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   Chapter 189 No.189

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 4633

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:03

White Feather drew his hand back, and the vision faded. Amaia opened her eyes.

'That's absurd' Amaia scoffed at the dramatic depiction he had shown her. 'There's no way that story could possibly be true. Armies of Weather Makers? Please. Our histories would have recorded such an event.'

White Feather smiled, humouring her with his silence.

'I think' Amaia began, 'that whether or not Weather Makers were created, they exist to bring peace, not to create war.'

'I suppose you must be right' White Feather submitted. 'In any case' he went on changing the subject. 'You said you would show me yours, once I showed you mine. I let you touch my wings, now you show me your magic.'

And so, for the second time, he prompted her, encouraging her to release her magic. And for the second time, she complied.

Amaia knelt on the ground, placing her hands splayed upon the earth, and from her fingertips, a frost began to spread. Covering the entire ground around where they sat and growing up the trees, to the very tips of each branch and to every leaf. Even the air around them began to grow cold, and as White Feather exhaled deeply, his breath came out as a fog.

Amaia looked up at him, drawing her hands back to her. The air gradually began to warm again, and the frost very slowly began to melt away.

White Feather smiled at her tenderly.

'I want you to know' he said, 'that I will always be here for you. If there is need of me, if there is danger, I will be by your side, to help you in any way I can……always.'

Amaia stared at him hard, feeling warmth in her heart.

'I know' she breathed. 'If there is anyone in this world I can trust the most, it is you.'

'No! Please don't hurt her again!'

The fairy pulled in vain at the chains that bound him, calling desperately. He watched as his Weather Maker was tortured, and killed, over and over again, and was utterly helpless to stop it.

Once again, the Weather Maker died, her body collapsed and broken on the floor. The king watched as her spirit lifted out of her body, rising up towards the ceiling of the large dark hall. And once again, as it had done the times before, the spirit dropped down, returning to the ground. The magical barrier placed upon the room, had once again not failed the king, the magical barrier that

had been created by those strange figures in crows masks.

The spirit drew closer to the ground, and the dead body of the Weather Maker faded away, as the spirit created another. The king waited, and many minutes later, the Weather Maker opened her eyes again, this time in a new and undamaged body.

The fairy, her loyal friend lifted his head as she sat gingerly up, her hair was dark and grey like the stone of the hall she lay in, as were her eyes.

'Where am I?' she asked. The trauma she had suffered earlier, the great pain and distress she had endured, had been totally forgotten to her, and she was once again lost.

Her eyes drifted past the king and his soldier who stood nearby, and towards the being whose name she had forgotten, the fairy, which at this time looked like a normal man.

'Why is he chained up?' she asked, looking to the king. 'And who are you?'

The king knelt very slowly, coming down to her level.

'This is your last life' he told her. 'Do you see that woman there?'

The Weather Maker turned, seeing at the very far end of the hall a great stone slab draped in thick and soft fabric, upon which lay a woman, who was utterly motionless. It looked almost as if she were dead, if it were not for the light colour in her cheeks; the Weather Maker would have believed that the woman had already passed.

'Who is that?' she asked. 'Is she alright?'

'She has been in a deep sleep for a long time now' the king replied calmly. 'I want you to wake her.'

'Me?' she glanced back towards the woman. Her hair was unnaturally bright, and grew as long as her body. Her nails also were very long. 'I wouldn't know how to wake her' the Weather Maker said. 'I don't even know what's wrong with her.'

The king made an indication to the silent soldier beside him. The soldier stepped forward and took her hand, lifting a metal device that looked like a small square box.

'What are you doing?' the Weather Maker asked in alarm, suddenly beginning to panic.

'You will make her better, or I will make you suffer' the king said behind the soldier.

The soldier forced her hand inside the box, turning a peg on the outside of the contraption, and the Weather Maker's hand inside the box was trapped. She was unable to help herself as the bones in her hand were crushed.

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