Kel knew the pale figure from the Yamani legends. The guide to the dead, the Spirit Goddess who carried the souls of the fallen to the sunny shores of Paradise… or down into the depths of the endless night. The Yamani name for this pale vision was Chiyoko, the Goddess of a thousand souls. Kel looked away first and lowered her eyes in respect to the Goddess.

Dom, still beside her despite the commotion, noticed the change in her demeanor. He followed her line of sight and locked eyes on Chiyoko. His breathing grew labored, his skin felt flushed and his heart beat out of control. He felt something dragging on his body, a kind of unseen hand grabbing at his skin. He tried to stay focused but whatever force gripped him, made his mind disorganized. He opened his mouth to call out for help, but the force gripped him tighter. The pale Goddess did not look away; she locked her colorless gaze on his and held him captive by his soul. Holding his eyes to her own. Darkness crowded the edges of his vision. His eyesight grew blurry; his last thought was that dying was such a strange sensation, then… nothing.

Kel felt Dom's presence beside her, but she thought nothing of it. He had always been there… right beside her. She watched Chiyoko from beneath the veil of her lashes. She noticed when the Goddess' gaze shifted away from her. The Goddess seamed to be gazing into the space at Kel's right… the place that Dom now occupied. The Goddess seemed to be affected by something that she saw. Her body was tense and her pale endless eyes unblinking. Kel glanced at Dom, to see if he had noticed. She sat straighter when she saw him, and reached toward him knowing that something was wrong. His eyes were glazed over and his breathing was shallow and arduous. Her hand touched his shoulder just as his eyes closed and his body slumped forward over the saddle horn. His horse shuttered and danced as the weight on his back shifted abruptly. Kel screamed for help, tears pooling in her eyes… but no one could hear her over the roar of the crowd. She screamed louder, crying out with all that she was worth, but no help was coming. Her heart beat so hard she feared it would explode. She moved her free hand to touch his neck checking for the feel of his heart beat… but she could find no heartbeat and no sign that he was drawing breath into his limp body. Dom was dead.

*** In Tortall***

Jonathan sat quietly at his desk. It had once been his father's and Jon could remember sitting across from his father, the vast distance of the dark imposing desk dividing them. Every time that he butted heads with the King, this is were he was brought. When he was younger, it was only occasionally, but after his mother got sick… his father pulled away. The only time they talked was to yell at each other across the stately antique desk that had borne the worry of every Tortallian king for the last two hundred years. When his father died, Jon had left the desk right where it sat his whole life. Hoping that it would remind him of those who had gone before him.

Jon, rested his elbows on the edge of the desk, they fell into deep ruts in the hard wood, made from years of the same motion. His head fell to his hands and his eyes closed. In front of him the totals of death related to war with Scanra. After a treaty had been negotiated with the new king, Jon had felt it was time to celebrate those who had died to protect their country. He had called for lists to be made of all who had been injured in battle, died in the field, lost life, limb, and hearth to the invading horde. The numbers broke his heart. He wanted to burn each name into his mind so that he would understand the cost of war for as long as he had breath in his body.

The saddest thought that came to him in the darkness, was the thought that this was not the last time that he would call for his people to fight and die for their homes. There amongst the list was the proof that a darkness was gaining power in other parts of the world. Jon's gut cried out that if the darkness could not be stopped before it reached the boarder of Tortall; the number of dead would far outweigh the numbers that burdened him now.

*** Back on the Island***

Kel leapt from the saddle. An act some might have considered daring considering that she did not remove either hand from Dom's body. Her patient horse didn't move as she shifted both her legs to one side and jumped to the ground. She slid Dom's body from the saddle and laid him gently on the packed dirt of the road. She calmed her breathing and pushed all her emotions to the back of her mind, calling up her Yamani mask to help stop her hands from shaking and to give her a clear view of the situation. It was harder this time then it had ever been before. Kel reached down and held her hand gently a hairs breath above Dom's mouth. No air stirred there. She moved the palm of her hand right below his nose and waited. Here to the air was still. Kel's own breathing was once again becoming ragged as the force of her emotions waged war against her Yamani training. Kel carefully leaned down and pressed her ear to Dom's chest. Hoping beyond all reason that she would hear his heart. Though the ruckus around them dominated her hearing Kel focused intently all her thought on the ear pressed tightly to his chest. The other sounds faded into muffled noise as Kel waited for any sound, but there was nothing to speak of her love's life. A sob erupted from her throat. It pried her clenched jaw loose and ripped past her lips, heartbroken it rode the gulf streams to the heavens.