It was one of those uplifting, fresh breezy spring days, when the hair whips around your face, but each breath you inhale feels like an appreciated bucket of ice water, invigorating in that way you simply needed.
The carefully manicured greens of the old University held groups of stereotypical college types, languidly lying under the old oak trees. Isabelle Mendes strolled down the cobbled pathways, heading towards the old stone arch leading to the bustling city beyond. The arch was a cold, formal entrance to the prestigious University, practically holding student notices and old photographs containing masses of cheerful youths, who had donned caps and gowns for their long awaited day.
Isabelle was happily oblivious to the world around her that spring lunchtime; her long wavy brown hair was pinned to the side, but the rich dark strands were in an artful frame around her face thanks to the windy day.
On her mind was her best friend, James, who had last night kissed her softly on the lips and whispered to her that all he wanted was to be able to call himself her boyfriend. She shivered with delight at the thought.
So it was understandable, that she didn't notice the movement in the shadows in one of the little stone rooms, and it was very understandable, that she would jump, when a hunching woman, with frizzed grey hair trailing down her curved back, grabbed her fore arm violently. Isabelle looked down to the woman in alarm; her heart racing in panic. The woman's steely grey eyes penetrated hers, and Isabelle later wondered had she imagined the old woman pulling her closer with unreckoned strength, and whispering hoarsely in her ear:
" You are the chosen one, child. Chosen for the good of Eina,"