Cerai’lin was aware of the rocking motion of her body long before she registered where she was. As she became more aware and fully conscious, she realized she was laying down in what appeared to be a large wagon. For a moment, her eyes flickered purple as she fought the jumble of thoughts in her head to clear her mind. Where was she, and why did she feel so empty? Then the reality of her situation flooded back to her in a blur of memories, and she squeezed her eyes shut. If only it could have been a dream.

Cerai heard a shout from outside the wagon, and soon it began to slow to a stop. She could hear murmurings coming from the area near the front of the wagon, and Cerai assumed it was the driver soothing his horses. Slowly, Cerai pushed herself up into a sitting position, groaning quietly with the effort. She scanned the dimness within the wagon’s interior, narrowing her eyes to try and better pierce the gloom. She seemed to be lying among blankets and bundles of other goods, but she was not uncomfortable. Anything is better than the horse, Cerai’lin thought to herself as she pushed at some of the closer packages.

While she was studying her surroundings, Cerai heard a familiar voice. It was her captor, the hunter Keharn. She hissed softly, her eyes once more becoming amber slits as she shrank back among the blankets, listening to the driver of the wagon and Keharn converse, though she could not hear them clearly, nor would it have mattered, for she would have been unable to understand them. The voices drifted along the side of the wagon towards the back, and Cerai moved her head, following the sound of them. Suddenly, the back flap was lifted, and Cerai once more found herself faced with the man who had stolen her freedom.

“She doesn’t look any better,” Keharn said, his steel blue eyes never leaving her flashing yellow ones. “You said you were going to have her cleaned up.”

“Y-y-yes, mi’lord, I-I-I know that’s w-what I said.” The man stammered, his hands fidgeting and wringing what looked to be a hat. “a-a-and I will! It’s j-just I w-was going t-t-to let my wife and d-daughter take c-c-care of her…if that’s o-o-okay?”

He was thin and ragged, unkept and dirty. It was obvious that Keharn made the man nervous. Cerai’lin made a face, pulling back further among the blankets in the wagon. Keharn frowned, turning his gaze to the man fully. It was clear by the expression of distaste on his face that he liked the man no more than Cerai.

“We have only a fortnight left before arriving in Delminth. I want her cleaned up and bandaged properly before then.” Keharn eyed the man before him, looking suddenly very vicious, “Or you will not get paid. Is this understood?”

Cerai listened as Keharn spoke. Though she did not understand his words, the rich baritone of his voice seemed so pleasant to her, especially when compared to that of the stammering driver, whose voice was gruff.

“O-o-of course, mi’l-l-lord. She w-will be ready f-f-for the auction.”

“Nay, I want her ready before then. I wish for her to be seen by certain individuals beforehand, and she must be prepared.”

“B-b-but…”

“No, no ‘buts’. You will have her cleaned up in three days time.” Keharn’s voice was commanding, and it would allow for no rebuttal. Cerai watched the hunter with sparkling, curious blue eyes. There was something about him, something she found intriguing despite the hatred she felt towards him. She stopped listening to the two converse, closing her eyes as she tried to settle down. Keharn let the back flap fall as he watched her settle back, a small smile on his lips. He ignored the driver’s incessant stammering chatter as he pleaded for more time, but Keharn would hear nothing of it. He had his plans, but first, he had to see what the creature would look like cleaned up.

She was a curiosity, she was, and he wondered about where she’d come from, what she was. If she proved to be of little real worth, to the slave auction with her, but should she prove to be a true treasure, well then, Keharn may just keep her to add to his collection of trophies and rare collectibles. Keharn suddenly laughed pleasantly to himself, dismissing the driver and his ramblings with a wave of his hand. He climbed up onto his horse, giving the other man one last look.

“Three days, no more,” was all he said before nudging his horse into a steady gallop, moving quickly away from the driver and his wagon. Three days, and again, Cerai’s life would change.

Cerai’lin heard the man laugh from within the wagon, and the gentle smile that pulled at her lips surprised her. She had not smiled in many days, and it felt good to do so again. She shifted as she lay back down carefully, groaning quietly as her tired and sore body proclaimed its dislike for the movement. She heard the sound of hoofbeats pounding along the ground, and she knew the hunter had left.

