I could not,” Lena declared.
“They have a powerful sorcerer among them,” Ophelia murmured.
“Go’Doan?” Nandra asked bitingly.
Ophelia looked to her sister, sharing her dislike of the Go’Doan, at least some of them, (well, truly, most of them) but not showing it. “I suspect, but I cannot be sure. I cannot feel them either.”
This was a surprise.
Especially after all these years of trying.
They were the most powerful witches of their lands, Ophelia by far the most powerful among them.
That was not strictly true.
They were the most powerful witches anyone of their lands knew.
At the now.
It would seem the others would need to be revealed.
“The prophecy must commence,” Fern shared.
All the witches closely watched Ophelia after this was uttered.
But it was true.
When the Beast was banished, the coven had risen.
And every generation for millennia, the daughters were selected.
And the sons.
Just for this happenstance.
In order that they could banish it back.
“We can delay no longer, Ophelia,” Rebecca said kindly. “We’ve all attempted to find them. We’ve all cast repeatedly to stop them. We’ve spent the last two years in these endeavors. It’s come too far. The Beast has awoken. He rises closer to the surface. I no longer need to feel the earth move to know this is true. I feel…it when they feed him.”
“You worry about your daughter,” Lena noted, still regarding Ophelia closely.
“I worry about all of our daughters,” Ophelia replied.
“It is too true. None of this will be readily accepted,” Fern said under her breath.
“You mean none of them will be readily accepted,” Nandra declared irritably. “As ever, it is the woman’s wont to seek and build her place with the man. Especially in your land.”
Fern looked away, color coming to her cheeks, but Ophelia spoke.
“We must not be cross amongst ourselves. It will serve no purpose. Fern, of any of us, even the Nadirii, is aware of what takes place in her land.”
Nandra closed her mouth.
“Of the daughters sent forth, yours, I fear, my sister, my friend, will have the most difficult path to walk,” Rebecca remarked to Ophelia. “We, none of us, have blood in this game. It is not one from our own wombs who go forth into this tribulation. Only yours.”
“I am aware of that,” Ophelia responded. “But my Elena will, as ever, walk with shoulders squared to make her sacrifice.” Ophelia glanced amongst her sisters. “They all will. The lore has endured for millennia. The devastation the Beast wrought to this earth and its peoples may have become stories parents tell their children to give them a different type of chill on a cold winter night. But the Go’Doan will have felt it. The witches. The seers. The sorcerers. The veil of magic grows restless across Triton. Not one of them will desist. They will all agree. And it is not entirely a bad hand they’ve been dealt.”
“You are, of course, talking about the warriors,” Lena said tetchily.
“Or the warriors with staffs they only hold in their hands for personal purposes,” Rebecca murmured.
Ophelia drew breath in through her nose as her way of affirming.
“We must toss the tiles, make the matches and be done with it,” Nandra declared. “We all have rulers we must speak with and convince of their futures. And the tossing of the tiles will by far be the least onerous of our endeavors.”
She was correct.
On all accounts.
Including the fact they must toss the tiles.
Ophelia felt her heart clench.
“The Head is already mated with The Crystal, so I shall not toss,” Lena pointed out. “And it would best be remembered that has come about.”
“And why is that?” Nandra asked.
“Because it shares that this is destiny. They were meant to be,” Lena replied. “They mated without our intervention as, it could be, the others if given time would do as well.”
Ah, Lena.
Brusque to the witness, but soft within.
She sought to make Ophelia dread less what might be coming, especially in her current state.
But there was naught which could make Ophelia dread less what might be coming, no matter what the tiles decreed.
She had hoped her daughter would succeed her.
Second born.
But born to rule.
“It’s my understanding Aramus and Ha-Lah detest each other,” Nandra returned. “Has your king even consummated the union?”
“Not for lack of trying,” Lena retorted.
“His seed spent on his stomach is why we don’t feel their growing power,” Nandra observed.
“I’m uncertain when he spends his seed, it’s on his stomach…at least not regularly,” Lena muttered.
“That is worse,” Rebecca uncharacteristically snapped.
“Ah, the Dellish and their quaint customs,” Nandra muttered in return, her full lips