The Spark That Ignites the Dawn

Prologue

A/N: Welcome to the new, rewritten "Swan Song", renamed: The Spark that Ignites the Dawn. If you've read the old version, thank you. What you'll find is familiar characters with different stories in this rewrite. Fenella is now Marya. Odette is Vasilisa. And the Erlking is Koschei. I hope you enjoy. ~L

Afterwards, people would speculate whether the Fort was prepared for the attack.

Smoke unfurled from the stables, set ablaze in a skirmish, and what was left of the building curled into black soot. The screams of the horses were uncharacteristically human, filling the compendium of chaos with a sound so strong it rattled teeth to those that listened. From high atop the battlements, the scene below appeared surreal, lost within a dream, like the happy slumber that had, without warning, been ripped into nightmare and brutality. Doll-like figures fled left and right, trying to escape into the forest surrounding them, and finding only further doom. The creatures creeping between the branches, their gait uneven, their limbs skeletal, were the fabric of children's tales. The Leshii were spirits of the forest, thought to be peaceful until their dominion threatened, and rare. Anyone telling tales of a Leshii nowadays were often three cups of vodka deep, and one cup away from snoring on the table. And here, now, was not one Leshii, but what appeared to be hundreds.

The screaming of the horses bit deep into the night once more, and the Leshii roared in pain and anguish. They lurched, emerging from the trees, and met with a wall of flames.

The Fort was filled with koldun and koldunya: the most powerful mages in the kingdom.

The ambassador folded his arms into his sleeves, no longer fighting the cold that had plagued him since coming to this far into the damned north. His jaw chattered with a new feeling entirely, one that had arisen as soon as that stable had gone on fire, and the attacks had begun.

Fear.

Fear ran through him, icy and hot, churning his stomach. Around him, archers with spelled arrows took aim, fired, groaned. The Leshii staggered with the hits, but kept moving.

The building beside the stables went up in flame, a burning pyre of destruction praying to the sky. The ambassador's hands shook.

Was this my fault? The thought came to him, unbidden, and stuck. Again, the archers fired, and to no avail: the Leshii had now reached the gates, and were pushing hard against them, the hinges cracking under the strain. The men and women around the ambassador saw the Leshii advancing, and began to mutter and cry out and back away. Raised voices raised higher and higher, and all hope was just about lost, when a door slammed, and silence descended.

The woman that came into view was roughly six feet tall, with sweeping red hair and the mark of her clan, the Ermine, in three dark slashes across her cheek. Broad cheekbones framed bright and calculating eyes of steel, and below them sat lips that pursed in synchronisation with her disapproval. Her robes were golden, high necked, and appeared much more impractical than they were. The ambassador had learned this the hard way; he had remarked on the same woman's attire only last week in the attempt at striking up a friendly conversation. His mark had sailed far from the bullseye, reaching a man who turned out to be the woman's brother, who had given him the most withering look he'd ever received.

'Good to meet you, Ambassador Alber,' the man remarked, a dry biting note in his voice. 'It would please you to understand that her cloak, though extravagant, is reinforced with the strongest magic of the Fort. My name is Aloysius. The woman you carelessly speak of is Tatiana, my sister, and the most powerful koldunya the fort has ever seen.'

If Aloysius had ever mentioned the incident to Tatiana, his sister, she did not react now, seeing Alber huddled by the sconce, where he'd thought to seek warmth. Her gaze was focused entirely on the scene unfolding below.