Shadows of Change: The Second Era

[Anna Evanovich]

My name is Tatianna (Anna) Vesuli Evanovich. I was born twenty years ago to a noble family of the holy city of Trinsic. Now, I am a refugee..

Two years ago, word arrived that an ancient race known as the Atalan were returning to Trinsic with plans to reclaim our city as their sacred ground. All humans, we were told, must leave the city or face slavery, annihilation or worse. Many of the nobles, my father among them, opposed the return of these creatures and vowed to stay and fight. My mother and I were sent to a camp just outside the city. There we waited for many weeks, watching, waiting to see what would happen. Then they came. In numbers far too great to overcome, they swept through the city slaughtering or enslaving any human they found. Our brave Paladins, my father among them, died to a man. In a rage, my mother moved against them. She was taken, tortured and later murdered by the red-eyed creatures.

Finding myself alone and without resources, I fled my beloved city and traveled to the lands known as Malas. I wandered the streets of the great mercantile city of Luna for several days until, late one evening, I met the most fascinating woman. She took me aside, bought me a meal and wine and we spoke at length of the tragedy that had befallen Trinsic. Although not of Trinsic birth she was keenly aware of its troubles and took a great interest in asking me all manner of questions surrounding the Atalan. I found her captivating and intelligent and, as I later learned, she too was of noble birth. She did, however, seem haunted by some inexplicable ailment and I sensed she was searching for some hidden secret that had yet eluded her. Tall and oddly beautiful with skin the color of moonlight, she spoke to me of ancient histories and long forgotten kingdoms. I found her … irresistible.

Taking pity on me she offered me shelter and companionship until I could, once again, establish myself in the world. Her spacious estate was excellently appointed and very comfortable. I stayed with her for many months. Eventually, as her trust in me grew, I was offered a position on her staff. She sent me to the Island City of Nujel’m to oversee her many investments there and it is in Nujel’m I have lived for the past year, acting on her behalf concerning her business dealings.

I received word only this past week that my mentor and employer was experiencing some personal difficulty. I decided to return to the mainland immediately so as to better assist her. Upon my arrival, I found the manor house to be in the most appalling state of disrepair and my mentor missing. Searching the estate I found notes and journals that might help me in my search for the truth as to what fate has befallen her. It is impossible, however, for me to remain at the manor, for the place reeks of death, subterfuge and rot unlike anything I have ever witnessed. It is my hope to find her and help her in any way I can.

I will start with the journals, of which there are many. As I recall she had another trusted aide and, although I have never met him, I am certain he will be a great help in solving this mystery and aiding me in this quest. I must make it a priority to find this man named Michael Hawk. I will begin where all such searches seem to begin; in the frontier town of New Haven.

[Alisiea]

Alisiea lingered in the warm bathwater, her thoughts wandering from one point to another, her hands gently caressing her growing belly. She smiled as thin threads of silvery water dribbled off her smooth skin to unite with the scented universe of droplets in which she lay.

“Two weeks,” she whispered to the unborn child within her. “Two weeks without a nightmare. Two weeks of blessed sleep. Two weeks without the Lady in White hovering over my bed … our bed. Oh, my child, if only your father were here to see how we have blossomed. How we have come to this place as yet unharmed. But alas, he is not here to see us. Nor will he be here to see you born. Yet I know in my heart you will grow in strength and wisdom and bring honor to his name and his legacy.”

She lay back resting her head against the back of the tub.

“Is Gaius’s house not beautiful?” she whispered, her hands absently rubbing her belly. “He is very wealthy you know. Mostly from his adventures. He reminds me of your father; gentle in word yet fierce in battle. It is good to have friends like ours. Aingeal, Gaius, Jolicia, Judas and the Dark Elf and Quinn of course.”

She frowned.

“I wonder how she is doing at the Lyceaum? We should go visit her soon, I miss her.”

She swooshed the water back and forth with her knees.

“The mid-wife said we must stop dancing and riding horses after the autumnal equinox. She said doing either might bring you harm and we cannot have that happen can we?”

Alisiea took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“It is good we are here. You will be born in a safe and friendly place and grow up happy and healthy and free of worry. I will learn to read and write and one day become a proper lady and maybe even live in a fine house just like this one. You would like that would you not?”

She laughed and splashed water over her belly.

“We must find a proper good name for you my daughter. Aye, a proper good name. I wonder if they will have cookies at the trial this evening? Ginger snaps or lemon sugar cookies for sure. I am positive it would be too much to hope for to see oatmeal-raisin there. Aye, that would be asking a lot. But we shall see, we shall see.”


**********


In the lower depths of the Great Abyss, the Lady in White knelt before her master. Her gossamer wings, now turned to leather, spread six meters out. Her eyeless sockets staring at the steaming ground. Her blood-red horns bowed in adulation. The great Daemon of the lower Abyss studied his captain with a discerning eye.

“How is it they sent you back to me? You, a captain of the Dark Moon Legion? Is the task before you too difficult? Must I demote you and send you to the lower depths where the lesser of your breed can torment you for all eternity?”

Lamashtu bowed her head lower.

“Nay, my Prince. They came in numbers bent on challenging me. And, as of yet, I am not at my full strength. My powers are somewhat diminished in their realm.”

The Dark Prince leaned back upon his throne. The chains that bound him glowed with a radioactive blue light. He shook them and the sound echoed off the walls and ceiling of the vast cavern.

“Yours is a simple task. You are to use your gifts of dream and nightmare to torment the girl. Drive her from her friends and protectors, bring her worry and cause her to doubt; force her into our arms, for the unborn child she carries holds the key to my freedom.”

He leaned forward. A crown of flames hovering just above his upswept horns.

“I will send another to you. He shall act as your lieutenant. Use him wisely. He will recruit others to our cause. And what of the woman whose house you now occupy?”

“She is safely imprisoned, my Prince.”

“Good. See she is kept that way. I may have use of her later. Hide her well. See she is not harmed. Now go, return to the upper realms and fulfill your task.”

A wave of his hand opened a howling red portal. Lamashtu, daemon of the lower reaches, folded her wings, stepped through the vortex and returned to the world of men.

[Gaius Atius Tira]

After the crazy tavern night I made sure Ali was home safe. I went to my room and thought about the events that had transpired. I kept mauling what was said to Ali; “They have been to where you sleep!” I could not sleep so I decided to trace, starting in Ashencrosse, all the places I knew that she had slept.

