Shadows of Change; A New Beginning

[Alisiea]

Alisiea writhed in agony. A sharp, stabbing pain raced up her spine and across her abdomen. Cold sweat beaded on her brow. Clenching her teeth she caressed her swollen belly and pleaded with her unborn child.

“Celestia please. I do not know what you mean. I do not understand.”

Her own thoughts were shoved aside. Her own will circumnavigated. A new voice filled her mind; a child’s voice.

“Mother. The Black Gate must be closed. The void must be destroyed.”

Tears streamed down her face as her spine arched upward in an almost inhuman angle. Unable to bear the agony in silence any longer, Alisiea wailed out in a long, shrill scream that echoed through the sleeping house.

**********

Mariko sat bolt upright as the shrill, blood-curdling scream sliced the silence of the night. Before she could rise, a frightened Umeko was at her side.

“Aijin. Isoi. De onnanoko. Kanojixyohiaitami desu.”

“Yes, yes Umeko. Quickly now, go and fetch the healer. I will see to the girl.”

As Umeko raced down the stairs and out the front gate, Mariko went to the girl’s side and did her best to comfort her. She blotted the sweat from her brow with a soft towel. She whispered comforting words and held her hand. Finally, she moved behind the girl, held her head in her lap, and gently stroked her hair. Alisiea squirmed, gritted her teeth but managed to gasp out a few words.

“It … is … not time yet. It is … not time.”

Mariko smiled and caressed the girl’s face in her hands.

“It is not always up to us to choose our time. If the child wishes to come into the world now, then we cannot stop it. You must obey the will of the goddess and she will comfort you.”

**********

By daybreak, Alisiea was sleeping peacefully. The healer had arrived just as the pain began to subside. There was no danger, he assured them, and both the mother and child were fine. A false labor, he said. Something that happens often. He left a potion which the girl was to drink once each day until the actual birth. She was not to be moved. He would return in two days time.

Mariko bowed and thanked him for coming so quickly. She closed and locked the gates and returned to her quarters where she took out quill and parchment. It would be wise, she thought, to notify Judas and Jolicia that the girls time was near.

[Alisiea]

The shock of seeing the man standing before her slowly rip the flesh from his face and expose the likeness of her beloved Paine beneath what was once the mask of the man called Dominic Wolfwood was too much for the girl.

Alisiea gasped once and fainted.

“Wake her.” Renthar said. “We must move her, now.”

Dezera Blackwell, who had assisted the trio in forcing their way into the Geisha house through the use of deception, Magick and outright threats, scowled at Dominic. “You could have timed that better. The shock could send her into premature labor. Renthar is right. We must move her before her water breaks.”

Renthar poured water over Ali’s face waking her. While they debated exactly where she would be taken, Ali struggled with what Dominic had tried to explain to her. Other worlds, exactly like this one. Something about how he was Paine in another world and the father of Celestia. How he had come to this world in disguise so he could protect Ali and avoid making the same mistakes that had resulted in her death in that alternate reality.

It was unclear exactly how they had found her, but she was certain it had something to do with Renthar and his powers. Judas and Jolicia, they told her, were both missing and perhaps dead. Daemons too had returned and were, once again, searching for her. Alisiea had no time to weep at hearing this news, for a decision had been made and a portal opened. Helping her to her feet the four passed through the portal and out of the tender care of the Geisha Mariko and her young apprentice Umeko. Ali could only imagine what threats Renthar had inflected upon the woman in order to get her to surrender Alisiea. A wave of despair and sadness washed over her as they climbed the stairs of a ramshackle inn. Where they had taken her she could not guess for a fog had descended over her mind and heart. She wanted nothing more than to be done with it all. To lie down and disappear. Judas and Jolicia gone. Aingeal unheard from. Only a rumor of her banishment from the Gypsy Blood in the air.

The thought of Daemons, vampires, strange eyed Mages and, goddess only knew what else was hunting her, caused her to go numb to any concern save one; the safety of her unborn child. If these three were all that were left to stand between her and the terror of the abyss, then so be it. If this was indeed the time to choose sides then Alisiea would accept whatever aide she could find. Later, when the opportunity presented itself; if the opportunity presented itself, she might find another path that would assure both she and Celestia would be safe to live their lives in peace. But for now she was too exhausted and too frightened to do otherwise. She lay down on the tiny bed, closed her eyes and pulled the covers up. She was beyond caring what others did. She was beyond caring about anything, anymore.

