Thousands of years back, the world was a far darker place.  Man believed that they owned and controlled it, but that privilege of power lay with a significantly greater force: the might of magic. 
It was the answer to almost all things; it was responsible for everything.  Many were gifted with the skill to wield its power and strength for themselves, to use it for their own ends.  This ensured that that certain race of people was the most controlling and dangerous in the entire world.
One was judged on how great ones strength over this raw element was, and how much one was willing to use it. 
In the corner of a major island stood a city named Iquva.  It covered a vast amount of land and was filled with bustling streets, lively temples, hospitable houses, minor castles and leagues of fertile soil.  However it was not the exterior of the place that made it so revered and feared, it was what lay inside in the blood and sweat of each citizen: for Iquva was a city of magic.   
Right to the very core one could perceive it, sense it, dread it.  Each inhabitant – both in and outside the citadel – was learned in the art of enchantments.  Even in those days you would have been hard pressed to find a human or a creature who did not find it impressive.  The city consisted of six concentric circles set around a magnificent fortress: a stronghold that never had been – and never could – be taken.  It contained eight gigantic, looming towers packed with luxurious quarters set around a courtyard covered with mosaic tiles depicting gardens and palaces.
Every guard was a trained sorcerer.
Each villager also had the power to command some form of magic. 
It was impregnable.
No expense had been spared for the interior: intricate paintings, beautifully set out rooms, fountains that spurted water as fresh and innocent as the scent of a summer breeze.
Outside the citadel, on the streets, were scores of stalls selling exotic fruit and perfumes, uniquely dyed cloths, anything you could wish for.  People trading and sharing their wares, animated chatter in a dozen different tongues.  Laughter.  And more laughter.  Beasts and birds free from shackles roamed the skies, dominating their territories.  It was a truly bewitching sight.
In the midst of this mythical land lived a family much like any other.  A mother, a father, two sons and a daughter.  Each member had substantial magical powers, yet none so strong as the second son, Mys.  The mother, Clarine, owned a confectionary business, which her husband and daughter - Thea - helped at. 
Being just fifteen years of age, Thea had not yet become involved in a profession of her own.  She was an interesting child, often appearing to be out of sorts in a distant land of her imagination, and she would never go anywhere without an accompanying bumblebee sitting on her shoulder.  She was also an adept witch and quite skilful in the branch of elemental magic. 
A strong relationship existed between her and her eldest brother, Si, who was aged twenty three.  But alas her kinship with Mys was distant due to his often being away, constantly seeking more power and wealth.  On the contrary, with Si it was easy and relaxed.  He had promised her that when she reached seventeen years of age she could become his apprentice.  The idea enthralled her, made her every bone quiver, but they had kept the scheme hidden from their father on a pure instinct.  Thea’s instincts were usually correct – a future oracle, perhaps. 
Si was a Priest of the Langya who lived to serve the Triple Goddess: Ligeia, Puthode, Kanta.  It was his job to help others follow Her path, to find Her light and to understand Her ways.  He also lectured and taught the society to read, write and speak the ancient language of Langya.  These priests were an ancient race of magical beings; entrusted with knowledge, secrets and prophecies that had been handed down through master or mistress to student for generations upon generations.  Ill-fated, some said; doomed to live and die for the same old, boring facts. 
Those citizens were not popular. 
You could only hope to join if you had a certain hereditary mark that singled you out as one of the Langya.  Not everyone chose to join their number, and not all could choose for themselves. 
Si and Thea had inherited the marks from their maternal grandfather – Si on his neck, Thea just above the elbow.  Despite his strength, Mys had not inherited one.  Si’s work took place at the Great Temple: the most vast and grand in the entire world.  It was situated on the inner most circle, the last of thirteen temples in the city.  A couple of hundred yards down the paved street lay the family’s house. 
It was the evening of the full moon, during which time Thea was walking along the eerily lit street, her bee sleeping on her cloak.  It had been her shift at the confectionary shop; stewing the jams and scenting the sweets – naturally with the aid of magic.  She had subsequently shut up and locked the rooms (which had taken but a few moments) and was returning to her family abode. 
There was a certain peace to the air that could only be achieved when the majority of the community was asleep – save for the dragons and nocturnal beings – and the luminescent light gave everything an uncanny edge that made Thea imagine she was living in the truest legend.  She thought of her name, Thea, gazed up and blessed the moon for being her namesake; for it meant ‘Little Moon’ in the dialect of the Langya.  How she loved the earth, the skies, the oceans, the moons.