Upon my arrival, I saw that someone had set up a bedroll in the southeast tower. I moved to the Tavern and saw nothing out of place, so I moved west to Miss Jo’s house. I could smell sulfur and ash as if there had been a fire of some sort, also the smell of burnt meat!

As I approached her home, I saw it was utterly destroyed, with body parts scattered around what was left of the home. I walked up the once beautiful pathway and saw messages scrawled on the ground and walls. With a cloth over my nose and mouth to attempt to hold back the smell, I continued my search checking bodies to see if I could identify any of the victims, but they were too badly burnt or dismembered to tell. I made my way to the second floor and stopped in my tracks upon seeing the bloody pentagram on the floor.

I backtracked out and headed for Britain hoping that Judas and the others would be there. Upon my arrival I was pale at what I witnessed. Thank the virtues that Judas, Jo, Aingeal and a few others were there along with that worthless Dark Elf.

I told Judas that he needs to come with me to Ashencrosse, which he asked why? I told him I think I knew what the message was! So with that everyone gathered and went outside. The Pooka opened a gate and we all went through. I took them to the ghastly sight. Poor Jo was struck hard by the sight of her once beautiful home.

We poked through the rubble trying to find clues and decipher what we had found. When she appeared again, the demon, the lady in white! I had my bow in hand and began to fire at her hitting her several times. The Spineless Dark Elf yelling for me to hold! I told him to hold my ass and went after this she-devil. She cast a creature of darkness to attack us; I switched my fire to it, which allowed the she-devil to slip away. After a few minutes of battle, she was chased off and we resumed our investigation of the ruined house.

We attempted to figure out the clues with little to no success. I then took my leave and went to check on Ali and stand watch, for I knew the dark elf was incapable or unwilling to perform his duties to protect his charge. I am starting to have my doubts about his “skills” for it seems anytime Ali is in need of a protector, he is conveniently nowhere to be found!

[Deleted]

"So glad Ali will not see this", the thought ran through Aingeal's mind. Watching the three of them sort through the evidence and destruction, "Gaius keep this to yourself. Don't tell her"

Stepping up to what was once Jolicia's house, Ssin'urn turned looking at her, "watch your step alright". The feeling of being underwater overcame Aingeal, the pressure in her head started building hurting her ears. A familiar feeling, yet never welcomed. Dismembered bodies were about like confetti, as if kegs of explosive liquid were set in the center of her house. The house creaked, growled and groaned with each step further inside.

Something began to burn the left side of her face; wings cutting through the air awakened her. The being with a massive wing span, red as blood stared at her; the sound of her name rang in her head, and if it was audible Aingeal could not say. "Aingggeeaall” the word came soft and menacing within her head. Staring at it, meeting its gaze, Blinding light over took her then the heat licked her skin awakening her to the blaze surrounding her, voices screaming her name to run.

****************************************************

"Close your eyes, your more shaken then hurt. Come on lay down" It was true keeping her eyes open had grown painful. Listening to his voice combined with the softness of the feather bed, Aingeal laid her head down.

Drowning into the exhaustion that over took her. His weight on the bed as he lay next to her was the last conscience thought Aingeal remembered. With her guard lowered, it began:

She saw them small at first but recognizable as she came to the top of the bluff. Alisiea stood with her back to the sea. The cliffs of New Magincia fell away only a few short steps behind. The bright moonlight reflected off the driving sea and lit the surrounding grassland giving the cliffs a glow that was intoxicating. The child, how she had grown, yet her dreaming mind couldn't recall her birth. Surely Aingeal would have witnessed that. Standing tall next to Alisiea, with her mother’s arm draped protectively around the child's shoulder. Crowns of flame hovered over both Mother and Child. The girl smiled at Aingeal, holding out her small hand, no words passed just the intense feeling to come and stand with them. The Britannia Sea echoed from the rocks setting a dull hum and swooshing sound behind them, almost drowning out any other sound.

The thin linen skirt strangled against her legs, Aingeal took one step towards them and then stopped. She frowned. Something was not right. She looked closer. The child so sweet and fragile like many Gypsy girls, she had fire-red hair and the face of an angel, yet something haunted her features. Covering her mouth with her hand Aingeal realized. Where her eyes should have been, only empty hollow sockets remained looking out. Stunned Aingeal looked at Alisiea, were the words spoken or just in her head, "Ali what has happened to her?” Giving her friend a pleading look the explanation came in the form of a look, Aingeal looked at Alisiea but saw she too had only empty sockets for eyes.

Suddenly, rising from the sea below, the sound of rushing wind could be heard. Behind Mother and child rose the great outstretched, iridescent wings of the Lady in White. She hung in the air a moment, making the markings on Aingeal's body burned as if a warning, the Lady in White settled down behind Alisiea and the girl. Her massive, gossamer wings protectively curled about the two of them. She too wore a crown of fire over her blood-red horns. She smiled and beckoned to Aingeal.

“Come,” she sang. “Come and help me protect these two, for there is no one else to trust. You are the last. The others, who claimed to love them, lied. Instead, they attempted to steal the child and destroy the mother in a vain effort to destroy that which cannot be destroyed. Come, stand with us. Help us reunite the world and remove the evil that haunts men’s hearts. Come my child; prove your love for these most precious gifts. Come.”

She gasped sitting straight up in the bed, the robe meant for someone twice her size was soaked with sweat and the Lady in White; her words still fresh ringing in her ears. Aingeal pulled her knees up to her chest tightly leaning against the cool stone of the wall, watching the shadows cast from moon playing across the floor.

[Jolicia]

"You should not let everything get to you so. Life is ... not always easy."

Judas' words had been true, and ones that he had shared with Jolicia before. She did her best to hide her emotions and irritations, but he always knew it when she was upset. Her breaking point was coming again, as she replied, "But does it all have to blow up at once?"

*************************************************

The stench in the air was overwhelming as Jolicia's slowly took in the sight of her former Ashencrosse home, "Where the hell is my house?" There were ramblings from the others, but they did not register. She stared blankly at what was left of it for a couple of minutes before continuing to look around. Legs, arms, a head over there... some intestines over there... a full torso back there. Gingerly and in a haze, Jolicia moved through the rubble. She kneeled down and looked at a few of the scribbled messages left behind but the words didn't stick.

