“She will live?” “Yes, but under my spell, until her fated mate turns seven years of age.” “Ah… thank you. I love… you… Sarah.”, the mother’s last words were whispered. The queen-witch remained silent, her eyes fixed upon the sleeping infant swaddled tightly in her clans crested blanket and cradled inside the queen-witch’s spell. “She is fated to kill us all.”, she murmured, "but she is also fated to bring peace and order to our world." “How, my queen?” a nearby nurse-witch quietly asked. Shaking her head slightly, the queen smiled sadly, “I don’t know. The prophecy surrounding her birth and life is ancient and written in a language that even I cannot completely decipher. Now leave us.", she commanded. Once alone with the dead mother and the now enchanted infant, the queen thought to herself, “Oh, little child, we shall not meet again, but on the day you awaken what new dangers will you bring to the world of magic? Have I done what is right to chance fate?”, then she hung her head in defeat and wept.