Prologue

She had known that this night would bring their salvation for some time now. The cards had spoken of his arrival, and the dreams which had haunted her sleep for months had whispered this date many times in her ear. She glanced down at the withered deck before her.

The cards never lie.

A muffled sigh brought her eyes to the center of the room where her daughter slept peacefully on the sofa before the dwindling fire. She stared as the amber glow of the dying flames bounced off the copper sheen of the small girl's hair, her tiny hands curled lightly beneath her chin. Sibylla smiled, secretly envying the innocence of her child's dreams. Kenna too had foreseen the coming of the Northern Fire, but her visions were that of an untrained mind; childish and unclear. The young seeress could not yet comprehend what came so plainly to her mother.

Deliverance was near.

A gust of wind which rattled the walls of their tiny cottage, forced the sage to her feet. The time had come for her to play her part. It was with great resolve that she set the cards face down upon the swollen wooden table before her and rose from her seat, the pounding in her chest hidden by the gloss of calm her cerulean eyes emanated as she crossed the room to the fire. A small golden lock of hair swept her face as she leaned over to kiss Kenna goodbye, the warm scent of rose water and mildew drifting to her pointed nose. The smell of home. Her eyes lingered on the child a moment more as she draped her weathered shawl across her shoulders and slipped her feet into the boots she had kept warming on the hearth. Tonight would change the child's life forever…all of their lives. A hissing preceded by a loud pop from the fire told her she had delayed for too long. Making certain to lock tight the door behind her, Sibylla stepped out from the warmth of her home, immersing herself in the chill of the night. She tugged on her shawl tightly as she made her way to the stables and pulled Justice from his stall, trying hard to ignore the icy breath coming from the north.

The moons hung brightly in the velvet sky: Verban, a brilliant crescent behind his brother, Rayh, which shone as a vibrant coral diamond high above the horizon. It was towards the heavens that she looked, defying the bitter sting of the air with unwavering eyes, which searched for the right star. The star which would fall and would give no light.

For an hour they waited at her mill, the horse and his mistress, the woman staring unblinkingly upward, the mount's eyes fixed longingly upon the comfort of his stable. The wind howled ever louder, every other minute seemingly colder than the last. Justice whinnied in protest, bobbing his head towards the shelter of his home, but still Sibylla would not move. This was not a northern wind they felt. The frigid air came from the Fire. He was coming from the north and the skies were leading him here. She would wait. No matter how long it took, she would wait.

There!

A shadow dropped across the surface of Rayh's sphere, a great black figure twisting against the wind as it plummeted towards the ground. Without hesitation, Sibylla climbed her steed and threw her weight forward, urging the beast into a sprint towards the writhing figure in the sky. Moonlight bounced off the surface of the shadow as it fell, its awkward reflection a dim beacon for her to follow.

The soil beneath the witch and her sprinting beast trembled as the body, which had fallen from so far, hit the ground a mile ahead. From the sky rained shining black plates of metal, cutting into the dirt as it landed, but still they rode on, dodging them as they went. The wind had stopped and the air had calmed but the fire in Sibyllas eyes remained; she could feel his aura pulsing even from this distance.

It was on a hill overlooking the field where it had landed that she pulled on Justice's reins. The night had grown a deadly still.

No bugs chirped.

No frogs sang.

There were no wolves howling at the moons nor owls hooting in the trees.

Silence.

There was a deafening silence save for the muffled crackling in a small burning crater at the base of the hill. Slowly, reluctantly, Justice carried Sibylla down towards the smoking hole, snorting his objections as she drove him forward. With every resistant step the beast took, her heart fluttered. The future of her entire kingdom was dependent on whatever lay within this smoldering pit. His future was entirely dependent…on her.

The thought of this responsibility tightened her throat. At last they reached a point where Justice refused to venture past and Sibylla climbed off his back.

The rest was up to her.