Jolicia looked around and realized she was in the "room" that was once belonged to Alana, and then Alisiea, when the chill set into her bones. She felt Judas' hand on her shoulder, as he gave it a gentle squeeze that triggered too many reactions in her mind. Quickly, she shook her head and looked down, pausing for a moment, and then walked off to the watch tower.
As the next several hours passed, everything blurred together except for the constant companionship of James Bunny-Man. The bedroll wrapped around her, the bottle of whiskey, and eventually the hammer that she held in her hand. A creature that had never meant much to her became the one small calming factor in all of the chaos. Moments of compassion from a being that, as he put it, "doesn't help mortals."

It wasn't until James had departed that Jolicia felt alone again. She could hear the others that remained, but couldn't pull herself up off the floor. What felt like an eternity passed before the familiar smell and warmth of Judas was next to her. A small sense of security as his arm slipped around her, and he leaned in and spoke softly, "Do you wish to leave this place?"

[Judas D'arc]

It was only a week ago, yet so much had changed. At that time, Judas believed they had a well-earned respite against the forces that threatened Alisiea and her unborn child. The bard, Jolicia, Ssin'Urn, and the fallen paladin Michael Hawk had put an end to the demonic Lady in White that haunted the Gypsy Girl's dreams. That very same quartet had struck a bargain to force the vampire Avella Isilian into sleep, and bury her underground where none could find her. Then it all quickly began to unravel. The Lady in White had returned, intent on their destruction. Word that Avella's coffin had been disturbed soon reached their ears. But nothing could compare to the events of two nights ago, when a bald headed woman in red robes attempted to strangle Alisiea while they attended a tavern gathering in Ilshenar.

"They have been where you sleep!" Those were her only words, but they were not so easily deciphered.

Hours later, and it was Gaius that finally determined their meaning. When all of this trouble first began, Alisiea had stayed at Jolicia's house in Ashencrosse. Former house, that is, for that which remained in the southwestern corner of the small Malas town was more mockery than home. Splatters of blood, discarded body parts, demonic symbols, and strange writings were scattered throughout the ruins. They had all been struck hard by this attack, but Judas was most concerned for Jolicia, who was already struggling with recent occurrences. This would only make matters worse for her.

Never one for inaction, the bard had taken it upon himself to copy these scribbled messages left behind and attempt to discern their purpose. There were seven in total, and it was impossible for him to decide whether they were riddles, warnings, or complete and utter nonsense.

The First Message:

"The past is done. The future written. Today no longer cares."

An implication that both the past and future were immutable. Did this speak of prophecy? Fate? Destiny? And the indifference of contemporary times? Was this in regards to the current state of Britannia, a kingdom slowly turning on itself without concern?

The Second Message:

"When is the Samurai Empire not the Samurai Empire?"

An obvious reference to Tokuno. What might happen there?

The Third Message:

"A legacy falls to harrowing hands."

Whose legacy? And what exactly were harrowing hands?

The Fourth Message:

"The right hand strikes while the left hand moves unnoticed."

Misdirection. One enemy obvious, another that was not.

The Fifth Message:

"Destiny died to dark-hair where Courage never fails."

Something that was meant to be but never came to pass. Dark-Hair could refer to Avella Isilian. Or to Aingeal. Or to Judas. Or to half the population of Sosaria. Or to the entire population of Tokuno. And what sort of place was Courage always guaranteed?

The Sixth Message:

"He will have her."

This one was more direct. "He" was most likely the Demon that they faced. Was the "her" about Alisiea? Her child? Avella Isilian? Someone else entirely?

The Seventh Message:

"Betrayal will come from the most expected."

If expected, how bad could betrayal be? Was it a hint not to doubt their instincts? Or a trick to erode their trust?

As he stood within the ruins of Jolicia's former home, the already exhausted Judas rubbed at his face in frustration. It had been a long week, filled with one unfortunate revelation after another. And he had a sinking feeling that the worst was yet to come ...

[Alisiea]

She could not help herself. When she heard Gaius mumbling in his room, she crept down the stairs into the moonlit hallway and listened at his door. Something about a tragedy … Jolicia’s house … destroyed? Bewildered, Alisiea crept back to bed, but was unable to sleep. The events that had transpired that evening plagued her thoughts. The strange, red-robed woman with no hair who had attacked her for no apparent reason.

Was it self-defense? Murder?

“They have been where you sleep.” The woman kept repeating those words over and over before grabbing Alisiea by the throat and choking her. Alisiea managed to break away and back across the room. Everything was happening so quickly, without warning, before people could grasp what was going on. Jolicia attempted to intervene and stood between them, but the crazed woman shoved past her and continued to attack the gypsy girl. Alisiea felt her hand move instinctively to her belt. She drew her spike and struck twice. The woman fell dead. Alisiea dropped the bloodied blade to the floor and stood wide-eyed and shaking, staring down at the woman’s body.

It was true, Alisiea had killed before. Creatures that dwelt the dark places or haunted the dungeons, caves and forests of Sosaria. These things, yes. And once, a vampire, but never this … never another person, another human.

People began milling around the dead woman asking questions to no one in particular and speculating. Someone asked if they could take the body. Alisiea felt the heat within her rise. Felt the curse rip through her blood. She stumbled to the closest table and sat down heavily.

“Do not shapeshift,” the healers warned her. “Or the violence of the shifting could very well kill both you and the unborn child.”

Alisiea struggled to control the overwhelming urge.

“Drink. I … I need a drink … a … a real drink.”

She heard Aingeal say something and then produce a bottle of strong whisky. Alisiea drank deeply from the bottle feeling the strong drink burn the rage from her body. A light patina of sweat formed on her forehead, chest and arms. Conversations swirled about her like dark eddies of strange language lost in a sea of words.

Nothing made sense.

**********

In the hour before dawn Alisiea left the house of Gaius Atius Tria and headed for the town of Ashencrosse. She passed through familiar forests and quickly crossed the open grassland. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when she came to the ruins of Jolicia’s home. The sight drained all hope from her body. She slumped to the damp grass and wept openly.

Jolicia’s house had been a haven for her after Paine’s death. She had come to love the small bedroom and the little garden at the front of the house. Its close proximity to the Bramble Rose made it all the more enjoyable. She thought this would be her home until the baby came. Then everything changed.

Picking herself up from the dew-stained grass, she cautiously stepped into the ruined building, but she did not go far. The horrid stench of death, rotting body parts and black clouds of flies and stinging wasps prevented her from seeing much; but what she did see, churned both her stomach and her heart. Running from the ruins she fell to her knees and vomited.

“My fault. This is all my fault.”