**********

Both the healer and the mid-wife that Renthar and Dominic Wolfwood, a.k.a. Paine from another world, a.k.a. Ashley Belmont, could find on short notice were old and wizened. The white-haired woman, who wore a pair of bent spectacles at the end of her crooked nose, assured the two men that she was the best mid-wife within a hundred leagues of the small village and had over forty years of experience assisting in the delivery of babies. The male healer who accompanied her would assist her should there be any complications.

Upon arriving back at the run-down inn, they found Alisiea’s water had broken. Her kimono and bed linen were soaked through. It was early in the morning of the Nineteenth of March. The old woman took one look at the girl and shooed everyone but the healer from the room.

“It has begun,” she stated as she guided them towards the stairs. “If you are needed you will be sent for.” Glancing back at the girl who was already showing signs of discomfort, she added, keeping her voice low. “Her clothes are strange. From whence did you bring her?”

“Zento in the Empire of Tokuno.” Renthar replied.

The old woman narrowed her eyes and spat on the floor. “Slant-eyed heathens and daemon worshipers, the lot of them. You were wise to bring her here. Now go. She will be well cared for.”

**********

Her labor was excruciating.

Nine hours passed. With Ali in agonizing pain and no sign of the baby, the mid-wife gave the healer orders to remain with the girl while she went downstairs to discuss with Dominic and Renthar what was to be done. After some consultation it was decided a second mid-wife would be sent for as the old woman was not accustomed to attending to such a lengthy labor. Less then an hour later a second, younger mid-wife arrived. The woman appeared to be in her thirties, but had “good hands,” the old woman said. After examining Alisiea, the younger mid-wife gave instructions to prepare a potion of her own design, the ingredients of which she carefully wrote down. The potion was made and delivered, the door to the room closed and locked and everyone settled down to wait.

**********

Afternoon turned into evening. Evening into night. Lanterns were lit. Food was prepared and served. Little was eaten however, as the moans and heartrending screams of the young woman upstairs dampened even the strongest appetite.

Ten hours later the younger mid-wife and the healer came downstairs, their arms ladened with bloody towels. A look of concern etched deeply on their faces as they deposited the towels in the laundry area. Washing her hands, the mid-wife approached the two men.

“She has lost much blood. If she does not deliver soon it will be necessary to open her in order to save the child. The mother, however, would certainly die, but the child will live. I think only a few hours more is all she will be able to endure.”

The mid-wife took the healer with her and returned to the upstairs room. As the time grew closer Ali’s suffering seemed to lessen. Perhaps she had grown too weak or was close to death.

Then, in the early hours before dawn, on the morning of the Twentieth of March, in the first year of the Reign of King Blackthorn of Britannia and in the third year of the Reign of the Empress Himeko of Tokuno, at the exact hour of the Vernal Equinox, when the moon had entered its newest phase and exactly twenty-four hours after her labors began; Alisiea delivered a six-pound, four ounce, baby girl she named Celestia.

The mid-wife left the healer in the room and came downstairs to advise the two anxious men. Even in a time of great joy there was often sadness.

“The mother has lost too much blood.” She stated. “She has fallen into a dark sleep. I do not have the means to save her. Only the gods now can determine her fate. The baby, however, is strong and healthy. I will send a wet-nurse as soon as possible. I am familiar with several who would be willing. The healer will remain here and do what he can for the mother, but the baby must be looked after. I do not know if you are family or friends, but I would suggest making some other arrangements than staying here. You could have chosen better. This is no place for a newborn.”

The wail of a newborn girl-child drifted down the stairs to surround those below with a vision of the future.

Celestia had arrived.

[Lamashtu]

Always the opportunists, the smaller, lesser Daemons of the upper Regions were constantly prowling for any means available to sneak into the mortal world above. These lesser Daemons were the tricksters and tormentors of those souls condemned to the upper Regions of the Abyss for crimes against their fellow man that were far less egregious than those souls inhabiting the lower Regions. These little monstrosities bore a particularly nasty temperament. Small, often no larger than a small goblin, they were quick, sharp of clawed and teeth and smelled like rotten carrion. But, they were good hunters and were often used as blood-hounds to hunt down transgressors of the Daemon Lord’s Laws. Occasionally they would escape into the mortal world where they were more commonly known as; the “things that go bump in the night” or “bogymen.” The longer they stayed on the mortal plane, the stronger and more dangerous they became. It was these very same lesser Daemons who, when the conjuring of the Beast through the rend in the Void was followed by the “Battle of the Void Pool,” took the opportunity to attach themselves to the rise of the Daemoness Lamashtu and escape into the mortal world. In the confusion of battle, no one noticed as a small group of these particularly ill-tempered little beasties slid over the edge of the Void Pool and scattered into the surrounding forest. Where they went was anyone’s guess, but, having no set purpose, they were free to wander the lands and cities creating havoc and leaving irritation, emotional distress and property damage in their wake. If, however, their foul talents were to be focused by a Daemon of higher stature, then these little creatures could become truly dangerous.

