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Ash fell from the sky like black snow. Miraveh coughed, waving a hand before her eyes, fighting to see through the ash that had begun to coat the ground, hiding the landscape that had once supported a forest of the most ancient trees, now nothing but a bare, blasted space that sat within the mountains that surrounded the edge of the island.

Throat dry, she tried to call out. To the barren Witch, Yusuvur. To the indomitable swordsman, Alran. Most of all, she called for Kayrian, her childhood friend. The boy that had become a troubled and distant man. The man that had fought the shade of the God of Despair, Xirasir, and had brought about this devastation during that battle.

Kayrian. Miraveh and he had grown up together, back in Donsa village. He, the son of a fletcher, she, the daughter of goat farmer. Inseparable, or so she had thought. Over the past few years, as they had searched for the Shards of Mirrorwood, they had grown apart, fought and come together once again, stronger in their friendship than ever before. All leading up to this day. The day of confrontation that Yusuvur had said would be the end of the world, or a new beginning.

As Miraveh looked around her, she couldn't tell if either of those possibilities had come to pass. When first arriving upon this island, she had marvelled at its beauty, with forests so vibrant and green, she would not have hesitated at making a home for herself here. Creatures had lived here, colourful, friendly creatures that had come to the companions with not an ounce of fear. It was a paradise.

She saw no paradise now. Only black and grey and scorched stone. No trees. No innocent animals. She saw no life here, but herself. She pushed herself from the ground, soot-blackened hands pressing into the layer of ash, and tried to look for anything that moved. She prayed to the God of Grace, Himitar, that she were not alone in her survival.

As she stumbled towards the cracked and blackened stone altar, where Kayrian had begun his battle, she could see mounds beneath the ash. Only one of those mounds moved, ash falling from the form beneath. Breath caught in Miraveh's throat. The ritual had brought forth Xirasir in mortal form. If he had survived, if he took back his divine powers, here on the world of Dred-al, then none could stand in his way. Not even Kayrian. Certainly not Miraveh.

With caution, she approached the figure, the ash disguising any features as the figure rose to their feet. Then the figure turned, halting and jerking, and Miraveh almost cried as she recognised the barren Witch. Miraveh almost ran to Yusuvur, to wrap her arms about the stoical woman, but stopped as she saw something incredible happening.

Yusuvur stared at her hands, not even noticing Miraveh's approach. Hands that glowed a soft green, with darting, snaking threads of glistening green light twisting about the Witch's fingers, up to the wrists. Magic! Miraveh had never thought she would see magic. Not in this life.

"Yusuvur?" She hesitated to move any closer, brought up on tales of magic and the evil that it had once wrought upon the world, hundreds of years ago.

"Can you feel it, Miraveh Arachild? It has returned!" Exultant, Yusuvur raised her face to the ash-filled skies, laughing uncontrollably. Then, a hand covered by that green energy, raised above her and a pillar of light erupted into the sky. "It has returned!"

Miraveh could no longer call Yusuvur the 'barren Witch', not anymore. The Witch had spoken, on many occasions, of the wonder of magic, a magic that she had never had the pleasure of wielding. No-one had. Magic had disappeared from the world centuries before, torn from the people by the God of Despair in a fit of petty anger, seconds before his imprisonment. Now it had returned and that thought froze the blood in Miraveh's veins.

With a flick of her hand, Yusuvur sent forth a wave of green energy that expanded in a bubble from where she stood. And, as the bubble grew, it pushed aside all the ash, from the ground, from the air, everywhere, until Miraveh and Yusuvur found themselves within a ring of space clear of the black dust, revealing two more figures. Figures that did not move. Miraveh recognised both of them. Alran, the loyal swordsman that had sworn himself to Kayrian, early in their quest, and Kayrian himself. Both lay upon the now cleared ground, unmoving.

"Kay!" She ran to the side of her best friend, falling to her knees, hesitant to touch him. Fearing that, if she did so, she would confirm the terrible thoughts that passed through her mind. "Please, don't be dead. Please!"

"Alran is gone, but, Pailai be praised!" Yusuvur rarely praised the gods, but, when she did, she praised the God of Hope, Pailai. The Witch's magic trailed over Kayrian's body, giving off an eerie green light. "The Seeker survives!"