A tsunami of sadness and guilt swept aside all emotion from her body. Numb with grief she staggered to the Bramble Rose and sat in a darkened corner where she wept until Gaius stood in front of her.

“This will not do,” he said. “You should not have come here. You know you are not to travel alone in the land.”

She was not even startled by his sudden appearance or his words. She wasn’t sure if anything could ever frighten her again.

“I am a big girl,” she whispered between sobs. “I am capable of going where I please.” She stated wiping her eyes.

“Aye,” he answered. “But wandering the land alone with so many hunting you is the act of a foolish girl and not a mother-to-be.”

How many more people will scold her? Jolicia, for her acting like a child and depending too much on Judas and her for protection. “We are not your parents.” The words kept rattling around in her brain. True enough, but if ever a girl of seventeen, who was with child and without a husband ever needed parents, it was now. But loss and rejection had always followed Alisiea. Her mother vanished. Her father driven from the Gypsy Clan for being Fey. Herself rejected and thrown out by her mother’s people. The death of the old man who had taught her fencing and housed her near Trinsic. The viscous, bloody attack by William in the Castle of Draven that cursed her forever. And now this. Cursed. The word stained her tongue and burned in her heart.

“This is all my fault,” she whimpered. “My friends suffer because I am cursed.”

Alisiea stood and went to one of the leaded windows. She hung her head.

“I should leave here. Go far away where no one will find me. Draw the danger away from here, from those I care about.”

“Aye, that is one path," Gaius agreed. "But what of those you leave behind? Those who love you and have fought on your behalf? Do you think these creatures, these daemons will just stop? I think not. I think there is more to this than just you and the child. Aye, the child may be the key. But there is something else at play here. Something we have yet to understand. Your friends worry about you and defend you because they … we … love you. The daemons hunt you because you are a light that burns bright in their eyes causing them pain. Leaving us will not stop the danger. Only when we stand together will we be able to destroy this evil.”

Alisiea sat down again and covered her face with her hands.

“I am not worthy of such love. I am not…”

“You are worthy,” Gaius interrupted. “More than you know. More than you allow yourself to believe.”

He stood looking down at the girl. For some time now he had looked at her, not with pity or indifference, but as a girl filled with life and innocence. A girl who had the power of a smile and a craving for cookies and a talent for dance that brought complete strangers together under a spell of joyous abandonment. Since that day she came across him in the dungeon of Despise and invited him to visit Ashencrosse, where he met all the finest people and made good, strong friendships, he had seen this Gypsy girl as something more than just a homeless waif. She was special. She just didn’t know it yet.

“May I ask you a question Alisiea?”

She nodded slowly but did not look up. The shadows of the darkened tavern flickered and danced as the fire in the hearth woke up and began to sing and crackle, spilling light further into the room. Gaius cleared his throat.

“Do you wish your child to grow up without a father?”

The question made no sense. Alisiea looked up.

“What?” She asked.

“Such a child would carry a mark upon them. A child without a father.”

“A mark?”

“Aye, they would be known as ‘bastards’ and their lives would be made far more difficult because of it.”

Alisiea blinked, bewildered by this sudden change of subject. The child had a father.

“But …”

Alisiea, caught off guard, simply could not grasp what Gaius was talking about. The man of virtue stepped forward, knelt before her and made his intentions clear.

“I offer to share with you my name and my home and my protection for both you and the child until my last breath.”

She heard the words but they came as only ringing in her ears. Her head swam with bewilderment and confusion. She blinked and sat upright looking at him in disbelief.

“Are you …?” She swallowed hard. “… Are you asking me to marry you?” She stammered.

The words came out of her like an echo from some great empty chamber. The face of the child’s true father loomed before her. This was impossible to comprehend.

“But you know nothing of me? I am … cursed.”

Gaius smiled up at her. “I am aware of your affliction.”

“You know?” She asked incredulously

“Aye and it does not matter. I will defend and protect you and the child against all dangers. The child will have a father and her life will be assured.”

This was madness. Alisiea could not find her breath. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had carried with her the hidden belief that the child’s father would, one day, return to claim her as his own and take Alisiea for his as well. But that hope, that vision was fading each day; each hour, each minuet that moved her farther and father away from that single blessed moment.

“I … I cannot … answer you.” She looked about the tavern as if seeking guidance from the empty chairs and silent tables.

I … I … must have time to think … to … to think … on this thing.”

Gaius only smiled.

“Take as long as you need. No matter what your response, I shall always be by your side.”

Taking her hand in his, he helped her out of the chair.

“Perhaps is it best if we leave this place.” He said. “Shall we return to the house?”

Alisiea could only nod for all thought of speaking was wiped completely from her brain.

In a little while they were back at Gaius’s house. Alisiea, still bewildered by all that had transpired thus far this day, collapsed onto the deep, comfortable couch and within seconds, was fast asleep.

[Anna Evanovich]

Four days. Four days wandering the streets of this goddess forsaken town of New Haven. Nothing but drunken misguided adventurers, Magick users and duelists fighting in the streets over some slight or insult. The town square serves as a receptacle for all manner of discarded trash. Used weapons, clothing and furniture. Pack horses wander unattended and unclaimed. The stench of unwashed bodies, spilled ale and horse dung permeates the air like a soiled blanket. Finally, this very morning I am told by a man who has knowledge of this Michael Hawk that he was last seen boarding a ship at the New Haven docks headed to the capitol city of Britain. I was quick to follow.

**********

Britain; Capitol of Sosaria. Not as clean or as beautiful as my home city of Trinsic, but still civilized and better kept than the pit of New Haven. I visit the Castle and look upon the Throne of the dead Queen. Noblemen mill about the Throne Room as if waiting for some pronouncement. The Kingdom, I am told, is under Martial Law. The people go about their lives with a sense of underlying tension as if waiting … for what I wonder?

My enquiries have born fruit. Michael Hawk, it seems, frequents a tavern known as the Salty Dog. I am told also it is the only tavern in the city that serves both Vodka and Borsch. I eat at the tavern for two nights in a row. The third night I enquire about him to a small group of people. Introductions are made and when I inform them who my employer is their mood suddenly changes to one of guarded apprehension. They exchange furtive glances and seem less anxious to assist me even though it is clear they are familiar with the man I seek.

They invite me to accompany them to some far flung town called Ashencrosse. I am hesitant at first but one of them assures me all is well, so I agree. I follow them to a small town situated in the wilds of Malas. A quaint place it reminds me of the villages and hamlets that can be found nestled in the wilds surrounding Trinsic. One of the homes lies in ruins. The home apparently belongs to or belonged to one of women of the group. She is understandably distraught. Several times I hear my employers name mentioned as if to implicate her in the destruction of this home. I find myself distressed by this attitude and take my leave. My pity for the woman and her loss tempered by the unspoken anger in the air.

