Ok, if you read chapter ten and thought something was missing, try seeing if you read chapter nine. I put them up at the same time, and it looks like more people have read chapter ten than nine. . . Comments on chapter eleven are very welcome!

Sorry it is so short, but I thought this the best place to end the chapter

Chapter Eleven

Esmora was lying on her bed when she felt the presence hover by her mind. Recognizing it, she sat up straight. How long had it been? Her mind went back over countless days. Baking bread with Lybria and scouring the village with Alaire. She had learned how to sword fight and how to carry on a conversation. Counting the days, she realized that a month had gone by.

"Yes?" she responded to the presence.

"We have returned," she heard the Wraith Queen say.

"Yes, my Queen. What are your orders?"

"We have hardly any food aboard. I wish to feed on this village."

Esmora felt something deep inside her tighten, it took her whole strength to choke out four words, "It will be done."

"Good, the darts will arrive as soon as dawn arrives."

Esmora could not sleep. She was unsure why not, so she crept down the stairs and sat at the table. Mulling over her brief conversation with the Queen, she nearly jumped from the table when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Alaire asked, concerned.

Esmora smiled slightly and said, "Yes."

Unconvinced, Alaire took a seat across from her, "What's bothering you?"

Esmora stared at him. She wondered what she felt about him. She did not want him or Lybria to be fed upon, but she did not think the Queen would allow her any more slaves. Esmora felt Alaire still waiting for an answer.

"I. . . I just could not sleep. That is all," she lied.

Alaire raised one eyebrow, still not believing her.

"I know you pretty well by now, and I know something is not right," he said.

"You know less about me than you think," she said in a half whisper.

"What do you mean?" Alaire asked, his brow furrowing.

"I am not who you believe me to be," Esmora said before she could think to stop herself.

"What are you talking about? You are Amara, victim of the Wraith. If there is something in your past that bothers you, then tell me. We all have some of those."

"That is nothing to what I have done," Esmora murmured. "You're blood would run cold if you heard some of my tales."

Alaire looked at her oddly once again, "What do you. . ." he stopped as Esmora doubled over in pain.

Quickly rounding the table, her tried to straighten her up. "Are you ill?" he asked.

Unable to reply, Esmora crumpled to the floor and could only feel Alaire's arms surrounding her. "Not now," she thought.

In a few moments, it passed and she arose, pushing herself away from him. Slightly embarrassed, he stood and asked, "What just happened?"

"I am just a little sick," Esmora said, but her words cut short by another wave of pain. She could feel herself changing, her organs were mutating and she could feel her hands already beginning to pale. For how long she lay there, she had no idea, but when she awoke, she was laying in Alaire's arms.

It was dawn. And Esmora was no longer herself.