"You sound surprised." Miraveh lifted Kayrian's head onto her lap. He looked older, more worn than ever. "Then again, he was only ever a tool to you and your coven."

Now that she had Kay in her arms, she could see the feint pulse of the vein in his neck. She pressed a hand to his chest and felt the beat of his heart, still strong and steady. She held back tears of relief as she nuzzled her nose into his hair. If she had lost him, she could never have found another friend like him.

Yusuvur had not finished using the new magic that had opened up to her upon the defeat of Xirasir. As though she had used it her entire life, Yusuvur moved her hands, directing the green energies. Those trails of green light reached out towards the broken altar and Miraveh heard a tremendous crack, as though the magic had torn the altar apart.

Then the Witch turned her attention to the body of Alran, the tendrils of green energy lifting the warrior's body, moving it through the air and laying it down within the hole the magic had created within the altar. Another crack, the sounds of grating and crunching, and the altar looked almost as new, now a tomb for one of the strongest people Miraveh had ever known.

Once Yusuvur had closed the tomb, she collapsed to her knees, clutching at her breast and fighting for breath. As much as Miraveh disliked the Witch, she did not wish her harm, but she couldn't leave Kayrian to see to the woman. She watched as Yusuvur struggled to breathe, those green, magical energies fading from her hands.

"Don't worry, Miraveh. You'll see me dead one day, but not this day." Yusuvur fell back and sat on the ground, heaving great lungfuls of air into her body. She glanced towards Miraveh. "I had heard magic took its toll, but I never expected it to strain me so. You will see, when your connection to the magic makes itself known."

"Me? Are you mad?" Kayrian stirred in her arms and Miraveh lowered her voice. "I don't have any connection to magic. I couldn't."

"Miraveh, do you think I allowed you to accompany us in search of the Shards for nothing?" Yusuvur gave a coughing laugh and shook her head. "I felt your potential for magic the first moment we met. A Witch can tell, even when she cannot connect with magic itself. And you have great potential, should you choose to learn."

Miraveh couldn't accept that. She felt nothing, nothing at all that she could even consider to be magic. She didn't feel special, or powerful, or anything. Kay, however, had always shown his strength. As soon as Yusuvur had appeared in the village, finding Kay and pronouncing him this generation's Seeker, Miraveh knew it was true. Though she never let Kay know that.

She had thought Yusuvur had allowed her to join the quest for the Shards for the simple reason that Kay needed her. He needed his friend and, through all the trials that followed, she had proven herself right. More than once, Kay had faltered in his task. The burden proving too great, even for one as strong as he. Miraveh had kept him grounded, argued with him when she needed to.

To think that Yusuvur had an ulterior motive for bringing Miraveh along seemed laughable. Except when it didn't. Miraveh knew well the schemes that Yusuvur weaved even for the most simple tasks. She never did anything without reason. Never. For now, Miraveh decided to ignore that particular revelation. She could prove the Witch wrong later and dangle that mistake before Yusuvur's face. Magic, indeed!

"Well, now you have magic, and Himitar knows how that works, perhaps you can use it to wake Kay?" She watched as Yusuvur regained her composure, rising to her feet once more. "Or, perhaps you can fly us back to the ship?"

"I can't wake him, he needs to do that himself. It seems, my magic doesn't affect living things." Yusuvur rolled her fingers, flexing them and allowing the green energy to crackle along them. "As for flying us out? No, I can't, not yet. Not without help, that is."

The Witch's eyes rose to the skies and Miraveh's breath caught in her throat. She now understood that the column of green light that Yusuvur had sent spiralling into the sky was not only a test of her new-found magic, but a signal, also. A signal to other Witches throughout the world that magic had returned.

Now they came, powered by magical energies in all the colours of the rainbow. They appeared from colourful, writhing portals and they all came to converge here. Hundreds of them. Hundreds of Witches from around the world, flexing their new-found magical powers. Men, women, children, all come to this place where a great battle was fought to bring magic back to the world and keep the God of Despair imprisoned.

And Miraveh had never felt more terrified in her life.

