Here's Sev's perspective (she's a bit quirky, so it's different here . . .) on her adventure with Frodo. This offers a bit of insight into her character, and I'll be uploading chapters pretty fast, seeing as how this is already all written. I just didn't want it all to be one chapter; it comes out to over 73,000 words and that would be silly. XP I hope you like this one! Like I said, not as good as the Transcendent.

Where to begin? I suppose at the beginning. That phrase . . . such a dark one. It's full of the past, the pain and blackness that skims your entire life, only to end at the circumstances you were born into. I hope, for most, that it was a happy time. I know it was for my dear Frodo, much less everyone else in the Shire.

But I was not of the Shire. Not at first.

I didn't remember my birth, although I wasn't quite . . . born to begin with. I had no parents. I was told by everyone I knew, all but those I trusted most, that my father had probably been killed in war and my mother in childbirth.

The two people that actually knew me, the Guardian Willation and my caretaker Sheratan, never said anything. I suppose I didn't think to ask; I just assumed they agreed with everyone else.

For 33 years, I lived that way, believing my parents were dead and I would be with them again someday. Life was not difficult, external of little hope for the future and consistent pain that I didn't understand. I had the two most powerful creatures in the world to guard me, creatures I knew better than anyone else who were powerfully attracted to each other. Only did I ever see them kiss twice, and those were the only kisses I ever saw. But I knew it must feel good . . . Willation would leave, and Sheratan would have to sit down and smile to herself. I wanted to be just like her, if not only in that regard. That, however, was the most important to me for some odd reason, which I discovered later.

That later came two months and five days after my 33rd "birthday". Willation and Sheratan were gone, as they always were for my birthday, visiting Sheratan's incarceration home from the time of my birth. Usually they were home by midnight, but in this case, they had not come back, as I said, for a couple of months. No one at the palace or in the Royal Guard knew where they were or why they'd been gone so long. Puzzled and certain I was old enough to discover for myself, I shuffled through Willation's maps until I found one titled Anniversary. It showed a path through the Universal Trails, all the way from the capital of Lavwu, where I was, through a planet called Hazharia to Mountain Demonsdorre.

Since they'd always made it back before midnight, I assumed I could as well, and therefore packed little more than food. Despite the fact that I was about half the size of most people, I ate tons and still didn't grow. I wondered if a journey would help at all, and counted on it.

The journey was altogether uneventful. I found the bridge between worlds very quickly, and could envision the location of Hazharia in my head. It was actually disappointing, relative to all the books I'd read, that I didn't have to go far at the start. I ended up in Hazharia with a quick slurp of the tunnels, and had not taken twenty steps total on my journey before I could see Demonsdorre beyond some trees.

I sighed. I'd actually brought my dagger Willation had forged for me, probably anticipating running into something dangerous or accidentally losing my food and having to hunt my own. Only mildly relieved that my life would not be at risk, I readjusted my pack of food and kept walking.

An hour later, I was panting hard and had easily run out of water. I was about a third of the way to Demonsdorre, which was a lot larger and a lot farther away than I had realized. My throat scratched with the distance, and my legs ached with fire. Muddled, I slumped to the ground, shoving air in and out of my body as fast as it could go.

After an additional thirty minutes, my legs trembled, attempting to crash down in place. I eventually spotted a stick that I had to wrench from the side of a tree, which only spent my strength but was definitely worth the effort.

Only ten minutes after I located the stick, I had retrieved another and began using them as crutches, resting one foot at a time while I progressed. Demonsdorre seemed barely closer, even after so long of walking. I ate what I had and discarded the pack and my heavy cloak to the side.

Silver lining: at least it was dangerous for me to be where I was.

That picked up my spirits a little. I was at risk, and I actually felt myself gaining speed at the revelation. I began to peer about at my sides and back, expecting a predator, pirate, or refugee to come out at me.

It was dark when I finally snapped out of my adventures, and only because I heard something. I glanced up, only to spot Sheratan and Willation on the cliff above. They weren't even on Demonsdorre. They had probably been coming down, but Sheratan was kneeling on a jagged rock, sobbing into Willation's shoulder. He held her tighter than I'd ever seen him, and he smoothed her hair with his hand.

I reached out to call for them, but I felt an icy, burning, all-around destroying pain crunching the inside of my arm. I couldn't even cry out; my eyes buzzed, and the world dilated into spotted blackness. I blindly stumbled with my right hand for my left wrist and clamped on to it, trying to force the pain out.

Soon I was crying uncontrollably, shouting and gritting my teeth. One moment the world was a mass of roiling pain, and the next Willation was kneeling over me, his hand shaking a receding blackness out of my fingers.

Sheratan was nearby, her eyes dark red, but she was over me as well, trying to help. Once Willation had drawn the blackness together, he pinched all of his fingers into one bunch and pulled it up my arm, under my collarbone, and into my heart. Then he let go and sat back with a deep sigh.

"Seville, are you all right?"

Shaking, I didn't dare respond. I glanced up at Sheratan, who furthered her inquiry by cocking her head at me.

"What was that?" I asked slowly.

Sheratan glanced at Willation.

He had buried his face in his hand, but now looked up at first Sheratan, then me.

"You are 33," he said.

I nodded, doing my best to be patient. I knew he was making an introduction and just trying to calm me down. At the moment, I really didn't care two knives about calming down. But I did my best.

Willation continued. "That is the coming of age of the species where I am going to send you."

I lifted my eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Why their coming of age is 33, because most hobbits mature at about age 33," he said. I knew it was just stalling, and I tried not to say anything. "Why I am sending you, because of this." Willation reached under a nearby rock and, at a sharp gasp from Sheratan, revealed the head of Alshain.

My heart lurched, and the world began to spin madly. My hand drifted towards him, but somehow I knew it was wrong. I tried to resist, but the hand seemed almost a part of him.

Willation grabbed my hand and threw Alshain back under the rock. I immediately snapped away from it and recoiled my hand.

He launched into explanation. Apparently I had been conceived as an experiment, not the typical kind, but the kind that was meant to save a life. In this case, Sheratan's life. Not only was she the Author and necessary to the existence of the world, but Willation-something. He never finished that sentence. Anyway, he had to save her, and the only way to do it was to create a new life, a new form that could absorb the poison in her bloodstream and somehow survive. My method of survival was feeding on others' injuries, gaining power by taking their imperfections.

I had no species, and was born in a world of toxins, blood, and tears. Poison was my nature, and goodness could consume me. Only I could revive Alshain, and that was the wrong thing to do.

Sheratan had been crying because she knew I would leave. My bag was packed the next morning, and they both wished me off.

Willation flew me through one of the Forbidden Tunnels, through the worlds that we cannot interfere with. I would never see him or Sheratan again, not until we all died.

If I ever did.

I held him hard. He warned me before he left never to fall in love with a man that couldn't help me. I didn't understand him, but promised to do my best with his request, even though I didn't intend to live the day out. I didn't tell him, but he knew I would just find a quiet corner and waste away. He pecked my forehead and was gone.