Around the time of the Equinox, the Daemoness Lamashtu was squatting on the roof of the provisioners building overlooking the town square of New Haven. She was brooding over the fact that she could find no sign of the party that once surrounded and harbored the Gypsy girl. The trail, as it were, had gone cold. Since her arrival here a week ago, she had consumed the entrails, flesh, bones, brains and skulls of no less than fifteen mortals, three horses and several goats and was, as yet, unsatisfied. She was occupying her time by pondering the possibility of releasing a blight upon the crops around New Haven or even conjuring a plaque of festering sores to inflict upon the local population when a slight vibration in the fabric of existence rippled through the town. Now, these tiny ripples in the fabric of time and space were imperceptible to mortals, but to a Daemon of her rank and experience, the ripple was significant. For it told Lamashtu that her quest had become even more urgent than before. It told her the child who was the key to her master’s freedom, the child who would deliver the world into chaos and ruin, now dwelt in this world. The ripple was extremely painful as it coursed over the Daemoness’s leathery flesh. She twisted her neck and expanded her jaws in a silent scream of frustration and rage. Gnashing her teeth she rose from the roof and rushed south where, in the course of an hour, she mutilated and ate the bodies of fifty brigands. Only when the pain and frustration of this knowledge had abated did she return to the city where she took up her perch once again atop the provisioners building.

A night and a day passed as she fumed and formulated possible scenarios of how to find, capture and deliver the child to The One Who Waits and thus avoid her own damnation. It was on the third evening after the Equinox, when a commotion in the Town Square caught her attention. Several horses became extremely agitated for no apparent reason. So much so that their owners had a difficult time controlling the frightened animals. A short distance away, a small circle of onlookers was watching, with apparent disgust, something on the ground. Several of the onlookers turned away and retched after having seen whatever it was that was before them. Lamashtu had risen from her squatting position to get a better view, when suddenly a small dark creature of indiscriminate size and shape bolted from within the circle of onlookers and went racing up the street emitting an ear-piercing screech. Instantly the Daemoness recognized the creature for what it was. A foul tempered, foul smelling, Demonic Imp. A vicious grin creased her face as she watched, with delight, while the creature raced from one end of town to the other causing all manner of mischief. How perfect, she thought. Once she gained authority over this hell-spawn and any others of its kind that might have escaped with it, she would have the means necessary to discern where her quarry was hiding. She would then be able, through the use of her own talents of dreams and lust, to seduce the child’s protectors and thus gain access to the child and its mother. At last. The long hunt was nearly over.

[Alisiea]

The sky above shone a brilliant blue. Bell-flowers and Morning Drops lifted their petals as the sun bathed them with its warmth and light. The meadow where Alisiea lay was a riot of spring blooms that, under the bright sunlight, gave off a rich and heady scent. Paper Birch and Elm trees rustled their leaves as a light, steady breeze slid like a breath through the surrounding forest. Chickadees and Goldfinches flitted and scolded as they chased one another from forest shade to bright sunlight and back.

Ali smiled and raised her hands to the sky pretending to capture a single cloud between her fingers. She held it a moment then released it, sending it on its way. Someone, Judas perhaps, was playing a lute and singing, but she was too far away to make out the lyrics.

She felt the presence of others as well. With her there in the meadow, but slightly out of view. She could make out the voices of Jolicia, Aingeal, Faeryl and several others she did not recognize. Someone laughed a light carefree laugh. The kind of laugh one might hear at a party or a wedding.

The aroma of fresh baked cookies wafted over her and she grinned. Tibs was baking her favorites again. Oatmeal Raisin.

Someone came and sat down next to her in the tall grass. They held out an open bottle of ale to her. Smiling, she took the bottle and turned to thank them, her rich auburn hair spread out like a wave upon the green of the grass. She wanted to thank them, for it had been nearly a year since her lips last tasted a proper ale. Turning her head she smiled as the face of her beloved Paine came into view. His strong eyes and well shaped mouth smiled back at her and she closed hers as he leaned over to kiss her. A blending of relief, passion and love swept through her.

