You and I were long friends: you are now my enemy, and I am yours.
--Benjamin Franklin


In sleep, she smelled blood and stone. The blood was her own. The stone was not. The walls about her were, in fact, warded against the priestess. Half-aware, she had tried to shadowshift away, to summon a gate, to tear down the walls with a storm of fire and wind -- to no avail save exhaustion.

In sleep, her wounds throbbed and began to heal, leaving a certain, spent hunger behind in place of scars. That hunger was undeniable bloodthirst, only partially mitigated by still-unfamiliar fae magic that tingled against the palm of her hand.

In sleep, she dreamed.

In dreams, the sound of her truename echoed in her ears like the bass rumble of nearing thunder.

---

Tis my understanding that one that is under the protection of Blood House Onyx, and House Skye placed another also under our collective protections into harms way. I nae know if this be fair means or foul, however tis a concern.

I do not dictate to you the policies of your House, madame DeAuster. Do not presume to dictate mine.

Then I warn ye now Lady Skye. Should the one ye protect lure Tara with such manipulations again, the cumulative results will nae fare well for many. My telling ye this is nae to cast aspersions upon ye house, but warn ye, alliances hang in the balance over petty behaviors.

I know of no alliance between your house and mine, Madame. Save for certain informal courtesies, that is, owing to common acquaintances. If you have a -request- to make, I may consider it. If, however, you prefer to make indistinct threats and banter vagueries, feel free.

Actually Milady Skye, I was going to suggest ye speak with the one that tried to use Tara as a tool. However ye are nae terribly reasonable are ye.

I've never been reasonable, Fiona.

...Favor done Milord. Now ye best hold to my boon. Tara is nae to be ye target, unless she physically attacks ye with the intention to bring ye serious harm.


A favor, was it?!

...Something amiss, Lady Skye?

Veighn, you have caused enough dissent among those I am obliged to protect. Piss off, already.

Ye pardon? Have I done such? I stand here and now, and am open to a conversation should ye wish to recount to me the grievous offense I have given. For it is something that I am quite surly, nae aware of having a hand in. Perchance, I could rely upon ye gracious nature to grant me the reasoning for such harsh tones directed toward mineself.

You know damned well that I do not have a gracious nature. Do not count on our former alliance protecting you from me or mine anymore, Veighn.

Ye mean to break our alliance. That is nae something I like to hear. Perhaps then, we can smooth over wounds so insult is nae added to injury. Walk with me Alysia, I have nae a poisoned dirk stashed away. I mean ye no harm and offer a peaceful truce to sooth ye ire. I give ye mine solemn promise, no harm shall come to ye as he speak with me. It seems there must needs some loose ends tied and some correction of what is apparently, some sort of misunderstanding.

Guthorm is right. You are a coward, Veighn.

Chryrie, ye life hangs by a thread. It is Alysia's decision that decides which face the coin shall fall upon.

Her life is not yours to take. Veighn, I do not think you will get what you want from little games, ill-conceived goading, and artless manipulation. Those little favors have a way becoming larger and larger. You spoke of a choice, Veighn? ... What choice was that?

Ye options are as they have always been. To cede peacefully from the alliance, and leave all to rest as future events unfold. Hold true to the alliance, if not sanctify it to make it more binding, by way ye precious fae will be divorced from mine attentions permanently. Or, stand against me in open, bloody War. As far as I know, ye are currently taxed on one front. Do ye truly wish to make it two? I for one, donnae. Ye safety, to me, is of the utmost importance. But nae at the cost of mine.

Your sources, I think, are quite out-dated. I find myself free to devote all my resources to eradicating threats on other fronts. I will not suffer an alliance that requires me to stand idly by and watch you bait my consort and bully the helpless.

Then prey tell, what is ye decision.

If you have . . . let us say, a completely unlikely change of heart, one which leaves you disinclined to goad those I care for, to treat people as chess pieces in your little games -- then I think we may peacefully shed the remnants of an ill-conceived alliance. Otherwise, I will enjoy twisting your soul into a cage, to amuse me in idle moments. I take it you understand my meaning, Veighn.

Alysia, why would ye resort to one of ye more powerful means of dispatching me? So openly even? The mention of that just stirs the desire to keep ye from harms way, my dear Priestess. Perhaps, even from ye own tendencies. I have much more to offer, and do ye think for one moment I wouldn't have contingencies in place, even now?

There is no telling what lengths I might go to, in order to indulge a whim. Particularly when you have nothing to offer that is of worth to me. What would you offer? Chryrie's life? She could flay you. Lucien's? He is mortal. The day of his death has already been written.

