((I started this story my senior year of high school, roughly a month after the first Narnia movie came out. It was supposed to be a novella, about the size of Franz Kafka's "Metamorphosis." It ended up taking me two years, both writing, editing, editing again, and editing again until I finally decided that if I kept editing, then I'd spend the rest of my life editing it over and over and never actually post it anywhere. This story went with me through my senior year, my high school graduation, my first year of college, my first summer home from college, and finally my sophomore year. I never intended to post it, but finally decided that if I really did want to be officially done with it, I'd have to share it. Otherwise all 515 typed pages would sit around in my computer and do nothing but take up space.

My goal of this semester is to stop hiding stories in my computer and actually share them with people. I figured this would be a good place to start. This story took enough time…enough research (me and the psychology section of my library became fast friends), enough swearing, enough bloody memorization of parts of SC, where I really do need to stick it somewhere, if solely for the purpose of sticking it somewhere.

So here it is. Enjoy!))

"Either I will find a way or I will make one." –Sir Philip Sidney

"Will the future ever arrive? …should we continue to look upwards? Is the light we can see in the sky one of those which will presently be extinguished? The ideal is terrifying to behold, lost as it is in the depths, small, isolated, a pin-point, brilliant but threatened on all sides by dark forces that surround it; nevertheless, no more in danger than a star in the jaws of the clouds." –Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

"Already madness lifts its wing

to cover half my soul.

That taste of opiate wine!

Lure of the dark valley!

Now everything is clear.

I admit my defeat. The tongue

of my ravings in my ear

is the tongue of a stranger." –Anna Akhmatova, Requiem

Chapter One

The first thing that Sarasael Inari noticed was the cold. It was rather hard for her not to notice, as she was dressed in a cheery, summery dress native to her homeland of Tahalset. It was a tropical world she lived in, and even during the winters it wasn't this cold. But she wasn't at all dressed for this, this sudden strange, bitter cold that sank through her thin dress and across her bare arms. It was the worst cold she had ever felt, even worse than that day Marian from Third Precinct thought it would be funny to make a cold solution and blow it underneath the door of the second years in an attempt to freeze them in their beds. Sarasael and the others nearly had frozen, but the headmistress had come in just in time and blown the spell away. She hadn't seen Marian since then.

Next she noticed was that instead of sitting on the warm grass and palm fronds, she was on a very hard stone floor. What finally convinced her that she was no longer in any place she knew, though, was the smell. It was frozen and dead, the bitter cold of winter mixed with a smell of abandonment. All the students had learned to recognize the smell of abandoned places, because back in Tahalset, abandoned places usually harbored dark secrets.

She didn't open her eyes at first. She really didn't want to, preferring instead to continue lying where she was in the hopes that the strange surroundings would melt away, leaving her safe in her bed, the nightmare over. Eventually, though, it just got so cold that she felt she'd freeze to this very spot if she didn't move. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sarasael opened her eyes.

In front of her, there was nothing. All around her…well, she couldn't have imagined a place more different than Tahalset if she stayed up all night with her best friend Hylaea at a party in the aforementioned Third Precinct.

She was in a room, an enormous room with a high, vaulted ceiling…or what was left of a ceiling. The room was mostly in ruin, with broken stones and fallen arches all around her. The floor she was sitting on was of smooth, gray stone, and the remains of the walls looked to be made of that as well. It was a very old room and gave off an air of neglect and forget. It was obvious no one had lived here in hundreds of years.

But by far the strangest thing in the room was in front of her. It was a doorway made completely of obsidian, with nothing behind it. Not even a door…only a blank doorway.

It was so strange that Sarasael stepped forward and stuck her arm through the doorway. All that happened, though, was that it came out the other side, looking the same. It didn't seem to be a doorway into anything. She ran her hand through it a few more times with the same results. There was just a random doorway here, for no reason, leading nowhere. It was quite puzzling. Had it not been so cold, and had she had any idea where she was, she probably would have spent a longer time looking at it and called her friend over to look with her.