-+-

Yusuvur ushered her to the side, tearing her hands from Kayrian, and then turned to face those new-coming Witches as they landed upon the scorched ground. Miraveh could not hear the words spoken between Yusuvur and the other Witches. So many had appeared, Miraveh found herself pushed further and further away from her best friend.

She could hear voices raised, arguments and shouting, but she couldn't hear what they said or who said it. She tried pushing her way back to the centre, and the tomb of Alran that now sat there, but there were too many Witches, now, and not a one gave her the slightest notice, nor made way for her.

After long moments, Yusuvur made her way back to Miraveh, pushing her fellow Witches out of the way, a scowl darkening her face. It would seem she had not got her way. Yusuvur always wore that same scowl when things did not go according to her exacting plans. As she reached Miraveh, Yusuvur grabbed her hand, nails digging into her skin.

"What's happening? I have to get back to Kay." As soon as she said it, she saw several Witches begin to conjure portals, their colourful magics holding Kayrian's form between them. "Where are they taking him? Tell me!"

"I managed to persuade them to take him to the island of Him-na-Sul. The island of the Pillar of Grace." The island Yusuvur mentioned lay to the north. One of three islands, each dedicated to one of the gods. Each holding the Pillar for that god. "Himitar will not allow anything to happen upon their island. He is as safe there as anywhere. Come. This may feel strange."

Before Miraveh could complain or ask any more questions, she found herself gripped by Yusuvur's hand. Tendrils of Yusuvur's green magic encircled her and she knew that that magic was what now held her. From memory, she could imagine the tips of the mountains that hugged the edge of every inch of the island's coastline and then, higher, she could envision the three islands.

Xir-na-Sul lay to the west, Pai-na-Sul to the east and, to the north, where Yusuvur now transported them, lay Him-na-Sul. Upon these islands were the Pillars, the great and ancient priests that gave their very beings to keep the world in balance, free from overwhelming chaos, order that bound people too tight, or grace that could lead people to lethargy.

Their powers had waned over the centuries, to the point where Xirasir could reach out their hand and manipulate the world. The entire point of Kayrian battling Xirasir, defeating the god's mortal form and releasing magic back into the world, was to return power to those age-old priests. To allow them to keep the balance between the three gods that threatened to destroy the world, should one or another of the gods become more dominant than the others.

Ruminating over these stories, she had heard a hundred times from Yusuvur if she had heard them once, proved the only way that Miraveh could accept the fact that Yusuvur moved her across the land, in an instant, by the power of magic. If she thought too much about it, she didn't doubt she would vomit all over Yusuvur and she had no wish of suffering the Witch's wrath.

It took her long moments to realise they had reappeared from the dizzying portal once more and Miraveh could almost kiss the flagstones of the courtyard where they had come to rest. She recognised this place, having stopped here in the last days of their quest. Him-na-Sul had provided sanctuary then and, it seemed, it provided it now.

Miraveh hadn't even noticed that the Sun had begun to rise. Strange to think that at this time the day before, they were clambering down stark, steep cliffs, heading towards the verdant forest. A forest that no longer existed. She looked back towards that unnamed island, and its mountains and felt a great sadness that they had left Alran's body there.

"Do you think ..." The question fell away as Miraveh realised that Yusuvur had left her alone in the courtyard. She had done that far too many times over the years. "That damned Witch and her disappearances! I've a good mind to ..."

"This way, miss." A young man had appeared, as though from thin air, or, more likely, from the doorway to the Tower of the Pillar. He seemed pleasant enough and Miraveh could swear she had seen him on the island among all the other Witches. "He is awake."

The young man meant Kayrian! Almost too excited, Miraveh urged the man to lead her onwards and soon they came to a set of curling stairs that followed the internal wall of the tower. They must have placed Kay at the very top, in pride of place for such a hero. Lifting the skirts of her dress, wishing she had worn her armour, Miraveh took the stairs two at a time.

What she found at the top of the stairs left her quite disappointed. Instead of finding Kay at the top of the tower, she found, instead, the oldest person she had ever seen. Far older than anyone Miraveh could ever hope to meet. Unable to tell if the person were man or woman, Miraveh circled the bed upon which the desiccated figure lay. The Pillar of Himitar. The person's eyes, however, still looked youthful and bright as they watched Miraveh.