Flay me? She can try. Lucien, aye, ye are most correct about that fact. What I have to offer is beyond the life of friends and those ye have familial ties with. The question is, are ye intrigued enough to know them, or are ye going to stand alone and continue to goad me. Ye diplomacy skills have greatly depreciated in these few moments, Priestess, and I would grant ye a moment to gather ye faculties about ye once more. Aye, I presume to grant ye the time to take out mine suggestion! Ye listen, and well priestess. Mine offer is nae infinite, but quite the opposite. If ye mean to venture this storm, then I have nae the cause to attempt to detour ye. Though, I tell ye true, what ye know of me and what I can do, ye donnae know all. I am much harder to put down than ye can imagine, and it will be a long and expensive war for all whom wish to become involved.

Diplomacy has never been a strong point of mine, and I do not believe you have anything other than empty words to offer, Veighn. You have yet to deliver anything of use to me. If you have nothing now other than words and pleas for diplomacy, you will see my standards.

Abduction: Immediately after

The Lunithaylian Shar?Vae stepped forth from nothingness into the suite of elegant rooms that were to serve as Lady Skye?s prison. She was on the second level from the ground floor; in castle terms, it meant she was affectively taken to the third floor of the Keep. This might seem insignificant to many, however, this Chateau stood at the apex of a mile-high spike of earth jutting like a lance-point to tear at the sky above the surrounding woodlands near the Dark Lake and its Caldera. He carried her through the apartment?s sitting area and dining room to the bed chamber, depositing her unconscious form roughly atop the bed. It was then that his Tiefling witch, appeared silhouetted in the doorway of the room.

Diplomacy has never been a strong point of mine, and I do not believe you have anything other than empty words to offer, Veighn. You have yet to deliver anything of use to me. If you have nothing now other than words and pleas for diplomacy, you will see my standards. The memory of her words echoing in her mind as he stared down at the dark, unconscious beauty. ?Perhaps diplomacy is nae a merit of ye nature, Alysia, but ye will learn the consequences of discarding it to besmirch mine honor, Witch. Ye will pay the tithe for ye sin of blind pride!? He glowered, turning abruptly and stalking toward the east door.

?Remove her clothing and her weapons, Malvhista.? He barked in commanding tones. ?Have her stripped from the ruin of her clothing and her weaponry. I want the Priestess? body scrubbed thoroughly and oiled in a scent appealing to mine senses. Dress her in a sleeping gown, house robe, and the jeweled slippers from Dar?Thalin. Send for me when ye are finished. Do nothing more; I warn ye, I don?t want a repeat of last time!?

The Tiefling lowered her chin, trying to hide the smile her master would know full well was there. ?But her hair is so pretty. Her eyes, they?re so darling, like yours, milord. Ye truly mean to bar from me such pretty souvenirs?? Said the seductive voice from the door way. She was already moving toward the wardrobe, laying out the attire requested.

?Molest her in her hampered state, and I shall separate ye soul from ye body, and make you watch as you feel me slice the flesh of ye shell, and peel it away from the sinew of ye frame with chains of Shar?Vae Shade.? Veighn then disappeared into the other room with the in a flourish of whirling magical flame, shadow, and robes, power leaking flowing forth as he nullified the effects of muting wards and potent glamour.

After the clothing was situated in a neat pile, she moved over to the bed where Alysia lay, glancing to the doorway to make sure HE wasn?t looking on. She then leaned down over lady sky, barbed tail lifting the edge of her flowing dresses to slowly slither up her calf and thigh like a roaming serpent. ?So pretty Priestess, master forbids I have my way with ye. That?s unfortunate. Expected, but unfortunate none the less.? She busied her self with the collecting of Alysia?s weaponry first, weaving spells and taking other precautions to try and bypass any protective or anti-theft magics in place on the tools of war. ?I have noted in his memoirs that he respects ye. I see now, partly why. Oh, but ye ARE a dulcet little thing?? She whispered huskily into the shell of her ear as her tail barb cut free some of the cloth from her hip. ?Oops! Look what I?ve gone and done. We?ll have to keep ye as our guest if this keeps up. We cannae have ye leaving looking afright. Come, luv, let us get ye out of these rags.? The touched her full lips to Alysia?s neck, planting a moist kiss upon her flesh. ?Fire and demons, I could ravish ye for hours if there was a way he wouldn?t know.? She added, licking her lips as the Malvhista got her ready for the bathing ritual. ?So beautiful!? she exclaimed.


Imprisonment: One Hour Later

?What is her progress?? He announced himself present behind her as she exited the suite of chambers with the weaponry and tattered cloathing, effectively startling her when he appeared.

Even tainted in blood, she shrunk away from him when his aura of fear was not left muted. ?M-m-Milord! Ye startled me!? She squeeked, holding the items to her chest as if to keep her heart from bursting free of its cage.