But it was cold and this doorway didn't seem to do anything, and there was no one else here but her. She stepped away from the doorway and picked her way through the rubble, trying to find anything that looked vaguely familiar to her. There was nothing in this room, so she followed the stairs up and found herself in a long hallway. She walked slowly down the hallway, her footsteps echoing eerily off the walls.

"Hello?" Sarasael called, uncertain. "Is anyone here?" No one answered her call and she was getting colder and colder by the minute. Fearing hypothermia, she came to the abrupt decision that she needed to leave this silent, dead place and, seeing several doors to her right, she walked up to one and tugged on the handle. It didn't open. She moved to the next one and tried again. In this way, she wandered the strange place for a good fifteen minutes before she got so sick of it that she stopped at one door and pulled hard on the handle, so hard that the door burst from its hinges entirely. She waited a little while until the dust settled, holding her breath and praying the noise wouldn't wake anything up. Then she walked timidly into that room, peering around.

Sorry, if anyone is in here," she said apologetically. But it was obvious no one was, though this room was actually more preserved than the rest of the castle. Ancient layers of dust hung over everything, from the chair in the corner to the table covered in old broken objects of a sort (Sarasael wasn't quite sure what they were) and a boudoir in the corner.

As soon as she saw the boudoir, she walked over and tried to open it. If it was this cold around here all the time, then the people who once lived here would have had to wear warm clothes. Maybe some of those clothes would be left and she could borrow them until she discovered where she was and could go home. She would be sure to return them before she left. Surely they wouldn't mind.

She pried at the lock for a long time, but couldn't get it open. Finally, her fingers turning numb, she fumbled for one of the pouches in the belt she wore around her waist. She touched each of the pouches before coming to the one she was looking for. Opening it, she took a pinch of gold powder in her hand and flung it at the lock, whispering a word. The powder ignited in the lock, there was a click, and the boudoir swung open.

It was just an average boudoir outside, but the inside was filled with more pretty dresses than Sarasael had ever seen in her life, except maybe in movies or in old pictures of kings and queens. They were all made of fine material; some even had jewels or silver threaded into them. She picked up the train of one of the skirts, and the fine, tightly woven material slid through her fingers, the brilliant jewels glittering in the dusty air. There was more value in this small boudoir of dresses than in all of Third Precinct…

But why, then, was it abandoned? If there were such riches in these clothes, Yarrin only knew what would be in the rest of the castle.

Sarasael knew it was wrong to steal, especially steal things of value, but the cold was terrible and her thin dress was made for Tahalset spring, not…not winter of wherever this place was. There really was no other option for her. She closed her eyes a moment and made a quick prayer to Yarrin, asking for forgiveness for her theft, then reached into the boudoir, searching for the warmest thing there.

Most of the dresses were white and glittery, except for one which looked much older and was full of all kinds of gorgeous colors…unfortunately, that was the most expensive looking dress, and she didn't dare touch it. Finally, she pulled out a mantle made of thick white fur, and threw it on over her shoulders. It was very warm and she immediately felt better. It was good fur, too, not like the old scratchy ones given to first years at Mayharran.

She really wanted to look at the dresses more, for she had a secret love for pretty dresses and sparkly things. But she knew it would be wrong, she was being terribly nosy enough as it was, not to mention a thief, stealing this mantle and all.

Would this still be a thievery, if this place was disowned, the owner dead a thousand years or more?

She didn't feel like thinking of any deep moral questions at the moment. But now that she was warm, she did feel like looking at the doorway.

It was still obsidian, still randomly in the room, and still didn't lead to anywhere. She poked all around it, walked through it several times, and it still just stood there. Maybe there used to be a door in it leading somewhere? But why would there be a door in the middle of a big room in the first place? It didn't make any sense.

