The tower rose into the sky from the forest that surrounded it, perched high on a mountain one could see for miles when looking out one of the few windows the tower possessed. It was not a unique tower, it held the perfectly cylindrical form of a thousand other towers. It was a shining white that could only be accomplished through the use of the purest marble. There were three others that where the home of others of the Brigade Qwen knew about and doubtless others she did not, but this one was hers and hers alone.

The walls were not adorned, the few rooms the tower possessed did not contain lavish furniture and the hearth rarely saw a fire. Qwen preferred an austere environment, where everything was in it?s place and easy to find.

In the basement there was a forge, and that was the realm of Goerge, a Fell demon that she had enlisted to work for her some centuries before. He enjoyed working, and being left alone. She gave him work and left him to do what he wished in his free time, providing him with materials, a place to sleep and her protection. It was the last that had won the demon over, Fell demons made enemies quickly in their home Plane and it had been no different with Goerge. He had made enemies simply by refusing to create arms and armor for other demons, his work being noticed by the more powerful beings on the Plane early in his career.

The other rooms in the tower included an foyer at the base of the tower, two small chambers along the way up the winding staircase, a large dining area that was serviced by a small kitchen, and Qwens chamber at the top of the tower. Her chamber was stark and held a small bed, a small dresser and a writing table just large enough for her pen, parchment and duster to sit. The chair associated with the table was of a plain wooden variety, sturdy enough but small.

Her armor was removed and taken down to the basement for cleaning and repairs, she would tend to the weapons herself. She stripped off the leathers she wore, and stood there in a pale linen shirt and cotton breeches, contemplating whether to take the bath before speaking with G?rakkt or after. The demon, she would consider him a demon until she had proof otherwise, was standing in the corner of the room with his back to her now; shifting back and forth from one foot to the other in a manner that made Qwen believe he was uncomfortable.

?What is wrong?? She began to untangle the braid in her long dark hair, working out some kinks and freeing some of the feathers that were bent.

?N-nothing, Lady Qwendolyn. G?rakkt is fine.? His shoulders hunched in further and he appeared to be trying to make himself smaller. During their flight Qwen had noticed that he was much taller than she had suspected at first, he had a perpetual crouch that gave the illusion of shortness. In truth she suspected he stood over seven feet, were he to ever straighten the spindly spine of his to its full length.

?You will need to get over whatever it is, I will require you to assist me in donning my armor and removing it. On occasion you might be required to tend to my wounds.? She shook out her hair and moved to sit at the desk. It was a little cruel to imply he would be tending her flesh she supposed, it was unlikely she would require any such thing for it was rare she took any wounds, let alone ones she could not tend to herself.

?Y-yes, Lady Qwendolyn. G?rakkt will be able to assist the Lady in any tasks that she requires. She will not be disappointed in G?rakkt, she will not.? He continued to shift his weight from one foot to the other, and the wings twitched, one did not move far, it was obviously in need of attention.

With a sigh she rose from the seat and moved over to G?rakkt, laying a hand gently on the injured wing. He flinched from the touch but did not move, nor complain. ?You will also need to inform me when you have sustained injuries that you cannot heal. I do not recognize your species and therefore do not know what you are, and are not, capable of doing.?

He bobbed his head up and down, he still kept his face toward the wall, unwilling to meet her gaze. ?G?rakkt does not know what species he is Lady Qwendolyn, the Master never told us.?

?He is no longer your master, you will not refer to him as such.? The words came out harsher than she meant and G?rakkt cowered. Another sigh escaped her and she continued, ?Forgive me, G?rakkt, Michael is a topic that brings out the worst in me. This will hurt a bit, but I fear it cannot be avoided.? As she spoke she ran a hand down along the wing, finding the place where the thick membrane was broken, it felt severed.

Drawing upon the innate skills available to her, pooling nanites and allowing the warmth to fill her and guiding them through her body, down the length of her arm to her hand and out. When the nanites infused the wing she flattened her palm against it while tugging it taunt. G?rakkt stiffened, his back finally straightening to a point where he rose up above her, yes a towering seven feet at least. It took only a moment for the nanites to knit the membrane back in place, the wing would be sore for a bit but it would be serviceable.

?You will need to take it easy on that for a few days, but you will regain full use of it I think.? She stepped back and toward the writing table again, sitting down and pulling a sheet of parchment off the top of the neat stack that was there. Qwen did not turn around when she sensed G?rakkt looking at her silently. ?You have much to tell me I think. First I will be penning a report for you to deliver, then a bath, and then you will have dinner ready and we will talk.?

Qwen could feel the reluctance coming off of G?rakkt in waves of confusion. ?I am not Michael. You will be treated civilly so long as you hold to your word G?rakkt, and you do not burn my dinner.? The last was said lightly, she turned to look at him over her shoulder and give him a smile to emphasize the fact she was joking.

