There's a feeling when you're being watched, prickles on the back of the neck, a slight sense of unease. For Kendall, born and raised on the streets of RhyDin, it was a feeling she never dismissed lightly. It was a feeling she couldn't shake - despite side trips through alleys out of her route, despite doubling back twice and once pausing to watch the road in the mirrored surface of a store window.

She even went over the bridge, where nobody should be able to hide. Nothing. "Frackin' nerves. T'hell with it." She stopped the evasions, turned directly toward her West End haunts. No way was she going to lead whatever it was toward Oliver's place near the South gate, and Ali and Fio's building was right out. She riffled through her mental catalog of hide-outs and lay-lows. Not the carpenter, nor yet the Dive. That left - she abruptly ducked sideways, into another inconsequential alley. A window ledge and a nearby drainpipe let her onto the roofs with only a little bit of scrambling.

There was one place left she could count on - probably. Kendall's light grey eyes skated over the rooftops, wary. It wouldn't be one of those beasties, there was no hint of that reek. So figure something smarter, something meaner. She palmed her knife, kept it close while she started crossing slate and tile on RhyDin's upper roads.

Echoes of a large cat?s hunting growl carried through the slate and wood of RhyDin?s rooftops, especially with the wind coming from behind. Kendall?s pale grey eyes widened and she picked up her pace. Up here running was dangerous ? most of the roofs slanted sharply, those that didn?t were often littered with trash or riddled with weak spots. But she was nearing her destination and most of the gaps between roofs were only a few feet wide, now. Two roofs ahead, one building rose up three stories taller than those around it. One floor up from her current level, Kendall could see the window that was her goal.

There had been whispers of sound from behind, after that first coughing snarl ? not loud, but the quiet scrapes and soft impacts were getting closer. She could feel her breath coming harsher with exertion, and the next jump from roof to roof was almost her undoing ? one of the steep, slick tiles was loose and skidded from beneath Kendall?s boot as she landed. It clattered off the gutter and crashed onto the street below ? Kendall threw herself flat onto the angled rooftop and just barely kept from following in the tile?s wake.

It lost her precious time ? and the knife that she dropped in reaching for a firm grasp. The blade wedged into a gap between slates a yard or so from her reach. She shifted her weight forward, and pushed up at the same time; the scramble was inelegant but effective and got her back to her feet next to the narrow chimney. No chance to make the window, useless anyway now that she could see the fresh plywood nailed over it from the inside. She turned to face back the way she?d come, to face her pursuer, and waited.

Of all the times not to have her hold-out piece. But Parker?s last scouring for anything saleable had turned up Kendall?s main coin stash, the reserve she?d be saving for months, and the small pistol she carried in the worst parts of town. Now all three were in powder form, waiting to be snorted up Parker?s nose. So no gun, and her best knife was sliding toward the gutter out of reach. And that was oh-so-definitely a shifter poised and waiting not three yards away.

Hard to mistake that blurring, after all, even if the woman was looking harmless at the moment. So Kendall took that hip-shot stance that screamed attitude and curled her mouth into a passable, cynical smile. Rooftop? What steeply slanting rooftop? She was going bold, and carried it off like their conversation was about to take place on solid ground and she had nothing to fear. Scent would probably give the lie to that last, but appearances still counted. ?Yer a frackin? shifter. Overkill t? be hunting up a human like me, don?cha think??

While she spoke, Kendall?s pale grey eyes were flicking from the woman to her surroundings and back. It wasn?t a gesture of fear, though that was present. It was the watchfulness that never, ever trusted a hunter would be working alone. She leaned back, against the chimney ? back to a solid object so at least that way was covered ? and folded her arms across her chest. ?Ain?t carryin?, ain?t holdin?, an? ain?t got no jobs upcoming but lunch-running fer a while. Too skinny fer th? eating if yer inclined that way, so what?s yer profit in chasin? me over half th? city??

She could feel the scrape of bricks through one of the worn-thin places in her sweater when she shifted her weight. Whether or not the woman believed her, at the moment Kendall was telling the truth ? she wasn?t carrying any messages, or holding any of the small, anonymous packages she sometimes ran between customers; the discharge of magical energy from that last run had killed all of her work but the ordinary lunch deliveries for some time. Since she wasn?t holding anything of value, she could only wait for the shifter?s response.

Not hard to find out her name ? she?d never made it secret. How else would people know to ask for her? So when the shifter tossed it out, Kendall jerked her chin up as agreement. But then her pale grey eyes narrowed. How did she ? Dillon. The loose-witted goat-faced whiny drunkard who?d had his hand snapped off clean as a whistle, near bled out. Kendall indulged herself in a silent rant, sudden anger surging quick to counter and erase fear. The idiot must have been babbling. She?d have to lay even lower for a while so?s the Watch wouldn?t figure out what they?d been doing near the bridge.

