The Lost Mage Princess

By Isabella Doucette

Amila has been in hiding since her mother’s death over a decade ago. Now at 19 war reaches her town and she is forced to fight or flee. Running to Trinity Hall. Amila has to decide between what is safe and what is right. At war within herself, she fights her inner demons and the memories of her past locked away.
Her family or what is left of it has secrets they are not telling her.
Her best friend has gone missing into the woods.
She is being stalked and harassed by a young man what he wants is anyone's guess.
What will Amila do to keep her secrets and discover the truth, who will she become when everything is said and done? As her path becomes unclear she must choose wisely in her companions and remember who she is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Writing Under The Moon Inc.
• Release date: Dec 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781999387778

Isabella Doucette

Isabella Doucette is a non-binary Author.Isabella grew up with a love for books and a myriad of mental health and disability problems that were apparent to no one besides the family and physicians that treated Isabella. Growing up with dyslexia and learning dysabilitys, migraines that stopped them from daily activities and a single mother on chemo for years. Isabella's writing thrived in the adversaries as they grew inwards like a beautiful plant curling upon itself coiling high upon its own tendrils.Isabella Doucette is a Manitoba Writer Who Garduated CDI College in 2015. After studying Addictions and community service Isabella the Nonbinary Writer worked for several child care facilitys within the government until their disabilitys took a tole and they took time off to recover. Within the next 5 years they published seven books including All That We Are: Stories of The LGBT Community, Finding Home: Colony One and its sequel Indigo Night: Colony One.Isabella founded WritingUnderTheMoon publishing when they decided to independently publish under several pseudonyms. Hero Song one of the names associated with All That We Are: Stories of The LGBT Community and Elliott Findley author of The Colony One series are both pseudonyms of Isabella published under WritingUnderTheMoon Publishing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The night was cool and clear, no clouds in the sky. The sun set over the forest, casting rays of golden light across the canopy of leaves.

Amila lay in the grassy clearing where she liked to sit and think. Thick curls of hair under her head like a pillow of soft, tight coils she dreamed lazily of the city not far in the distance where the festival would soon start.

A clock tower sat above the trees, a beacon of magical energy from the city. The tower struck the hour. Amila rose slowly, dusted off her simple dress of emerald, moving towards the sound of a bubbling brook. She came to the swift current. Kneeling down she closed her eyes, placed her hand to her temple and bowed in blessing dipping her hands into the water, cold on her skin. Pulling back, she sipped from the sweet stream.

Opening her eyes once more Amila got to her feet, whispering, Blessed be.

The stream flowed into the distance and Amila followed it for a short time the noise of the city grew around her, and she reached the main road. Turning onto the path, Amila began to run past her neighbors and people from the nearby towns.

She ran through the crowd; she felt their energy pushing and pulling on her own. She closed her eyes pushing away the energy, dodging here and there out of the way of people dressed finely.

The curls of raven hair bounce around her face, violet eyes alight with fiery passion. Excitement buzzed through her. No one spoke to her. She ran dodging around people. Though she had lived in Avalon nearly 20 seasons, she had always been an outsider.

Amila kept running, energy and magic flowed around her. The closer to the city, the more power she could feel building up inside her core.

Amila, called a voice. She slowed down looking over her shoulder.

Coby, Amila said and moved towards him.

She smiled at him. He was oh-so-handsome with tanned skin and thick waves of brown hair, and his eyes were a piercing ice blue. She smiled at him. Moving closer, she bent down and kissed his cheek gently.

He blushed, and she asked, Escort me to the festival?

Anything for you my lady, he replied.

Amila rolled her eyes.

I’ve heard you're performing a rite, he said they began to walk down the path.

Where did you hear a thing like that? she laughed and he grinned wide and true, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners.

She continued, Yes, the sage thinks I’m ready. Isn’t it all just very exciting, Coby?

Very. I'm sure you will do a great job. Amila blushed.

She looked up into the forest, thinking deeply as they walked.

What are you thinking about? he asked.

Huh? Oh. She looked up at him suddenly. I was just thinking. Have you heard from Lia?

Her eyes drew back to the forest as if expecting to see her friend.

Nah. But I expect she’ll be home soon enough, Coby said he too looked off into the forest.

Lights began to sparkle overhead, glowing faintly in the forest, Amila smiled at them.

Look. Faerie lights, Amila said, and Coby looked up, Amila continued thoughtfully, Aren't they beautiful?

Oh, only half much you, Coby told her.

She looked at him and smiled.