?Progress!? He demanded impatiently, glaring at the his resident witch and servant.

?She sleeps, Milord. Though the most peculiar thing happened when I was attending to her in the sunken bath."

Veighn?s features grew grim, his eyes searching and suspicious.

?I?ve done as ye?ve b-bid, Milord! I beseech ye, search my mind if ye have any doubt.? She stammered at the look, nearly quailing in horror at the subtle change in his visage.

?She is lovely, isn?t she?? He stroked her cheek with a clawed hand, his smile warming, as well as his expression.

She began in a trilled purr, ?Aye, she is most exquisite. The conture of her body, the shape of her bre-eechhh-eechh!? The floor began to leave the bottoms of her feet, and she pointed her toes as she dangled above it. His hand had fastened itself around his throat, talons biting into the sides of her neck, cutting her.

?She is nae here for ye amusement, servant! She is here for mine, and her thorough punishment for betrayal. I know she?s asleep. I saw. Take that long again in the preparation of a prisoner, and I?ll feed ye to yeself. What were ye thinking? Even unarmed, she is still dangerous. Had she awakened, she?d have drown ye in ye own blood.? He released her, and she fell into a crumpled heap at his feet.

Her hands rubbed at the dark mark of a bruise at her throat, smearing blood there as she frowned, having been struggling for breath. ?A..? cough.. ?Aye, milord. I shall nae take so long again, milord.? She trembled. ?Milord, I was nae thinking. I have needs too, milord.?

?Your needs, Malvhista, are what I tell ye they are. However, I will tell ye what they are not. Ye are nae to openly, or privately, lust for the priestess. Should ye so much as make her feel anything but a guest in mine domain, I?ll hand her a spoon to take ye head off with. Now go, before I fall to the urge of crushing ye skull with mine foot!? He pointed down the hall, and she scrambled with the weaponry

?Leave the weapons in mine Laboratory.? He called after.

?Aye, Lord Yhaull. As ye will, Lord Yhaull.? She grumbled as she clopped down the hall on cloven-hooves.

Imprisonment: Midnight

He sat in one of the comfortable leather highbacks in the room, his feet crossed at the ankles atop an otoman adjacent to the bed. He had, in hand, a saucer of cream and a bowl of strawberries in his lap, which he was nibbling on as he watched her sleep. It wasn't soon after he'd relaxed, that she started to stir again.

There is no telling what lengths I might go to, in order to indulge a whim. Particularly when you have nothing to offer that is of worth to me. What would you offer? Chryrie's life? She could flay you. Lucien's? He is mortal. The day of his death has already been written. His thoughts were once again on the scene in the inn, musing them over as he ate and she began to roll over in the gown and robes atop the feather mattress of the bed.

The statement came over and over again, replaying it as her eyes began to open. Particularly when you have nothing to offer that is of worth to me. What would you offer? "Fruit?" He offered the saucer and bowl, amusement evident in his features by the wicked smile.

"Strawberries? No thank you. . . not really to my taste." She offered a slight and sardonic smile to cover her irritation, adding, ?The courtesy granted to an enemy is unexpected. I must admit that were the situation slightly different, I would not have held you in such a comely cell.?

Veighn set the saucer of heavily sweetened, spiced cream and the bowl of fruit aside to hover aloft in the air, abandoned. He then turned to the small bowl on the pedestal beside the bed, and dipped his fingers into the rose petal infused water to rinse his fingers of their stickiness. ?That?s quite a shame, Priestess, for a worthy enemy is held as a valued opponent, and as such, should be treated with value.?

He shook his head then, affecting a droll look as his boots touched down upon the floor before the ottoman. ?However, mine courtesy does not extend to your desire to have ye weapons at ye beck and call.? The wards flared to life at the attempt, and he was well aware of what she sought. Hands thoroughly rinsed and rosy-smelling, he withdrew them from the surface of the water upon which the flower petals floated. He then flicked his fingers at her, flinging water off the ends of his talons in her general vicinity.

?Donnae, for one moment, think that the opulence of ye cage has any bearing on what exactly ye are, prisoner. Ye know full well, by the testing of mine house wards, that ye are in my domain. Law rules here, and that law is mine!? He paused, drying his hands off on one of the folded cloths he?d picked up from the pedestal beside the bowl ? a hand towel matching the coloring of the room?s walls, trimmed in cloth-of-gold.

?I?d advise ye, Priestess, and wisely, to hold back any cutting remarks ye have in response to mine statements. Inside these walls, ye are nae ?in? Rhydin, nor are ye in Rhilshen, and ye may be held accountable for the words ye sculpt with that pretty pink tongue of yer?s.? He asked of her with an air of nonchalance, affecting the regal mien of an Emperor, eyes wide and sharp, drinking her in as if she were the finest wine, savoring the look of her, captive, and in his power.

