Christa was on the third day of her journey towards the palace, and she didn't like it any more than she had the first--or the second, for that matter. Even with her borrowed clothes layered on to the point where she could barely even move her arms, and here cloak wrapped tightly around her with the hood up, it was bitter cold. It was about midmorning, but they had started out just before dawn, and she never had a chance to get completely warm once they'd left the waystation.

          Currently, Christa was in a kind of daze, not paying attention to where they were going--or anything else for that matter. So when Damon suddenly stopped in the middle of the path, she almost fell from the saddle. He'd been traveling quite fast for a very long time--not that he showed it in any way--so she was quite unprepared for his skidding halt and had to grab the saddle pommel to keep herself from tumbling over Damon's neck.

          "What--?"

          :Hush. There's something...wrong.: Damon whispered worriedly in her mind, which worried Christa right away; Damon didn't seem to get worried at all, so whatever it was that disturbed him must be bad.

          Christa strained her ears, trying her best to hear over the roar of the wind and the snow bouncing off her body as well as her surroundings. It was funny, but until now, she'd never noticed exactly how loud snow was.

          Suddenly Damon shook his head and started forward again--only to be frozen in place. Christa opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, and found herself unable to move. It was as if she were some kind of doll, frozen forever in a position that someone thought she should be in. Immediately, panic began to overwhelm her mind. She could hear Damon, faintly and far off, calling to her, trying to talk to her; the panic drowned him out. His voice was a mere whisper compared to the dull roar of her fear.

          I'm going to die! her mind thought hysterically. I'm really going to die this time. Damon can't save me; he can't even save himself. I should have just died the first time! Why can't I move!?

          Then, with no warning at all, a man appeared in the path. Just then she wasn't thinking clearly enough, but later she wondered just how he managed to just appear in front of her, when there had been nothing but snow the moment before. Christa stared at him, her eyes wide with fear--the only part of her she could move besides breathing. Whoever he was, he was quite a remarkable man, power notwithstanding; he was fairly tall for all that he looked maybe two years older than herself, and he had hair that was so dark it looked black. But that was not what scared her so much; not even the power holding her in place could compare with the fear she felt when she looked into his eyes--they were a deep, dark blue--and they were the eyes of a sadist; cold and calculating, they looked as if they never missed anything. And they were focused directly on her.

          "Well....what have we here? Could you be the one that my servants so carelessly let escape?" The man said in a deep tenor that sent chills up and down Christa's spine. "Yes...I think you are. There can't be very many people who look like you, now can there? Just as there aren't many people quite like me." He smiled coldly at Christa, his head tilting slightly to the side. Damon snorted, then went completely rigid underneath her.

          "Oh, don't bother trying that again, Horse." The man said pleasantly, as if remarking on the weather being foul. "You would not be able to penetrate my shields even if you were not paralyzed, nor can you talk to the girl." The man said pompously. Christa realized with a start, that for the first time since she met Damon, she could not sense him in the back of her mind. Christa felt something stir in the back of her mind, but ignored it, knowing it wasn't Damon and centering herself on the here and now that was right in front of her.

          The man walked slowly and arrogantly to stand beside her stirrup, then slowly looking up at her. He studied her for a moment that lasted an eternity, while a steady pressure built up in the back of her mind. It felt as though there were a tiny trickle in a dam that was quickly having water gather behind it, ready to pound out a larger hole.

          Christa's panic doubled as the man grabbed her arm and yanked her from the saddle, her body involuntarily going limp before she hit the ground. Christa blinked slowly and flexed her half-frozen fingers in relief that she could move again. Some of the panic receded, but the pressure in the back of her mind was almost unbearable.

          "Oh, come now. You wished for freedom, and I gave it to you." The man reprimanded her as if she were a small child who were being foolish for accepting an offered cookie and feeling badly about it. "Now we can talk like normal people," he said cheerfully. "And we just have so much to talk about!"

          Suddenly, Christa felt dread--utter dread. She knew, somehow, that if the pressure in the back of her mind won, she would not be able to stop what it did. And it would do something. She knew that as she had never known anything before in her whole life. And whatever it was, she was not going to like it.

          As the man prattled on about how much they needed to talk and how she was acting so ungrateful about her freedom, she battled to hold back the thing building in her mind. But it was like holding up a large stone wall with just her two hands; futile. Her body went rigid as the tiny hole that had been there exploded, crumbling the entire wall holding it to dust.

          Christa cried out in pain as the back of her mind completely shattered, feeling, for all the world, as if her head were on fire inside. It was nearly unbearable, and the worst part was she couldn't stop it. She heard the man gasp in first surprise, then pain as whatever it was she'd unleashed found and focused on him; he was the one who inflicted pain on her, on Damon, and who would not let her feel Damon, and that made this unleashed--thing--angry. The man was now screaming in agony, but Christa couldn't stop.

          Christa was blind with the snow blowing in her face, which made her panic even more. She couldn't even see where that horrible man was, and whatever it was that has burst form her, did not want to calm down. The man wasn't screaming anymore, but she could still sense him nearby, and very much alive. She frantically grasped for control over this rogue beast inside her, and, surprisingly, got it. She grasped it tightly and forced it on the man who wanted her in pain, who wanted her for some unknown purpose; why else would he come after her when his servants failed other than to use her?

          But it wasn't working very well anymore; whatever it was was slowing down as she got tired, draining her energy. As Christa fumbled with he power, she noticed something else; energy all around her! All she had to do was use it! She could feel it around her body, under it, over it. She clumsily began sucking in the energy, as a drowning person would suck in air as they broke the surface, then poured that into the man.

          Christa kept that up for quite a while, losing track of time, of the man, even of herself. Then, suddenly, when she was almost completely exhausted, and there was no more energy for her within reach, she stopped, letting the beast inside her crawl back to it's little cave in the back of her mind, utterly exhausted and useless for the time being. She collapsed on her stomach in the snow and closed her eyes. Now was time to relax...but she was forgetting something.

          A cracking sound, and a brittle crunching brought back what she had forgotten; Damon. She mustered her strength and opened her eyes--only to meet Damon's deep sapphire ones, staring soulfully down into hers. And then she felt it; his calming presence in the back of her mind, coming between that--that thing that was inside her--and herself. And the outpouring of love he sent her was mixed with a bare thread of energy. It was just enough to keep her from falling asleep right there in the cold snow.

          :Just hang on, Chosen. Help is almost here, and then we'll be home.: Damon's soft voice whispered in her mind, a soft caress to the scalding pain that seemed if it didn't kill her, would surely make her miserable for the rest of her life. He knelt down and curled his warm body around her, right there in the middle of the path.

          "Hang on," Christa whispered in agreement before she closed her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. She wouldn't sleep, no, not this time, but she definitely needed rest. And whatever became of that horrid man, she knew he would not bother her or anyone ever again.