Oh, Coby, don’t you know by now your flattery will get nowhere with Amila, said a voice behind the two. They turned to see a young woman with long white hair and almond eyes smiling at them.

Lia, both said, Coby gave his cousin a hug. The surrounding crowd moved past, people looking at Lia in disgust, whispering under their breath, ‘half-breed’, spitting the words at her. ‘Villus.’

Amila pursed her lips, before turning to her friend with a smile. She wished that people didn’t see Lia’s vermin. She wished more than anything that Lia could live her life free of the cruelty of others. Amila had missed her friend, but it broke her heart to know Lia was back in a place where no one understood her.

Coby’s fists were clenched as the people walked past them. Amila took Coby’s hand; his fist loosened, clasping at her soft grip. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye asking Lia. So, how was your visit with your Gran?

Lia was silent for the gravity of a second, Coby and Amila looked at one another knowing something was wrong.

Lia sighed and told her friends, I was informed she died last fall.

Coby took his cousin by the shoulder squeezing it gently, Amila’s face fell in shock. Taking her hand and kissing it gently in a sign of camaraderie.

There was a raid. They took the young. Killed the old. Left only the youngest and their fathers alive, Lia said, her eyes filling with tears.

Coby looked in shock.

Amila lowered her head, crossed her left arm over her chest, and whispered, Blessed mother. Find your mark. Take thee into your arms.

Lia took Amila’s hand on her own and kissed it whispering to her. Thank you.

It's the least I can do, Amila said she took Lia’s face with her free hand, brushing her hair away and holding her cheek. Blessed.

Lia looked up at her. I mean it. Thank you. I think Gran would have appreciated the gesture.

The three fell silent walking on, the woman’s hands still interwoven.

Then Amila asked, If you found out she was dead when you got there, where were you these past two months?

Lia shrugged. Traveling. Helped those in need. Journeying. Even went to the old temple in Beau and ascended.

That's wonderful, said Coby. Who had been quiet this whole time?

Lia smiled. She knew her cousin didn’t understand her elf side, but she was grateful that he tried.

You have to tell me all about it, Amila said excitedly, and Lia grinned. Amila felt the energy of her friends take over everything else for a nanosecond then Amila noticed something. Lia’s energy was bright and green, but something was off about it.

Amila turned to her friend just as Lia said, Amila. I have to tell you about something. suddenly serious.

Oh? Amila asked in the distance the clock tower struck the half past hour and Amila looked up into the city. Their hands falling apart they saw the city of Avalon and how it glowed in the distance, catching their attention.

The forest was full of light and life. The trees bled energy giving it freely on this mystical night. Lanterns dotted the sky free floating some caught in branches, creating a path of colorful light that led the way into the town. The ebb of the forest died away being drowned out by the buzz of activity moving down the path and they entered the edge of the town.

The people’s energy buzzed every which way. Amila began to feel it close in around her, a tightness in her chest. Her breath caught; she closed her eyes focusing on her breath. Pushing out the flow of energy that poured into her.

Coby took her hand and they smiled at one another. His presence calmed Amila, making her breath easier; his warmth filled her up.

As they entered the city full of light and laughter, banners ran across the old oak trees, lanterns lighting the streets, bonfires and barrels burned brightly, merchants filled the street, young children picked berries and herbs. In the center of the city sat the clock tower, with its many winding gears.

Amila took a deep breath moving away from Coby and Lia into the city center, the air was perfumed by the smell of burning sage and sweet-grass, earthy and rich. Her head filled with background noise, her chest felt full and tight emotions pressed in from all sides. She stopped in the middle of the street closing her eyes trying her best to block it all out.

Her skin glowed faintly if surrounded by a white light and Coby asked, worriedly. Not daring to touch her now, , Are you all, right?"

Fine. I’m fine, Amila said moving away from his watchful eyes.

Are you sure? You're ready to do this ritual? Coby asked.

Yes, Amila said she looked out into the town.

Amila, we all know your power is, well, a little sporadic, Coby told her. Amila shrugged.

So?

So? There is no shame in saying you're not ready.

I told you. I’m fine. Amila turned away walking into the town square. Coby and Lia shared a furtive look before they followed her. People turned to stare at them, faces turning sour at the sight of Lia.

Half-breed, whispered voices.

Villus, called a teenager, and Coby spun.

What did you say? he demanded of the boy; his anger flared.

You heard me. Villus. Dirty half-breed scum, the boy sneered, Lia pulled Coby back whispering.

It's fine Coby. It's just talk. Walk away.

NO. I’m tired of people disrespecting you, Lia, just because of who your father was. Someone needs to learn some respect. Coby rolled up his sleeves, his muscles glowing beneath his shirt.