Silence may bring peace, respect and comfort, but it can also unnerve you, and the dagger at Thea’s waist was an extremely comforting companion, along with her bumblebee friend.
Reaching the door of her house, she unlocked it and as usual found it odd why the whole city bothered to lock anything when it could be opened silently and stealthily by any who willed it to happen.  It was said that the city was built on foundations of trust and honour, but the young witch suspected it made the society feel protected.  Not unlike the weight of her dagger.
The house was reasonably sized and made Thea feel like she completely belonged.  Although, in more recent times she had been getting pangs yearning to see the world outside of Iquva.  Pangs she had pushed deep into her soul where they would not surface for some time. 
The door swung wide to reveal a square courtyard with a fountain in the centre and a four-sided shaped building set around it.  She headed up one of the flights of stairs and advanced towards her bedroom, willing it to open as she did so. 
Her room was the smallest out of all the rooms in the house – that’s what came of being the youngest – and cosily and affectionately furnished.  A small bed lay directly in front of the door and was covered with a single beige blanket.  A wooden chest sat at the end of the bed, and in it Thea placed letters, bags, scrolls, daggers, a spare blanket and her stories.  To the right of the door was a clothes cupboard on which hung a stunning mirror bordered by a blue ocean scene; a gift from her parents on her fourteenth birthday.  On the left were a desk and chair; she loved to write tales for pleasure and practise different scripts.  A small window looked out onto the dim and silent street, with just the occasional passer-by.  Running all around the wall – where space allowed it – was a shelf overflowing with books, potions, books, ingredients, books, a doll and more books.  And, as in every room in Iquva, a tiny tapestry with the symbol of the Triple Goddess hung above the bed. 
Doubling back in shock as she entered, Thea saw Si sitting on her low bed, looking perfectly at ease in what should have been unfamiliar surroundings.  He grinned as her, and – once the surprise had settled down – she widened her mouth and showed her teeth in return.  A swift glance of the room told her that Si had simply been sitting on the bed, and her gaze set on him once more.
“I heard you come in” he whispered; they both knew better than to wake their parents.
“I did not hear you come here” she replied, a thin smile forming on her lips.
“Quiet as the grave… or I soon will be.”  Thea’s heart and soul stood motionless as those words registered in her mind, as she fathomed their appalling meaning.  “What did you just say?”
“You heard me well enough.”
“But… what does it mean… why would you say such a thing… it did not come across as a joke, brother.”
“Look... a stranger turned up at the temple today.  We know nothing about her except that she is a Priestess of the Triple Goddess, but not a Langya.”
“Not a Langya? Surely such people do not exist!  And she entered the Great Temple?”  Numerous scandals, ideas and misbeliefs whirled and soared in Thea’s head, but she compressed them and urged Si to continue with his story.
“Indeed she did, and I know not how, but she started to talk - in the tongue of Langya - about how we are not worthy enough to be regarded as followers of the Goddess, that it is not Her will and we are all to be doomed on Her command.  Blasphemous-speaking-wench…  Anyway, I approached her and bid she depart from the Temple due to wickedness and disturbance of other worshippers.  Then she started on me, taunting me with talk of my imminent ruin and disgrace.  She refused to shift from her position, so I said lightly that I would be reduced to force if she did not comply, to which she pushed me up into the air and held me there and-”  A gasp of outrage escaped Thea’s lips and she was about to embark on a lengthy speech on impropriety and irreligious people, making Si hurriedly continue:
“Her power, Thea… by the Goddess I have never known the like.   I felt it soar through me with no clemency or hint of relenting… it was terrifying, Little Moon.  She threw me down again, and – can you blame me, sister? – I challenged her to a duel.”  Thea’s eyebrows shot up at the unfurling horror that was before her. 
“A magical duel?  By the Goddess, Si, what were you thinking?  And with such strength that you spoke of…”  She did her best to withhold the flow of tears, yet one single drop escaped through the barricade of her eyes and trickled down her dark cheek. 
Woefully, he began “I am certain it will end in my death, but you–“
“No.  No, do not say or think that, we must retain hope.”
Si chuckled miserably, and looked into the dark pools of his sister’s eyes.
“This is my last night, my last chance to see you and laugh with you and talk with you.  I will go down fighting.  You are my closest friend and you also just so happen to be my relative; you must know that.  It is just… unfortunate and ill-destined, I guess.”