Hellen Meggenwar, eldest of Islagray, awoke to the clanging of bells.
She sat up, gasping for air. She had been running from a booming, metallic voice that made her insides liquid with terror. It was glorious to find she was safe in her own room, the familiar bed beneath her old back. The watchtower bell tolled. A nightmare, nothing more than that.
Except, she knew, that was no more than a comforting lie. The time was coming. Strange how, despite the long years of planning, she felt so unprepared.
From outside came the clatter of running footsteps, voices calling, as the others headed for the shore. She sighed and touched the star-shaped lamp that hung by a silver chain from the oak beam above her bed. She worked the simple magic to bring it to life. The gentle tug, a pinch within her s
