Captain Erfla headed the procession flanked by two of the Imperial Guards. Behind him rode Evra and the goat-headed elder faery named Prolopa.

Jarael and Reanitchka followed behind them while Tavus and Nareana, along with more guards, brought up the rear.

Everything was disturbingly quiet as they passed out of the central atrium. No sound was heard except for the clacking of horses’ hooves on the hard marble floor.

As they entered the golden orchard, the captain and the guards’ horses sprouted wings with a swift whoosh and noiselessly folded them on their sides.

Reanitchka scowled as Jarael didn’t follow suit, and she sharply kicked his side. With a disgruntled snort, Jarael opened his wings with a flourish.

Every so often, Evra would look back and try to catch Reanitchka’s attention. At one point, Reanitchka threw a glare at Evra, and the latter dejectedly looked away and stopped looking back for the rest of the march.

Nareana was constantly squirming in the saddle which she and Tavus shared.

“What’s the matter, Nareana?” he asked her quietly. Nareana frowned and whimpered like a puppy.

“How can she not be Leona?” he told her, smiling, “She may not look like the Leona we were used to, but she’s still our Leona.”

Tavus wrapped his arms around Nareana and held her firmly.

“Leona’s just a bit edgy because she’s nervous,” Tavus consoled the little girl. But deep inside him, something was telling him that thing’s are not quite as normal as he had expected it to be.

They had reached the edge of the orchard and the Captain and his men went separate ways. Evra and Prolopa followed their directions.

Only Reanitchka continued towards the balcony overlooking the Liev va Frasa.

Two guards came up behind her and helped her dismount. Reanitchka lithely touched the ground as she motioned for the guards to take Jarael away.

Down in the Valley, the fey have gathered in great numbers along the banks of the lake. All of their faces were facing the balcony above the waterfall.

Tiny lights glimmered in the ever darkening night. The court fey watched the loggia from their flamboyant litters carried by stocky hobs. The lesser faeries watched from treetops and from the grass below. Tiny pixies added multi-colored lights to the lanterns carried by fauns and tree spirits. The spectacle was far too magnificent to behold.

But the head of the Serelda knew the sight only too well.

The glamoured Reanitchka surveyed the familiar surroundings with a renewed sense of power. She smiled with Leona’s lips and held her head high, enjoying the breeze as they lifted her blonde locks.

Throwing her shoulders back with confidence, she walked to the torch-lit balcony, her glamoured eyes darting in all directions.

She cleared her throat and placed her hands on the vine-covered balustrade. She then said, in her flawless faery tongue;

“People of Kezta Frasika, I am honored to be here, finally, in front of all of you tonight.”

Back in the catacombs, the real Leona fought back her increasing nausea as she fumbled with all her might at the rope tied around her already-aching wrists.

Leona flinched every time her bare arms brushed at the decaying corpse lying beside her. Her dress was already sticking to her body in the dampness of the grave, making her all the more uncomfortable despite her current situation.

The minutes ticked by slowly and Leona had made no progress in setting herself free, let alone get out of the tomb herself. Tears started to flow freely from her eyes, unknowingly staining her cheeks with dark rivulets of kohl.

Leona cried through the gag that made it difficult for her to speak and breathe.

How in the name of all the gods am I going to escape from this? She screamed inside herself. If they come back for me here, who knows when that will be? I might be dead when the time comes!

Leona’s heart clenched as she thought of her grandparents and the faery King imprisoned in Neizagaard, of her promise to Evra that they’ll rescue them together, of Nareana and Jarael, and of her best friend, Tavus; she recoiled at the thought that she’ll never see them again.

What, then, will happen to Ramorgra?

She closed her eyes at the depressing idea that all of her beloved land will perish because of her.

Leona sobbed long and hard, but when she opened her stinging eyes, a faint yellow light shone inside the sepulcher.

She looked about, startled. And her swollen eyes were drawn to the source of the light:

The Arita Maija shining in its golden light over her heart.

Evra stood nervously by her ta-um as she watched, unknown to her, Reanitchka blabbering away at the balcony.