**********

I decide to try one last time to make contact with Michael Hawk. I return to the Salty Dog and find the same group of individuals I had met the previous night. I am polite but keep my distance. They whisper among themselves as I place my dinner order. I find a seat at a table. Keeping to myself and minding my own business I sit with my back to them. Shortly, one of them; their leader I would surmise approaches and invites me to join them. He begs excuse for their comments of the night before. I acquiesce and find a place among their company. We chat for a time and I offer to share my vodka, which, I have found, often lightens the mood among strangers. The woman whose house was destroyed refuses my offer. Although this could be considered rude and offensive in my homeland, I make no issue of it. Certainly she is entitled to a period of mourning for the loss of her home; particularly for the manner in which it was destroyed.

They seem overly curious about my relationship with my employer and ask many probing questions that I find most unusual. But, wishing to be congenial, I explain to them that my employer has given over to me her trust in overseeing her business investments in the city of Nujel’m and elsewhere and that I had returned here as soon as word reached me of her disappearance. There are papers to be signed. Money transfers to be made and property values to reviewed. They seemed to accept this explanation as reasonable. I am somewhat baffled by their keen interest in my employers wealth, but then many things about these Britannian’s are curious. What struck me as more odd, however, was their outlandish claim that my employer was … well … to be blunt … “undead,” or as they say in the vernacular of this land; a “Vampire.” At first I found this claim to be ridiculous. “Vampires” are creatures of myth used to frighten children into obeying their parents. My own parents used such tactics to keep me from wandering off or sneaking out at night to join my childhood friends at a midnight game of Hide and Seek. To think that grown adults of some, apparent worldly experience, would continue to believe in such nonsense is completely absurd. Yet they persisted in pressing their point and even invited me to let them show proof of their claim.

Being a woman of good nature who is fond of humor and practical jokes, I agreed to accompany them on this “adventure.” I must admit I found their seriousness most amusing for it is difficult for even the most practiced practical joker to sustain such deathly seriousness for long. Often the joke falls apart when one of the weaker players succumbs to laughter and thereby “spills the beans” so to speak. But it seemed these individuals had rehearsed their parts to perfection, for not once did they crack a smile or a wink at my expense.

Exiting the tavern we traveled through one of those ‘gates’ used by many travelers across Sosaria to save them the time and expense of traveling overland or by ship. Fast as it is I still find it somewhat disconcerting and rather nauseating. I suppose one could grow accustom to the sensation over a period of time, but I still prefer the old fashioned method of travel. Give me a good horse or stout ship any day and I will be happy as a peach in summer.

Arriving at our destination, I discover we are in some kind of tower or ancient castle. Dark and musty it seemed to be abandoned save for a ladder leading down into the bowels of the structure. I am encouraged to follow them down the ladder and into the tunnels below. Torches are lit and we proceed for some distance along the dank and dusty corridors. I expect at any moment to be subjected to the brunt of this joke and find myself laughing heartily along with my new found friends. For, as serious as they pretend, they appear to be decent folk overall with a close association or bond with each other that is to be admired. In a way, I am flattered that they find me attractive enough as a person to go to such expense to amusing me with this distraction.

Finally we arrive at the place where I suspect the ‘punch-line’ will be delivered. A grotto of some sort carved into the rock. Empty of course. I am told this is where they left my employer in her “coffin” with a “silver blade” through her heart. Needless to say, there was nothing present that could be considered “proof” of their claim. Disappointed that the joke was not carried out in its entirety with the required “body” or even a sealed “coffin” to act as a prop to this ridiculous escapade, I become somewhat impatient and lambast them for their “childish” behavior. This only results in my being called a fool for not believing them. I am certain, however, that a reasonable person of rational thought would agree with me wholeheartedly.

A sense of quiet resignation descends over the small company as we exit the catacombs and step into the fading light of evening. The women appear to be genuinely concerned for my well-being and a bit put off at my disbelief in their insistence that my employer is indeed dangerous. The gentleman named Judas is a bit more forgiving and suggests we return to the Salty Dog where we might smooth over the evenings difficulties with a few more drinks. Admittedly, a few more drinks might very well serve to brighten the mood, for the women appear perfectly distraught at my mistrust in them. Wishing to salvage what may yet prove to be friendship with these people, I agree.

Returning to the Salty Dog we order drinks and, for a time, the mood lightens. I am certain of their sincerity regarding the evening’s events and continued chatting for some time until; at last, the man I have been seeking enters the tavern. A tall man, Michael Hawk gives one the impression he is a man of impeccable taste in clothing and armor whose continence speaks of confidence and power. I am, at first, taken aback by his overwhelming presence, but after a moment or two I approach him and introduce myself. We speak briefly of my duties and he mentions that he knew my father, having been a Paladin of Trinsic himself. This comforts me for it has been several years since I have met anyone from Trinsic let alone a surviving Paladin of the Atalan invasion. The tension that was beginning to dissipate among the group returns as Mr. Hawk and I converse further. Finally, unable to contain myself any longer I beg his forgiveness and inquire if I might ask a question that has been the center of contention all evening. Michael agrees and I ask the question.

“Is the Lady Isilian a Vampire as these fine people have been suggesting?”

At first Mr. Hawk only stares at me with those deep penetrating blue eyes. After a moment or two of this silence my smile fades and I begin to feel a strange sensation, as though I were falling into a deep airless pit. I take two steps back and request that he answer my question directly. To my astonishment and dismay he answers in the affirmative.

“She is indeed such a creature. As am I.”

Had I been struck in the forehead by lightning I could not have felt more horrified. In all honesty I thought, at first, I would faint dead away, but he took a step in my direction and began chiding me as if I were a child.

“You have seen the dates on the land holding deeds. Did it not occur to you that they were centuries old?”

I stammered something about her being of a noble family whose holdings surely went far back into the history of this land, but he continued to berate me.

“You lived in her house for months. Did you ever see her eat a meal or venture out in the daylight?”

My mind reeling, I found myself pressed against the wall of the tavern, fighting for control of my wits.