There was still no one here, though. Sarasael figured then if she could find someone, then she'd be able to figure out where she was and how she could get home. The only thing she could come up with was that there was some sort of magical discharge, maybe someone in her dormitory or elsewhere in the school or nearby town made a powder wrong, and said the wrong words with it, and it created a disruption that sent her here…wherever here was. She didn't know how she got caught in it…all she was doing was practicing her shapeshifting outside during lunch. She wanted to get it right and get Hylaea to shut up about how she could do it better.

Deciding there was nothing in this main room, she wandered out of the rubble and eventually came to a mess of mouldy wood that was once a door. She climbed over the wood and into the open air, and got the first sight of the country that she was in.

It was a high, lonely country, with plains stretching out before her. The castle…now that she saw the whole of it…was entirely in ruins and looked like it had been smashed up by a giant or a roc or maybe even a dragon. The country seemed entirely devoid of life. It was very cold and it felt like she was the only living thing for miles. The wind whistled over the ruins and ruffled her hair and the fur, and that was the only movement there was. The sun was just sinking down over a distant mountain range, and she couldn't even see any birds flying in the distance.

Sarasael shivered violently, this time not just because of the cold. There was no sign of Tahalset or her friends or anything even vaguely familiar. The landscape was totally foreign…no palm trees or dense undergrowth, just a flat plain with dry grass. She tried to think of where this could possibly be…was it anywhere in the north? Northern Tahalset was colder than Mayharran, but it wasn't this empty, and she couldn't think of any plains or abandoned castles with strange, empty doorways in them. It wasn't northern Tahalset, it wasn't anywhere on any map she could possibly think of. Had they mentioned it in geography? Had she ever even bothered to pay attention in geography? No, she just threw paper at the back of Hylaea's head and tried to get it stuck there, and Vizaral sat behind her and braided her hair.

Panicking, Sarasael frantically flicked through each of the pouches on her belt, trying to find something that could help her. She had all her powders with her now, thankfully, since she had been outside between classes at school before showing up here, so there was bound to be something there. Communication? No. Enchantment? No. Happiness, generic spell, passion, silence…nothing! Nothing at all.

Growing more and more desperate, Sarasael finally rested her hand on the furthest pouch from the center. It was spelled for forgetting, so that one didn't automatically think of using it. Inside was the rare white powder…for emergencies. No one knew what exactly the white powder did when you threw it and spoke the words…that was the whole point of it. It was only to be used in emergencies, and when used it would give you what you most needed to escape from that trouble. But it was not to be used lightly. This was impressed upon every single Mayharran student from the moment they turned eight until death… not to be used lightly. Sarasael didn't even make her own white powder, it was given to her by the headmistress.

But the plain was empty and so was the castle, and Sarasael had no idea where she was and had a horrid feeling she wasn't in Tahalset anymore. If this wasn't an emergency, well, then the headmistress would scold her and she would get in trouble. But at least if she got in trouble, it would be at home.

Sarasael took a small pinch of white powder and sprinkled it into her hand. It sparkled in the sunlight brilliantly, like snow…or what she always imagined snow to look like when she read about in the old legends. Mayharran was too far south to ever get snow. She closed her eyes, feeling that this was a bad idea, but it was the only thing she could think of doing. Taking a deep breath, she threw the powder into the air and said the proper words. There was a loud popping sound, and…everything around her blurred, and a great dizziness suddenly swept through her entire being. The wind rushed past her ears and the landscape changed and zoomed by at a strange, frightening pace. Then there was intense heat, fire flared up around her, then vanished and left her standing…standing…

"No! Draw your swords, she's wearing white, don't you see!" a voice cried next to her. For the second time that day, Sarasael opened her eyes and was greeted with…well, another unpleasant sight.

She was no longer in front of the castle, but instead in a forest. It was slightly warmer, and it was night, and the trees hung ominously over her head. She was standing up and next to her was a squirrel with a sword drawn, pointing it at her. There were also three dwarves, a dryad, and an antelope. Next to her were the ashes of a fire that was just extinguished, and Sarasael had this odd idea that she just came out of that fire. It was dark except for a few lights around her that no doubt belonged to the strange company she was seeing. The wind rustled lightly in the trees but for the most part it was still, and the air smelled of dead leaves and ash.

