Raven Darkholme flexed uncomfortably. She still wasn't used to wearing clothes. Not real clothes, anyway. The touch of cloth against her skin felt strangely unnatural. Or perhaps that should be natural. Raven had not done anything so normal as wear clothes for many years.

But what could be more normal than sitting in an ordinary office, working at an ordinary computer in ordinary clothes doing an ordinary government job? Except that, she was not ordinary. Raven shook her head sharply.

No, she reminded herself, you are ordinary. He lied. He was a hypocrite. He left you. The bitterness burned her like a dull fire. The sweet triumph of revenge was gone. It had only masked the pain, not driven it away.

Raven heard a gasp behind her and looked round. One of the office workers was staring at her. She frowned at him and he turned away, shame faced. Raven turned back to her computer. Her head felt strange… A faint, tingling sensation all across her head.

It was her hair. It felt… orange.

It was impossible to describe to someone who had never experienced it, but Raven knew that her hair was orange. It was like knowing which way your finger is pointing or if your nose is itching; it was a reflex as natural and subtle as breathing.

How could this be, she wondered? Her hair was… black. The memory of 'black hair' made her whole head tingle. She felt it change. Her hair had changed colour. But, how? It couldn't be…

Moving with the deliberate care of the nervous, Raven stood up. Flattening her skirt, she moved quickly down the office towards the bathroom. She felt the stares follow her. She saw them out of the corner of her eye, leaning out of their cubicles as she passed. Glancing down she saw her pale hand was now a dusky brown. Concentrate, she told herself furiously. Pale skin. Short, dark hair. Remember.

She completed the last few yards to the bathroom at a short run, bursting through the door and rushing to the sinks. She paused for a moment, hyperventilating over the basin. When she looked up, she saw two yellow cat's eyes staring back at her. Barely believing what she was seeing, she reached up and touched her face with her scaly, blue hand.

It had returned.

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The king toppled. A slow, knowing smile spread across Erik Lehnsherr's face. He'd always known. They could never take it from him. In their jealousy and their ignorance they had tried to manacle him, to enslave him. But they could never rob him of his birthright; of his God-given gifts.

Erik rose from his seat. Pulling his hat low over his brow, he moved away down the path. There was much to do.

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Marie knocked tentatively at the door. It was dark in the boy's dorm' corridor. The mansion was filled with peaceful silence. Even the night birds were quiet.

The door opened a crack, letting a thin shaft of light out into the corridor. An eye was pressed up against the gap and then the door swung further open. Bobby held the door open as Marie slipped inside while Bobby threw one last quick look down the hallway and then closed the door.

"You're sure no-one saw you?" Bobby whispered.

"'m sure" Marie nodded. She met Bobby's gaze and then looked away again quickly. He was as nervous as she way.

"Are you… are you sure this is what you want?" Bobby asked, flicking the light off. The curtains were drawn, leaving only the dim light of his bedside lamp to illuminate the bedroom.

"I'm sure" Marie replied, though in spite of herself she couldn't help but feel a little seed of doubt grow. Was she ready for this? Did she really want to go through with the whole idea? Marie quickly suppressed those thoughts. This was why she had done it. This was what she had dreamt of.

"I didn't want you to do it, you do know that?" Bobby said quickly, almost guiltily "Things didn't have to change."

"But I wanted things to change" Marie said, now fully in control of herself as she took his hands and drew him close "For me and for you."

"As long as you're sure," Bobby said. Marie nodded and reached up to kiss him. It was… wonderful. The feeling of human skin felt strangely foreign to her after all the months she had been deprived of contact, and now the feel of it, its warmth, its texture, its softness, sending shivers running down the length of her spine

Bobby placed his arms around her and pressed her close, their lips locked tight. Gradually, their kisses became stronger and more passionate. Marie's fingers trailed down Bobby's chest and felt for the hem of his t-shirt. In a moment she had slipped it over his head. She felt Bobbie's hands begin to wander, her skin tingling with excitement as his fingers ran up and down her body. He lifted her pyjama top off as she felt for the waistband of her pyjama pants. In a moment she was standing half-naked in her underwear, Bobby's hands caressing every inch of her.

Slowly, savouring every moment, they moved over to the bed. Marie lay down first, drawing Bobby on top of her. She couldn't think. Her mind and body were now running on pure instinct.

Bobby rolled over, now pulling her on top. She began to feel for the waistband of his jeans. Bobby was becoming more and more energetic, his hands grasping at her body as he crushed her slender frame against himself. Despite his protestations, he was just another guy, just like she had always suspected.

She was about to ease his jeans down when she got the first inkling that something was wrong. Bobby's energetic kisses were becoming weaker, less intense. She tried to break off, but his arms, unnaturally stiff, held her tight. She tried to break off: love and lust quickly gave way to panic. Bobby was starting to shake.

Marie broke free and leapt back off the bed. Bobby was now shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Even in the faint lamplight, she could see the veins popping out against his waxy pale skin. Marie staggered towards the door, fighting down the urge to be sick.

"Help!" she screamed out into the corridor "Somebody! Help! Help! He's dead! Help!"

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Hi guys. Hope you enjoyed this (brief) prologue. We're going to be writing this story in parallel to our Warhammer fic 'The Smugglers' Journal', which is our primary focus. How often we update depends on your response.