She was not sure if he smiled or not, she could not tell but the beak did something different. He bobbed his head at her, ?Lady Qwen will need to inform G?rakkt what she prefers to eat. G?rakkt is thinking it will not be the same as the Mas... as G?rakkts, as... the other.? By the end of the sentence he was stuttering and shuffling his feet again.

?You may refer to him as Michael, or the First if that makes you uncomfortable, G?rakkt.? The words were filling the parchment now, there was a lot to say but Qwen typically kept her reports short, if the Creator required a more detailed telling of the battle he would ask.

She did not mention the taking of G?rakkt, although if asked why not she would not have been able to provide an easy answer. The Creator did not want her searching for Michael, he had given her very specific orders to not engage with Michael if there was any choice in the matter. She needed to find him though, to find out why he betrayed the Creator, the Brigade, betrayed her trust. No, she did not need to mention G?rakkt at this time, she still did not know if he had any information that was relevant.

When she completed the report she gave G?rakkt the information required to deliver the message and an order for the food she wanted prepared. ?Do not tarry overlong on the Plane of Asagoth, deliver the message and leave. Do not speak to anyone. Do not look at anyone. Above all else do not mention my name.?

G?rakkt bobbed his head and took the parchment with a type of reverence, ?G?rakkt understands.?

Qwen watched him go, his limbs flailing in an effort to move him forward, it was almost painful to watch him he was so clumsy. Shaking her head to dismiss him for the time being, she moved to the window. Stepping out onto a small terrace she spread her wings wide and leaped off, lazily circling herself toward the small hot spring that served as her bath. She had much to do and very little time to accomplish everything, but there was always time for a quick bath.

The span of her life was long and long, as far as Qwen could discern none of the Brigade kept track of things like age, or birthdays or anything that were hallmarks in the lives of some of the beings she had come across. Oh, the demons did not mark such things either but those creatures that seemed to lack the longevity of her people did, those such as humans, elves and dwarves. As a result of this time passed without heed, G?rakkt had been in her service for nearly one hundred years and still she was no closer to finding Michael. Every moment was not spent on the finding of him, that was not productive, no... that would come but not this day.

This day Qwen was watching a celebration of a childs life hidden in a shield of invisibility created by her technomancy, a bending of the air around her form. The young boy was now fifteen years of age and he seemed ecstatic. He was of a variety of elven that was rare, they lived longer than nearly any other type of elf she had seen, this one looked to be about the same age as a five year old human. He came up to her waist, if that, had hair that was so blond as to nearly be white and blue eyes that reminded Qwen of nothing more than a perfect summer sky.

He, named London, or so all around him named him such, was running around the clearing laughing with the pure abandon that Qwen associated with the young of any race. There were streamers hanging from the trees, tables overflowing with food of every variety and form, and happy elven adults and children in abundance. This community celebrated life with a type of intensity that Qwen found fascinating and she had made it a habit to come each year this day to see the young London and his merry band of followers.

Qwen had been looking over the sweet treats when she heard the scream. It was from one of the woman of the clan, for she thought of them as such, near the outer edges of the clearing. Quick strides took her toward the sound, the elves unconsciously moving out of the way of the invisible spectre in their midst as the warriors moved toward the sound with her and the others moved away, gathering children as they went.

It was a band of thithlings. Thithlings were small creatures but they had vicious claws, teeth and attitude. They always hunted in packs but usually would not attack anything but a lone target, the fact they were so close to a village spoke volumes to Qwen. Some demon, larger and more powerful, must have goaded them on and forced them in.

The woman had drawn a weapon and had struck a few, as evidenced by the black ichorous blood that was soaking the ground but she had been overwhelmed. The tatters of flesh, bone and clothing were all that remained of the woman by the time the others arrived.

Something snapped in Qwen, she felt it but did not understand. A red rage filled her vision, a flood of emotions that Qwen had carefully ignored up until that point in her existence would not be denied. The final straw that broke her calm was when she saw London run out toward the bloody mound on the ground, he was crying now his perfect blue eyes rimmed with tears and redness. His mournful cry pierced through the armor she had donned over her emotions as surely as any weapon, ?Mother! Mother, get up!?

The thithlings saw only an easy target and moved as one to descend upon the unwitting child. One swept the child up, threw him to the ground and wicked claws began to descend, the creature intent upon tearing the still beating heart from the boys chest and that was when Qwen acted. Dropping the cloak of invisibility she stepped toward the cluster of thithlings and in a voice that they could no sooner disobey than stop breathing air she commanded them, ?Back. Touch the child and by the Creator I swear to you that you will never cease knowing pain and suffering. I am Qwendolyn, Second of the Brigade and you will heed my word.?