The squirrel prodded her with his sword. It was smaller than her, obviously, and didn't even come to her waist. But it was holding a sword pointed straight at her and was now prodding her side with it. She bit back a yelp and stepped away from it.

"Don't let her get away!" Said the antelope…well, Antelope. "But don't provoke her or she'll turn you to stone. You know the old legends."

"I know the legends perfectly well, Runningwind. That's why I've got my sword drawn…if she does anything funny, I'll run her through." Answered the Squirrel.

"Nay, but she'll be nice to us." One of the dwarves said. "She always liked dwarves. You wouldn't harm us dwarves, would you, miss?" He turned to her as he said that. He was the first person to address Sarasael directly.

She took three more steps back from the congregation of angry creatures. She wasn't all surprised at the talking Beasts…in Tahalset, there was a fair number of Beasts. But there, it was only the more regal and larger Beasts that talked…horses and elephants and such. Not Squirrels. They were nicer there, too, and didn't point swords at her.

"Say something!" said a different dwarf. "If you really are the White Witch come back from the dead, you ought to have something to say…"

Those words registered in Sarasael's mind. They thought she was a witch…

"I'm not a witch!" Sarasael snapped, going from frightened to furious in only a moment. "I'm an enchantress. Witches are cowardly, weak creatures who can't do any proper magic and run away from the sight of anything dangerous. Enchantresses are brave and smart and not afraid of anything. Don't you dare call me a witch!" Witches in Tahalset were people who had no magic of their own, so they would buy the powder that enchanters and magicians made, read the words out of spell books, and steal other people's magic to make them stronger instead.

The creatures all blinked at her sudden outburst. The Squirrel stalked up to her and raised his sword higher. "If you're not a witch, then why are you wearing her mantle?"

"Whose mantle?" asked Sarasael in bewilderment.

The Squirrel poked the white fur she was wearing. "That mantle. It belonged to the White Witch. It's in all the old pictures in the history books…they all show her wearing that. Now you're wearing it too, and it gives us right to believe that perhaps you are the Witch, coming back for vengeance on all of Narnia for your death."

The Antelope took a defensive stance, and the dwarves eyed her warily. The Squirrel fixed her with a vicious stare. "We won't let you take Narnia from us again. Aslan killed you once, and he'll do it again, in order to keep his land free. And if he doesn't, then we will, for we'll not be enslaved again!" The Antelope snorted in agreement, and the dwarves nodded, though their nods were slightly more reluctant than the rest.

"But…but I'm not a witch of any kind," Sarasael said frantically. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You came out of the fire." Growled Runningwind. "The fire glowed white for a moment, then you stepped out of it in your white fur, in front of us. The Witch did that…she'd appear without warning, though it was usually on a sleigh. But what you just did…that's magic right there. And we don't like that."

The Squirrel nodded and poked her again, this time more threateningly.

"Please!" Sarasael exclaimed, holding her hands up to defend herself from the sword. "Please, I don't know what you're talking about. My name is Sarasael Inari, and I'm an enchantress from Tahalset and I live in Mayharran…that's a city in Tahalset…and go to school there. I live near my best friend Hylaea Rian and she goes to school with me too. I'm not a witch, please don't harm me…I don't even know who this White Witch is you're talking about. There's never been any White Witch in the land where I'm from…it never even snows there! Please!" She knew she sounded desperate, but she never before had anyone point a sword at her and didn't know what else to say.

The only one who took notice of this was the dryad, who went forward and put her arms around Sarasael.

"Do not harm her," the dryad said. "She does not mean us any harm. If she wanted to hurt us, she would have done so already. And the White Witch was much older than us." Sarasael nodded vigorously. "How old are you, child?"

"I'm sixteen," Sarasael replied quickly.