“I… I … She was suffering from a rare affliction and spent many hours in her quarters and I … I just … assumed…”

“Well,” he continued. “You have been a foolish girl who now knows the truth and must live with the realization that you are naive to the darkness about you. I have made an alliance with these humans to protect the Lady in Torpor until the manor house is cleared of the daemons that have risen from the depths of hell. I will only rest when the Lady Avella is found and returned to her rightful place.”

Struggling to remain in control I stumble to a seat and, with shaky hands, attempt to pour a tall glass of vodka. Instead I spill half the bottle, so violently did my hands shake. The man Judas, seeing my distress in hearing the truth concerning my employer, seized the opportunity and attempted to take advantage of my position within the Lady’s employ.

“Anna, you control her finances. You can take this opportunity to make restitution for her many crimes against humanity by turning over her wealth to a charity or to placing it under the control of the government. The Throne had, in the past, seized a number of her family’s estates when it was learned of her “death.” She is indeed to be pitied, for she was made vampire and then abandoned by her maker. But she cannot be forgiven for the countless lives she has destroyed. You can help restore some of those lives by doing the right thing. Liquidate her holdings and turn them over to the needy.”

My head swam and buzzed as if a thousand angry wasps had suddenly taken up residence within my brain. I had known only generosity and kindness from this woman they were now calling “monster.” She bestowed upon me her trust and her faith that I would oversee her wealth with loyalty and wisdom and now these strangers were asking me to betray that trust. I held the glass with both hands and raised it to my lips to drink deeply of the vodka in the hope it would steady my nerves and my resolve. Then Michael, who had said nothing during Judas’s plea, suddenly placed his hands gently on my shoulders. I felt the power of those hands and the voice behind that power speak in my native tongue.

“You have taken on the trust of the Lady. You must do your duty to her and to her House. Do not listen to the lies of these mortals for they would destroy all of us if given the chance.”

A cold unlike any other I have ever felt crept into my body twisting my bones and muscles into knots. I felt myself willing to abandon life and give to him my all. I shivered and he spoke again in my native tongue.

“You must do your duty and obey, for there is no forgiveness among our kind for failure. Only death or worse awaits you should you succumb to their demands.”

He released me and stepped aside. Now was my chance to escape this place. To make my way back to the inn and bar the door, lock the shutters and think. I needed time to clear my thoughts and gather to me my wits again. Standing, I made my way towards the door. Michael made no attempt to stop me but merely stared at me; his eyes shifting with the light. Judas approached and quietly told me to return to the inn and he would seek me out on the morrow to talk more of the plan of his. A woman named Quinn, a painted hunter, agreed to escort me back to the inn even though I knew in my soul that if the creature who called himself Michael Hawk wished it; he could do as he pleased with me and nothing could stop him.

**********

Morning and the blessed sun streams through the window of my room and dances across the washbasin. I slept not a wink for fear of dreams that might carry me away and into his arms. Now I sit with the Lady’s ledgers before me. Wealth beyond imagining lies within these pages. The question now arises…

What do I do?

[Deleted]

The wood popping was the only other sound that could be heard in the room. Alisiea laying at one end of the couch, Aingeal at the other, her arm lazily draped over Ali's ankles.

"Fear is a useless emotion Ali. From this point forward I will fear no more" Leaning her head back to look at her. Alisiea laugh. "Aye I will fear no more" Satisfied with her response Aingeal laid her head down.

The actions of the day rolled through her head like players across a stage, with each heavy blink, like the curtains that close a stage at the end of each act. Finally with the fire hissing the house was all but silent.

The curtains opened to a dark room. Reaching out for something to familiarize herself with, but finding nothing to grasp. Dripping. Much like that of a deep cave. Rhythmically.

...Drip...Drip... Drip, drip, drip ....Drip...

Running her foot across the ground searching for the source of the water is when it happened.

Sliding up her back over her shoulder a hand. Gently the fingers closed the round of her shoulder. Words caressing her ear nectar sweet, like a lover seducing another to bed:

"You are much loved, my child. Come to us and we will help you protect the girl. Bring her to us and we will see your suffering is ended. These marks upon your body shall be removed. Your craving for love fulfilled. Come, find your happiness."

Gasping with a tightness in her throat, it took a moment to realize where she was and what had just transpire. Sitting up on her elbow, looking up seeing Ali still curled at one end of the couch, the fire nothing but embers and the shadows of Gaius' furniture chasing each other with the ebbing of the dying fire. This magic was something she knew was on another plane of her complete understanding.

Aingeal's only wish was for morning to come.

[Anna Evanovich]

Thrice now the candle at my bedside has burned down to be replaced by another of its kind. I sit, propped up by pillows against the headboard and read the journals of The Lady Isilian; this woman I thought I knew. At times I rise and check the latches on the window and the lock upon the door such does the imagery of her words strike me as foreign to my own experience. The journal itself seems alive and moans softly upon opening. The ageless pages, stained with ink or blood, if that be true, smell oddly of death and rot. A sickly sweet odor that spills across the room threatening to take up residence in the very wood and walls of the Inn. Are these truly the words of the woman I knew? A woman who showed me only courtesy and kindness, generosity and trust?

The pages within this book appear written in a dissimilar script or hand as if more than one individual contributed to the volume, such does the style and syntax change. Yet the words themselves, written in different moods and some in long forgotten languages, speak the same desperate theme, weaving a tale of a vile and terrible hatred for all living things, indeed, for life itself. I am compelled to wonder if what I was told by that loyal band of friends might very well be true. Certainly the man called Michael Hawk opened a window into my own naivety and foolishness forcing me to question what I have seen with my own eyes.

Hers was flesh made pale as moonlight, translucent as glass with the body’s veins blue beneath the surface, rendering her a vision made of marble, streaked and mottled yet beautiful in its carving. A living statue made to walk the earth for … dare I say; centuries? But Michael’s flesh, seemingly as alive as my own, showed no mark or stain to denote him less human than me, yet even he admits to being of his Mistresses’ making. What Paladin Knight of Trinsic would abandon his oath unless compelled against his will? But he seemed proud of what he claims to be. Resolute in his loyalty to his House and his Mistress he chided me for my weakness and lack of faith, not the least, my lack of loyalty.

“Your oath is your bond. Your word, most precious, is more honor bound than life itself.”

