Below is an exert from my site Kyasor. It was written by my coowner Nicias and I think it is an excellant piece of writing. So if you think its as beautiful as I think it is you definately should stop by canticleofheroes.co.uk and give her kudos on it:

It is morning, and sunlight streams through the open windows of the tallest tower in Nysthera, pooling like some heavenly liquid on the obsidian floor and refracting into a thousand colors to dance about the room. Namacuix, far below in the deep caverns where the Nystheran populace make their homes, has been awake for some time. Lelukuia, too, is awake - she is always awake at this hour - and "watching" the splashing light with dim fascination. It is the only time of day in which she is relatively alone in her thoughts.

Hundreds of feet below her, the first fishermen are casting their nets in the shoals beneath the island's cliffs, and water adepts are freezing the beds of collection troughs to ensure the catch doesn’t spoil. These are Lelukuia's favorite kind of people; they are simple folk, who do not think too much about politics or power, who wake up every day and man their boats and pity themselves very rarely, if ever. She can hear their thoughts now, as she can hear the thoughts of all her people when they wake, and the quiet repetition of their decisions is a comfort to her after a long night. If only all her subjects were so content.

With some effort, the Seer slides her legs out from under the heap of silk and fur which comprised her nightly bed, and places the aching soles of her feet solidly on the shining floor. It is a stark contrast, the ethereal white of her skin against the luminous black of the stone, but the shock of this opposition is something she had grown accustomed to in her long life, and she pays it little attention. She was not the only one to bear such brilliantly pale flesh, after all - all Blesseds bore that mark. Surely she should not marvel over herself if she was not unique in this regard. She leans forward, her slender fingers cupping knees, and slowly rises. Careful, careful; she is so old, she can feel the weight of a century in her bones, in her soul. Carefully, now.

She is standing. She walks to the window – her favorite one, which faces the distant shores of Aiacus and, beyond them, the white monuments of its capital, Sryth'kar – and blinks against the dawn brightness that glitters, dazzling, on the sea. It is difficult to see their sister island through the glare, but Lelukuia doesn’t really need to see it. How strange, when one ponders it, that her sightless eyes blink at all. How strange, that she even bothers with these windows.

"My Lady," a voice begins, and her hesitance is clear by her tone. The Seer does not turn, but with a raised hand invites her in, which is followed by her attendant's muffled footsteps and the tinkling of the bells on her ankles. "It is nearly the hour you asked for the boy to meet you."
Indeed? She does not yet have the strength to speak, and even her mentally projected voice is weak with age.
"Yes. I shall fetch your robes, and water; there is time yet for a drink."
Splendid. Lelukuia sighs, and turns towards the girl at last. Thank you, Niani.
"My Lady?"
Yes?
"No…nevermind. It isn’t my place."
Are you going to make me guess...There is the faintest of smiles on her thin lips, the slightest crinkle of grooved flesh about her mouth. She knew, of course, what Niani meant to ask. It was right there, at the forefront of her mind, practically written on her brow. Lelukuia hadn't even needed to look for it. Her attendant blushes, bows.
"I am sorry. I forget, sometimes...as silly as that sounds."
"It isn’t silly." The Seer’s speaking voice does not fit her face. It is a young voice, almost that of a child, though her body is frail, her skin paper-thin and wrinkled. The voice of a Blessed is a curious thing.
"Thank you, My Lady. Though, I would feel foolish asking you now, when you already know my question."
"You were wondering why I asked you to remind me of the time, at all."
"Yes."
"I enjoy your company;" there is sadness in her words, "it is good to be in the company of friends, before one must do something difficult."

----

The chamber outside of which Namacuix stands is somewhat small, round, and very private; something of a study belonging to the Seer, as it had to the Seer before her, and would to the Seer who followed. Like the rest of the Walls, it is made entirely of volcanic rock – primarily obsidian and hematite – but instead of lava, for which it was much too high, this room uses candles set into niches in the wall for light. A rich, jewel-toned rug spans nearly the entire floor. In the middle of the room, several sitting cushions encircle a wide, shallow basin, which would ordinarily have been filled to the brim with water. Now it is empty, and the beaten brass shines dully in the flickering candlelight, lackluster without that simple liquid to grant it brightness. On one side of the room, a low bench carved from rare imported wood displays a handful of small drinking bowls, and a half-full decanter. The walls are completely bare and smooth, except for two doors; one leading to a hall associated with the Seer's quarters, and the other to a long corridor used infrequently, but public.

Lelukuia enters from the first door, alone. It is the season of the Moon Calling, and she is accordingly wearing her saffron robes, and a gauzy, white sash...like a blindfold. Around her neck, an elaborate, multi-strand necklace of flat silver disks and glittering red diamonds extends beyond her collar bones. Her hands and ankles are without ornament, and her bare feet make no sound on the carpet as she walks across the room. Her steps are slow, but deliberate, and in moments she is opening the second door, and casting a wide slant of candlelight into the hall beyond.

"Namacuix," she says aloud, for she has known his uneasiness since before she opened the door, before she traversed the room, before she entered the chamber, and it would not do to force her voice into his mind while his stomach danced like a heathen, "Thank you for coming to meet me on such short notice. Please, come in." She smiles, beckons him in with one fragile hand, closes the door behind him. "Would you care for a glass of wine? I am no connoisseur, but I have heard it is an excellent vintage."