Layla woke to a sting as a wet tongue met her cheek. She groaned as all the pain rushed back into her body. She opened her eyes to see the drooling jowls of her family's hound dog as he continued to sniff and lick her face. She pushed herself up in the snow, and rubbed her forehead in an attempt to relieve the fuzzy cotton feeling she felt in her temple. Then it all came rushing back to her in a flurry. Her brother. The Mord-Sith. Layla launched into a sprint ignoring her aching toes. She had to get back home. She had to make sure her sisters were all right.

She ran back thinking about the bows being yanked from their hair and the innocence being forced out of them and replaced with the vigor and ferocity of a Mord-Sith. Thin branches scratched her face as she ran haphazardly through the trees, and the pathetic hound dog panted as he followed at her heels. By the time the house came into sight Layla could feel the blood throbbing in her feet and her fingers had frozen into a cramped fist.

She burst through the kitchen door and stood there panting as all eight of her beautiful little sisters' eyes glared back at her. She stood there unbelieving and just stared. Maybe she had imagined the whole thing. There was no Mord-Sith tormenting her family, and everyone looked to be in perfect health. She looked back through the door she had left open to see if Will was behind her, but there was only the empty path riddled with her own footprints. She turned to her younger sisters and scanned each one looking for bruises or cuts and she found nothing.

"Thank the creator," Layla exhaled before hugging each of her sisters in turn.

"What is going on?" Dorothy asked as Layla wrapped her arms around the inquisitive eleven year old. But Layla didn't hear her. All she could hear were her thoughts saying thank the creator my sisters are safet over and over again. She moved on to the twins squeezing an arm around around each child. She was so relieved they weren't going to have the imagination beat out of them. Lilith would get to keep dreaming about handsome princes and Violet would continue to have faith in her fairy godmother. When Layla felt a tug on her leg, she turned to see her youngest sister, Fern, behind her. She scooped the little bundle into her arms and clung to the child.

Viviane walked into room with one hand resting on her protrusive belly. "What is going on?" She asked as she closed the door. "Where is Will?" Layla hadn't realized it, but large tears had streaked down her face as she held little baby Fern in a tight embrace. When Layla saw Viviane's face as she asked about her missing husband she started to bawl. Gargled words escaped from her mouth as she attempted to tell what happened to Will. But the girls just stared at her unable to make sense of the sentences entangled with sobs.

Layla locked eyes with Viviane, and saw the scared look in her eyes. She took several deep breaths, and the entire story burst from her mouth as if it was one long sentence. Viviane's eyes took on a pained look when she heard her husband had been taken by the Mord-Sith, but only for a moment. Layla watched as Viviane's concern turned into resolve. Times had always been hard, but they had new problems to face now. It was ever realistic Dorothy who pointed that out.

"What are we going to do without Will?" Dorothy wondered, "We need him." And she was right.

The sun was starting to set, and she realized that Will had already been gone all day. There was no catching up to the Mord-Sith who was probably already halfway to...wherever it was she was taking Will. Layla could tell Fern was getting sleepy as she sat in her lap.

"There is nothing we can do right now. Why don't we all go to bed, and tomorrow morning we'll try and figure something out." Layla had been out in the snow most of the day, and now that she was warm again she was starting to get the feeling back in her muscles and all the pain came back with it.

She helped all the girls into bed; wrapping them in blankets and telling them stories so they might sleep a little better. But the entire time she was thinking about Will. She replayed the scene over and over again in her head, imagining what she could have done to stop it, and thinking that if she was a better hunter maybe none of this would have happened. She left the girls in their room and went to make sure the door was bolted just in case the Mord-Sith tried to come back for one of the girls. Viviane was standing by the window and she turned towards Layla when she entered. Layla stood there trying to find something to say until Viviane came up and hugged her.

"It was not your fault," she said bringing tears to Layla's eyes.


When Will woke he could only see the scratchy covering over his eyes. He tried to move, but his hands were shackled to the wall behind him. He yanked on the chains, trying to free them from their hold on the wall.

"No use," He heard a scratchy voice from the other side of the cell, "Those shackles will never come off. Not without a key anyway."

Will sighed. His entire body hurt from where the woman beat him, but his head ached the most. It was as if a heavy weight were pressing on the back of his skull. He heard chains rattle from the other side of the cell as the other man moved closer to him. Will felt a hand on his shoulder as his cellmate lifted the blindfold from his eyes.

First, Will saw the craggly toenails and dirty feet of the wrinkled old man. His hands were in shackles, but they weren't chained to the wall like Will's were, and he had a long gray beard which had dirt and grime in it.

"That's better isn't it?" the old man inquired with a smile.

Will took in his surroundings; a dirty floor and dirty walls with barely any daylight seeping through the crack under the door. The only decorations were mouse droppings and human waste. Will grimaced and the stench which accompanied his new home.

"I think I might have preferred the blindfold." Will replied staring at his dismal surroundings.

"Ah," the old man said as he slowly returned to a sitting position on other side of the small cell, "you're a pessimist. They never make very good company. But still better than no company at all."

Will tried to smile at the old man's kindness, but his jaw hurt so it turned into more of a snarl. The old man's friendliness reminded Will of his father, who was always trying to make you laugh no matter how grim the situation. Will looked down at his hands which were cracked and bloody, and he was taken back to that moment in the woods right before he blacked out. He had been hunting in the woods with Layla.

Did the Mord-Sith take her too?

Will started fidgeting with his hands replaying the scene in his mind. He remembered watching helplessly as that woman beat his little sister.

Why'd she go and push me out of the way. Sometimes she did the stupidest things.

He winced as he recalled the look on Layla's face when she tried to pushed herself out of the snow. It wasn't just the pain that had kept him from protecting her, but more so the fear. Pain could wound a man, but fear could cripple him.

"So what's your story?" the old man broke Will from his reverie.

"What?"

"Your story. How'd you get in here?"

Will didn't really know how to answer that question. He hadn't done anything wrong, or at least he didn't think he had.

"Honestly," Will replied, "I don't even know where here is."

"Ah," the old man began, "Welcome to the People's Palace. Or rather the dungeon of the People's Palace. Place of captivity, torture, and misery."

"The People's Palace?" Will had never been outside of his hometown, let alone outside of the Midlands, but to be taken all the way to the heart of D'Hara. He was in for more than he had ever asked for. "Why?"

"I don't know." the old man looked surprised at the question, "Did you do something to anger Darken Rahl? No, he'd have killed you by now if that was it."

"What?" Will was in shock, "Darken Rahl? What would the ruler of D'Hara want with me?"

"I don't know" the old man started.

The men both stopped talking as they heard footsteps approach the cell door. The sound of jangling keys came from the other side of the door as a Mord-Sith twisted the key in the lock.

"But it looks like we're about to find out."