Same disclaimer and all that. . . R&R please! Thanks for the comments, yes a little romance, but. . . well, you'll find out. And yes, sadly, she morphed into a Wraith.

Chapter Twelve

Esmora's eyes snapped open and she could see Alaire staring at her, trying to mask his horror, but he continued to clutch her, willing her waxy face to be part of a dream. Wrenching herself away from him, she looked at her hands. The transformation was complete. She was fully Wraith. Any human thoughts or emotions were pushed aside and stifled.

"Amara," Alaire gasped as he saw the rage in her eyes.

"My name," Esmora heard herself say, "is Esmora."

Just then, a sound was heard from above them, "Alaire," a voice called.

"Stay upstairs Lybria," Alaire yelled as Esmora dvanced towards him, "don't let anyone in."

Backing up, Alaire began simply talking to Esmora. "It's me, Alaire, you know me. Remember all the fun we had together? Remember the long walks, the tiresome swordfights, the laughter? Fight whatever it is that has a hold of you. . ." his voice was cut off as Esmora lunged at him. They struggled for several moments, but Esmora's Wraith-like strength soon overpowered Alaire.

"You know not to whom you speak" Esmora spat at him.

"You're Amara, and whatever happens, I know she's still in there somewhere," Alaire said bravely.

Esmora laughed and said, "I am not Amara, she is my slave. I am Esmora, second only to my Queen, destroyer of human kind."

Alaire gasped at this speech, "What?" he gasped as Esmora's hand wound around his neck.

"You heard me, and I am hungry."

Alaire struggled against her grip, but found his strength weakening. With a glint in her eyes, Esmora reached forward and placed her hand on his chest. As if in a dream, Esmora watched Alaire's life flow out of him. He grew old before her eyes and his screams would haunt her. When she was finished, he grew limp in her arms. Pain wracked through her once again. She screamed began writhing on the floor once again. This time there were no comforting arms to hold her. Her head banged against the table, and she hardly felt it though blood ran down her scalp. Finally, it was over. It had lasted longer last time.

"Alaire? Amara?" Esmora heard Lybria call from the top of the stairs.

"Don't come down," Esmora called in a hoarse voice.

"What's going on?" Lybria asked tremulously, backing away from the stairs.

"You need to leave out your window. Run to the woods, don't look back. The Wraith will arrive shortly. Don't ask me how I know, just leave," she burst.

Lybria started toward the stairs, but thought better of it. "Where is Alaire?" she asked.

"He is. . ." Esmora began, "Here, with me."

"Alright," Lybria said, and left. Esmora could feel her running not to the woods, but to warn the other villagers. There was nothing else she could do but wait. Slowly, she turned to face Alaire. His ruddy face was wrinkled and his permanent grin was twisted into contortions of pain. She could not leave him like that. She reached out with her mind and smoothed some of the wrinkles away. Taking him up in her arms she left the house and started up the path. She could hear darts approaching, and the villagers were dashing to and fro, frightened. Esmora kept walking until she reached the edge of the village. She laid Alaire down and was surprised to hear a gasp behind her.

"What happened?" Lybria asked.

"You must leave immediately," Esmora said, eyes steeled.

"I can't," Lybria said, "Not without the rest of the village."

"That cannot be done," Esmora said.

"What do you mean?"

Esmora entered Lybria's mind and made her pass out. Esmora then hid her, covering her with her mind. She would live.

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"Have you learned?" the Queen asked Esmora when she once again boarded the Hive.

"Much," she replied.