No. Amila stepped in the way of him. Walk away, Coby. He is not worth it.

Coby began to grind his teeth but nodded., The three turned away, walking into the crowd the boy called out Yeah, that's right, walk away,

As they walked farther into the square, a young blond woman came running up to Amila. The woman wore red ribbons in her hair that was braided into a fishtail. Her long, white ceremonial robes hung loosely off her. She rather looked like a little girl in her mother's robes. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she told Amila, The sage is looking for you.

Put your hair down. And lose the ribbons—no self-respecting priestess wears red, Amila told her, the woman rolled her eyes and smiled maliciously at Amila before turning away already starting on her hair she complained.

You sound just like the sage.

Amila, turning to look back at the woman, said, Well you are here to learn from him, so perhaps you should listen.

Just like him, the woman said, shaking her head.

I will see you later, Amila told Lia and Coby, giving him one last furtive glance.

Lia nodded. I will make sure he doesn’t get into any fights.

Coby rolled his eyes grumbling that he could take care of himself. Amila smiled and turned away walking off towards the ritual grounds.

The walk was not long. Amila neared the ritual grounds and the city faded into the trees, the faerie lights leading the way down a path and opened up into a large clearing. Sitting on a stump on the edge of the ritual grounds was the sage, an old man with white hair and a long white beard. His eyes were gray and no longer saw the physical world. A small cluster of children sat on the earth around the sage he spoke about the nature of magic and what language meant in regard to magic.

Let me be clear children—language is the greatest defense we have. The language we use works in mysterious ways. Saying phrases, rites, and rituals, these things that make magic. Some work better for some people than they do for others. For some, certain languages or dialects mean everything. You can use any language your choice your mother tongue or any other you know, be it high or low be it Sivonan, or Dosh, or any language you chose. Most mages need long eloquent phrases, others a single word will suffice. —Amila would you be so kind to show the children?

Amila blushed. It never ceased to surprise her that the old sage always knew she was around. The children turned and Amila smiled at them, then she closed her eyes.

I call upon fire. A flame leaped to life in her hand appearing in her open palm, and she felt its warmth she called out.

I call upon wind. The air, bring us your power. A sweeping wind arose from the north, blowing against her skin, sending her hair flying about.

Her voice rose above the wind. Earth, rise. The earth shook and opened up, rising above her head not quite tall the treetop. Three spikes like large eggs surrounding her from the earth spread the design a three-pointed spiral.

Then in a low voice, Amila called out a single word. Water. And from the earthy rocks, water sprang to life a fountain.

Amila bent down pressing her hand to the earth and whispered, Blessed mother. I thank thee for these gifts. Water, earth, air, and fire. As she said each of the elements, they ebbed away. The spring of water dried, the earth mended, leaving only the spiral design, the wind ceased and the fire extinguished.

Amila felt breathless with wonder, joy, excitement and though fear coursed through her, she knew it was not her own. She felt if she had run a great distance. But when she opened her eyes, she smiled as the children lapped for her.

See, children, language is the key to all. Now go join your families. The ritual will start soon, and we must prepare. The children rose and thanked the sage before heading away from the ritual grounds, all making a wide berth around Amila.

Did you ask for me just so I could be an example to them? To what power could be? You know none of them will be strong me. I don’t say that to be vain but it's my blood, not me.

Aye, my child. Your blood may yet betray you, said the sage.

What is that supposed to mean? Amila asked, wondering not for the first time, why the old man had to speak in riddles.

The sage was quiet; he often fell silent when asked a question. Either because he did not know the answer to the question or that he wanted you to form your own conclusion.

After a minute, the sage spoke again. I have secured you an apprenticeship at Trinity Hall in Lunares.

Amila was quite sure she had heard him wrong; Trinity Hall was only for the most dedicated, the strongest, the most powerful of all mages. It was an honor of the highest regard to even get an addition. Though she was flattered by the idea that the old sage thought so highly of her she also knew that she must have heard him wrong, he of all people knew that Lunares held danger for her. The streets would be filled with the Armada, if anyone knew her blood, she could be carted off to Vera city to fight for the throne.

An image flashed across her mind's eye of a young woman, drenched in blood, on the cold wet grass, eyes staring up blankly at the sky. The memory wanted to take over, clouding her vision and pulling her into it, but as the sage knew this, he told Amila, Breathe, child, remember to block off the memory.

She closed her eyes shutting out the pain, the glow of the magic that flowed through her ebbed away the images disappeared.