Cerai sighed softly, curling up against the blankets. Whatever fate awaited her in this land, she decided she would face it well rested and as strong as she could. Sleep gently reclaimed her, and her mind found its way along the paths of her thoughts leading to the Ancient Gate, Simok, and a life shattering instant.

The memory of the moments leading up to that instant filled her head. Cerai curled up tighter where she lay. Though weeks had passed since that afternoon, she remembered it, yes, she remembered it well.

Cerai had crumbled up the piece of paper that had issued the challenge. It was to be that night, when the yellow moon of their world was high, a time that the children often referred to as the “magic hour.” A bitter half smile had lifted the corner of her lips as the lines from one of the old nursery rhymes she recited to the children came to her.

Through the shadows around the veil

Transfixed the moonlight thin and pale

The mysteries they bend and grow

Common life it soothes and slows

Worse things than darkness creep

On steady steps within our reach

But they do travel either way

In magic hour And in the day

So stay within your comfy beds

And leave the night to elder friends.

Perhaps there were some truths to those old rhymes and the old tales afterall. Cerai had time to kill before the moon was high, so she did her best to go about her evening as usual, but she knew she had done a poor job of it. Many of her friends and a few of the teachers she was more familiar with came up to her, asking if she was okay. Cerai had only smiled faintly at them, talking politely for a few minutes before returning to her thoughts. Her eyes had remained a dull, set gray for the entire evening.

When she retired to her room, Cerai’lin changed quickly, not for bed as she normally did, but for going out into the night. She abandoned her loose and comfortable robes for a pair of fitted leather leggings of a charcoal gray color, and she donned a simple black tunic laced up the front. She pinned her long brown hair back, away from her face and out of her hands way. Cerai grabbed a black cloak before casting a spell of invisiblity with a murmur and slight gesture of her hand.

Cerai sneaked quietly through the halls, making her way towards the lesser used exits, moving swiftly through corridors, across courtyards and past the few adults who remained awake. She reached the outer wall of the university unnoticed, letting out a breath of relief she had not realized she had been holding. She glanced behind her again, taking what she did not know then would be her last look at the home she had known for so long.

The spell was dropped with another murmur from her as she pulled her clock about her, drawing the hood up. The worn, comfortable boots Cerai wore made no sound as she quickly made her way through the outer grounds leading towards the Ancient Gate. As she neared the gate, she slowed her pace, moving more cautiously, taking a better look at her surroundings. He had to be around somewhere…

The clouds that had covered the sky since earlier that evening parted, and the high moon broke through to cast its light up on the Gate. To Cerai’lin, the moonlight gave the huge stone archway a mystical look she could not before remember seeing. The feel of magic was unusually strong, and as Cerai cast about, searching with her mind for any presence while walking closer to the portal, she noticed the magic grow stronger, becoming nearly tangible. Cerai was fascinated, almost forgetting why she had come to the clearing to begin with. Never before had she felt this much power near the Ancient Gate.

Cerai’lin suddenly sensed a presence behind her, and she whirled around, the hood of her cloak falling back. She narrowed her eyes as they flashed yellow tinted with red and orange. From the shadows along the clearings edge, the dark, furred form of Simok emerged, his bulbous red eyes focused unblinking upon her. He seemed to walk straighter, his limbs more in proportion, but perhaps what surprised Cerai most as the fact that his features seemed to be shifting.

“I’m so glad you could make it tonight,” Simok’s rough, gravelly voice broke the tense silence between them as he moved closer to her and the Gate.

“You issued a Challenge,” was all she replied, her voice steady and clear. She did not need to say anything more. Cerai could sense the gathering of power, by him as well as herself. The air seethed with magic.

“Yes, I did,” he stated in return, his voice seemed to be smoother, losing its rough edge. “There are few of…our…generation who know the rules of the Challenge. I don’t have to guess to know who it is who taught you.”

“Master Omrin, of course.”

His expressionless face broke for a moment as a look of pure hatred flashed in his eyes at her mention of the master teacher’s name. Power continued to build between them as each gathered more. The clearing had grown unnaturally quiet and still, as if sensing the beginning of something different.

“His time is coming,” Simok snarled. He seemed to grow taller, and his features began to look more human. “And your time is now.”

No more words were needed; the duel had begun.