She could see the dark tendrils of Lord Sarus' magic weaving throughout her body. But as the ball of light from within her grew, his magic was forced away from her. She felt herself smile in satisfaction as she finally saw her entire body enfolded within the aura of her magic, the black tendrils battering uselessly against the wall of light.

But his persistence was becoming annoying.

She wanted him to leave her alone with her gift.

Without thinking of what she was doing, she imagined her white magic striking back at him, knocking him off his feet and against the golden wall of the room. He tried to rise but she kept him pinned against the floor, while he struggled futilely, trying to move his limbs that would no longer respond.

A shout of anger and frustration brought her back to reality. Lord Sarus was indeed pinned against the wall, struggling against the power of her magic. Cira gasped in surprise and released her hold on him. She backed up in fear at the look of loathing in his ice-blue eyes. She continued to back up until she backed into Mero, who stood resolutely with an unreadable look on his young face.

Lord Sarus picked himself up and brushed off his robes. "Mero, take Cira to her quarters. She will be trained as one of the gifted elite." Mero bowed his head and made his way towards the door of the testing hall. Cira made to follow him but Lord Sarus' voice stopped her. "Congratulations, Cira. You have passed the ordeal."

Cira started to kneel but Mero's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "No," he said. "You are a gifted in training. You are now required only to bow your head to his Grace."

Cira nodded and bowed her head in Lord Sarus' direction. She could feel his eyes on her as she turned and walked out of the room. She had gotten a glimpse of those eyes and in them was hate. She had passed this ordeal but knew that this was not the last time she would battle Sarus with her magic. She did not need anyone to tell her that what she had just done was astounding and unprecedented.

The silence in the room and the anger in the Lord Sarus' eyes said everything.

So absorbed was she by her ordeal, she didn't even notice the woman standing in the shadows of the door—her blue eyes watching Cira until she disappeared around the corner at the end of the hallway.

Copyright © Caitlin Gallacher-Turner 2003