Then the small woman?s next words played right into her train of thought. Chapped lips pursed in a silent whistle before she cocked another of those mocking grins toward the shifter. ?Institute of Arcane Principle, huh? Fancy-shmancy school fer magicker types, what I heard. Makes a person wonder what they?s thinkin? t? find out from someone like me.?

But compensation ? well, lunch runs for Tej?s Indian place were enough to keep her fed, especially with lunch added, but Amy still had the dinner runs. Compensation had a nice ring to it. And Parker probably wouldn?t hear about this little jaunt, meant there?d be a chance to stow the take at Oliver?s place before Parker could shake it loose. Decision was abruptly made. ?A?ight. Five gold fer th' time less it takes more'n a day. Then you gotta make up fer th' work I'm missin' too. Yer a sight faster?n me, so I ?spect you?ll beat me back there with th? word I?m on th? way.?

Kendall pushed from the chimney and started a controlled skid down the steep-angled roof, a diagonal path that took her past the knife wedged in the slates. As she passed the blade she squatted to grab it, and turned that into a sitting slide straight down to the gutter. Gutter, drainpipe, window ledge, pavement. It was so much easier to get off the roofs than on them. She started toward the Southern Glen without a single glance back to watch the shifter?s course.

The strange clacking filled the depths of the cavern with its eerie echo, thrumming into disturbed harmonics by the slither of tentacles that disjointed what would otherwise be an even sound. The stench of decay permeated from every inch of the burrowed chamber that reached deep into the hills of the Southern Glen, the source of the fetor stacked neatly into a pile near the back wall of the chamber, a score of corpses, each of them having a specific extremity or organ surgically removed.

Again the clacking hummed along the chasmal walls, accelerating and rising in pitch as the tip of the wide bladed dagger sunk into the chest of his newest victim, splitting the sternum like a coconut, plunging clear to the hilt. Blood oozed from the wound, a racing rivulet of viscera that spilled down the man's side and splashed to the floor, its life stealing current growing in volume and pace. The depth of the impalement did a good job in clogging up the seepage, though, keeping it from spewing too quickly, allowing the death to be prolonged in its finality. The victim had been infected with a rather potent paralytic, and could do nothing but recline in comatose suspension as his life was patiently drawn away.

With a quick snap of his head his attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere; the languid writhe of the tentacles that hung from his jaw petrifying into stillness - into alertness, the wide chrome fixtures that appeared to be eyes trained on the winding length of the corridor in astute observation.

A specific source of power had entered the Glenn.

Austorc turned and darted away, tearing the embedded weapon from the torso of the immobilized man in one smooth motion. Snatching his duster from the natural knob that protruded from the wall, he threw it on and sheathed the deadly sterling knife as he raced down the length of the tunnel, sparsely dropping down into a four-legged run to accentuate the gathered speed. He wanted to see the source of this power, and if possible, wanted to feel it die beneath his blade.

A circuitous route no doubt, but Shieyu was ever patient. Her movements ceasing when Kendell stopped and restarting as she continued on her way. The people of RhyDin caught her curiosity and attention but with the intensity of the inhuman she never paused in her scrutiny of the copper-haired woman who was the object of her assignment.

Every interaction was observed, if not understood. She remained unaware of Kendell's "ability" even as she noticed the pilfering and commended the dexterous ease with which the street rat lifted her wares. Should she have need of something "recovered" she would keep this woman in mind.

As they finally exited the gates and the crush of people usually found in such an urban dwelling, the first hint of unease rippled her sense of peaceful observation. She wanted to shift. Wished to give into the rustling of leaves, the whisper of grass, the beckoning of the sun kissed environs. Between one step and the next, she blurred, shifting in mere seconds with seemingly no hint of pain or discomfort. The clouded leopard's short compact legs brought her low to the ground and she nearly disappeared in the tall grass as she followed her prey. The explosions of scents washed over her and she rippled her fur in suppressed excitement.

Large tawny eyes kept a lock on Kendell as they traveled deeper within the Glen and nearer her destination. As her quarry diverted yet again she released a low chuffing growl of discomfort, ears flattening back upon her skull and body dropping low to the ground; yet, it was not Kendell's distraction but the sensation of the Shard within her that elicited such a reaction. A Shaitan member approached and the hint of the power burnt at the edges of her sanity before dissipating with recognition.