"There," the dryad nodded. "The Witch was immortal, thousands of years old, or so it was told. Don't you remember the pictures? She was tall and terrible, nothing like this frightened child here."

Sarasael resented being called a frightened child, as she was certainly not this cowardly…no enchantress was! Especially not her. She and Hylaea had been the only ones to sleep out in the cemetery last year when they were first years. They weren't afraid to stay up all night with the ghosts. Everyone thought they were crazy, but they were brave…braver than even the boys over at the boys' school. And the spirits were really nice…Sarasael and Hylaea weren't frightened at all, and instead got to hear funny stories from a grandmother who died three years ago and liked to talk about her grandkids.

The others weren't as quick to believe her story as the dryad was. They all remembered, from the stories, that the White Witch was a wicked person and given to lies and deceit to achieve her ends. For all they knew, this girl's fear and youth was only a ploy to get them to believe her before she turned them all to stone.

"Then what's this?" the Squirrel reached up, his nimble fingers undoing her belt and snatching it off her waist.

"No, don't touch that!" Sarasael tore herself from the dryad's arms.

The Squirrel opened one of the pouches and peered inside it. He gasped.

"What's this?" he reached in with a small paw and took out some of the pouch's contents. The yellow powder inside glittered on his outstretched paw. "Spices? Dust?" He glared at the girl. "What is it?"

"Happiness," Sarasael answered. They all stared at her. "Well, it is. I'll show you, if you want." She held out her own hand and indicated for the Squirrel to give the powder to her. Maybe if she showed them, they would be less hostile towards her. And it was happiness, and her happiness powder always made things better. It was said that Sarasael was the best maker of Happiness in her class, even better than Hylaea.

The Squirrel looked doubtful, but sprinkled the powder into her hand. "Any false moves," he said. "And I'll run you through." And she had no doubt that he would.

Taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart, she closed her eyes and focused on the powder in her hand. She made it herself, so it was already attuned to her. And it wanted very much to be used.

She threw it up in the air and said the proper words. There was a small poof, and the air seemed lighter in the forest and all the creatures present felt their hearts gladden. The dwarves smiled at each other and the Antelope stood down from his defensive position and took the time to nibble at a patch of grass in front of him. The Squirrel, though he felt happier, did not lower his sword.

"See?" Sarasael said. "No harm done, really. It's just happiness." She retrieved her belt with its other pouches and clipped it back around her waist.

The Squirrel nodded warily. "I see that. But how did you do that? No one can make us all feel happy without…"

"Witchcraft?" suggested Runningwind, but he didn't sound accusatory when he said it, just factual.

"Yes." The Squirrel stood strong, even though the others had backed down. But he was feeling better than he was before and less inclined to stab anyone. "How about you tell us how you did that." he began slowly, "and tell us exactly who you are, and why you are wearing the Witch's mantle, and what all this powder is. Then we'll see what to do with you."

Sarasael sighed and ran a hand through her blonde hair, tugging at the end of it. She thought the happiness would stop this confrontation; it usually did with all others. However Squirrels were different than Mayharran citizens, and clearly far more wary.

"My name really is Sarasael Inari," she answered honestly. "Yarrin strike me down if I lie to you. All I said before was true. I am an enchantress…lots of people in Tahalset have magic, but enchanters and magicians are the strongest. Um…I use the powder for magical workings?" She had no idea how to explain this, because she forgot how it was explained to her all those years ago. "Um…there's lots of plants and stuff that grow all around the island, both regular plants and magical plants. We pick the plants and dry their leaves and flowers and chop them up really fine and make them into powder…and…we use a different powder for each spell. It's like, some people use wands, don't they?" She'd read in books of people in other worlds who instead of throwing powder would wave a wand and say a magic word and make things happen. "We use powder instead. We throw the powder in the air and say the proper words and it makes something happen. I've got yellow which makes things happy, white which is for emergencies, gold which is just generic spells, I just have to say any spell word and it'll usually work…you know…like that," she finished, realizing how ridiculous her explanation had sounded. The school's headmistress said it much better than her. "It's how we do magic."