She didn't blame her horse for keeping his distance. The air around the crater before her was thick with a pulsing energy that caused her eyes to water. She had hardly noticed that she had stopped breathing. As she neared the mouth of the crater she lowered herself to her knees and crawled to the edge, unaware of what she might see. The cards had told her of the coming of their salvation…but cards are never very specific when it comes to details…and dreams are never straightforward about anything at all. Truth be told, she had no idea what she would see…or even if she wanted to see it…but this was her destiny.

This was their salvation.

The cards never lie.

Swallowing hard, Sibylla forced herself to peer over the edge and found herself…blinking.

Hard.

As if perhaps her eyes were deceiving her. At the bottom of the pit lay a small boy, no older than twelve years of age, bleeding, naked, and shivering. She watched in awe as he cried out in pain, his muscles tensing as shining black scales dug themselves back into his mortal flesh, blood oozing from the gaping wounds they momentarily left behind. More amazing still were the great leather wings, which folded themselves behind him and burrowed themselves deep into his skin, each one leaving behind twisted and torn flesh between his spine and shoulder blades. The pain must have been unbearable for moments later the boy was unconscious. Sibylla stared for quite a while…she just couldn't help herself.

This child was their salvation?

And what exactly was he?

And where from the north could acreature like him have come from?

This was not at all what she had expected. This was not at all what she was prepared for. Could this boy really be the Northern Fire?

He HAD to be…

The ground had grown cold and the energy diminished by the time the woman again had her wits about her. She took a deep breath and climbed down into the pit beside the boy. The poor child twitched hard as she touched his skin but did not awaken. She pulled the shawl from her shoulders and wrapped it around him as best as she could, cringing empathetically as her fingers grazed his broken bones. With a great tug, she silently thanked the gods that the boy was no longer conscious and that the crater was not very deep. She could not even fathom how much agony he would be in should he awaken.

The ride home was calm to say the least, and the night had reclaimed its hold on her surroundings. Nature resumed its usual activities as if nothing had happened at all, and Sibylla, her arms wrapped tightly around the strange child who had fallen from the sky, felt oddly numb.

From a distance she could see Kenna bouncing eagerly in the doorway of their cottage, a small silhouette against the light of the newly roaring fire she had apparently stoked upon awakening. Justice sped to a cautious trot as the sight of the stable drew nearer and an exhausted Sibylla found herself clutching the sleeping boy before her ever more tightly.

Arriving home somehow made this all seem much more real.

She rode up to the cottage and carried the boy inside, laying his small broken body upon the sofa where her daughter so recently slept."Is that him, mummy?" Kenna whispered, her words muffled behind her tiny hands which she liked to stuff in her mouth when she was excited. "Is that my newbig brother?"

Sibylla smiled. That innocence again. Oh how she missed having it herself. "Yes, Kenna…this is your new big brother."

"What's his name?"

His name…

The woman remained silent as her eyes drifted to the boy. Among the many injuries the he had sustained from his fall, she had noticed a mark upon his back.

The Elmin mark of treason.

All she knew of this boy (besides his fate as their savior) was that he was a fugitive from Elmin who had somehow grown wings and fallen from the sky.

His name.

He would never be able to use his given name again. She would have to give him a new name. A name with meaning. A name for the Northern Fire…

"Simon." Sibylla said finally, the simplicity of the name which echoed in her mind bringing a gentle smile of understanding to her lips. "We will call him Simon." She leaned over and kissed her child on the forehead. "Now go to bed. I'll be up in a moment."

She watched as the little girl bounded out of the room, her mind swimming with uncertainty.

The boy would heal.

She would give him his new name.

Raise him as her own.

The weary woman crossed the room and sat at her swollen wooden table, lifting her deck of withered cards. A muffled cry brought her eyes back to the center of the room where the mysterious boy lay unconscious on the sofa before the crackling fire. She stared as the amber glow of the dancing flames bounced off the golden sheen of the small boy's hair, his filthy hands hanging limply off the side.

She sighed.

Read the cards. For it was the cards which foretold his coming. The cards which had led her to him in the first place. The cards would tell her whatwas next to come.

The cards never lie.