The girl was about to come face to face with a nightmare and one that needed diverted. The lash of her tail, a flex of muscled legs and the clouded leopard clung low to the ground as she rushed forward to slide between Kendell and the cave. Her arrival blurring her into human form; words altering from a cat-throated growl to human tones, "Hail Shaitan."

The scaled caliper of arduous steps propelled the Dark Mage of the Shaitan forward, every footfall conducted with a simultaneous din of his assisting staff. Through the copious folds of his aphotic cloak derived talon-like hands sapped of zoetic hue; each manus digit, festooned with a variety of magical adornment, clutching the gnarled length of the powerful relic's sinister craftsmanship.

The passing of time had been exhaustively spent in study; seeking and searching for fragmented indication pertaining to the potency of the Athalos ledger. The acquisition of the Infernal Elf had been executed favorably, though Arkon refused to rest upon his laurels with her mere presence, well aware of magic's fickle nature -- the solution to one problem was, more often than not, the reason for another.

The dull castigation of saffron tone transcended the oppressive shadow spawned by the cowl's eclipsing depth, gaze immersed in the decline of steps that lead below the Institute, into the bowels of the arcane edifice. While his crooked canter might have revealed enfeeblement, his measured pace never once faltered. At the bottom of the stairs he moved to the sealed passageway, the horizontal lure of his hand, a gesture ripe with intense arcana, thrusting the door inward and open.

The chamber beyond was suffused in despotic gloom, an inky well of lightless burden contravened by the oscillating scintillation of emaciated candle-light. The flame's illumination was oppressed by the darkness, fighting for every flicker to stay alive against the weight of diabolical coercion. Steps persisted, bringing him closer to the structure at the center of the room; a podium constructed of iron and bone to resemble the crouched poise of some nightmarish skeletal demon. To some, the evil that emanated from the podium itself would have been too much to bear, too vile to approach, but the dominion of the Shard kept those dire sensations at bay, rendering the Dark Mage capable of enduring the artifact's execrable aura.

He breached the ring of blood that enclosed the podium and rounded the dreadful plinth, eyes descending to the ruptured grimoire resting upon the podium's 'wings'. A faint sense of inspiration resonated from diminished, jaundiced occuli as his hand escalated for taloned fingertips to peruse the exposed page. The discourse was obscure garble, hollow etchings beneath his cursed scrutiny.

"Soon, L'loris." His voice, an antiquated tonality, was as dark and domineering as the tyrannical chamber itself. "Soon you will understand the reason you have been brought here. And once that time has come to pass, your lineage will prove to be paramount, and your concealed talent unreservedly eminent."

The malevolent depths of his pernicious mind tingled with alertness, instantly aware of the deadly Hengeyukai breaching the magically sealed parameter. The magical aegis that generally surrounded the Institute had detruded to keep from piquing the attention of the Denubae, but that did not require the banishment of the Mage's own personal admonitions. As always, he was well aware of the affairs transpiring within his domain. He had sent Shieyu to procure one of the lone survivors of a Denubae onslaught, and while it may have taken a bit of time, it seemed as though she had returned.

It was then that Arkon sensed another; a rare and terrifying creature concerning most circles of The Art. A simple mention of the creature could regularly rouse a vivid hysteria throughout the ranks of wizards considered paragons of stoicism.

A nullifier.

It was a rare gift that only a select few amongst the profuse populace inherited, and it was these individuals, able to abrogate arcana effortlessly, who were the bane of the magical elite. It made sense to the Dark Mage. The Denubae sought to devour magic, to consume and digest it in every form. Arkon could understand how such creatures might find more lethal interest in those adorned with charmed vestments compared to one who naturally suffocated their sustenance.

"Ascultaţi-mă." The ancient lexicon was expressed with a harshly wrathful tenor, a single cord of magic sent across the planes of etherai in search of The Primorus Discipulus herself, Tiatari Blayne. Patience was unwarranted, connecting almost instantly, and with that magically correlated existence he spoke to the recesses of her brilliant mind.

☼Go to the caves just beyond the school and welcome our guest. Beware, Discipulus, for she is a nullifier. Divest your items. Take her to the Groundskeeper and have Mistress Vesper survey her knowledge of the Denubae.☼

A calm pivot and strained gait carried the Dark Mage away from the perched volume, and as the cadenced clack of the staff faded from the summoning chamber, he found a fleeting solace in anticipation of the events that would soon unfold.

"The Key."

Her answer was a demure whisper befitting the stance of a Mt Yasuo woman. Her dark head bowed before Austorc in acknowledgment of both his power and his seniority within the ranks of the Shaitan.