?Ye must be famished,? He intoned, gesturing toward the table behind the mobile pedestal, where a decanter of some thick, reddish ?liqueur? sat, fluted glasses turned up-ended. ?At your leisure, Lady Skye, I donnae wish to have ye respond to mine questions with ye mouth so parched.? He settled back into his seat, his gaze raking over her coldly, his features reserved in aloof expression. ?Ye attacked me whilst I was turned. Not the most honorable action I?ve seen. Tell me, Alysia, are ye into making habit of dishonor and betrayal??

?Malign ye? One would have to have honor to be slandered by such, Alysia. Just now, ye spoke of such and its desecration by ye own hand. Spare me the twits of truth, Alysia, tis a game I know quite intimately.? He observed her as she moved to decant the ?liqueur? into the fluted glasses. He took one up as well, watching the contents swirl with blackness trying to escape below the surface of the crimson pool therein.

?Ye commited a treacherous act by summoning this precious balefire. It would be as if I?d held a Shar?Vae blade to ye ethereal self. Tis considered an act of aggression to draw a weapon in the presence of a royal, if not a direct insult to the royal themselves. I would expect you to know such was a breech of etiquette, being an Empress, priestess Skye.? He bequeathed to her a condescending look, affecting the voice of a King chiding one of his Courtiers.

He took his first sip of the wine after swirling it about thrice, as if to aerate the vintage to heighten its flavor. He then sat the base of glass?s stem atop his knee, turning a lazy regard toward the woman as she sat, propped up, on the bed beside him. ?Ye sound as though ye are proud of the crop ye?ve sewed and reaped. Betrayal and dishonor against ye son and ye entire kingdom indeed!? Was he aware of this before? He seemed not to act like it, though with the reservation in his features, there was no telling. He affected that cool, calm, collected state of being which was quite uncommon considering who she was speaking too.

?Ye have nae been robbed of ye power, Priestess, though if ye have the urge to test my wards, try to strike me down with your magic.? Sipping his drink again, watching her avidly over the rising of the rim; it was lowered once more. ?The light in here is ample, and mine eyes could use the break from such dramatic flare. I?m no commoner?s child to be amazed by the weave of mana changed into flame. Save it for a less intelligent audience, Chryrie, perhaps.? He suggested unflappably.

He ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair, watching as she hesitated partaking of her poured beverage. ?What good is knowing ye worth now, Ylith?alialysia, when such shall become evident in its own course of time. Shall I let ye rot in this opulent suite of rooms for eternity, or would ye cherish the chance at freedom once again? Convince me, beyond a reasonable doubt, after your admission to betraying one?s very own blood-kin, what ye would do with me, were we to switch situations??

?Baaaaanish meee, perhaps?? He drawled, the line of his raven-jet brow rising slowly over his right eye. The scales around his eyes glittered as the red light shown from within those ocular sockets. ?Brand me as ye had said previously? Having made amiable acquaintances in some reemerging circles of influence, lately, I?ve learned a thing or two. I was not aware ye cared for the tedium of possessing slaves?? Goading her as he twisted his lips into a smug smirk.

Was this to be her torture? To be questioned endlessly for eternity, allowing her Empire to fall to ruin as the dark gods of her realms moved to smash her world to oblivion? He seemed very comfortable in that chair, lounging there, watching her. ?Ye?re a beautiful woman, Alysia.? The compliment came without warning. ?Though donnae think me fool enough to discount the power of ye mind. Were ye led to believe I would be susceptible, I know full well ye would try to use such baser temptations against me. That said, what other options of escape and vengeance against me are ye entertaining in that head of yours, mmm?? He waited, calmly, for her response, as though he?d taken her aside from a grand ball, or dinner party, to sit in merry company and converse about the little ?pleasantries? of life.

?Convince you?? She sneered. ?Beyond a doubt? I doubt I could. However, my lord, I will humor you. You may trust that if our situations were reversed, I would see you either compelled by blood or I would find a way to kill you and end the threat you present. I do not care to leave a dangerous enemy alive and unbound. The last trater of consequence I unearthed now serves me as a revenant in my bloodguard.? She grew quite after this, half-listening, half reflecting on her own thoughts.

?Very good, I had precisely that in mind. Finding a way to compel ye is more suitable to mine needs. I?m not beyond killing ye for the betrayal, though such would be an indefinite waste. The mention of the revenant is amusing.? He observed her for a few passing moments, in silence. His gaze slowly traced the lines of her gown and house robe, her physique beneath, an appraisal that was both brazen and clinical. He sighed as though tired, irritated perhaps, due to the flash of shadow lurking within the fires of his eyes. Alysia spoke further of her feelings on the matters previously spoken about, setting the facts straight for her captor.