“This,” she thought. “This would be a perfect time to die.”

But she did not die and the world continued on its path and the laughter of her friends and sound of the lute washed over her until another voice, a new voice, spoke to her.

“Mother,” the new voice called. “Mother, you must wake up. You must wake up, for I am alone and frightened and cannot find my way.”

Celestia was calling to her and, upon hearing her voice, Alisiea opened her eyes …

[Lamashtu]

It took the Daemoness Lamashtu three full days to capture one of the wily Demonic Imps but, finally, she had one by the throat and was holding it off the ground at eye level. The creature struggled against its captor despite the fact it understood the Daemoness possessed the power to expel it back to the Region of Hell it had escaped from with a mere thought. Once the Imp had tasted the freedom of the mortal plane, it was not going to go back willingly, for here it could gather strength and cunning and cause untold agitation and harm to the mortals indefinitely. But Lamashtu of the Dark Moon Legion had other plans for this one and she knew well that it was hell-bound to obey its superiors when such services were demanded.

“Quomodo multis aliis tui generis evasit?” The Daemoness asked the kicking Imp. Her voice was like the hissing of a thousand serpents. Upon hearing that voice the Demonic Imp ceased it struggling and fell to whimpering. Lamashtu tightened her grip around its neck and asked again.

“Quinque. Dominam. Quinque in numerus.” The Imp responded in a rasping, squeaking voice as it shit itself from fear of being expelled back to the Pit.

“Ubi sunt alios? Ubi hic erant recessit?” Lamashtu asked, relaxing her grip.

The Demonic Imp ceased it struggling and answered with more confidence sensing it might be permitted to stay if it answered truthfully. In any case, it was never a good idea to attempt to deceive one such as Lamashtu.

“Diversae civitates, magistra erit. Extrinsecae, Britannia, Nujel'm, Vesper et hic est in Novo Portu.” The Imp replied.

Lamashtu grinned and tightened her grip around the Imp’s throat.

"Servabis me, et nihil aliud. Ego enim in te officium, sed quamdiu manet in eo plano quod praestabis egestas. Intelligitis?" She hissed. Her voice changed to one of authority and command. Again the Imp shit itself out of fear.

“Assentior. Adsentior servire tantum te magistra erit. Loquere. Præcipe me.” It cried.

The Daemoness released the Imp and it fell to its knees bowing its head until it touched the ground. Lamashtu flexed her wings and glared down at the cowering lesser daemon.

“Vos mos reperio aliis. Audi magistrum in hoc plano sint. Vos mos eos instruere sunt diligentius perscrutari, ut Gypsy puellae nomine Alisiea. Eam tuetur, et qui sunt eius. Sed mihi uel nocent, unde natum est et quo vadat. Volo nomina et locis. Si placet haec mihi feceris, mercedem non me solum, sed magno tenebris est. Hoc est maximum opus. Vadam et non revertar donec te quaesitum.” She commanded.

The Imp groveled and writhed with pleasure on the ground covering itself in its own excrement in anticipation of such a reward. Snapping its jaws and bowing to its new master, the Imp raced away to fulfill its sworn duty. Lamashtu lifted herself and ascended to her perch overlooking the Town Square of New Haven to wait. Now she had the means. Soon, very soon she would have the reward.

[Alisiea]

A week after giving birth and two days after awakening from a dark sleep, Alisiea was able to cradle Celestia in her arms for the first time. She had no words to describe that moment. In an instant, all the strange and terrible events that had occurred in her life, vanished. All concerns for her own safety and her own well-being were brushed aside as she looked upon that face. Already, Celestia had opened her eyes and was focusing on faces and objects. Already, her eye color had formed. One green. One blue. And, she would have Bloodwood red hair, like her mother. Both the young Mid-wife and wet-nurse were enamored and enchanted with the child. Alisiea felt a pride unlike anything she had ever felt before. Here was her reason for living. Here was her reason for fighting. She knew, in that first moment, that should the need arise, she would willingly, without doubt or hesitation, forfeit her own life so Celestia could live.

