The young woman led Tavus and Leona back to the clearing in the middle of the caravan. Several people have gathered themselves around the fire seated on long rows of green-painted wooden benches. Dancers and bards clad in colorful and gaudy garments whirled around the fire in a blur of color and music. Leona found them eerily mesmerizing. She felt a queer feeling as euphoria quickly built up within her.

Distantly, she stole a glance of Tavus. He seemed just as mesmerized as she was.

The songs told them of Ramorgra’s distant history; about how the faeries, elves, and dwarves lived in harmony with the humans. The song buzzed around Leona’s head gaily until they changed their tune and sang despondently about the Fall. Leona felt a pang of despair and anguish clenching her heart. Then, the pitch altered again and told vividly of the coming of the goddess…

Leona felt her head spinning as she reveled in the music and the dances that were slowly enveloping her in a haze of colors and movement, sending her consciousness in almost an illusory state. A hand that yanked her arm brought her snapping back to reality.

Jarael held her in a vice-like grip and held Tavus on the other hand still looking dazed and looking back at the dancers.

“What’s your problem?” Leona said dissonantly, as she tried to wrench her arm from Jarael’s grasp. Jarael held on and dragged the pair into Anthea’s wagon.

Once inside, Tavus and Leona regained their composure.

Tavus held his head and felt as though he was going to collapse, “What just happened?” he asked jadedly.

Jarael seated himself opposite them; Leona noticed that he had his hair tied back and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“Next time, don’t ever go reveling with those people again,” he said stiffly.

“Why? What’s the matter with them?” Tavus asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Those,” Jarael said, jerking his thumb out the door, “are exiled court fey. Not that I still have anything against them, but their music and dances will hypnotize you and with catastrophic effects. When you succumb to their melodies, you will lose your sanity, and render yourself vulnerable to any of their whims.”

Leona shuddered. Tavus surveyed Jarael intently.

“You must be Jarael, then,” Tavus said austerely, “Leona’s told me all about you.”

Jarael smiled and extended his hand to Tavus. “And you must be Tavus. Leona regards you with much reverence.”

Tavus snorted and ignored Jarael’s outstretched hand.

Jarael’s features hardened and withdrew his hand. Leona looked at him, embarrassed of Tavus’ sudden hostility.

The silence and tension was almost unbearable until Anthea came into the enclosed space.

“Jarael, the elixir is ready,” she announced, wiping her hands on a towel. Jarael nodded and motioned for Leona to follow Anthea on the other side of the wagon.

Tavus grabbed Leona’s wrist as she stood up. “What now?” she snapped.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said icily. He shook his head in dismay and added quietly, “Leona, this is madness.”

“Tavus,” she hesitated, growing steadily annoyed of Tavus’ skepticism, “things have happened in the few days I have gone from Haikhan which made me believe in some points of this madness that you call, things that not even an educated person like you would understand. I know that you’re concerned and all, but I have to do this. You don’t know the risk we’re taking if I don’t, so, please.”

With that, Tavus’ grip faltered and she yanked her hand away, and then she followed Anthea without a second look towards the other side of the space obscured by peach-colored curtains.

Leona sat on a plush purple pouf and risked a glimpse of Tavus through the transparent curtains, he was bent over and refused to speak as Jarael leaned forward and whispered something to him. She sighed as Anthea faced her with sympathy lining her face.

“Through the years, all the girls Jarael sent to me were treated with the same skepticism and contempt. I can feel a certain something from this young man, though. I cannot exactly say what.”

Leona turned to her and tried as much to carry the conversation away from Tavus.

“How long has Jarael been looking for Shaeryva?” she asked.

Anthea shook her head, “The poor young man, he has been looking for the right girl for ages, spanning from the time of the Fall, until this very day. Whenever he tracked down bits of Shaeryva’s memories, he immediately took the chosen lass and brought her to me.”

“Then you are the Chawall?” Leona asked, surprised that a woman so young and so gaudy-looking could be of such untold power and strength – and really old.

“There were many of us once, a few hundred years ago. But my colleagues, men and women of immense power and wisdom, weren’t getting any younger, and the weight of the years and the dilemma we were facing after the Fall burdened their weary backs. Their bodies eventually gave up, and one fell after the other. Since then, I am the only one left,” Anthea replied, a dark nostalgic look in her kohl-lined eyes.

Leona nodded her head somberly, “It must’ve been so wearisome to come up with always the wrong person for such a long time.”

“At some point it did become a bit discouraging,” Anthea admitted, taking a phial from a small wooden table littered with herbs, small smooth stones, dried flowers, and a small smoking cauldron sitting in a hole in the middle.

“But every time Jarael brought someone new, it fills me with a renewed sense of hope,” Anthea said, smiling. She shook the phial slightly and the clear liquid inside turned to a bright emerald green.

“What happens to the girls who didn’t prove to be Shaeryva?” Leona asked nervously as Anthea handed her the phial.

“Jarael wipes away the memories of their meeting and of their encounter with the Chawall, and then he takes her back to her old, normal life; fixing all the days of her absence,” Anthea replied, “Though some of them were really not ready to give up the fact that they are not the girl goddess. I can remember one girl, she ran away before Jarael can fix her memory. She was furious with Jarael, not that the boy did anything wrong in the process. I can foretell that we’ll be having some problems with that girl in the future. But I am more than sure that when the time comes, she, and Ramadak, will be the least of our problems.”

Leona nodded and swirled the contents of the phial, which turned a bright blue.

“What do I do, then with this – concoction?” she asked.

“That is called the Muthri Vierda, ‘The Mind’s Key.’ You ingest it,” Anthea said simply, seating herself onto an orange pouf opposite Leona, “there are certain herbs in that potion that triggers the divine memories to surface. How the body will respond to such, I am not certain. But if you proved not to be the girl goddess, no reaction will take place.” Her expression turned rigorous and impenetrable.

Leona felt panic rise inside her as the blue liquid turned pink.

What if I’m really not Shaeryva? She thought anxiously. Then how will Jarael help me to search for my grandparents if he’ll go to look for the real Shaeryva? And I wouldn’t have a home to return to!

She then remembered how Jarael taught her to summon the pixies. Leona fumbled with the small crystal phial nervously.

Finally, throwing all caution to the wind, Leona uncorked the phial and drank the then golden liquid in one gulp as Jarael, followed by Tavus, swept through the curtain.

Suddenly, Leona gasped and felt as if the air was kicked out of her lungs. She dropped the phial which landed with a sharp crash on the floor as the glass exploded in tiny shards.

She tumbled from the pouf and was on all fours on the floor, chest heaving and sweating profusely. A convulsion threatened to overcome her as her body went rigid.

Leona heard Anthea call out her name urgently, but she sounded so far away. She felt Tavus and Jarael rush at her and tried to help her up. But her sight has gone completely hazy, her hearing muffled, she seemed to lose track of her surroundings as it whirled around her in a blur of colors and shapes.

Leona felt her eyes roll up into her head, and then she blacked out.