Chapter One: A New Dawn Part one: Sonya

       The sun filtered through the course curtains, barely touching the sparse furnishings of the tiny room.  It was really more of a cell, but its inhabitant called it home.  A simple wood desk lay against one wall with a stubby candle mounted in its own wax on the edge.  A well used chair sat under the desk and looked as though it would collapse at its next use.  A bed on the opposite wall with barely enough room for the chair between it and the desk held a form under worn blankets with only a fan of golden hair covering a flattened pillow visible.  A bird began its morning song outside the window and the form stirred then sat up.
        Even with sleep still in her eyes, she could only be called beautiful.  Long tresses of golden hair fell down her back and over a shapely shoulder.  Her shift  was simple and revealed little, but still managed to show a young woman just entering maturity.  As she stretched, she opened her eyes and opened the curtains.  The light only further enhanced the gold in her hair.  Her bright blue eyes looked out onto the ancient oak tree from which the birdsong greeted her.  Her lips parted revealing her glistening teeth in a smile as she greeted the day.  Her pert nose lifted slightly as she inhaled the fragrance of the rose garden below.
         "Morning, Daughter," Came a deep voice from below, "Sleeping in again, I see.  It is nearly time to break your fast, and you have chores that yet need doing."
        Looking down, she saw her father crossing the garden below.  "Yes, Father," she called in a musical voice.  Ducking back into the room, she quickly dressed.  Her dress was a simple brown dress, yet it was of a high quality wool.  A plain lace edging gave it an elegant appearance and lent a certain dignity to it.  She quickly brushed and braided her hair and donned her slippers.
         As she stepped out of her room, she nearly collided with a plump woman with a round face framed in graying hair cut into a simple bob.  "I beg your pardon, Mistress Sametha.  I am sorry to have kept you," she said with honest reverence as she curtsied deeply.
         "Nonsense, Arranna," she replied kindly, "you are simply beginning your day, you have kept me from nothing.  But I must ask, why do you insist on sleeping in the initiates quarters instead of in your father's apartments?  Do you rebel against him? Is he treating you harshly?"
           "No, Mistress," Arranna answered hurriedly and embarrassment, "why should I be treated different from the other initiates?  I am no better.  Why should I sleep in a comfortable room with my parents when the other initiates sleep here, away from their families?  Though I see my father daily, I feel for my fellows.  I cannot help but hear the newest crying themselves to sleep for the heartache of missing their families.  I would offer them what I have would it help, but I am merely accused of being spiteful.  I wish only to ease their pain.  So is it wrong that I choose to sleep here with my piers and attempt some form of compassion through some form of shared, though lesser, pain?"
         Sametha sighed and shook her head, "you surely are a wonder," she said under her breath.  "No it is not wrong, not now at least.  Go to your father, he has news for you.  Be quick, or I will give you an infraction for delaying in obedience."
         Sametha watched as Arranna dashed around the corner and out of sight.  These past 16 years had been interesting to say the least.  Arranna, or Sonya as she preferred to be called, was the model child of a priest, despite not being born within the temple walls.  She had grown, surrounded by the hustle and bustle that was the temple.  Her adoptive father, Shendar Argus Clenfell, had married her adoptive mother, Claras, when she was 2.  Unfortunately, Claras had died in child birth a mere 2 years later, leaving Argus a widower with a young daughter.  Even when Sonya discovered the truth of her adoption at 8, she had simply hugged her father and showed her love for him that much more.  In reality, she had become the daughter of all of the priests and priestesses in the temple.  She had even softened Sametha.  Sonya seemed to take it as an affront when someone didn't like her, and set out to friend even her enemies.
           She rarely got into trouble and when she did upset someone, it was usually because she argued with her instructors.  The down side was that she was usually right.  As soon as she could read, she had the tomes of the library with her at all times.  She was blessed with a voracious appetite for knowledge and an uncanny ability to recognize passages as important that were often overlooked by those much her senior.  Sonya was also honest to a fault.  No one that Sametha knew had ever caught Sonya in a lie.  As far as she knew, Sonya didn't know how to tell one.  She could dance around the truth with the best of the nobility when she wanted to, but she rarely did.  Even when one of her pranks had nearly got her expelled, she admitted it readily.  That alone shows she was not perfect. 
          Sonya had a devious side to her.  With astonishingly regularity, she pulled pranks.  They were always well thought out and executed.  It had taken months to figure out who the prankster was after her first prank, mainly because it took that long to finally ask her if she had done it.  It had been simple but devious.  Sametha had returned to her quarters one night to discover that her furniture had been nailed to the walls.  It had taken three hours for the carpenters to pry it off so she could go to sleep.  It was then that she discovered that even the sheets had been pinned to the bed to ensure they stayed in place.  It wasn't until the next morning that she discovered that even her clothes in the drawers of her dresser had been pinned in place.  That had been the simplest of her pranks.  But that was Sonya, honest, strong, courteous, and devious, a strange mix.