?And it was not betrayal of my own blood-kin for which my son condemned me. He judged me in his then-capacity as Emperor, and the penalty for betrayal of blood-kin is death ? not exile.? Apparently, the resurgence of the memory was not particularly a lovely thing to reflect upon, and he took notice of this in her tone. ?Exile is reserved for those who betray their consorts."

She feigned a charming smile, though the look in her gaze held poisoned daggers for him in the depths of her eyes. ?I must admit, I have only twice before been?. ? The voice trialed off as his mind went to other things. He was still aware, distantly, of what she spoke. He?d glean the important words and phrases like required to contemplate a return to freedom, as well as It is unfortunate?, know me well enough, and anticipate.

His smirk was cynical, as if not well aware her compliments were more back-handed in nature than uplifting. The words, nowhere near as pleasant as this, brought him to the present with a minor scowl of irritation again. Her goblet remained hovering below her lips, yet she?d not partaken of it. He displayed, outwardly, a rather bored expression. It was as though he wanted her to hurry her little story along so she could refresh her palate with the substance of the glass. He tipped his own goblet back in a press to his lips, as if demonstrating ? subtly and suggestively ? that she cease talking soon and indulge her appetite so he didn?t have to force it down her throat. His regard of her turned suddenly cold.

The passage of time is not so miniscule when you are left alone in the dark with no sense of when the creeping doom hanging in wait to swoop down and end her existence would come. Moments stretched out into hours. Hours soon stretched and became whole days. Days stretched on into weeks. The cruelties started immediately. He had made it a point to feed her at his convenience, not her own. Each fresh decanter was sent to her suite of apartments a few hours later than the one before it each day.

A crafty individual uses any means they have at their disposal when left to their own devices and telling the passage of time was one of those often sought privileges her captor had deprived of her. Each time the delivery was later, and each time she would find the ravenous thirst growing more and more vicious as her metabolism started to change.

The pain of being devoured slowly from within seemed to grow more acute with each passing moment of loneliness. Though, she was not truly lonely, was she? Oh, no. She had those nagging thoughts of hers. Those ?voices? in her head that liked to tell her all sorts of interesting things were probably running her through a series of horrible scenarios as her condition worsened more and more.

Unconsciousness came in waves. At times, it was a state of rest interrupting the long periods of endless pacing, waiting to be fed by the ?unseen servant? spell he?d been taunting her with during her incarceration. At other times, it came on rapidly, for the changes subtly occurring within her body, quintessence, and psyche were becoming more and more brutal the longer she wasted away in Veighn?s ?care?. Three days ago, or was it? Approximately three days after seeing the Dark Lord, to her reckoning, a massive shadow poised itself above the archway that led directly into the castle. Thick webbing, the size of steel rods, soon appeared in an artful design a few hours later. Her hearing outside the room was heavily muted, though, and whatever being, giant spider or no, that lurked beyond was not in the business of allowing itself to be seen.

More time passed, perhaps a week and still the feedings came late and still the presence outside in the corridor did not announce itself to her. The pain inside her was growing more and more intense, and her mind was being taxed by a mixture of hot and cold waves that were akin to migraines, fevers, and chills. Had he cursed her? Had he afflicted her with some sort of magical or supernatural disease she was not yet aware of? How? When? Why? Questions answered only spawned a litter of more questions asked. Yet alone, she was unable to escape them. Even when she was resting, it was not a fitful sleep. Her dreams were plagued with things, people from her past, places unfamiliar, and Him. He always seemed to be somewhere, lurking, watching from behind some secret veil. Soon, she?d be her own tormentor, and it seemed he was willing to allow her this knowledge, and wait her out until such a thing came to be.

Over and over again, whilst bathing in the small sunken pool screened away from the main room of her bedchamber, the phrase came to the forefront of her mind, echoed from some darkness beyond the edge of her subconscious unbidden and unwanted. Ye worst enemy cannot harm ye as much as ye own unguarded thoughts, Alysia. Ye will know the price of power very intimately, soon, darling, and with it... the laws of pain. Then a gut-wrenching tug began to twist and pull at her core from deep within her body behind the lower regions of her abdomen. The most peculiar thing happened next. The water of her steaming bath started to affect a scarlet tint originating from somewhere beneath where she was currently seated on the stone bench within.

The heat of the water was soothing, encouraging a lassitude that pervaded her limbs and pronounced her fatigue. Alysia twisted her hair into a long, silvery braid and listlessly regarded the dim glow of a low, guttering candle ? it struck her as too bright, the scent of beeswax too strong, almost nauseating. She sank back to rest her aching head on the tiled rim of the bathing pool, contemplating.

