The Oracle's temple nestled at the edge of the forest, near the river, where the trees parted to frame the open sky. Its white marble glistened in the moonlight, and a reflecting pool mirrored the stars and the altar fires. On three sides, a ravine-shrine to the goddess ringed the temple, both monument and protection. Stone monuments were silhouetted in the glade, homage to military heroes, favored by Chenne.

The temple was quiet as Kiara hitched her horse to a tree and stepped onto the marble terrace. She motioned for Rall and Hastart to wait with the horses, and started down the pathway toward the grotto. They passed the mews of falcons, sacred to Chenne the warrior, and the birds fluttered and shrieked in alarm. "Well, they've certainly heard us coming now," Kiara muttered to Jae, who eyed the falcons as she jerked his traces lightly in a warning reminder. The little dragon hissed in disappointment and settled down on Kiara's shoulder, his scaled head swivel-ing as he looked for other late-night morsels.

Kiara looked toward the altar and stopped. A white-robed woman who seemed to appear from nowhere stood just beyond the fire. The Oracle! Kiara thought. Drawing a deep breath for courage, Kiara swallowed and moved closer.

"My apologies, priestess, for disturbing your night," Kiara began, unsure of how to proceed. "I am Kiara of the House Sharsequin, and I—"

"I know who you are," the cowled woman replied. "Why have you sought the Goddess?"

"I've come to pray for my father's health," Kiara replied, hoping her courage didn't desert her. She paused. "And to ask the Lady how to save our kingdom."

The cowled priestess nodded. "Your father is dying," she replied matter-of-factly. "But the illness is mage-sent."

"We recognized that a dark mage sent the illness, my lady," Kiara said.

The priestess nodded slowly. "You have sent your best healer to find a cure, is that correct?"

"Yes, m'lady, but it will be some time before she returns—"

"The Sisterhood may help delay your father's death, but to destroy the spell, you must destroy the caster of the spell."

"Your Grace, we have no mages of such power—"

"From Margolan comes both the spell and the solution," the priestess replied. "The dark hand who cast the spell and He Who Can Restore."

Her voice took on a singsong lilt as she swayed in trance, insubstantial beneath her robes. "Your path lies along a different course. If you wish to save your kingdom, then you must let others save your father." The Oracle paused. "You must play your part in destroying the caster of the spell. What you seek can be found within the Library at Westmarch. The time for your Journey is come. You must go to Westmarch."

"Westmarch!" Kiara breathed. "But it doesn't exist! It's nothing but a children's tale—isn't it?" Her voice trailed off, unsure.

"Behold my servant." At that, the priestess raised her hand and Kiara saw a figure, clad in the brown robes of a land mage, step from the shadow of a marble column. "If you succeed, my Chosen, you will save your king and kingdom," the Oracle continued, her voice becoming more firm and certain, losing the singsong of the priestess. "If you fail, the darkness comes." For an instant, Kiara saw the same flash of otherworldly eyes that she remembered so well from the battlefield of her childhood. "Go with my blessing."

At that, the fiery eyes dimmed suddenly and with a moan, the robed figure slumped, its hood falling back to reveal the mortal priestess through whom the Goddess spoke.

"Come with me, Kiara Sharsequin," a brown-robed figure said from the shadows. "The priestess will be well. She is privileged to serve her Goddess. Now, your turn has come."

"I must let my guards know," Kiara stammered. "I can't just disappear."

"We will announce your Journey to them," the robed figure replied, "and to your father. He has awaited this time. Come." The figure held out a hand, and heart thudding, Kiara stepped forward, despite Jae's hisses. As she neared, the figure reached out to envelop her in a cloak that smelled of herbs and smoke and the wet moss after a new rain, and for an instant, as her head swam, Kiara swore the ground melted from beneath her feet. When the mage lowered the cloak, the temple was gone.

"Where am I?" Kiara asked, her hand moving for her sword.

"In a cloister of the Sisterhood," replied her robed companion, whose hood fell back to reveal an aging woman of medium build, her weathered face handsome, whose blue eyes sparkled with amusement at Kiara's confusion.

"In Dhasson?" Kiara asked, looking around her. "But that's where I sent Carina—it's over two months' ride away!"

The robed woman smiled indulgently. "We are still in Isencroft. The Sisterhood has many cloisters. The one you speak of is one of the few we permit outsiders to recognize. There have been too many over the years who sought to destroy us. This is one of those secret places."

Kiara looked around in silence, reaching up to stroke Jae's talons as the gyregon, shrieking its alarm, clenched painfully on her shoulder. With an unconvinced hiss, the little dragon settled down, gazing balefully at their host.

With a smile, the woman looked at the frightened little dragon and spoke a word that to Kiara sounded like the rush of water on rock. To Kiara's astonishment, the gyregon calmed immediately.

"What did you say to him?"

"Merely that neither he, nor you, had cause for fear," the Sister replied.

"You can talk to Jae?"

"You have much to learn, Goddess-blessed," the sorceress replied. "Come."

Kiara followed the woman down a maze of corridors, carved deep within the rock. The air was fresh and cool, and the pathway was worn smooth. Chambers with heavy wooden doors branched off from their path. Finally, the corridor opened into a great hall. Magelight sparkled from the crystals that coated the rock pillars of the chamber, and in the massive hearth, a mage-fire gave warmth without smoke.

Four Sisters sat behind a massive oval table wrought from the rock itself. The women wore no ornamentation and were clad in the same plain brown robe as her hostess. Even so, Kiara could sense their power.

"Come closer, Kiara of the House Sharsequin," one of the Sisters said, in a voice that crackled like fire in dry leaves. Kiara was later unsure she heard the voice at all, or whether it sounded, unspoken, in her mind.

"You petitioned the Goddess for the health of the king and the safety of Isencroft. She has told you the source of the bane," the woman continued. "Would you undo this spell to save your kingdom?"

Without hesitation, Kiara nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Would you give up your privilege, your position if that is what the Lady requires?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"What of your life, Kiara Sharsequin? This spell was not mortal-made. Would you risk your life?"

Kiara swallowed, but nodded once more. "If that is the will of the Goddess," she whispered through a dry throat.

"It may be so, my child," the sorceress replied, blue eyes glinting in the magelight. "Step closer."

Kiara took a deep breath and stepped nearer to the dais. Jae sat like a statue on her shoulder. The speaker stared at her, and she felt a fleeting presence inside her mind. The Sister crossed her arms and leaned back, looking satisfied.

"Chenne has chosen well," the woman said. "Tonight, you begin your Journey."

Kiara nodded silently. The sense she felt at the palace, of following a pathway she could not clearly see, became even stronger, frightening and yet right.

"In the Library at Westmarch, you will indeed find all that is required to break this spell," the sorceress continued. "But a great evil must be cast down before that can happen."

"Your Grace, I do not know where to find the Library at Westmarch," Kiara replied. "I thought it was only a legend."