It was late in the summer, that time of year when the sun was bright and yet the air was cool. Seven-year-old Daimira's mother was at the temple in Kalborne, shut up in a meeting with the High Priestess and an important visitor, leaving her free to explore and enjoy the golden afternoon. Even at such a young age, such freedom to her was rare.

The forest of Kalborne was dense and vast. Interspersed among the enormous trees were little pools of clear water, brooks that sprang from little cracks and crevices, and many small streams just deep enough to wade in. There were also clearings - precious little gems tucked away in secret places and filled with wildflowers and butterflies of every colour. For Daimira, who had grown up there, in the most beautiful place in the world, it was easy to take them all for granted - though she would later realize that living in Kalborne had been very much like living in a dream.

But on that day when she was still very much an innocent child, she went to her favourite clearing and, to her delight, found that a hatch of bright blue butterflies had emerged. She was enjoying herself very much, running up and down through the tall grass and pink wildflowers, trying - but of course failing - to catch one of them. That was how, giggling and breathless, she met with her accident.

The thick grass in the clearing was about knee-high, and her eyes were focused on the butterflies above. She did not see the large rock in her way.

She stubbed her toe on it, slipped over its jagged top, and landed unceremoniously in a heap after rolling once. There was a loud snap and pain suddenly shot up her left leg.

Fighting down her tears, she sat up and found the length of her right shin scraped and bloody. Her left ankle looked horribly twisted and long scratches ran down the lengths of both her arms.

She couldn't help it. She was, after all, only a child. She cried. She cried and cried. It might have gone on for an hour - that was how much she was feeling sorry for herself. It felt that long, though in truth, she had only been crying for a few minutes when she felt a presence in the clearing. She looked up and rubbed her eyes to clear her vision, though of course, more tears just came along. She blinked several times until her tears finally stopped.

A boy, perhaps only a few years older than she, was walking into the clearing, preceded by butterflies, and she could see some even quietly resting on the front of his shirt. His dark hair fell over his forehead, but it was cut short in the back. His eyes were as bright a blue as the butterflies. She wiped her tears on her sleeve as he stopped and knelt in front of her.

"Oh, you've hurt yourself," he realized, as if he'd thought that she'd just been crying for the fun of it. She gawked at him. Males in the temple were rare. Most of the ones she saw were petitioners, guards, and soldiers. The male children of the other Priestesses were sent to other orders at a certain age and were seldom seen again. The Priestesses' husbands and guardians lived outside the temple compound but were there during the daytime. she had almost never seen males of his age.

He sat down in front of her. "My name is Lake."

"I'm Daimira - no! Why'd you do that?" she yelled, for he had torn off a small part from the hem of her dress.

"We need to wipe the blood away, Daimira. So I can see how you're hurt." He smiled. "You have a nice name."

She watched him gently dab at the gash on her knee. "My ankle hurts," she told him.

"I can tell. Are you lost?"

"No."

"Then do you know if there's a stream nearby?"

She nodded.

He turned on his knees so his back was to her, and sat back on his heels. "Get on my back. You can't walk so I'll carry you. Then tell me which way to go to the stream."

From the way he spoke to her, she realized he thought she was much younger, because of her small size. He sounded so nice and kind. Tears filled her eyes again.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Just for a little while longer, Daimira, and then I promise I'll take the pain away. Come on. You look like you're a brave girl."

She nodded and put her arms around his neck and he stood up. She buried her face in his back. He smelled nice.

"All right. Which way?"

She gave him careful directions, which he never questioned, and soon they were sitting on the bank of a stream; the sound of water tripping over the stones in the background was somewhat soothing. She helped him wash the blood from her arms and shins. When that was done, he took hold of her left foot and her left ankle.

He hesitated for a moment, his kind blue eyes slightly worried. "Daimira, this is going to hurt a bit but I have to do it so your foot will be better. Do you understand?"

She nodded bravely and he yanked her foot and twisted.

She yelled.

"Ssh," he hushed her in a gentle voice. "It's better now, see? It's all right. And look! Your scratches are all gone. Good as new."

She clamped her mouth shut and looked. There were no scratches on her. The big, ugly scrape was healed. She wiggled her left foot. There was no pain.

