“So, are you saying that the civilisation that I am studying might be related to this … Svek-kal,” Quentalë Tur, one of my students whom I was helping with his fifty thousand word treatise, said, leaning forwards in his seat. His eyes were vivid and green and wide. “You think they could even be of the same area?”

“Descendents of, cousins of, traders of, yes,” I nodded, “although there is no evidence for the feminism you speak.” Quentalë paused before frowning.

“So nothing remotely connected to a matriarch in the study of them?” he asked.

Slightly, I shrugged. “Nothing as yet, although I am due to take a research trip to an old ruin suspected to be theirs. I will find what I can.”

Quentalë leant forwards, eager and blinking at me. He said nothing, but I knew that he had a question.

“What is it?” I sighed.

“Can I come with you professor? Please?” he asked, desperately. “It would be the perfect experience, and I could write from first hand. It would-”

Firmly I shook my head. There was no way I would allow him, when my research was far more concerned with finding references to the apocalypse, rather than anything to do with early feminism, or a possible world ruled by iron-steady women. “No, Quentalë,” I said, “that is not possible. It's far too dangerous.”

“But I have magic …”

“Yes and so do I,” I replied, dryly. “But it does not take responsibility away from the fact that I have a responsibility for your safety as your teacher. I will bring back what samples I can and make drawings, but I cannot allow you-”

“Fine,” he slumped back, bottom lip out. “Do you have any books on them that I can read meanwhile?”

A small sad smile came to my face as I nodded. I got to my feet, pushing the large chair that was behind the small desk of my office away from me and began to head to the shelves. Quentalë kept his grumpy eyes on me as my finger-tips danced across the spines, looking for one of the rare texts that mentioned the Svek-kal. They had not had an extraordinarily exciting civilisation - no human sacrifices or major wars - so were much overlooked for favour of other ancient societies. This was the reason I held so few, though I hoped to expand my field into the little known Svet-Kal.

I brought out a book, entitled, “study of Northeast Raiaera,” by a human called David Longshadow. Holding it out to Quentalë I began to smile - but then the door burst open.

Turning, I began to scowl at the person who had ruined my meeting with my student and began to open my mouth to complain, when I saw who it was. Tall, lithe, black hair neatly pinned to her head in a bun. She wore a long dark grey silk gown, had gloves up to her elbows and was smiling with me with the grace of a thousand peacocks, her fine lips curved and perfect.

“Char,” she crowed.

I stared at her. It was Nyx, one of my sisters in service to our brother Morningstar and rarely did I see her out of his court. My lips frowned, I let Quentalë take the book before I spoke.

“Nyx, please leave,” I replied. “If you can wait, I currently have -”

“Student, yes,” she nodded. “But I'm here for far more important business. Brother sent for you.”

I blinked, and my blood ran cold. Brother could only be Morningstar. But so soon after our agreement, when I had done so little? What was wrong, what could he want? I narrowed my eyes to try to look for any sign of manacles upon Nyx’s person, ready to be snapped around my wrists and take me to his court as a grumpy prisoner.

“Brother?”

“Ugh, Quentalë,” I turned to my student, “we will need to continue this later.”

The elf paused, but nodded a little as he rose. “Yes - yes professor,” he mumbled as he slipped out of the seat, his hands clasped around my book. “Next - next week.”

“Same time,” I grunted.

And I smiled as he awkwardly shuffled out, squeezing past Nyx. He lowered his eyes, daring not to look at her. As he moved into the corridor my sister turned back to me and I was scowling again.

“What does the bastard want now?” I muttered.

“Well …” she began.