Chapter 12

Uriel stood in front of the window in his room, recalling the same event from a previous life. He relived the losses of his loved ones once again and then thought of his own death. "If only it would happen again," he said to himself softly. Though he realized that death, or any other means of escapism, would not solve his problems, still the thought persisted. He had accomplished little, if anything, since he had been sent here. Actually I've probably made matters worse, he thought. The oppression of his dark feelings fell upon him again and tormented him. As his anger welled up he looked for an outlet. He grabbed a book, ready to throw it against the wall, when he realized it was one of the books Arhyvhynne had given him. The thought of her calmed him and he wished he could see her and share their grief. Just then the door opened and Uriel turned to see Arhyvhynne walk in.

"Arhy, I was just—what's wrong?" Arhyvhynne sat herself on Uriel's bed, folded her hands in her lap and did not respond. She looked so very young and frail it tore Uriel's already bleeding heart. He moved to her, crouched down in front of her and asked if she was all right.

"I cannot believe they expect me to do this. My mother has just died—been murdered—and they put this upon me."

"Who put what upon you?"

"The Council," Arhyvhynne said. "They expect me to be the white robe candidate for High Witch."

The thought staggered Uriel. It had not occurred to him that there would be a successor to Khyrhyelle. "How is the High Witch chosen?"

Arhyvhynne sighed. "There are two candidates, one from the white robes and one from the black. They must be existing Council members."

Uriel interrupted. "Excuse me, who's the black robe candidate?"