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she was crazy for believing so.
                  L ike the ancient Vlachŕa of the Lyc ãon screamed , Samanthŕa, w as seeing disturbing changes within their families. She couldn’t blame the Lycãons for distancing them selves from the other families . She would do the same if she had not taken an oath to serve all of TE ŔAH and of the Goddess as High Priestess. Turning her back would be too easy. No, it was her duty to keep her bloodlines strong . . . and as one.
                  Samanthŕa turned around and looked back toward s the storm brewing over the mountains . “ I am more concerned with what our f ather wants , ” s he admitted . He couldn’t possibly think she was behind this storm, could he?
                  And even more so than that, even s till, her dream bothered her. She was forewarned of the Storm , and that it was-- time.
                  What did it mean? Storms of power could mean many things , but this one was bringing something or ann ouncing the arrival of . . . what? This one was prophecy; s he could feel it deep inside .
                  She forced herself to put her questions and curio sities away for now. Dĩas wanted her for something and s he had better go and find out before he sent something even more vi le th an the likes of Monéaklá to fetch her . Samanthŕa began to mist , when Dezarãe stopped her.
                  “Is there anything you would like to confess , sister?”
                  “First rule of our mother ’ s , ” Samanthŕa smiled , for she inherited her curse of mischief and curiosity from Chymeŕah herself . “ Never confess to anything before you are bluntly accused and proven guilty of it. "
                  "Oh?"
                  " This way you do not confess to the wrong thing and find yourself in even more trouble.” She forced a laugh and then made her exit in the form of mist . She never wanted her sisters to worry , so she always blew off their concern . Truth was , though , she was a little worried herself , this time .
     
     
     
     
     
    ~ Chapter 2 ~
    Dĩas’ s Cage
     
    ***
    Foolish is he, who masters the cage ,
    Gilded and clever, admired and depraved.
    Locking within the prettiest of his desires ,
    Hiding her veil, and smoldering her fires.
     
    But alas, fate will have its vengeful way,
    For s ooner or later . . . the jailor is tricked ,
    His method, far too repetitive.
    And the lock will get picked.
     
    So f oolish is he, tear on weak knee ,
    Throwing a crumb or two on the floor.
    For the c age doth fall, none heeds his call.
    The whip is snapped forever more.
     
    Hark! T he horizon she seeks, so did one speak ,
    o f the beauty who is free and now runs.
    No turning back, the past is black.
    And t he phoenix do th fly toward the sun.
     
    ***
                  “ I t’s about time .” Dĩas Lampiŕ growled impatiently from his throne , as Samanthŕa materialized before him. The area filled with her signature scent -- sweet and exotic smell of jasmine and winter rose --once h er body took shape.
                  All the while, Dĩas awaited her arrival, without patience, inside t he Great Hall , a very large space lit by hundreds of candles burning on black iron candelabras. Normally , they would have dimmed the room with large crystals , but the power of her father’s throne drained them all too quickly.
                  His throne was large and embedded on a high pedestal at the farthe st end . A black seamless pathway along the floor led to it , wh er e fires burned in huge stone pits all the way down the center. The room itself seemed to lack walls; they faded into distant blackness while the ceiling opened towards the sky above. The sky, Samanthŕa noticed, was still swirling above, with the impending mystery of the storm.
                  "As if I have eternity to simply wait on you ." His