***Update 4-27-12 – I'm no longer updating this particular version of my story. I had too many errors and frankly I set myself up when I left out a lot in the beginning so I found that I wrote myself into an inescapable corner. Anyways, I'm completely re-writing it and will continue on with this story in Into the Flames: Revised (such an original title, I know). Same plot line only better presented and I'll totally finish the story under that title. Just FYI in case you wandered in here and had no idea about my intentions.***

***Last notice (sorry) - If you wander into this story for the first time I totally suggest going to read my revised version instead of this since you're obviously going to get alot of spoilers. If it doesn't matter to you, than totally go ahead and read but swing back to my revised story because that's the only one I'm going to update. Also, give it about a few chapters before you decide whether or not you like it. It gets better(my rewritten story that is)***

Prologue

The soft thud of her boots against the flagstones and her labored breathing were the only sounds she heard as she ran up the stairs of the dark, narrow tower. Not even the battle cries of her comrades from the castle below penetrated through the walls.

No one would hear her if she screamed for help.

Her pace started to slow and her breathe came in ragged gasps. No, she couldn't give up now. He was depending on her. Of course I'll save him, she thought, I just have to rest a little. The wound on her side was slowly trickling blood and numerous other cuts over her body were slowly seeping out her precious life blood. Her heart thudded madly and her temples throbbed. This was not her way out. She had a mission to finish, a promise to keep.

A cry from the top of the tower fueled her and with a crazed, determined grin she raced up the remaining stairs and rammed through the door.

She saw him, kneeling on the floor, in a puddle of his own blood, being held up by a blackened, burnt hand. The owner of the hand held a dagger in his other hand, holding it up against the kneeling man's throat.

"So sorry, m'lady. You came too late." He laughed manically and drew back his arm and down the dagger flashed towards the exposed throat as she screamed.

The sudden jerking of the carriage slammed Selene's head into the side, waking her up from her boredom induced slumber. She looked around, orange eyes still sleepy, and they landed on her uncle, who gave a loud snort and continued his sleep. Selene sighed and turned her tired gaze out the tiny opening in the carriage that barely classified as a window. The sight did nothing to improve her already dark mood. It was raining; even more so since they had left the convent on their way to the palace. This journey was important to her, the start of a new life, and yet it already yielded nothing but a wet cold beginning. Boredom, too, was dragging her down as well, as it was too dark to read or write in the carriage and her uncle seemed intent as catching as much sleep as possible.

Still, she should be thankful that someone from her family was generous enough to accompany her on this trip, or rather her family only sent someone so they could keep on eye and make sure she didn't get into any trouble.

Sighing, she fingered the warm silver bracelets on her wrists, tiny engraved symbols running the circumference. She had no idea what they meant but she had been wearing them since she was five years old. They were there to keep her Gift in check, to make sure her powers never got out of control.

"This is for your safety and for other's safety as well," Numair had said to her when he fashioned them especially from the purest silver. "You must wear them at all times. Until we know how your Gift really works, this is the best way to ensure you do not over use your powers and they don't consume you"

Of course, she thought, the added burden of her strange Gift and her power limiters were two more things that totally set her apart from every normal noble in Tortall.

Her mother thought it would have been for the best when she sent Selene to the convent. The convent was an easy enough place, learn to be a perfect lady and you could be married off to a wealthy, well-off noble husband and live out your life as a perfect little housewife. Selene thought that her mother's imagined life for her reduced her to nothing more then a doll, someone who had to be dressed by no less then four maids, someone who had to be accompanied everywhere she went and someone who was empty-headed and only lived for the material objects around her. This was not the life Selene had imagined for herself. She knew no man in their right mind would marry her. If only she-

Thud!

Another pothole jerked the carriage to the side and for the uptenth time that day Selene hit her head on the side of the carriage. Her uncle was thrown from his seat and landed on the floorboards of the carriage.

"What in the name of Mithros was that?" he exclaimed.

"Another pothole, Uncle, you've slept through the last hundred we've trecked through." His niece answered in her normal sarcastic voice.

"No need for smart remarks." Of course everything she said was considered a smart remark or something equally stupid. "Now a lady must remember to be docile and…"

Selene closed her eyes as another one of her uncle's lectures went through her ear and out the other.

"Selene! Listen to me! Don't you dare-" the rest of his words were cut off as the carriage drew to a sudden halt. From outside came the sounds of numerous horses riding up and the sound of laughing men.

"The Gypsy Bandits," whispered her uncle, who instantly paled, and hurriedly began praying. The Gypsy Bandits were plaguing the major highways leading to the capital city, mocking the king saying that he couldn't even protect his people on the outskirts of his own city. Selene rolled her eyes. Gypsy Bandits, she thought, these were going to be easy to get rid of.

The door of the carriage was ripped open, almost off its hinges and the darkened light of the rainy skies entered the carriage. Rough hands reached inside and grabbed Selene and her uncle, dragging them out into the torrential downpour. Damn it all, she thought. I hope the rain won't affect my powers.

"Well, well, well, looky wha' we've got ourselves here," A large, scarred man stood in front of Selene and looked her over with lustful eyes. "A cute little girlie, all prettie and pure. Heahea not for long, gents." The rest of the bandit group gave coarse, cruel laughs.

This is ridiculous, Selene thought. What do I look like to them? A harem slave up for auction?

She closed her orange eyes and called to her Gift, her silver bracelets giving off a soft glow.

"Hey, wha' the bloody hell you think you doin'?" The large bandit grabbed her by the front of her cloak and dragged her up. "Wha'ever you doin' you better be stopping' tha'."

Selene's eyes snapped open and she thrust her hands forward into the man's face as bright orange fire erupted from her hands. The bandit dropped her onto the muddy ground as the fire spread over his body. He screamed and wailed like a crazed animal and within seconds was reduced to nothing but a charred carcass. The other bandits stared at her.

"Well then, who's next, you dirty bastards?" Selene challenged the men.

"Why you little bitch!" Two other men rushed forward, stolen swords in hands. Selene stepsided them and spread a line of fire at one the men, entering him through the back and erupting from chest. He stopped suddenly as the magic fire burned his insides. Selene knew this was a particularly painful way to die. The man fell into the mud as he too screamed like a wounded animal as the fire slowly burned away at all his organs. Selene threw a small bolt of fire at the second bandit. It caught on his cloak and then exploded, sending bloody bits of human debris everywhere.

The remaining bandits looked on with horror and ran back to their horses.

"This won't be the last time we meet," shouted one of the bandits. "We'll make you pay you evil wretch! Mithros curses on you!" With that they rode back from where they came, the rain hiding them from sight and masking the sound of their retreat.

Selene looked down at her dress, which was mud soaked and spotted with blood. Her uncle shook his head.

"I don't know if your Gift is a blessing or a curse, but it scares me an eleven year can do that."

Selene flashed her uncle a small dangerous smirk. "Don't worry uncle, just don't piss me off."

Please review and tell me what you think!