She knew then that he had used magic. Everyone at the temple used magic, and so she thought little of it, not realizing that nobody else could have healed her so quickly, without any difficulty, and without taking in any of her pain. She merely smiled and thanked him politely. She started to put her shoes back on as he went to sit down beside her, leaning back on his palms, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"Seven."

"Oh. I thought you were younger."

"My mother says I look very young."

His lips twitched. "I thought you were only five years old." He looked up at the patches of sky he could see through the thick canopy, shadows dancing on his face. Somehow, with him, she felt very safe. It was strange for her to feel that way, after knowing him only a few minutes. But that afternoon, those few minutes felt like forever.

"I suppose I should escort you home," he said a moment later. "Do you know which way to go to get to your house?"

She looked around and pointed to her right.

"Near the Temple?"

"I live in the temple."

He looked startled. "Oh. I see." He sounded vaguely disappointed, but she hardly noticed.

"I'm going to be a Priestess."

He smiled a strangely sad smile. "Yes. You'll probably be named High Priestess."

"No...That would be Kasha. Everybody thinks she's wonderful."

"And you don't?"

"Well...she's very clever..." she said vaguely, not wanting to tell him of Kasha's incessant teasing of her and the younger novices.

He reached over and touched her hair. "You'll definitely be named High Priestess." He looked around and got to his feet. He held a hand out to her. "Come on. We'd better go back to the temple."

She took his hand and they walked back slowly. She didn't even have to lead him because it seemed he knew the way.

They finally reached the vast, wide vale that was the capital of Kalborne and paused to gaze upon it. The treeless clearing below them was dotted here and there by cottages and fields, where people moved and tilled the soil like tiny ants. In the middle of it all, gleaming with white marble splendor, was the main Temple to the Goddess Kellan, home of the most powerful woman on the western continent: the High Priestess of Kellan.

"What will the High Priestess say when she sees you all muddy?" he asked once they had reached the foot of the Temple.

"Nothing. But my mother will not be happy."

He smiled again. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble." He reached over and straightened her collar. "There. Much better."

She frowned and looked down. She gasped in astonishment to see her dress restored - clean, and whole. "It's even better than when I put it on!" Then she smiled and hugged him around the waist happily.

He only laughed.

"Daimira," a voice called and she pulled away from him.

"Mother!"

A Priestess smiled at the two of them. She looked a lot like Daimira, though her hair was dark. Daimira turned to introduce Lake but he was already in the middle of a bow.

"Holy Priestess," he murmured.

Daimira's mother smiled at him. "Your carriage is being sent around. The meeting with the High Priestess is over."

Daimira saw a figure coming out of the temple just then, and her eyes grew wide as she saw the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She had long, curly black hair, and her eyes were an astonishing violet. She moved down the steps gracefully.

"Mother," Lake greeted her quietly. Behind him, a carriage appeared, coming around from the left path.

His mother paused and looked at Daimira, who drew timidly behind Lake. She smiled and Daimira felt slightly less afraid. "Hello, child. Lake and I must go now. Would you mind letting go his hand?"

Daimira turned red and quickly moved away. "Will you come back?" she asked him, suddenly shy.

He half-turned and smiled. "We'll see each other again, Daimira. Goodbye."

The way he said it, it sounded like a prophecy.

Lake stared quietly out of the carriage as it began to roll away. Daimira waved at him enthusiastically from the top of the temple steps while she held her mother's hand. He sighed, touched his forehead, and looked down.

"Is something wrong, Lake?" his mother asked him from the seat across his. She was watching him with some concern.

"I'm all right, Mother," he answered.

She stared at him. "What did you see?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now. Please."

She looked out the window. The Temple had grown small in the distance. "Did you spend the afternoon with the child? The High Priestess has high hopes for that one."

"She's just a child, Mother."

"A beautiful one. I hope whatever new vision you had that you won't tell me didn't involve her."

He glanced at her but said nothing. Whether he spoke of it or not, though, he knew the vision would not change. Whether he spoke of it or not, though, he knew the vision would not change. Daimira's future had already been sealed.