Her link with her gods and her bloodline was blocked, and the souls normally crowding her psyche were quiescent, offering neither counsel nor condemnation. After some time, she had sensed, as if from a distance, the mind-voice of Alazais screeching that she could not bear the touch of Law, and shortly after that she had heard the sound of mirrors shattering. Llehlnia's voice, thick with a Brikarthan accent, had icily exhorted her to kill herself and pronounce a blood curse upon Veighn and all who aided him. Alysia had fallen into a stupor, and since then. . . silence.

That silence was accompanied by a pervasive sense of dread and doubt. They will be glad that I have vanished, no longer to plague them with arrogance and weakness, my unreasonable demands, she thought. How long have I been here? How long will it take for the memory of me to fade in their minds, supplanted by that which is near and real and warm? The priestess found no answers to the endless litany of questions and doubts and uncertainties that plagued her.

She was exhausted beyond nearly any limit she'd tested before. In this foreign place, her sleep had not been restful, clouded with a red haze of agony. When she did sleep, she was troubled by bizarre dreams and beset by memories. In one dream, she faced Julian ? or was it Lucien -- and tormented him for his weakness and affection. In another, Daemonshi chided her, ...tell me this, Alysia...what do you ask from me?...an apology?...if so, I give it...I give fully, with all things being my fault...I know you tried, but...I should never have left one so young...with such a load... In a phantom reverie, she looked at an elegant and poised copper-haired woman who stood under a pall of darkness, facing the sunrise, looking over the rose-hedged gardens and a cobbled highway below. She felt certain that strange woman would have sea-green eyes, that she answered to the name of Rose. Stare not for long into the dark, for sometimes the dark stares back, and in doing so, it stares into you.

Then there came a nightmare filled with gloom and storm. She felt her captor's attention upon her, and kept looking over her shoulder as she traversed a rain-slick street. If I look again, no one will be there, she thought. Is it my own madness that follows me? Is this truth or dream? It made her want to laugh, hysterically. Or weep. That sense of being watched by her captor remained with her even as she clung to dreams in which there was no escape. With her grip on sanity waning, Alysia considered that those she cared for had perhaps only ever been dreams, figments of fantasy; that the truth was she had been a captive in this prison for the entirety of her existence.

A sudden, sharp, twisting cramp originating near her navel brought to alertness. Another wave of pain surged across her abdomen. She felt a rush of heat, foreign to the steaming water surrounding her, and saw the impossibility of blood inking that water. She gasped in pain and disbelief, stammering, thoughts racing. In frustration, she attempted to banish the bewildered anxiety, the sense of utter violation which threatened to overwhelm her. What is happening. . .? What has been done to me?! Why is this being done to me?

It was perhaps fifteen minutes before she heard movement outside her door, the one leading to the outside. There had been placed some sort of sentry outside, though nothing but a strange presence was felt nearest that exit. The interior exit was guarded by webbing, it seemed, and the strands of the webbing were becoming thicker, and were extremely sticky. This is where the sound came some thirty minutes after the call had gone out. A pair of footsteps proceeded beyond a heavier set, a female voice whispering hurridly behind the long shadow approaching the doorway that lead into the bed chambers themselves from the inside. The door opened to reveal his presence, and the shattered decanter at his feet. Malvhista lurked somewhere behind him. ?Ye wished to see me, Alysia??

"That I did. Did I interrupt your play-time?"? She asked in a dulcet contralto, ignoring the lurking Tiefling. "Perhaps I merely wished to offer my gratitude to my host."? Alysia seemed calm, revealing none of the panic that had overcome her earlier. A sweeping gesture captured the small suite. "For the, ah, congenial surroundings and the so carefully and cleverly woven wards of shade and Law. You have given me the chance to enjoy silence, and the undisturbed opportunity to reflect, of course."?

?Ye seemed disdainful of mine company,? He stated simply, his hands extending outward in a faux gesture of peace, palms turned upward. He stood beyond the threshold of the doorway, where the wards were heavily barring her escape into the hall. ?I see ye donnae favor the wine?? He gestured, pointing to the floor at his feet with the black talon of his index finger, then added very softly, ?or is this an accident??

Alysia glanced at the pieces of broken glass that had once made up a decanter and kicked a large fragment toward him in disgust. Her eyes burned crimson, narrowed with a hint of controlled pain, and careful anger was apparent in her tone. "What you chose to do to me . . ."? She stopped, shook her head dismissively. "How curiously predictable you are, thinking to compel what might have been offered in the face of honesty. Your interests would have been better served with my willing cooperation." After a moment, she added, "I wonder if you even know what you wrought."? She looked toward a darkened mirror and the reflection captured there: tall and pale, silver-gilt hair braided sleekly over her shoulder, almond-shaped eyes glittering ash-gray. In the shadows, her jaw seemed narrower, her cheekbones more prominent, the sensuous cast of her countenance refined into something more ethereal.

