Outside a hut on the western coast of Penraven, a man sat alone beneath the full moon, brooding.

He had said his goodbyes, and while there were many that he cared about there were only two that he truly loved; one was a man called Loethar, the other was a boy called Roddy. And it was his farewell to the boy that had been the hardest for Roddy hadn’t understood why they were embracing for the last time . . . why wouldn’t they see each other again, he had repeated, his face filled with perplexity.

Ravan hadn’t been able to give him a reason. Somewhere within himself he just knew his time was close. His role for the goddess was done and he had acquitted himself well as a companion, a spy, a messenger. At the end it had been Cormoran’s memories, after all, that had helped to solve the secret of the Valisar Legacy.

Secrets. He sighed. After all those secrets had been unravelled, he didn’t think one little one would be missed. He had told a lie to Loethar, and though he had hated doing so it had been asked of him by a much higher power.

She had visited him through the Qirin, in whom he had entrusted the secret for the hours that he had needed it hidden.

Must I? he had asked.

You must, the Qirin had assured.

And so he had said his farewells to Roddy, to Loethar, to the others. Roddy had asked where he was going but Ravan had only shrugged. “I will only know when I get there, Roddy.”

It had been painful to leave but he had, clutching his secret, running as fast as his legs could go, faster than he had ever run before. He was faster than the wind, and on this moonlit night, he had sat and waited for her.

The tufty, ragged grass around him began to shudder and the sounds of the night fell strangely quiet as the moon seemed to turn golden and loom much larger than it had just moments ago. She was coming. Even the grass stilled and the air seemed to thicken.

And then she was there. Not huge and towering this time but matching his height. She was even more beautiful than he recalled from their last meeting. Her serpent body glittered beneath the golden moonlight, her voice was soft and mesmerizing.

“Hello, Ravan.”

“Goddess, you honor me with your presence.”

“And you have honored me with your loyalty.”

He bowed, moved by her praise.

“You have brought what I asked of you?”

“I have.” He reached down to the basket and picked up his gift.

“Ah,” she said as tenderly as a mother and sighed. “She is beautiful indeed,” she said, taking the baby and cradling her.

As she held Loethar’s infant daughter, the newborn squirmed, coming out of her stupor.

“I feared I was bringing you a corpse, goddess.”

“No, dear one. This tiny girl is our secret . . . our Valisar secret. I gave her the protection of the shroud of death.”

He frowned. “You were there?”

“I was. Piven felt me, when Valya was bargaining with him, but fortunately he just thought he was responding to one of his kin. I have never before intervened in the lives of the Valisars but this time we had two princesses and a set of circumstances we have never before encountered. I admit even I was taken by surprise to have a second princess survive. Whatever Valya was, she was worthy of the Valisars in secreting her child away. She drugged her, you know, for her confrontation with Piven. I have no doubt that she loved her and wanted to protect her.”

“So you did when she could not?”

The serpent nodded. “I could not let a defenseless Valisar princess die on the ground like that.” Cyrena smiled. “I kept her sleeping. It might have been wrong of me to weave the magic I did today but these were extraordinary circumstances. Whether I was right or wrong, it has been done.”

Ravan smiled. “You are a goddess. You can do whatever you like.”

Her laugh sounded like the tinkling of icicles and her breath on his face was like meadow flowers.

“What now for this child?” he wondered.

“She is Valisar—royal in every way. She must be permitted to grow and flourish in safety.”

“Loethar—”

“Must not know. It would upset the balance of things. He believes his daughter dead and buried with her mother at the convent, and though he will grieve he will also move on. For now Ciara is best kept from all. She survived her birth without my help. And I would be lying to you now if I didn’t admit that she possesses the Legacy.”

He gave a sound of awe. “Anothor Genevieve.”

“But right now this world doesn’t need another Genevieve or indeed another Valisar princess.”

“Where will she go?”

Cyrena reached a hand out and stroked the child’s angelic face. “So like her father,” she whispered. “She will go with you, Ravan.”

“Me? I thought . . .”

“I know. But I have use for you yet, my loyal servant.”

“I am going to raise a child?”

She nodded.

“Where?”

“Come down to the water’s edge with me.”

“Corbel de Vis did this once.”

“Yes.” She glided down toward the sea and he followed her, for he could not deny her.

“May I ask you a question, goddess?” he said as they arrived at the frothy waters. His head was spinning with possibility. The sea lapped at his feet but didn’t wet her sinous body.

“Please,” she said, gently.

“Why are we doing this?”

And now her smile was radiant. “Because one day, I don’t know when, we may just need the magic of the Valisars once again.”

“And so an aegis has been born for Ciara.”

Cyrena nodded. “It is the way of the magic.”

“What do I do?”

“Take this child,” she said, kissing the baby’s head tenderly, “and walk into the waters, to a magical place where the land and the water meet at full moon.”

“She will not drown?” he asked anxiously.

“Trust me, Ravan, as you have before. And trust yourself. Take good care of her.”

And Ravan, a man that was once a raven, now made in the image of a king, trusted the goddess. He walked into the waters to meet a new destiny with his land’s most powerful sorceress squirming softly in his arms.

He whispered her name as the water claimed them, and as a great magic began to pulse around him, he knew that he loved her.