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"I have always been here," Ciri said in her crystalline
voice. "I am old, Matya, far older than you. You see me
now as I was the day the Cataclysm struck the face of
Krynn, more than half a century ago."
Matya stared at her in shock and disbelief, but Ciri did
not pause.
"By my magic, I saw the coming of the Cataclysm. I
prepared an enchantment to protect myself from it." A
distant look touched her cold eyes, and her smile grew as
sharp and cruel as a knife. "Oh, the others begged at my
door for me to protect them as well. The same wretches
who had mocked my magic before wanted me to save them,
but I turned my back on them. I wove my magic about
myself, and I watched all of them perish in agony as the rain
of fire began." Ciri's face was exultant, her fine hands
clenched into fists.
Matya watched her with calculating eyes. "Something
went wrong, didn't it?"
"Yes," Ciri hissed angrily. "Yes, something went
wrong!" She paused, recovered her composure. "I could not
have foreseen it. The power of the Cataclysm twisted my
magic. The enchantment protected me, as I commanded, but
it also cursed me to remain here alone in this ruined town,
not aging, not changing, and never able to leave."
Matya shuddered. Despite herself, she could not help
but pity this evil woman.
"I want to be free of this place - I WILL be free of this
place," Ciri said, "and for that I need the doll."
Matya was no longer afraid. Magic was Ciri's element,
but bargaining was Matya's own. "And what would you
give me in exchange for the doll?" she asked
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