That is right, push it away. Amila followed the sage’s instructions and pulled back; she didn’t want to think of her mother's death, not on this day, not ever.

You have what it takes to do great things. But only you control your fate.

What does that mean? she asked and this time he answered.

No one can make you what you are not, he said, but this was not the answer she had wanted.

Frustrated, Amila said sharply, You make no sense. Shaking her head, she turned away from him. My heritage and blood say one thing. But my breath and mind say another. You want me to go where my blood could mean my death. So why go? Why now?

He smiled at her. You have much to learn, little moon, things even I cannot teach you. Listen to the song of old and take it to heart.

Amila fell silent and looked back at the sage.

The fire’s song, your blood will sing. The melody of earth will hold you close and protect you. The orchestra of the wind will teach you. Water, the muse of the song, will wash away your burden and your fear. Let your soul take flight with the song.

Amila shook her head, she didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her, and people were starting to walk towards the ritual grounds.

Now it is time for the rite, the Sage said and Amila followed him towards the tree lines where the sages in training were starting to line up.

The crowd filled her senses, people, all their emotions and feelings, were threatening to break through her barricade, threatening to take a hold of her in the dimness of the setting sun. She pulled away from the energy around her, focusing on how beautiful it all was.

The old sages stood beside her, the children with their wheel of fortune and the youngsters with their bows of flowers. They gathered all people young and old they gathered near and they began the rite of the summer solstice weaving an old spell which had been passed down from sage to sage, generation to generation. Now Amila stood before them and began the rite.

Two young women moved forward and placed a finely decorated chalice down in the center of the clearing, Amila stood in front of it facing the trees and took a deep breath. Behind her, a circle of people watched.

A drumbeat sounded and Amila spoke the words into the night, the other training priestesses and sages began to dance around the chalice and give offerings to the rising moon.

For now, I give this offering, onto the wilds of the wind, and onto the fay. That they shall bring to our goddess moon, the offering of time and of blood and of our rite. So, it shall be said and so it should be done. Amila said the first rite slowly the sages in training all encircled the chalice and one by one they placed their offerings.

"Blessed be above.

and blessed be below.

I give thee grain and grass."

And she spoke the words, the offerings were placed in ornate bowls and the smoke and ash of burning herbs and spices was wafted over the offerings. The ritual site seemed to glow with ethereal magic, as the crowd fell silent all eyes on Amila. Her skin faintly glowing, her eyes flickering, holding no color or shadow to them, only the turning fog of her own magic, even her hair lifted floating about her.

"Blessed be tonight of the longest day.

Blessed shall I be,

I give the wine and mead.

Blessed be this light of fire,

Blessed be this dew of water,

Blessed be this gust of air,

And blessed be this pull of earth."

The elements moved around her, each one sparking to life as she spoke the words the crowd stood mesmerized. First, fire roared up around them, causing a great gasp from the crowd. No one screamed or ran, somehow understanding they were safe. Next, water spouted up in fountains and children ran forward into the holy water, laughing and dancing in the flow of it. The air gusted around the crowd and the earth turned into a massive coil, reaching for the sky in the center of the circular clearing. The ritual continued as if nothing odd had happened, as if this were like any other ritual that had ever happened, but the crowd was mesmerized by the young woman and her magic.

"I do pluck from the earth this flower.

Be its time.

To give and to take thine energy.

Restore in be the balance of the elements this night.

So, it is said and so it should be done."

Amila turned her face skyward, towards the glowing of the moon and the stars that shone brightly over her and then she fell to her knees, tears in her eyes as she spoke. Not noticing the crowd around her, only feeling the magic that flowed through each of them and into her, only knowing she was full of the moon and the goddess and she was overflowing with power.

"Star light, star bright,

As I bind this spell tonight,

I give of me and of you.

I receive your magic this night.

Blessed be."

Amila closed her eyes once more turning her face towards the sky, the ritual had ended but now they danced filling the circle with light and life. Talk and laughter Amila pushed away from the feelings that welled up inside her.

Rising to her feet, Amila blinked, clearing her eyes, people were reaching out towards her trying to touch her, to talk to her, whispering and watching. Pulling in, she shrank inside herself. Her breath caught as her brain whirred.

What an event, goddess blessed, said the sage, breaking the spell of the crowd and seaming to call order to the chaos that raged within her.

Let us be festive this night of the summer solstice, come drink and be merry, the sage called as Amila turned to watch the crowd they danced and gave offerings to the elements and to the moon and to the goddess. Everything was full of light and life, magic filled the clearing, the ritual had ended and now was time for them to dance and be merry.

Amila stepped