"And as she has stated, she is called Kendell Bree." The importance of the first response was a telling one. Her name secondary to her chosen role. Without a detailed explanation she had easily conveyed the importance of this one's life and had indeed protected the temperamental thief's existence.

"And this is--" Obviously, Shieyu had never had to introduce the Nightmare. One did not call him by his Shaitan title before an outsider, and one certainly did not reveal his true name without his permission.

She was at a loss and with the calm refined manners instilled in her since her time as Emiko she simply bowed and waved a hand before him to allow him his own introduction.

With a slow and measured shift chrome fixtures came to rest upon the thief, leather-bound fingers still caressing the hilt of his lethal dagger. The stare fixated upon her was inhuman, bestial, stripping her of all the things that made her mortal in obsession of the more primordial elements of her makeup. Her approach was met with apathy, no response, nor was the bravado or courage she showed beneath his cruel glower. He simply watched her, unreadable.

Shieyu's explanation seemed to settle the tense horizon of his broad shoulders, her words draining the constriction of muscles eager to explode into violent motion. A soft clicking could be heard from beneath the fall of his mask as the quivering writhe of a half dozen tentacles relaxed in their sharp sway. He continued to taste the air, to sample the subtle pulsation that permeated from both Kendell and the Hengeyukai. It was obvious that neither were what they appeared to be, though Shieyu's description of her - The Key - brought her into a more serious light. He had sensed power when they first entered the glen, and now understood, at least partially, the source of it.

The emergence of electricity caught his attention, head snapping sharply to the side, his sterling gaze now aligned on something else. Slithering tongues wriggled beneath the drape of the mask in the direction of the magical current, though he himself never moved. He knew of Arkon's student and had seen her on multiple occasions wandering through the Glenn, her presence often stirring thoughts of pinning her to the rocky terrain and peeling the flesh from her bones like an orange while she screamed for mercy and death. He didn't consider it a coincidence that she appeared in unison with the arrival of The Key. Slowly his gaze returned to the two before him.

Shieyu's unfulfilled introduction went unnoticed as Austorc did not value any sort of formal greeting. He was a creature of primal decision and vengeful violence, formalities such as proper salutations simply did not appeal to him on any level. The relationship he had with Shieyu was based upon the bridge they shared through the shard, and the same could be said for the entirety of the Covenant. The bond was fastened by the darkest of magic, not through any sort of intimate connection, and that was the way Austorc preferred it.

With a snarl he turned and started back into the cave, forgoing the expedited dash across the cavern floor for something a bit more prowling. Yearning had been encouraged, and the dagger sang in his hand a song of macabre. The dagger would need to feed soon, and he was more than able to prepare for it a suitable meal.

"I will be."

I was unaware that the smile that I displayed revealed the rather sharp row of glistening teeth that appeared in sharp contrast to my otherwise dainty features.

"In fact, I have a Denubae over for a visit. Right this way." I giggled and resisted the urge to skip down the path toward my cottage. A direction that led us away from both the Hunter's cave and the School itself.

Having forgotten that I was to wait for Tiatari to bring the fascinating young woman my way I had been attracted by the Blotch of eerieness she presented. It was like all things of interest just ceased to be in the area she occupied. I was incredibly tempted to thrust the insipid teacher's pet into her path and see if Miss Blayne survived the contact, but that would probably anger the Headmaster Daraul as he had put a steady amount of work and influence into Tiatari.

Arriving pitside, I motioned downward to the snarling and snuffling Denubae held within and couldn't help but trill, "isn't he gorgeous? My Visshussss." I crooned at him distracted by the brilliance of the creature. "A perfect creation, is he not?"

I beamed back at the copperhaired street thief as if expecting her to agree before I remembered my role in this at the sight of her discordannt presence.

"Oh yes, here," I held out a book and pen. The heavy tome, ornate and ancient in design. "Just jot down your impressions of the creature, if you would be so kind dearie." I encouraged with that sharp toothed smile.

"Water?" I Crowed.

I spun a little dance of glee.

What a fascinating development this would be.

I could barely resist the urge to drown my darling Denubae but to do so would only require that I replace him.

"And what's this? They fly?" I chortled happily even as I watched the delicate boned teacher's pet take a step away from my pit as she realized the Denubae could at any time enact his freedom.

I had the information I needed and saw no need to have the chit's words in writing. Oh no, this had been quite the boon and I giddily oversaw her payment.

"One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five."

The gold coins dropped from the sky above Kendall, they were Fae coin and held no stamp of official money. Pure gold, unadulterated by the civilities of a government.

Giggling maniacally, I sung happily at my Denubae, "And one for me!"