Heavy air weighed down on the corridors of the palace in Mordelic. The onyx walls, veined with wisps of gray, looked darker than any other day. Palace livery that would normally whisper amongst one another as they worked were tight mouthed. Their bows and curtsies seemed absent minded, though no less deep. Even the clerics roaming the wide corridors seemed to be doing just that—mindlessly roaming about. Their long tunics and snow white capes swept the tiled marble floors as their slippered feet shuffled about.

It came as no surprise to Aethan that the world felt so dark now that such a precious light had been extinguished. Heiress Livana, daughter to the king and the jewel of the peoples eye, had mysteriously died two days earlier. Today the kingdom of Cevius morned its loss. Without the Lady to show compassion and remind her two brothers what being responsible for the people truly meant, they would follow in their father's footsteps. Aethan prayed that the Light show her mercy and welcome her into the Heavens.

Livana had been a close friend and cousin to Aethan, as they were the same age. Many times they strolled the wide corridors of the palace or the stone paths of the gardens and talked. The day before Livana died she confided a dark truth to her beloved cousin. When the king and senate should have been working toward peace and unity with other nations, they instead talked of restoring the long lost Cevian empire. In honor of Timaleon the Honorable, the kindest and wisest king Cevius had ever known, they said. Lady Livana stood beside her father during some such councils, and tried to talk sense into both the senate and her father. However, it appeared—so she told Aethan—that her words only encouraged them. The future would return to the dark days should Cevius try reclaiming the empire.

Aethan had learned of the Treaty of Divide, signed by King Tiberius following the War of the Moons, during his political studies. According to the treaty, Sherlim, Cevius, and Dormica would remain their own kingdoms. Sherlimen would remain outside Cevius without proper summons, as would Cevians remain out of Sherlim.

The War of Moons had been a terribly messy ordeal that lasted nearly twenty years. By the end of the war the Dragon Gods had abandoned the people, so some people claimed. According to historical documents Livana found burried deep in the palace archives, Lord Narcysius—first in line for the Dragon Throne once Timaleon the Honorable passed on—joined with the dark goddess Acebrity and together they killed the rest of the gods. What became of Narcysius was not written. Some legends stated that King Tiberius, Narcysius' younger brother, killed him.

After all of the treachery that led to Timaleon's kingdom being torn asunder the king still talked of restoring the former empire. There were many things about what happened behind the closed doors of the senate that Aethan would never understand. Talk of war in the name of Cevius sprang back onto the lips of the senate, now that the Hundred Year Disaster seemed to be over, and King Zarek was eager to comply. And now that Lady Livana was gone there was no one left to rein them in.

As Aethan rounded a corner he ran a rough hand through his blond hair and turned his bright green eyes to the sky. It shone clear blue, spotted here and there with fluffy white clouds. Streams of sunlight broke through a larger cloud and Aethan marvels at the contrast. The city of Mordelic, the walls of the Onyx Palace itself, bled dark sadness. Yet beyond the walls the world looked bright and full of hope, as if the Light had no idea the loss Cevius suffered. Feeling an itch between his shoulders he hitched his black cape anxiously.

“If only the world knew,” he muttered under his breath.

The Axiom Cycle. The cycle that would bring ruin to the world, still reared its ugly neck, threatening the strike. The very thought of it made Aethan shiver violently. Some believed that the cycle ceased after the Hundred Year Disaster ended; a vicious century of earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, leagues of tornadoes as far as the eye could see, hurricanes, tsunamis... Every natural disaster the world could hiccup came one after another after another.

New reports came almost daily about the changes the world underwent during the Disaster; so many reports that Aethan stopped trying to keep up. The only change he had seen with his own eyes—the only one that affected him—was the ocean and the Onyx Walls of the city.

His gaze turned south. Before the Disaster, the waves of the ocean rolled up and off the south wall of Mordelic. Now that part of the wall was gone. Some of it crumbled during earthquakes, some tore off and took parts of the south side of the city with it during hurricanes or tidal waves. The south end of the city was no longer guarded by fifty foot walls and the ocean no longer rolled that high. Now it rolled off the stone cliff where the wall once was. Over the last four years King Zarek had men hard at work building a new harbor down there. The entire city underwent changes as wealth shifted.

The Axiom Cycle was far from over. He knew it just as well as Lady Livana. She was not one to abandon her people or abandon hope. It was a trait rumored to have passed from heiress to heiress since the days of Queen Zandra, wife of King Tiberius.

Livana also believed that her training in the Essence would be the difference. Livana claimed the training was a formal mockery of a powerful tool. Queen Zandra had changed the world with her strength and power, and Livana swore that one day she would too.

“You take this news hardest of all, I fear.”

A soft, slim hand slipped into his. Aethan did not budge from his statuesque stance before the window. He knew the voice, knew that touch. Atraya, his twin sister, gazed with concern at his hard face.

“Just remember Aethan, that you are not alone. I am now and will always be here, and I miss her just as dearly.”

Aethan tried his best to feign a smile for her.