"Magic. Did you hear that?" said one of the dwarves, poking another.

"Not bad magic. At least I don't do bad magic. There are evil enchanters and evil magicians, but to make that sort of powder…well, I don't have the skill for it. You have to be really evil to make that sort of thing. I'm not evil." Her last words came out defensively, as they seemed to think she was evil.

None of the others said anything, except the dryad, who placed a hand on Sarasael's shoulder. "She means what she says," the dryad affirmed. "If she was lying, you'd see it in her eyes. She does not lie. Perhaps we should not lie either." The dryad looked honestly at her. "My name is Rowan, I am a dryad who belongs to that tree." She pointed to a beautiful young rowan tree a few feet away. "This is Twitternut." She pointed to the Squirrel. "He is very brave, the bravest of all of us, do not judge him too harshly for his actions. That is Runningwind," she indicated the Antelope. "And the three dwarves are Minnik, Tinarik, and Gorbak." The three dwarves nodded at each other and at the dryad.

"We're simple folk," growled Gorbak. "We live in this forest, except for Runningwind who lives out on the plains and comes here to visit us sometimes. It's not often our lives are…disrupted like this."

"I'm sorry." Sarasael apologized. "I really didn't mean to. I'm just…terribly lost." She bit her lip, remembering again just how lost she was. "Have any of you heard of Tahalset? That's where I'm from. I have no idea how I got here, really I don't."

"Tahalset?" the three dwarves looked at each other and shrugged. "No, you're in the Shuddering Wood, in Narnia."

"Where's Narnia?"

"It's…here?" shrugged Minnik. "You're in Narnia. It's all around you, this country. I don't know of any place called Tahalset or whatever else you mentioned."

"Mayharran?" Sarasael's voice dropped down to a whisper.

"No, sorry."

"Why are you wearing the Witch's mantle then?" Twitternut interrupted sharply. "We still haven't covered that." Despite being a Squirrel, Twitternut was very sensible and had a good head on his shoulders.

"I don't know," Sarasael answered. "I was…I was out practicing my shapeshifting, and the next thing I knew I was in a castle. A ruin of a castle, that is, and it was terribly cold, and I didn't know what to do. I…oh, I took this from a boudoir I found in the castle. It's not mine. But I didn't have anything warm and this was all I could find. I didn't know where I was! If this belongs to your White Witch, I'll return it with many apologies because I didn't mean to steal it." She took the end of the mantle and twisted it nervously in her fingers.

Twitternut sighed and put his sword away. "I don't know what to make of you," he remarked, shaking his head. "You're the strangest thing I've ever seen. Look like a witch, do magic like a witch, yet you don't talk like one and you haven't tried to harm us at all. You're an odd one."

Sarasael didn't know what to say. She was more lost than she was at the castle, because now she was in a strange forest with strange creatures and they were calling her odd and thought she was a witch and…and…well, she had no idea what was going on. And she had a feeling she didn't want to.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I really don't know what else to say."

"Then don't say anything," the dryad advised softly. "Really, this situation is a bit odd for us, too."

"It's also night." Minnik interrupted. "And it's late. We should all go to bed. Maybe this whole strange incursion will make more sense in the morning. Things usually do, in my experience. Goodnight everyone." And Minnik left.

"He's right, actually." Runningwind nodded. "Everything makes sense when seen in the morning light. We can try to figure out all this tomorrow. But…what do we do with her?" He tossed his head in Sarasael's direction.

Sarasael pulled the fur closer around her, shivering. Were they going to leave her out here, at night? She'd never slept alone outside before. There was a field trip once with her class and they had to stay out all night in tents, but there were teachers and guards and wards put up all over the place.

"She'll stay with me," Gorbak said finally. "There's nowhere else, and room enough in my house. She can stay on the couch. Tomorrow morning we'll meet again and decide what we're going to do about this."