Words my father told to me since birth. My word is my bond. My honor my life. And yet …

Judas and his Jolicia claim to have killed dozens of such creatures as Michael and The Lady, thus saving countless others from a similar fate as Michaels. But why then let him live? Michael spoke of an alliance forged only for the purpose of saving his Mistress from certain destruction. To keep her safe and hidden away. But now she too is missing? The crypt empty. Her coffin gone. Does she walk the earth again? But why the truce? Daemons he said, risen from the depths of hell to reside in the house that once was hers. Again the question arises; why? Am I to believe daemons now walk the earth as well? And what purpose does the loyal band of friends have to assist one such as Michael in an effort to rid the Lady’s house of daemons?

Answers elude me here. These pages are not for human eyes to read nor are they meant to be spoken aloud for I fear to do so would bring the words into the living world and call down untold terror upon the speaker. I close and lock the journal and place it far from my bed. I shall not sleep a wink this night but wait instead for blessed morning. Upon that sunrise I will make my way to the docks of Britain and secure passage to the Island Nation of Moonglow. For there, I have been told, is housed the greatest library on the subject of “Vampiir.”

It falls to me now to educate myself on this subject, for only then will I be able to make a qualified decision regarding my next path. I pray I am left unharmed and free to pursue my own destiny. But in my heart I know this Michael Hawk will be watching.

The candle burns further down and dawn is but an hour away. To close my eyes for just an hour I am certain will not hurt. The windows latched, curtains drawn. The door locked and secured. I close my eyes and hear, faintly, the bootsteps of the Night Watch as they make their rounds on cobbled streets. Britain sleeps under a moonless night and so, eventually, do I …

[Anna Evanovich]

vam•pire

[vam-pahyuhr] noun

1.
A preternatural being, commonly believed to be a reanimated corpse that is said to suck the blood of living persons.

2.
A corpse, animated by an undeparted soul or demon that periodically leaves the grave and disturbs the living, until it is exhumed and impaled or burned.


**********

Suddenly the Ancient Text Room at the Lyceum became increasingly smaller. The darkness at the edge of her vision began to close in as if some impending doom awaited her. Anna Evanovich glanced around and hastily lit another candle. Still the light did not seem to be enough. One of the monks passed by the open doorway. She breathed a sigh of relief and continued reading.


*

Vampires, being already dead, do not need most normal things required for human life, such as oxygen. They often have a pale appearance, and are cool to the touch from the perspective of humans.

Anna recalled touching the Lady Avella once by accident and her flesh was the color of pale moonlight. She shivered and continued.


*

Vampires typically cast no shadow and have no reflection. This mythical power is largely confined to vampiric myths and may be tied to folklore regarding the vampire's lack of a soul.

No shadow or reflection, she thought. Yes, the house was devoid of mirrors and I do not recall ever seeing a shadow from her person.


*

Some tradititions hold that a vampire cannot enter a house unless he or she is invited in. This concept has been referenced throughout history.

Vampire powers are often limited during the day or in daylight. In some cases sunlight may burn or kill vampires, or they may be comatose during the day.

Sunlight. Yes she did sleep during the day and had the windows covered. Anna’s hand shook as she drank her wine. A noise in the hallway caught her attention and she stopped and held her breath. She felt as though she was being watched or followed. Another monk passed by with a stack of books in his arms. She exhaled and returned to her books.


*

Vampires may be reluctant to enter or cross bodies of water, particularly running water.

Some accounts maintain that vampires must return to their native soil before sunrise to take their rest safely. Others place native soil in their coffins, especially if they have relocated.

Vampires, by some accounts, have very specific dietary requirements while others do not. However, most accounts of the undead feature vampires that cannot eat (or at least cannot gain nourishment from) normal human food.

Anna paused. Why was she forbidden to enter the lower level of the manor house? A great steel door was always kept bolted and locked. And did she recall ever seeing the Lady eat a meal?


*

There are things in which vampires have no power against such as garlic, a branch of wild rose, and all things sacred (e.g., holy water, a crucifix, a rosary, or sacred objects from other religions or faiths). This weakness fluctuates depending on the tale. Garlic is confined mostly to Vesper vampire legends. In myths of other regions, other plants of holy or mythical properties sometimes have similar effects. Holy water and other holy symbols depend upon the culture.


This last passage caught her attention more than the other previous ones.

There are three main ways to destroy a typical vampire:, a wooden stake through the heart, decapitation, or ripping apart the limbs and burning them. This includes other means of death that effectively removes a vampire's head, such as incinerating the body completely.

*

Anna sat back and drained the goblet of wine. How could she have been so naive, so foolish?

“You have been a foolish girl who now knows the truth and must live with the realization that you are naive to the darkness about you.”

That is what Michael Hawk said to her upon his admission that he too was such a creature. “The darkness about you.”

Anna closed the books and left the Library. Outside the sun was setting; she quickened her pace. He could and, most likely, would find her. What then? What of her oath? Her promise? Could she willingly serve such a creature as this Lady Isilian? And what of her own immortal soul? Does she forfeit that for an oath given to one who is already dead?

No, she must find counsel. She must contact this Judas D’arc. She must do what is right, for her very life may depend upon it. Reaching the Office of the Administrator she quickly penned a letter, folded, sealed it and sent it by swift messenger to the last place she had met this Judas D’arc.

Night had now descended over the vast complex of the Lyceum. Crossing the square she headed towards the rented rooms and secured a bed for the night. Tomorrow she would sail for Britain and, if all went well, meet with Judas to discuss her options. As she unlocked the door to her room she heard a shuffle behind her. Turning she saw only the empty hallway.

“Steady now,” she whispered to herself. Slipping inside she bolted the door and locked the windows. There would be no sleep for her this night or any night for some time to come.

[Michael Hawk]

[Judas D'arc]

"Haelyn," Judas overheard Jolicia chant the word of power, and within moments, massive magickal flames joined the far more mundane torch fires that had already been set by the bard, Aingeal, Deminatza, Scaramandine, and Ta'vast Zorn. And the remains of her former Ashencrosse home began to burn.

Judas stepped back in order to safely observe the blaze, the consequence of another unfortunate yet necessary decision. Some weeks prior, the house had been transformed by their enemies into a terrible scene of ritualistic horror. Their investigation into the matter was finally complete, and there was little reason to permit the continued existence of such a mockery.

As fiery tendrils consumed the broken structure, the bard lost himself to contemplation. He was worried about Alisiea, who reacted worse and worse each time their demonic foes struck. Although she was not physically injured, the earlier appearance of one of the winged creatures had caused her to fall unconscious. The Gypsy Girl had convinced herself that she was somehow responsible for all of this, and nothing her friends said seemed to persuade her otherwise. Judas was also concerned that Jolicia would take the evening's events to heart. She was strong, but it was apparent that this conflict was slowly eroding her resolve.