“I was actually thinking about the south end,” he stated as he nodded toward where the wall once was. “About the Dau Rosiera here in the palace, and about the repeating mistakes of history. What if she was right, Atraya? What if the-” Aethan spared a glance up and down the corridor nervously before finishing. Just in case, he lowered his voice. “What if the senate convinces King Zarek to betray the Treaty of Divide and try restoring the empire through force?”

Atraya's smooth face wrinkled only slightly as her brows drew together.

“What nonsense are you talking Aethan?” Though she called it nonsense, her voice was softer than a whisper. “King Zarek would never go against the treaty. He would just as well drop the blade on his head in the stockade himself. It would be suicide.”

“But who would call him on it?” Aethan's voice hardened, but he still kept it below a whisper. “The senate wants it. With Livana gone his sons will follow him. And if he acts now the other houses will agree, thinking him temporarily out of his mind with grief. By the time any of them realize that he meant it, it will be too late to stop him. Livana's death is exactly what he needed to set the course.”

Stunned silence fell over them as they stared into each others green eyes. Neither wanted to voice the thought they both shared. It was preposterous to even consider, yet it was all to obvious.

“Aethan, if you are right and they—” Atraya swallowed hard and reflected his anxiety by looking around before continuing. “We cannot just stand here and do nothing. The senate and the king know how close you were to Livana. Your life is in danger also, as well as mine. We need proof and we need it now. We cannot just storm into the Silver Hall and accuse the senate and the king of murdering the heiress. That would put us in the stockade.”

Aethan drummed his fingers against his chin in thought. There was no time to go hunting for proof. King Zarek would strike quickly. Some thought flashed alarm across Atraya's face and her eyes popped.

“King Zarek needs an army ready to march on the spot.” Her voice was full of vigor and a nervous hand smoothed her green skirt. “The Cevian army will take at least a week to ready.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Have you been so blinded by grief that you did not take notice?” she asked, excited and also frightened by her thoughts. “Regents from Port Verix, Iphigenia, Cevius City, and even Homlyn arrived at the palace just this morning with members of their houses and a grand display of escorts. There are also diplomats from all three elven nations here with their own escorts, and what appeared to be a royal Turgh.”

“A Turgh!”

Atraya nodded. “I also heard that there will be a special council this evening and the senate will not be there. If you are right, that represents every kingdom but Dormica, Amorielle, Elogin, and Sherlim.”

The news was staggering. Aethan had not realized he was so blinded by his grief. If anyone from any of those nations or demesnes had arrived Aethan always knew promptly, usually before the party entered the Onyx Gate. But all of them passed without notice!

“I have to find a way into that council,” he muttered to himself, but Atraya laughed.

“Good luck with that one. Come now Aethan, do you truly believe that a council such as that will have any hole or weakness for you to slip through. If you want to find a way in, find a way to get an invite. It is the only way you will hear anything.”

Aethan's hopes were deflated with his sister's words. She was right. King Zarek would likely have a Dau Rosiera ward the room against eavesdropping. But if the council was to be held in the Silver Hall, he knew a secret way in. And no one would know he was there.

As if reading his thoughts, Atraya grabbed his chin and jerked his eyes directly to hers.

“If you are even thinking about risking Enigma Pass to gain entrance into the Silver Hall, you can forget it Aethan,” she barked. Her bright green eyes burned her warning into his skull. “I would as soon report you for trying as let you try. No one has been in those tunnels since before the disaster and one wrong step could kill you for all we know. I will not have you risk your life even for this.”

The very idea that she would actually report him made Aethan snicker, but the tone in her voice and the insistence in her eyes assured him that she told no lie.

“Not even for justice to Lady Livana?” He was sure she would remain fixed, but he had to try.

“Not even,” she barked. “If you want to gain entrance to the council we will find another way. One that will not see you dead at the end.”

Atraya grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her. “Come.”

As if he had a choice.

“We will speak with our father about this. Perhaps he has already received an invite.”

Regardless of what Atraya said, Aethan would do whatever necessary to overhear that council. If they were right, Livana deserved justice.

Even as the thought came and went, Aethan and Atraya rounded a corner and bounced off the shining armor of one of the royal guards. The guard was near his middle years with a well trimmed graying beard. The black feather plume on his helmet marked him out as an officer. A look at the two of them drew his face into a scowl, but his hard eyes also looked a touch relieved.

“I'm glad I found you, Lord Aethan.” His deep voice boomed off the walls. “I am a royal guard, not a messenger. I am to deliver this directly to your father's hands, but since I cannot seem to find him anywhere you will have to do. I have other work to be about, more important than delivering letters.”

Silenced by the man, Atraya and Aethan stared at the guard as Aethan accepted the letter. The guard gave them another once over and harrumphed before turning about and stalking away.

“I would say he is approaching his final years in the service,” Atraya giggled.

Aethan as he stared at the wax seal on the letter. In all of his desperation the answer to his prays fell right into his hands.

“What is it?” Atraya glanced over his arm.

“An invite to the council.”

Prophecies of Divica