This satisfied the others. It was a strange situation, but the creatures of Narnia have endured much stranger situations and kept a level head in it. This was no different. Rowan paused briefly to give Sarasael a comforting hug before going back to her tree. Tinarik left and Runningwind trotted out of the clearing to wherever he had been staying.

"We'll meet tomorrow," Twitternut agreed. "Don't try anything funny on us in the night. I'll be ready for you if you do. Keep watch over her, Gorbak." With that final parting comment, Twitternut dashed up the nearest tree on the way to his house.

Still lost, and now very frightened, Sarasael drew the mantle tight around her and looked at the dwarf Gorbak, with whom she was now alone. There were dwarves in Tahalset, but she had only seen them a few times. Mostly they lived in one of the northern cities because Mayharran was far too warm for their liking.

"Come on, girl. It's late and I want my sleep too." The dwarf set off through the forest, and Sarasael had no choice but to follow him or be left alone in the dark. She walked quickly behind him, trying not to bang her head on low hanging branches or get her hair tangled. Finally, they came to Gorbak's hut. It was a nice little hut, small, with smoke rising from an opening in the ceiling. The door was very low to the ground though, and Sarasael had to hunch over to get in the house.

The inside of it was very pleasant and reminded her somewhat of the dining hall back at school, only smaller, with dimmer lighting, and something else she couldn't place that made her feel lost. Everything was decorated strangely, it didn't have any palm trees or potted plants, no powders or emblazons of Yarrin on the wall. There was a small table and a little oven in the entrance, and lights with candles in them illuminated the room in a cheerful manner. They used candles here…in Mayharran they used electric lighting, which was much more environmentally safe. It was harder to burn things down with electric lights. Besides, fires were only used for magical workings and communications.

"Welcome to my home. It's not much, I bet one such like you…you magic types…are used to living in castles or grand palaces. But here's where you can stay for the night, let me show you to your room."

She followed Gorbak…still hunched over…into a smaller room where there was a couch near a fireplace. "Living room," grunted Gorbak. "Too small for you, but it's all I have. You may sleep on the couch. I will wake you in the morning and we will have breakfast before we meet with the others. I hope you'll feel better in the morning." He bowed slightly to her, which she found odd, before dismissing it as a respectful gesture. He kindled the fire before smiling slightly at her. "Goodnight, miss," he said quietly. Then he left, closing the door behind him.

The rekindled fire filled the room with nice, soft, comforting warmth. It was warm enough where Sarasael could take off the stolen mantle and feel the air on her bare arms again, which she liked and was used to. She moved closer to the fire and sat down in front of it, staring hard into the crackling flames and just feeling the heat dry her skin. It was very hot this close, but no worse than midday back home, with the sun beating down through the palm trees.

That's where she was, just this morning. She had gone out after lunch to practice shapeshifting, which she was just beginning to get the hang of. She'd almost managed it too, though Hylaea hadn't been able to help her as she had promised (she'd had to make up a math test). It had been such a normal day. Almost boring…

This, whatever it was, was certainly not boring. It was the last thing she was expecting, on a perfectly normal day at home, to suddenly find herself a million (or more?) miles away in some random castle, and now here at the end of the day to be sitting in a dwarf's living room while a group of creatures in a wood worried about 'what was to be done with her'. It was all too much for her to figure out, especially since she didn't even know if she was still in Tahalset anywhere, and…

Sarasael felt herself dropping off in front of the fire. It had been a long, strange day, and her use of the white powder drained a lot of her strength. This was more than she was ever used to dealing with, and she had a horrible feeling that it wasn't even over yet, that this strangeness was just the beginning…

But the beginning of what, she didn't know and didn't want to think about. And wasn't going to think about. With a sigh, Sarasael turned away from the fire and went over to the dwarf's couch. It was too small for her, but she managed to find a comfortable position on it. There was a blanket thrown over it, and she took off the blanket and pulled it over herself. It was thin but the fire was warm enough that she wasn't too cold. Sarasael leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, hoping somehow things would make more sense in the morning light.