Prolog: The begining.

         A cool breeze ruffled the dark and stained curtains of Aemelins bed chamber.  The floral patterns had long faded from them, but it was still obvious that they had once been beautiful and opulent.  The marble floor contrasted sharply as the sheen from them reflected the flickering light of the candle in the corner.  Though worn, it was clear the marble was of the highest quality.  Even the bed  and desk, though worn with age, were grand and quietly rich in their design.  At the desk Aemelins bent over her tomes as she reviewed the previous days work.  She slept little of late and woke early.  Often she found herself awake hours before even the servants.  She wore her ninety years (all that she would acknowledge) well.  She walked without the stoop common of old age and her voice was as strong as always.  It was all a facade though.  Only her will and strength of mind kept her from falling over and embracing the sweetness that was eternal rest.  Her aches grew daily and she longed for the day she could join her beloved Georm, but it was not yet to be.
        Knuckling her back, she rose slowly and headed to the door.  She was sure the kitchens would have something for her.  She could see the sun starting to peek over the Angreth Mountains in the east, surely the kitchen staff were up.  As she made her way through the halls, the bell from the beggars gate rang loudly, surprising her.  She turned toward it and met young Argus Clenfell coming from the gate carrying a blanket covered basket.  Argus had been one of the stronger priests in his class.  He was first to be named Shendar Corven as well as the biggest.  Although he towered over nearly everyone in the temple, he was also known to be the kindest amongst the men.  His broad shoulders and square jaws made him the talk in the women's quarters, especially since it was known that he was shy around women.
        "Well met, my son," she greeted him with a smile, "what have you?  A gift from the village?"
        "Greetings, Mistress," he replied formally, "a gift, of a sort, if it please you, a child was left."  He pulled back the blanket to reveal a golden haired infant.  "She can't be more than a week old, Mistress.  No note nor name acoompany her.  I was about to take her to the nursery to be tended."
        Aemelins eyes opened wide.  She stood and stared at nothing as a strange light entered her eyes.  Her voice suddenly became strong and deep, "she shall be called Arranna and she shall be the hope for many."
        Aemelins collapsed in a heap at Argus's feet.  Argus knelt beside her setting the basket beside him, "Mistress!"  His voice was threaded with worry.
        "Care for her, Argus," Aemelins soft voice carried to him, "raise her as your own.  She is the one.  I go to my Georm now.  Be at peace."
         It was a full minute before Argus realized the hand he held had no life in it.  He cried out for help and the baby woke with a cry.  Soon the hall became crowded with other priests and servants to find Argus gently rocking a baby with a tear streaked face beside the body of the Mistress of the Temple of Arrion.
        "What has happened here, Shendar Clenfel?"  demanded Sametha Runegold, Second Mistress.   As soft and caring as Aemelins had been, Sametha was grating and harsh.  She now glowered over Argus.
         "The Mistress of the Temple is dead, Mistress," came his soft reply, "She died blessing this child and giving her to my care.  I accept what she gave me and will fulfill my duty."
         Sametha knelt beside Argus and laid a hand softly on his shoulder.  "Be at peace, my son," she said gently, "What name is the child blessed with?"
         "Arranna, Mistress," He stated flatly, "Mistress Aemleins named her Arranna, I shall call her Sonya."
         Sametha stood, "Arranna Sonya Clenfel, it is," she said softly.  Turning to the servants she selected six men and in a gentle voice said, "Take the Mistress's body to her chambers and lay her on her bed."
        As the body was lifted, Sametha stood and folded her hands in front of her.  Somberly, she addressed the gathered crowd, "The Mistress is dead.  Let the great bell ring as is required and gather the enclave.  We are in mourning as the Mistress is dead."  She then nodded to a young priestess nearby.  The girl dashed off to ring the great bell and inform the rest of the Temple.
       "Claras tend to Argus and the child.  He will need help in raising her."
       "Yes, Mistress," came the reply from a young priestess. 
       Some might have called her pretty, her nearly crimson hair falling in curls framing an oval face.  It was rumored that Claras was nobly born, but of all the initiates her age, she was also one of the most caring.  Raised to priestess mere weeks ago, she was also one of the most junior.  She gently took the infant from Argus and helped him to his feet. 
       "Come, we will go to the nursery so we can take care of the child."