Alisiea lay with Celestia in her arms for over an hour until the mid-wife reminded her it was feeding time. Ali wanted to feed Celestia from her own breast, but she was still too weak and undernourished to do so. Reluctantly, she handed the child to the wet-nurse, who assured her the child would be safe. Alisiea lay back to rest, but she knew exactly what must be done. If she was to regain her strength and heal properly, there was only one way to do it quickly; she must return to the forest. Celestia was returned to her and Mother and Daughter spent the rest of the day napping and bonding. Alisiea told Celestia of her adventures, of her friends Judas, Jolicia, Aingeal, Tibs and Gaius and of her beloved Paine. She told her about dancing, cookies, and freedom. Celestia cooed, burped and smiled. Alisiea knew her daughter understood and would remember.

That night, after several more feedings, they slept together under the watchful eye of the Mid-wife. And, for the first time in ages, Alisiea slept peacefully.

In the morning she rose, dressed and ate a meager meal of hot oatmeal and fruit. Then, just before noon, she handed Celestia over to the Mid-wife and the wet-nurse. She was still unsure if she could fully trust Renthar or Dominic Wolfwood, who was now calling himself Paine. And she certainly was not going to leave her alone with either man. She gave strict instructions to the Mid-wife that, under no circumstance was she to let them take Celestia anywhere alone. The Mid-wife gave her word and Ali promised to return in two days; three at the most.

Leaving the ramshackle inn, Ali found that the small village was situated in a shallow valley of pasturelands and farms. The gently rolling hills surrounding the valley were dotted with thick corpses of forest broken here and there by patches of open grassland. In the distance she could see snow-capped mountains. The lowland spring snows had melted and the grasslands were just beginning to green up. The air was fresh with the promise of a warm spring. Ali followed the road east out of the village on foot and, at a crossroad, turned north. She walked for an hour giving thought to her friends, but mostly towards Aingeal. She was concerned that she had no word from her since her last visit over a month earlier. She was concerned that the rumors of Aingeal’s banishment might be true. It didn’t matter if they were true or not. Alisiea didn’t care. The Gypsy Nation had never been kind to Ali or her mother after they discovered her mother had taken an outsider for her husband. An Elf, if the stories were to be believed. Which, she had been told, was why her mother had vanished leaving her behind. Then came her own expulsion from the tribe; for what? Failing to bring in enough gold. There was little love lost between Alisiea and the Gypsy Nation. Even when she tried to return so she could raise Celestia in the Old Ways … she was met with hostility and rejection. No. If Aingeal truly had been banished, then Ali figured they were both better off.

After another hour of walking Alisiea was grown tired. Looking up and down the road she could see no travelers and so, hiking up her skirts she climbed the embankment and made her way towards a thick wooded area. A mix of Pine and Oak and a smattering of Elm and Burch gave Ali a sense of security as she worked her way deeper into the wood. Soon she came upon a small brook that seemed to bubble up from an underground spring. The area around the brook was well concealed and protected overhead by heavy Pine boughs. The ground was dry and level and there was an abundance of leaves and low hanging Fir boughs that would make good insulation. She spent the next few hours preparing a makeshift shelter that would be warm and dry. There was no need for a fire. She would not be cooking nor would she need the fires heat to keep warm. Satisfied all was in order. Alisiea closed her eyes, took a deep breath and, for the first time in over a year; shifted.

**********

The evening light was fading into the dim orange of sunset as the great Grey-red She-wolf moved cautiously along the edge of the open grassland. Still within the shadow of the tree-line she was hidden from any creature that might move across the open grasses yet she would be able to catch that same movement and decide the best approach. Even now she was panting from exhaustion. She would need what little strength her body afforded her to bring down even the smallest of prey. Just after sunset she took a rabbit and a moment after that, another one. It was enough. Returning to her den in the thick wood she ate greedily and then quickly fell asleep.

On the second day the She-wolf traveled several miles further from her temporary den. She crossed the open grassland and entered a thick wood. Almost immediately she picked up the fresh scent of deer. Traveling west. A party of three. A male and two doe. She followed the scent. She would do her best to avoid the male. His antlers could cause her harm and she could not afford to be injured. Not now. Not yet.