The thithlings shrieked and fell back a pace, most of them clamping clawed hands to their ears, a vain attempt to block the voice that echoed in their heads and made their knees weak.

One, larger than the rest croaked out a reply, ?Mistress we would obey but we are compelled. Please have mercy we are no match for you or the Master, whom calls himself the First of your Brigade. Please, mercy.? The creature then fell to his knees and began to grovel.

The entire scene felt surreal to Qwen and now nothing felt as though it made sense. The First, Michael? Why would he send creatures after these elves? They had no powers that could rival his, no weapons, no impact on the Planes outside their own. No, they did have an impact, they impacted Qwen. Did he go through the trouble of attacking these people to punish Qwen?

There was a sharp stab in her chest, a twisting pain that she forced aside so she could think. ?I will deal with him. You will leave and never return to this Plane. I will be watching and if I so much as catch a hint of your scent on this Plane I will hunt your kind down and destroy you all.? If they did not comprehend the full extent of the threat now they would soon enough, she spoke idly of genocide but it was within her power to carry out the threat.

The one above the boy hesitated, blood lust had gotten the better of it and it attempted to impale the child. Perhaps it believed it could get the prized heart and escape before retribution could catch it. It was wrong. The moment the hand began its descent, the childs eyes going wide with terror, it disappeared in a burst of air; a black mist drifted down on the child but other than that it was as though the creature disappeared.

Qwen had a palm facing where the creature had been, fire was her specialty. The distribution of nanites when she willed it so was nearly instantaneous and the ignition of those micro machines was deadly. Now she felt the anger boiling in her blood as she turned to the rest. ?Do I need to demonstrate my resolve?? She took a purposeful step toward the group of thithlings. ?Will you press me further??

The creatures were now backing up, a few had turned their backs on her to run as though hell itself were on their trail... and it was. ?N-no-no Mistress we obey!? The largest of the creatures cried out, backing up as quickly as it could manage.

?Go. Tell your kind, tell all you meet, if these people come to harm I will find those responsible. I will hunt them down, and make them beg, wish and pray for death.? There was a nimbus of light surrounding Qwen now, her wings had extended to their full length, at some point she had drawn her longsword and the glow of its power illuminated the entire clearing with it?s light. ?Go!?

With the final shout every last one of the thithlings turned and ran. When she swept the clearing with her gaze what she saw gave her pause. She had been searching for any thithlings that thought to hide from her, what she saw were the elves, all of the elves, supplicating themselves to her on the ground. The shine of power darkened as she released her power and sheathed her sword.

She felt the weight of something slam into her waist and nearly reacted to the threat before thinking. When she looked down she saw London there, his tiny arms thrown around her waist in an effort to cling to her body. He was crying and perhaps speaking although Qwen could not make out any of the words. Without thought one hand moved to the top of the boys head and gently patted the blood splattered hair. ?There, there, it is fine now, London.? A whisper of power was released and wove it?s way into the child, calming him down and leaving its mark somewhere deep in the childs soul. ?It is fine now.?

Qwen looked over the elves, still unwilling to look up to face Qwen and a sadness filled a place that had, only recently, been filled with joy. She would not be able to come here again, they would always be watching now and they would not allow her to simply watch and enjoy the watching of their lives.

Kneeling down to be on a level with the boy, she peeled him off and leaned him back to look into his eyes. ?Take care of your people, London, and I will be there to take care of you if you have need. Remember this.? Leaning forward she pressed a kiss to the childs forehead and without another word slipped from the Plane to an adjacent one. She did not even catch the childs soft response of ?I will remember.?

Michael... she would make Michael pay for stealing this from her, the only normal thing she had in her life. It was the third promise she?d made that day, and all three would be kept, all three.

It had taken only a blink of an eye for Qwen to transport him and his people back to the village; most were still dazed from the captivity, deprivation and the shock of seeing loved ones murdered. He was unsure how much magic it would have taken for his people to perform such a task, but he thought that even if every elder was bent to the task it could not be completed by them. For the sake of his people London tried to put on a brave face, making sure that everyone got back to their homes safely and talking about what would be done after they had a moment to rest, breath and mourn.

By the time the sun slipped beneath the horizon and moon rose to its apex London was tired, and the numbness had begun to wear thin, he could feel the sorrow threatening. He decided to go to the nearby waterfall, his clothes still were stained with blood and he could smell its stench clinging to him.

Stripping himself free of clothes he entered the chill waters, taking slow sure strides toward where the water fell lightly into the stream. It was a small waterfall, but it served his purposes and it was refreshing to mind, body and soul. He freed his hair from the thong that had kept it bound and allowed the long blond hair to spread across his back. He was just about to step into the flow of water when he became aware of eyes upon him. It did not cause him fear but rather a curiosity, it felt as though someone were boring into his soul in search of what he was made of at his core.