Leona wasn’t like this last night. She thought. She seemed too confident and haughty all of a sudden. And she even forgot that she’ll have Jarael carry her tonight! How strange!

She turned to Erfla beside her; and found him staring expressionlessly over the horizon seemingly lost in thought.

“Erfla,” she said quietly, “Are you ill?”

Erfla shook his head slowly, still staring off into the distance, transfixed. Evra clutched at the pommel of her sword nervously. She looked around her slowly, noting everyone present in the balcony with them.

The Giraj, still a horse, stood with Tavus and the little girl, several guards were all lined up at the back, and a few members of the Serelda, who were able to stand long enough without their old joints complaining, were talking quietly with Prolopa.

There was one detail that was missing. One character of extreme importance, and it alarmed Evra instantly:

She slipped from beside Erfla and came over to where Prolopa stood underneath the silver boughs of the trees at the edge of the golden orchard.

“Oh Prolopa,” she said quietly. The goat-headed fey looked at her inquiringly.

The goat shook his head. “Aye, but the good Captain told us that she has fallen ill, but not severely so. I am certain that she is recuperating back in her chambers.”

Evra nodded gravely. Still, her insides lurched with uncertainty. She darted off silently for Leona’s companions.

Leona blinked as the Mark’s light blinded her momentarily. Her vision cleared and she saw that it flickered on her skin with such intensity.

The woman’s voice echoed in her head.

Fight, Shaeryva! Do not let these people underestimate you!

Leona sobbed again as she answered the voice, “I don’t know how! As much as I want to get out of here, I don’t know what to do!”

You have much power within you, little one. Use it to your advantage. Align your strength with your imbued magic to do what you wish it to do.

Leona hesitated and thought for a fleeting moment that she was going mad. But she realized that she had nothing to lose and shut her eyes tight.

She imagined the long white tendrils of magic crawl from her shoulders down her arms and envisioned them burning through the bonds on her wrists.

Leona felt a slight burning around her hands and gasped as her hands went free; the rope fell down by her knees showing singed edges slowly dying out in the darkness.

Her heart started to pound furiously. Hastily, she removed the gag on her mouth and felt at the slab of marble separating her from her freedom and the world outside.

Her fingers skittered across the cool, smooth and dusty surface looking for a possible crack or depression in the rock. She found none, and in her frustration, she pounded her fists against it.

The slab produced a low reverberating sound and echoed around the grave.

Leona froze and banged at the rock again. It created the same sound as the first time.

Evra caught Tavus’ attention and beckoned for them to meet her at the back of the balcony by the trees.

When they caught up with each other, Evra’s chest was heaving, and her breathing erratic.

“What’s wrong, Evra?” Tavus asked, Jarael twitched his ears beside him to show that he was listening. Nareana constantly tugged at Tavus’ grip on her hand.

“Are you noticing anything different from Leona?” Evra asked nervously. Tavus shook his head somberly.

“It is quite surprising at the bravado she’s showing, but I – ,” Tavus hesitated, “I don’t know. I really can’t say if there’s anything wrong.”

Tavus held Nareana close and turned to Evra. “All I can say is that Leona seems to have dropped her plan of telling the people of her intentions to go to Neizagaard.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said, clasping her hands together.

“We’ll talk to her after the – Nareana! Where are you going?”

Nareana had freed herself from Tavus and was running off back the path they had taken as fast as her little legs can carry her.

He turned to Evra and said to her hastily, “I have to follow her, Evra. She’s been telling me persistently that the Leona here is not Leona.”

Tavus shook his head, “No, please stay with Jarael and talk to Leona as soon as she has finished. We’ll catch up with you later.”

Without waiting for Evra’s reply, Tavus dashed off after Nareana.

Leona continued to pound at the covering of the tomb and prayed that it will somehow give away.

“It’s not working!” she said to herself. The woman in her head replied almost instantly.

Your power, Shaeryva. Make use of your power. Do not contain it further into yourself now that you need it the most.

Panting heavily out of exhaustion, Leona placed both her palms on the cold rock, closed her eyes, and summoned her inner energy once more.

Pursue your cause, Shaeryva, King Jamori is alive!