The miles passed as she trotted at a gentle pace to conserve energy. She had eaten well the night before and felt rested. Her strength was returning, but she still needed time. By mid-day she had caught up with the deer. There were, indeed, two doe and a male. The male was young and strong and carried a formidable rack of antlers. The two doe were grazing on new spring grass in a wide clearing adjacent to a shallow, fast running brook. The male stood on the opposite bank keeping watch. Lying on her belly, partially hidden by underbrush, the She-wolf watched and waited. If she were to take one of the doe she would have to draw the male away. A short time later the opportunity presented itself. The male turned his back to the doe and took several steps deeper into the wood. Without hesitation the She-wolf sprang. Racing down the slope, she cut across the clearing and crossed the shallow brook between the male and the two doe. Panic stricken, the two doe sprang downstream, their white tails bobbing as they leapt over fallen logs and underbrush. The male, startled by the sudden attack, snorted a warning and sprang upstream in an attempt to draw the wolf away. The She-wolf feigned pursuit of the male for a short distance, but then swung back around and headed downstream in pursuit of the females. An hour later, she raised her head and howled her thanks to the Moon-Goddess as she stood over her kill. Gorging herself on fresh meat she lapped up the hot blood of the fallen doe. She did not return to her den that night but slept, instead, within sight of her kill. Night in the forest often brought out creatures that prowled the darkness searching for food. Badgers, Bear or even a lone Etten would find the scent of a fresh blood irresistible. The She-wolf lay down to rest, but kept a wary eye over her kill.

The night passed without incident. Rested and feeling stronger, the She-wolf ate from her kill once more, then left the carcass for scavengers and ravens and returned to her temporary den. She spent the rest of that day and night, resting and grooming. On the forth day she left her den and headed south towards a village where the humans kept flocks of sheep, goats and cattle.

**********

Four days after she had left, Alisiea returned to the Inn. She was healthy and well rested. She spent the next two days bonding with Celestia and nourishing her from her own body. Not for a single moment did she leave her side, but cuddled and cradled her and told her stories. One evening, Ali even danced for her daughter who cooed and giggled with obvious delight. The next morning Ali asked the Mid-wife to fetch Renthar and Dominic so she could speak to them and make plans. She also wanted to inform them it was time she returned to her friends and to Aingeal, for there was still much to be done, and even more to protect.

[Alisiea]

A hot, desert wind scoured the small graveyard in the western quarter of Nujel’m and drove the loose surface sand eastward in hissing rasp of sorrow. Gusts of wind lifted the lighter, nearly invisible granules off the hard-packed ground and drove them against gravestone and building in an effort to strip them clean of word or wood. The wind driven sand stung and bit the face of young Alisiea as she knelt at the foot of the grave marked “Paine Drakul.” But the biting sands did not sting her face nearly as harshly as the tears that ran, unchecked, along her cheeks. She made no effort to shield her face from the harsh winds but accepted the punishment as a needful thing. She wept for her beloved and for the betrayal that was hers alone to bear.

“My beloved,” She cried against the onslaught of desert sand. “My beloved … I beg your forgiveness. I had no way to know. And yet, that fact does not proclaim my innocence. Nor does it forgive the one who betrayed us both. I wanted nothing more than to bear you strong sons who would carry your name and your honor far beyond those of our own mortal lives. I yearned for nothing more than to give you my heart and soul and bring into this world a child worthy of your greatness.”

Bowing her head she dug her fingers into the hot sand while the gusting wind tore at her hair and scraped hot sand against her neck and scalp. The sun glared down its unrelenting stare. Raising her face to that sun, Alisiea exposed her grief and despair.

“Now, I find that through treachery and Magick, another stole into our bed that night. Another who claims to be Paine Drakul. Who claims to have come here from another world. A world exactly like our own. A world where yet another Paine, another Alisiea, another Judas, Jolicia, and another Aingeal fought against the rising darkness; and died in the effort.

Now comes this other who claims to have lost his own Alisiea to the same Daemons that hunt us here. Another who arrived here years ago in the guise of a Mage named Dominic Wolfwood. Who, on those last happy days of our time together, for reasons of his own, be they selfish or subversive, removed his mask and appeared to me that night wearing your face and your body and bearing within him the love of his own, long dead Alisiea. Now comes this other who claims that my child, our precious Celestia is, in truth, his.

How my beloved? How am I to continue on with the knowledge of this betrayal in my heart? How?

Tell me what I must do. Reach out to me from beyond and tell me what course to follow? How do I forgive him? How do I forgive myself? Is there nowhere I can go where evil will not follow? Is there no redemption for those who have sinned against their own nature?”

Alisiea slumped to the ground where she spilled her tears upon the hot, dry sands of Nujel’m. How long she lay there she did not know, but when she woke, the wind had died and the moon, in its full brightness, had risen. The desert sky was ablaze with stars as the Gypsy girl kissed the headstone of Paine Drakul and, with a final look back, returned to the Inn and her precious Celestia.