Izira sat in the chair behind her desk for a while. Attention turned away from either music box, she closed her eyes and focused on breathing. Just breathe. Bit by bit the heat left the air about her. Once calmed she opened her eyes and returned again to the common room of Forgotten Layers. Borchsek, the being that had been at the table drinking tea and reading, was gone. It was a small blessing as his visits were never something to which she looked forward.

She moved through the break in the bar, making way to his table to collect the dirty dish and payment. Even if she had been around, he would have left his payment in the same manner. Izira had gotten used to Borchsek?s ways. He only came here when it was a faster trip between his travels than returning home. Some time ago he found the place, following a trader who would not sell him the supplies he brought to Izira. Tea from his homeland, in the hands of a half-breed. That is what he hated most about Izira. His manner was polite, if cool. She hadn?t picked up on the underlining dislike until translating some of the words he spoke. ?Dirty half-breed.? What Izira had originally chalked up to an unsocial manner in the man turned out to be the result of racism. Still, business was business and she didn?t turn him away.

Now, as she carried payment and dish back to the bar, she considered that the mind sent of her customer would be the same of her father?s people. Difference being that none of them would even be willing to knowingly set foot inside her inn. Sadly, Izira recalled the memories given to her by her mother. Her father had not care that she was given to him by a mortal woman. Her father had stood in awe of what had become of the love they shared. But her father was not typical of his people.

Money put away, dish washed in the sink, Izira considered her father?s people... the Ny?Halian. Unlike him, who traveled and sought out the company of mortal men, his people kept shut away. They preferred to deal with their own kind and the idea of mixing blood was disgusting. They were a haughty people, unkind to outsiders. Still, through her recent readings about them, she admired the structure they held within their own communities.

Hands dried, Izira took the books from their hiding place? opening the journal that held the translations from the original book Alain had brought her from the Ny?Halian. The binding. She turned through the pages until she found the spot she?d been on when Alain had arrived. Izira had lost count of how many times she had revisited this section of the book. Though, everything else held some interest to her?the rituals for courting, marriage and death along with many other topics, it was the binding that captured her attention again and again.

Your gift is Powerful?But not yours alone.

The Elemental Gods loved their children and because this love was so great they gave to each a unique gift. Fire, water, air or earth were blessed upon every newborn child as the first breathe was taken in. But the gift, while kind, was often too much for one to withstand and so a guardian would bond with the child, sharing the gifts between two. Throughout the life of a Ny?Halian the bond was often remade with others, giving strength to the ties of their community.

Following the explanation was a guide on how the bonding ritual should be preformed. Blood and knives, the usual elements for many rituals Izira had seen for any culture. The words spoken were different and went on at length. It did not appear to be a short ritual from what she read. Somewhere in the middle of the page her eye caught on two words, ?Shared Breath.? Izira pulled the original book to her again, flipping through until the drawn image came into view. Two mouths open near one another. It was not a kiss but still a feeling of intimacy lifted from the page.

Her mind wandered to the sad little kiss she had given Alain. Ten years. Ten years locked away from others to keep from getting hurt and to keep from hurting others. True there were broken hearts in her past, but it was the memories of when her gift got out of hand that kept her away from others. She recalled the woman, Dytannia, from the last place she had stayed before finding Forgotten Layers. Izira had loved her too, in a way? but anger had gotten the better of her. Izira had nearly burned down the Tavern that Dytannia called home. More the crime for Dytannia and the living tavern, Silver Rain, had shared a soul. It was no surprise that Izira had been sent away. Forgotten Layers had taken her in.

Away from people, closed off from feeling, the fire in her veins troubled her less often. That also meant she was alone. Bonding with someone might have been an answer, except there was no one with which to bond. A muted sigh escaped into the air. Izira was not upset to find another dead end. Strangely, she was at peace with it. Solitude was known, she was used to it. Opening herself to someone, to bond with another? on a level possibly deeper than that she had shared with Jared? was unknown and scary. And that fear had increased since Alain had given her that music box. He had Cassie, she knew. There was really nothing there to fear? still, Izira felt like she was playing with fire.

Decided, she took out a clean sheet of paper and started writing a letter?