?I've created an Angel of Death, of course.? He said silkily as he stepped foot into the room. He hiked his robes as he stepped over the pool of blood and wine she'd been surviving on for three weeks now, if not longer. It was hard to tell by her reckoning, her modes of telling time had been dispensed with long ago. ?Are ye enjoying the solitude, Priestess? Or, shall I no longer refer to ye as such.? He dropped the hem of his robes and advanced upon her, each step a fractional quickening of pace before he was face to face with her, an inch between them. His clawed hand moved to lightly press itself to the side of her cheek in some perverse parody of a loving caress. ?Ye have long yearned for what I have given you.? Without touching her skin, he moved his hand away from her face, and pressed it between them, seeking the flat of her abdomen. ?Tell me, how long...?

?Ahhh..." She breathed. "I would say that your judgment is flawless, but I'd be lying. I'm not as comfortable with lies and treachery as you. Thus I must disagree... I will be a Priestess until the gods I serve die. Your wards are temporary and will not outlive those gods, Veighn." She smiled, just a little, bringing fangs into prominence. "It is no secret that I have ever yearned for power. Survival is impossible without it."

He tilted his head, brushing the corner of her mouth with a scathing of his lower incisors as he whispered into her ear. He made sure she felt the tracery of tiny scales along the line of his jaw against her flesh as he spoke. ?Ye think ye will outlive me, Alysia of Clan Skye? Do not pander with me, woman. Ye have refused mine power for a seeming age. Ye have danced around me like the little silvan creature ye pretend at being. Tis a lovely guise, I must admit.? An ominous whisper of a chuckle echoed from his lips, a chorus of three voices spoke out. ?Does ye blood burn??

With low laughter, she turned, murmuring. "My blood was fired long before you served me tainted.... drink. Perhaps now it has chilled to slush." She stepped back, chin up-tilted, eyes flashing gray. "I rather think you seek to drive me mad with solitude. I will allow this - you nearly succeeded."? She held up thumb and index finger, smiling to show prominent fangs. "Nearly. So I must ask --- why? What the Hell is it you want from me?"? She sneered at him. "I will not be your pet. Nor your puppet. Nor your pawn."?

?Fire and Ice.? He mused this over as he strode forward, pressing his form against her own. She was tall, very tall for a female of the elf race. Perhaps it was an older race she chose to affect. Almost Eladrin, in appearance than elven. Yes, he would gauge it that. A cruel smile formed his lips. He pressed the advantage of height, a mere couple inches, over her as he advanced. ?Ye speak as though ye have a choice, Ylith. I find this curious.? He stared down his nose at her, crowding her back toward the obstacle of the high-back between her back and the edge of the bed, the ottoman before it just another thing to hamper undisturbed progress. ?Ye will be what I wish ye to be, my dear. That is the way of things. Look around ye!? He gestured to the carmine-hue of the walls, the dark tapestries and paintings, the hanging curtains around the top of gothic pillars with faces chiseled into the flawless black marble. ?This is nae Dark Lake. This is nae, Rhilshen. Ye are in mine domain.?

"That may be,"Alysia retorted coldly. "Yet how long do you think you have before Chryrie sends my Bloodguard from Rhilshen to tear down your wards and bring Hell to your doors? Do you wish to fight a war upon two fronts?"?

?Ye must banter with words more carefully in the future, Ylith. Ye have dealt with Demons, Daemons, and Devils before, have ye naught? I am a breed lost to the knowledge of the material realms. Ye speak of being no pawn of mine. What makes ye think ye are nae already? Ye have had the dreams. This I know. Ye, Ylith, have glimpsed the darkness beyond the prime material, and what lurks within it. It has stared back into ye.? He grinned cruelly. ?Are ye beginning to become aware of what hunts me? What hunts... us?? He ceased the dramatics of speech to state, simply, his point. ?What seeks me, now seeks ye as well. Our fates are intertwined.?

"Pawn I may be," the priestess agreed, unmoved, reptilian in her stony stare. "Yet not by choice, and not by will - and will is the ultimate power among my kind, those whose breeds you banter about so glibly." She turned, walked away with a restless stride, pacing. "What is your purpose, Veighn?"

?My purpose is necessity, Alysia,? he growled. ?Mine Shades are mine Vengeance. Mine curse, to bestow upon who I deem worthy.? He stated blandly, pacing to mirror her own stride, mimicking every move she made. ?I stand one against many. One of those many, have the power to destroy whole pantheons of gods such as the ones ye serve. They are barred from the prime materium, and seek me at the fringes of existence, the vastness of many universes, many dimensions. I have their undoing. Yet, I am one against many. Ye war is now mine, and mine ye own. For, ye have been granted a taste of what is forbidden by the gods to know.? His eyes narrowed. ?Ye must hide it, and I can teach ye how, so that the divinities donnae seek to lock ye in some realm prison to lord over and waste away in ye anger and vengeance. Even ye own god, Priestess ShadowSkye.? His lips curled in a sneer.