The tomb began to hum and vibrate. Softly at first, and then gradually getting louder and stronger.

Leona felt as if her arms were being scalded by all the energy that emanated from her. Slowly her body also felt the terrifying heat. And in an agonizing moment, she screamed out loud as the heat, tension, and exhaustion overcame her.

In a blinding flash of light the marble slab blasted into smithereens. Pelting Leona with bits and small chunks of black rock.

Coughing and gagging, Leona tried to sit up, and a fierce jolt of pain shot through her like an arrow. She wearily grasped at the side of the tomb and looked around the dark dungeon. She confirmed to herself that she was really in the fey’s catacombs.

Massive mausoleums towered across the tomb where she was sitting in. Grotesque figures of monsters leered menacingly down at her through stone eyes. In the faint light coming from her Mark, Leona saw that the place was like a cloistered little village, with cobblestone pathways and unlit lamp posts scattered randomly across the vast and desolate place.

Breathing heavily, she heaved herself up on the edge of the tomb and hurriedly undid the bonds that tied her feet.

Having done so, she swung out of the tomb and dusted herself of death’s dust. An unexpected gust of wind tossed her messed up hair around and sent a chill down her entire body.

Leona looked around and tried to stay up on her weakening legs. She placed a hand on her heart.

“Mighty gods,” she whispered into the wind, “please guide my way.”

So we shall, bright one. The woman in her head said with enthusiasm. Follow your heart.

Leona started down the cobblestone paths and broke into a run.

“Nareana, please! Where are you going?” Tavus shouted at the little girl as they sped through empty and dimly-lit corridors.

Nareana kept saying ‘Shaeryva’ under her breath over and over again.

“Please, wait up!” Tavus pleaded, as Nareana turned right along a corner and disappear down a dark flight of stairs.

Tavus continued to follow her down and down deeper into the fey’s stronghold, getting weary at the speed and strange enthusiasm that Nareana projected.

He was also unnerved by the intimidating interior as they were plunged deeper into the Erihppas’ heart.

He caught sight of her as she vanished behind a doorway several feet to his left.

His heart pounded against his ribs in anxiety and gave himself another burst of speed.

Leona’s hand felt her heart hammering away frantically in her chest as she turned every corner and sped through every hallway and corridor that she felt she had to go into.

She frenetically grasped every doorknob and door handle that barred her way. Leona hardly stopped to look where she was. She felt that she had to keep going unless the steady stream of thoughts and visions would stop.

Leona grasped the handle of a large oak doorway and started into the corridor when she stopped and gasped in shock at what she saw.

Nareana continued to mutter Leona’s god-name under her breath as Tavus struggled to keep up with her.

Suddenly Nareana stopped by a corridor and stared, engrossed at what she found standing at the other side of the hallway.

Tavus came up behind her and had his hands on his knees from exhaustion. He straightened up and was stopped by what he saw that Nareana was looking at.

Leona slipped past the oak doors and closed them quietly behind her. Tears started to flow from her eyes as a smile broke over her face.

She ran down the corridor and caught Nareana in her arms. They slumped down into the floor and sobbed hard.

There are two Leona’s…

“Shaeryva, I was so worried…” Nareana wept into Leona’s arms.

Leona ran one hand into the little girl’s blonde locks and kept the other tight around her little form.

“It’s all right now,” Leona said reassuringly, relieved at the sudden occurrence. “Everything’s going to be fine now.”

“Tavus,” Leona said quietly, standing up and crossing over to him. She flung her arms around him and held him tightly. Tavus, though a bit confused, held Leona and whispered into her ear.

“Leona, what’s happening? You were there, at the balcony, a few minutes ago. What’re you doing down here? I was starting to get worried myself. Evra is just as confounded,” he looked into her eyes.

“I will explain,” Leona said as she let go of Tavus, “But please, we need to go back. Reanitchka has glamoured herself to look like me to stop us from going to Neizagaard. If we delay any further, our only chance of saving grandma and grandpa will be lost. And Kezta Frasika will never get its rightful monarch back.”

Tavus nodded and scooped Nareana back into his arms.