His mind's path soon wandered to the question of culpability in this affair. Some believed that Ashencrosse was cursed, and the land itself at fault for the darkness that seemed to visit on far too frequent of a basis. Nonetheless, the bard found this too shallow of a solution. Not two days prior, the Lady Eclyse Christian had asserted that Judas was the one to blame for all the town's ills these past months. However, these accusations were easily dismissed as the rage of a knight struggling to absolve herself of constant failures. Pride was likely the true source of Ashencrosse's troubles, and it was unfortunate that no lesson had been learned from the fate of Old Magincia. No, responsibility for the current threat could not be placed upon a single person or a parcel of land, it lay solely with the monsters that pursued Alisiea's unborn child. True evil could never be justified or rationalized away, to do so would only encourage its continued existence.

Fortunately, two small clues had recently emerged. Firstly, Nythrax had finished his "interrogation" of the corpses left behind in Jolicia's home. According to him, these dead were actually the followers of their enemy, and had intentionally killed themselves in order to spread the message of their master. While this was unsettling, the bard was comforted by the fact that the existence of these cultists might leave a trail to follow. Secondly, Genevieve of Ashencrosse had partially deciphered one of the cryptic messages left in the ruins: "Destiny died to dark-hair where Courage never fails." Judas felt foolish for not previously recognizing the very obvious reference to Serpent's Hold, the keep dedicated to the principle of Courage. But hopefully, further leads awaited them somewhere on the island fortress.

Before he could reflect further upon the matter, the bard's thoughts were interrupted by the acrid scent of smoke and the soft caress of a lingering heat ...

[Deleted]

...Was the most beautiful garden. A young girl's laugher filling its walls with wails and giggles that seem almost as nature as the buzzing of the bees and insects that made the flowers bloom. The soft caress of the calm sea lapping at the break wall just out of sight for the child.... A women scantily clad in sheer linen sat at the garden's center... Her face happy and peaceful, but her words inaudible as the sun played on her dark skin and ebony hair...

Aingeal still in her armor from the night before having lost her battle with sleep, much like a cat was at the very foot of the bed, that was now Alisiea's confinement.

“Wake her.” The voice commanded.

Aingeal hesitated.

..."What did she say"... "Why can I not hear her"...

“Wake her.”

“Wake her!” it said again more forcefully and with a tone that chilled Aingeal to her very soul. Lifting her head, she moved from the foot of the bed to stand alongside the sleeping girl. Alisiea was only days away from giving birth and her countenance was pale, her physical strength diminished.

Aingeal's body curling into a tight ball, tossing her head quietly lost in the lands of Nod, lost in the dream within a dream.

“Alisiea. Please. You must wake up.”

Aingeal shook the girl until she opened her eyes; they were devoid of spirit.

“Aingeal? Is it morning already?”

“Aye, poppet it is morning.”

Alisiea struggled to sit up in the unmade bed. She was still fully clothed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she looked around. The great empty cavern in which the bed rested stretched far beyond her sight to disappear into the dark shadows of the distant corners. Far above rose a great vaulted ceiling. Pinpoints of bright firelight flashed in the darkness above. A thick humid air hung all around and with it came the smell of sulfur and a strange coppery odor that tasted acrid on the tongue.

Alisiea smiled.

“Is this not a beautiful home? I have always dreamed of such a home. Celestia will be so happy here. She can play on the lawn outside while I work the garden. And you can visit everyday and bring cookies. We will call you ‘Aunt Aingeal’. We will eat the finest foods, and afterwards we will sit on the lawn and watch the sunset while the early stars wink above. I cannot wait to see the rest of the house.”

Aingeal followed her gaze but saw only horror and darkness flooding towards them the bed the last vestige of comfort.
Alisiea attempted to swing her legs over the edge of the bed to stand but Aingeal stopped her.

“No. You must not rise just yet. The floor is still cold. Wait just a little while and everything will be fine.”

Aingeal looked down. The floor was molten lead, created thus to prevent the girls from leaving. But Aingeal stood upon that floor in her bare feet and felt nothing.

The voice came again;

Squinting her eyes as if it would stop the pounding in her head.

“She will give birth in two days and we will be here to witness. The child will be ours and she will undo the chains that bind us to this place. When that time comes you, Aingeal, Daughter to the Gypsies, will be richly rewarded and your people set free. The mother will die, but we will be free to rule once more over the weakness of man. You have done well.”

"NO!" followed by a thud Aingeal crashed to the floor in the bedroom given to Alisiea by the man Gaius. Not a sound could be heard in the house. Unwinding the blanket that tangled at her legs, Aingeal cautiously looked over the edge of the bed to see stretched before as she was the night before; slumbering lost in a magic that mocked her own knowledge, her friend

[Alisiea]

Someone was shaking her.

Alisiea opened her eyes. The bright sunlight, beaming through the bedroom window hurt her eyes.

After a moment she recognized who it was that shook her.

“Aingeal? Is in morning already?”

“Aye, poppet. It is morning”

Alisiea tried to sit up but she struggled with the weight of the baby. She knew she was close. A day or two at the most and then; a time of pain followed by pure delight. She would bring into this world a child most beautiful and that girl-child will carry within her the best of Alisiea and the best of Paine and the child will be strong and beautiful and bright.

Alisiea looked around the new house and smiled.

“Is this not a beautiful home? I have always dreamed of such a home. Celestia will be so happy here. She can play on the lawn outside while I work the garden. And you can visit everyday and bring cookies. We will call you ‘Aunt Aingeal’. We will eat the finest foods, and afterwards we will sit on the lawn and watch the sunset while the early stars wink above. I cannot wait to see the rest of the house.”

Her attempt to stand was blocked by Aingeal.

“No. You must not rise just yet. The floor is still cold. Wait just a little while and everything will be fine.”

Alisiea smiled. Her friend was right. To catch a chill now could be very bad for both her and the baby. She would remain in bed and listen to the counsel of her friend. How lucky she was to have someone like Aingeal at her side to watch over and protect her from the dangers that haunted her dreams. How happy they will be here in this house.

Alisiea settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She could not wait for Jolicia, Judas, and Gaius to come see the baby. And her new friend Demi. There will be parties and singing and lots and lots of oatmeal-raisin cookies. And there will be love flowing through the house like air and everyone will breathe that air and know they are safe.

Content in this knowledge, Alisiea closed her eyes and quietly drifted back to sleep.