Free The Sword and The Prophet (A Syren Novel) by Missy LaRae

wish them good moon.
    Her destination loomed in front of her, and her breathing tore from her lungs in ragged gasps. Her heart thundered, and she couldn’t focus. She knew that she had to make it to Amatia immediately.
    The Sentinels guarding the main chapel heard her approach, and opened the door for her as she neared. When she was close enough for them to recognize her they both dropped to one knee and put their right hand over their hearts. “Good moon, Princess,” they said as she passed. She placed her hand over her heart and uttered the same greeting to them as she hurried through the door.
    There were few females in the chapel. Those who were there sat silent, heads bowed in prayer, their silver hair wrapped around them like living blankets. Rory did not stop. She did not offer a greeting to the Mother of Dreams when she reached the altar, instead, she passed by the altar and slowed as she neared the back of the chapel. There she came to the Diamond Gate. The handles were solid diamond, and the door itself was diamond inlaid with gold and silver. The pattern within the door continued to change as the metal was a living part of the door itself. Rory gripped the handle, and the diamond fit perfectly in her hands.
    “Amatia, may I enter?” She whispered. The doors pushed against her, and that was all the answer that she needed. She walked through the room, and the light coming in through the ceiling illuminated her path. Amatia Prime gave them constant light. The swaying of the chapel on its moorings soothed her, and she took a steadying breath.
    “Come, Rory,” she heard faintly from the balcony.
Walking by instinct Rory bypassed the furniture scattered about, and exited through the eastern facing arch at the back of the room. Sitting on a low round stool facing the water was her Amatia; her Mother. Her hair was as silver as the great double moons themselves, and her eyes were a brilliant, clear blue. Her hair wound around her and danced in the moonlight as she stared into the night. The moorings of the chapel shifted again, and the sound of the lake beating against the chapel poured even more peace into Rory’s heart.
“Amatia,” she began. She came forward and knelt at the feet of the Queen of Dreams, “I have had a vision, Amatia.” She bowed her head and allowed her hair to pull her forward and push her onto the lap of her mother.
“I know you have,” her mother answered. She looked at her with clear eyes, and waited for Rory to speak.
“I have seen my Heart. He is in pain, and surrounded by blackness. He called to me in a dream. He held my hand, and he asked me to find him. I must find him, Mother!” Her tears began flowing freely. They were tears of pain, and of relief. She knew that it was him. She’d waited longer than any other Daughter of the Kingdom of Dreams for her Heart. All of her sisters had found their Hearts at their Fut’uah ceremonies when they were younger. They were all complete, but she was yet half of who she was to become some day. Until she paired with her Heart she would never understand the path that Amatia Prime wished for her. Until she was matched with her perfect Heart, she could not begin her final transformation. Only on the day of her eighteenth cycle of life, with the mating of Hearts, would she be able to transform into a Prophet of the Kingdom of Dreams.
“What did your Heart look like, child?” The Queen looked at Rory’s tear stained face, and wished that she could take the pain from her child, but she could not. She knew that the path for Rory was more dangerous than any of the other path’s that were written for her daughters. Rory was stronger than she knew. She had known this was the design of Amatia Prime the day that Rory was delivered into her arms. She had received a prophecy from her sister, and had known that Rory would have to seek her Heart in another Hemisphere before she would be complete.
“His hair was dark, nearly black, and he had the