Chapter 1
PROLOGUE
The storm greeted her in a violent manner, as it was bound to do.
After all, it has come to her understanding, at quite an early point in her life, that such a phenomenon had no choice but to be placed under the list of occurrences that are considered universally acknowledged truths. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, the moon controls the tides, and the sky rages when she finds herself in the unfortunate position of experiencing emotions of a strong kind .
Yet as she stood in her assigned ship compartiment, you wouldn’t have thought that was the case. The room was unearthly calm, illuminated by countless small, scented candles, and it even seemed to be unaffected by the motion of the crashing waves.
However, standing at the table, spine a little too straight, and face a little too blanck, she felt unnerving uncertainty and nervosity puncturing her skin from within. And as she beheld the little pot in front of her, the feeling intensified tenfold.
Thunder graced her ears, and over the sound of it she could faintly hear the cacophony created above her, on the main deck.
Panicked sailors slipped on the rain soaked deck, years of navigating together making them move as one. The wind lashed their faces and bit into their fingers, as they tried to hold onto ropes, or anything of stability. They struggled to get the sails down, preparing the ship for the mountain-high waves.
In an irritated manner, she flicked her wrist and made a pair of scissors fly to her side, from all the way across the room. Not giving herself the benefit of doubting her decision, she cut a good portion of her dark brown hair and immediately threw it into the bubbling contents in front of her.
Words oh so familiar danced on her lips, and the candles around her flickered as she sent her message to her beloved Goddess, who, as always, answered in kind.
As lightning hit once again, so close to the ship that the sailors started crying prayers for the Mother, the candles all died out, tendrils of lavender scented smoke wrapping around her tattooed arms.
But there was no Mother to listen to prayers now.
For the only one present was the Crone.
And as her potion shifted in consistency, and emanated a dark green light to caress her face, Chaaya smiled her greetings.