Turning toward the presence he saw her standing there, a shaft of moonlight piercing through the canopy of trees illuminated her figure. Her hair was dark as a moonless night, and the feathers that danced in the flow like stars. Still dressed for battle, chain mail over leathers, knee high boots and a circlet that held the midnight river of hair back from her face. That face had haunted his dreams since he was a child, those grey eyes so calm, both cool and warm in a manner that he could never describe properly to anyone else.

Lifting an arm he held a hand out toward the woman to beckon her to join him, the spray of the fall now misting his body making him shine. Those eyes watched him a long moment before she began to strip the clothing off. It was a slow process, the armor made more complex because of the need to keep the wings free of obstruction.

Beneath all of the armor her body was taunt, a slender frame that was augmented by toned muscles that showed a strength few women could possess. Her breasts were high and firm and when she spread her wings he could see the additional musculature that was required to work the beautiful appendages. When she stepped into the water and toward him his heartbeat began to race, he had not expected the woman of his dreams to actually come to him here, now... nor ever. Up until today he had convinced himself that he had created her from his imagination, that no creature could be so beautiful and so terrifying all at once.

?I have dreamed of you every night since my youth, Qwendolyn, Second of the Brigade.? His voice was strong and masculine, it was not the voice Qwen remembered from the youth. There was little about the man that stood before her that was in that youth other than those eyes and a deep abiding strength.

?You may call me Qwen.? Her voice now was not the voice she used earlier, no it was a whisper and sounded hesitant. There was beauty in that voice, and it held undertones of power. She paused a few feet from his outstretched hands, wings curling over her bare shoulders and stared silently at him. It took London a moment to realize that she was shy, when the thought struck him he nearly laughed. The very notion that this creature of power would be timid about approaching him seemed so far-fetched and ridiculous that for a moment he believed he had fallen asleep on his feet and this a mere dream.

Well, London thought, if this is a dream I will take full advantage. He closed the remaining distance, his arms sliding around the slender waist. One hand began to explore the supple flesh, riding the swell of her hips his fingers danced seductively and ascended her spine until the hand came to a linger halt upon the nape of her neck.

?Qwen.? He whispered her name and in it was a question, a longing for approval. Her body was cool against his own as though she were truly made of malleable marble that the tone of her flesh implied. Her own hands hand risen and were resting lightly on his chest, the fingertips gripping at his muscles. Qwen was an inch or two taller than London and despite the fact her chin had tilted toward the ground her gaze was level with his own.

London saw his answer in that gaze and gently pulled her into a kiss, his lips pressing to hers in a fragile moment of exploration. Her kiss tasted of sweet wine and longing and he felt a fire sweep through his body, the heat of passion as he had never before experienced it. His body responded quickly and his hands roamed over the firm curves of her body, a soft moan escaped him, sounding of both pleasure and pain.

One of her legs wrapped around his waist, her wings had flared out to keep her balance and even as he was trying to come to grips that he had her in his arms their bodies became one. Londons hands gripped at her now, her flesh felt like silk and electricity and the pleasure was so sharp that it was nearly unbearable, his mind felt adrift on the chemical reactions his body was experiencing.

Qwen whispered something in his ear but it was not in a language he recognized, the tone was enough to inform him that she wanted more. He lifted her up and walked them to the shore, never once allowing their bodies to part. Gently laying her down upon the grassy bank, his body straining with the effort of keeping up with the demand.

The fan of her wings on the ground was surreal to London but he did not linger on those things; intent upon memorizing every inch of her body and the emotions he thought he could see in her eyes. Her hands explored his body, pausing at the points where their physiology differed greatly before moving on, her soft lips pressing kisses against his flesh the whole time.

Once she was more confident about his desire she became more aggressive, curious about the sensations she felt and his reactions to the way their bodies touched. She seemed to focus on how to draw out more of the same. Over and again he felt a surge of energy flood into him through her touch, a wild elation overwhelming him and bringing him to release.

It was nearing dawn before they came to a rest, Qwen in the crook of his arm, her wings a blanket covering the two. London suspected that Qwen allowed him this respite, her own energy endless in comparison to his own. The wounds he had sustained during captivity had been healed at some point during their night together and he felt bone tired when his eyes slipped closed and he fell to sleep.

When he woke the next morning he was alone on the banks of the stream, a single feather that had been pinned beneath him was all that was visible of Qwen. He could still smell the fragrance of her body, still feel her touch on his flesh and taste her kiss. It was no dream, but that did not make it any easier to accept that she had gone as quickly as she arrived. Perhaps she would visit sooner than the nearly two centuries it took her last time? He?d seen something in those cool grey eyes that gave him hope that she would... or perhaps that was the dream.

Perhaps...