She stopped and turned, about to lash out at him with a closed fist for mocking the gods she served. Instead, she lifted her index finger and shook it back and forth.

?Ye think me cruel to leave ye rotting, thinking. Ye have no idea. My dear, the gifts of pain I grant ye instill wisdom and knowledge. Ye, my dear fiend, are stalwart enough to endure beside me. Though, ye may fall in this struggle, once they find me, in an age, after the death of this world or the next, they will find me. Stand with me, and survive. Stand against me, and they will erase the very existence of ye from all time and none.?

"While my pride is great, I am not so foolish to think the erasure of my existence would have any impact on anyone's scheme. Time will go on without me, Veighn." Considering what had happened to her father's family, she thought that such a fate was inevitable. A slow, cruel smile curved the corners of her mouth. "Endure besides you. . . Stand with you? You, who would compel me? Make of me a mere thing, a bit of property, a possession?"

?Do ye understand, that the ripple of one soul erased will shake the pillars of law and chaos both? The impact on the lives of others. All that wisdom vanished, leaving holes in the memories of all ye long life has touched. Indeed. It could upset the flow of entire dimensions, and the multiverses therein. It will shatter the paths of the In-between. Do ye think, they will stop once ye and I have been reduced to nothing? They feed endlessly. All will be destroyed. All beings, ye kin, ye gods, the souls of ye ancestors. Devils and Gods, Angels and Demons, Fallen, Mortals, Fae. All existence a ye know it, all ye hold dear will be stripped away leaving nothing, not even the ashes of ruin, behind.?

"Oh, so I am to believe that you are suddenly altruistic?" This was said very quietly. "I find that dubious. Let me tell you something I learned from falling in love with a mortal man, Veighn. Everything is transient, and nothing is permanent. For life and existence to fail is inevitable." She offered a slight smile, more a grimace. "Well that you should learn that lesson for yourself, and accept it."

Veighn stalked back in to the rooms allotted his captive, flanked by a pair of iron golems. Discerning the vicious expression on the Black Wizard?s mien, realizing that there could be no accord between them, and certain that his intent was to kill, Alysia took breath to pronounce a blood curse, a vengeful pall of doom that would be triggered upon her own death. The ambient shadows surged, coalescing upon marble walls, intensifying the hues of candleflame. His eyes narrowed, and without uttering a word, he made a sudden, clutching gesture toward her.

Alysia raised her hands to ward off whatever sorcery he intended to work, but was paralyzed by a sharp, crushing pain that twisted across her middle and dropped her to her knees. A mist of shade lifted from her body, coalescing about Veighn?s hands. Pervaded again by a sense of violation, she looked up and hissed something sibilant, a harsh insult in Mabrahoring that disdained her gaoler?s sense of honor and mocked his parentage, personal sanitary habits, and sexual preferences.

The wizard responded indirectly; he turned and addressed the iron golems accompanying him, smugly explaining that his prisoner?s freedom had been secured by another party and that they were to escort her to the border of her own lands, then release her. He said nothing more and left abruptly, smirking and with malice burning in his eyes.

She scowled and wondered who her purported benefactor was, what new pawn Veighn had just claimed for his own private amusement. The scent of him that lingered past his departure carried familiar notes of Lucien?s blood, and that awareness filled her with dismay first, then a destructive sort of rage she dared not indulge. Not yet. If I thought he was in danger. . . there are things in my possession that I might destroy. There would be plenty of time to contemplate and address the insults that should be repaid.

Alysia shakily drew herself to her feet and nodded toward the golems, but did not trouble herself with questioning the things or making demands of them; such attempts would be futile as no such construct would ever reveal its master?s intent or secrets. Besides, she had more imminent concerns on her mind. Restoring her own safeguards, various personal wards and protections about her domain would be of utmost importance in the immediate future.

The priestess was escorted through what seemed to be interminable darkness, a silent passage through the in-between that was slowly replaced patchwork by glimpses of the starlit sky above the forests of Spire. Veighn?s golems paused upon the banks of the creek that marked one of the barony?s sylvan borders and dropped an odd assortment of metal to the ground before returning to her erstwhile host. Upon the loam, Alysia recognized the gleam of blades and the sparkle of gemstones. She bitterly accepted that her effects returned to her were now poisoned gifts, tainted valuables which would have to be destroyed lest he had wrought enchantments upon them to ensure their failure.