"We did not meet when last you were here, which I find a pity. I do so love to talk with those of great potential." There was that word again, spoken by Yusuvur before. Miraveh shivered at the word and she couldn't say why. "Your young friend performed admirably and, before you ask, he is safe. My people will take good care of him."

"I get the feeling that you want something of me." She found it difficult to look at the person, the Pillar of Himitar. Instead, she turned her eyes to the archways that ringed the room, looking out from the top of the tower. "I thought we were done. With Xirasir defeated ..."

"Defeated? Hardly!" A hissing sound emanated from the corpse-like figure and Miraveh realised the Pillar had laughed. "An avatar of the God of Despair was brought to ruin, a vessel for their malevolence, nothing more. Xirasir can no more be defeated than one could stop the world from turning."

Again Miraveh shivered. Not from the winds that whistled through the room through those archways at this height, but from a feeling of foreboding. The Pillar talked as though the battle were nothing, but she had witnessed it herself. She had never seen such devastation, such an outpouring of pure power. If Kayrian had only defeated a shadow of the God of Despair, she could not begin to imagine the god's true power.

"Then what was the point of it all? The search for the Shards of Mirrorwood. All those deaths." She tried to put aside her memories of all those that had suffered along the way. Those who had fought bravely and died to ensure Kayrian found the Shards. "Was it all for nothing?"

"Never! Had the vessel left that island, he would have ravaged the entirety of Dred-al! Millions would have died. No, it was not all for nothing." The Pillar raised a hand, skin flaking from the emaciated flesh, and the tendrils of magic began to curl about it. Tendrils of several colours. "Magic has returned to the world. Without it, we could not hope to endure what is to come and it has given us precious time to prepare. Even now, creatures of magic stir from their ages-old slumber. Dragons flex their wings. Drumbeats begin to pound, deep within the world. Magic brings great hope, but also great dangers."

"Endure what is to come? Then it isn't over." Miraveh wondered whether Yusuvur knew this. Or whether even she had thought Kayrian's battle would bring an end to the darkness. "What is coming? What purpose does the return of magic bring?"

"We are dying." Those painfully thin fingers twitched and the many-coloured magical tendrils swirled and twisted until they drew a picture in the air above the Pillar. A picture of four islands and three towers. "The Pillars were already dying, but the return of magic has given us the strength to last a little longer. Long enough to find new Pillars to take our places and to continue the balance between the gods. Between us, we hold the gods at bay, imprisoned as it were, outside the mortal realm. Should our strength fail before our replacements are found, nothing could withstand the coming of the gods. Nothing."

The magical picture flickered and then unravelled, the magic tendrils receding and then disappearing. Miraveh stared at the space above the shrivelled Pillar that had held the picture and she turned the Pillar's words around in her mind. When understanding dawned upon her, she, again, felt the urge to vomit. She had thought the entire endeavour over, but, it seemed, the tribulations of the world sought to keep their claws in her and Kay.

"Oh! No. No! I won't do it!" She turned to head back towards the stairs. There to find Kay, wherever they had hidden him, and to return home, back to Donsa village. Back to her life. "We've been doing this for years! You can't expect me and Kay to do any more. Have we not given enough? No. Find someone else to do your dirty work."

"You are not the only one that has the potential to find new Pillars, but you are among the strongest I have met. With training, the power that lies dormant within you can ..." The voice of the Pillar of Himitar faded as Miraveh began to run down the stairs. She almost tripped over the skirts of her dress, but she could not stop running, even as that voice followed her. "You cannot deny your destiny, Miraveh Arachild. You will find the successors. You will!"

At the bottom of the stairs, she pushed the young man, that had led her up the tower, out of the way. If she had to tear this tower down to its foundations to find Kay, she would, and then they would both leave this island. She would find Kay and they would return home together, as they had promised they would the night they had first rode horses out into the night. Yusuvur had said it was Kayrian's destiny, back then, and it had only brought pain and hardship following that destiny. Miraveh was not about to go through that again.