Authors' Note: Hi. As you may notice, there are no hobbits in this chapter. This is not our fault. We sent Legolas out to look for them, but he hasn't come back yet. Moron. In the meantime, here's a new chapter. The next one should be up by Thursday. Hopefully our moronic elf-boy will have come back by then. (Actually, we don't mean to be so mean to Legolas. It's not our fault the hobbits have gone to ground.)

The Nightrunners

The Addict's Lament

Soundtrack: Little Sister (Jewel)

Hey little sister

I heard you went to Mr. So and So, knocking on his door

again last night, said you needed it bad -

you know that ain't right

Cause you've come to me crying

trying to stop, you said it hurts so bad

But please don't let you

go back for more

My little sister is a Zombie in a body

with no soul a role she has learned to play

in a world today where nothing else matters

but it matters, we gotta start feeding our souls

Not our addictions or afflictions of pain

to avoid the same questions we must

ask ourselves to get any answers

We gotta start feeding our souls

have been lost to the millions with lots

who feed on addiction selling pills and what's hot

I wish I could save her from all their delusions

all the confusion

of a nation that starves for salvation

but clothing is the closest approximation

to God and He only knows that drugs

are all we know of love

Every day we starve while we eat white bread

and beer instead of a handshake or hug

We spill the pills and sweep them

under the rug

My little sister is a Zombie in a body

with no soul a role she has learned to play

in a world today where nothing else matters

but it matters, we gotta start feeding our souls

Hey little sister I heard you went to Mr. So and So's

Knocking on his door again last night

Said you needed more...





Kara Stone's last thought before she took off was that she had been really lucky to have gotten some flying time tonight. The cops in Necropolis were really cracking down on the Flight addicts in the city, especially since there was such a high fatality rate from flight's reaction to magical talent. Kara knew that as a witch, if only a very minor one, she ran a huge risk every time she shot up. Not that she really cared. Life was not exactly considered a gift around Necropolis. Death offered a much greater chance for escape. Besides, the risks were half the fun in flying.

No, that wasn't right. Kara didn't fly for fun, not completely, anyway. The whole point in flying was to get away from the constant, pervading despair. That was what made it so attractive to everyone who lived in and around Necropolis. Since magic was created by feelings, both positive and negative, escape was one of Kara's powerful allies. Escape from the horror and the devastation, but most of all from the relentless cycle in which humanity was the focal point. Even Kara, with her weak magical abilities, could sense her place in the cycle: fixed unendingly between light and dark, forever forced to battle the very emotions that allowed her to survive. One cylinder of flight was all it took to set her free from the pain inside and the uncertainty of life on the streets.

Holding her breath, she allowed the drug to flow through her body. Flying was the most amazing experience. Taste, smell, touch, sound and sight; they all bled together, creating a bright picture of the world in her mind's eye. Gone were the dank and crumbling concrete buildings of Necropolis: instead they became a riot of colors, flavors, sounds...a beautiful blend of the senses. No one could ever call the fallen city livable after having seen it on flight. That was the reason most people became addicts. Having seen something so beautiful, and then having lost it, was unbearable to many. For another glimpse of the fairest and fallen, there was no limit to the price that most flight addicts would pay.

For those who used magic, or even had the potential to control it, the appeal of flight was even stronger. Not only did the sight of the city become intoxicating, but the rush of power that the drug brought when it hit the system was almost overwhelming. The power to reshape the world was one thing that no magic user had. Humanity simply could not control the magic well enough to erase their own failings, at least not on a permanent basis. For a short time, however, a person on flight could possess just enough power to change the world. In their own heads at least, if nowhere else.

This time, Kara thought hazily, there was something wrong. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the auras that the drug allowed her to see were different; clouded, less brilliant than they had been before. The power the flight unleashed still crackled through her veins, but the reassuring feeling of omnipotence was gone. Kara suddenly felt that she was losing control over something that she had never known she possessed.

Fire burned across her skin. The flight-induced Necropolis swirled and danced across her line of vision, revealing horrors she had never imagined: a desolate plain under a burning wheel of fire that hung in the sky. Flares of magic could be seen everywhere, under each flare stood a witch or wizard. These horrifying creatures seemed no longer human in any sense of the word. Kara somehow knew that in those last few moments, these suffering witches and wizards would look almost normal to the naked eye. But with the Flight still pumping through her body, she saw the truth, obscene though it was.

This was a ruined race: twisted and tortured beyond redemption. These were magic-users that had turned to flight, Kara knew this instinctively. Doing so, they had cast aside the one quality that made them truly human: the power to make their own choices. The terrifying reality of this denial was clear. These lost souls were condemned to eternal agony. In relinquishing the balance they had created within themselves, the tortured flight addicts were torn apart by the very emotions and powers they had once sought to escape.

She watched the twisting figures with horrified pity. So focused was she on these creatures, she did not see the magical flare until it was almost upon her. In a sickening moment of clarity, she realized that she was to share their fate. Pain lanced through Kara's body as she fought against the drug which sought to drag her down. In the silence of the night, no one could hear her scream of despair. This was the last cry cast forth from the point of light that had been Kara Stone, before her star fell into darkness forever.

**********

"I'm sorry Doctor, the medics just brought in another flight addict. But she was too far gone. I'm afraid we lost her..."

"Very well. Log the time of death and send her to the morgue. Family has twenty-four hours to claim her, if she's got any family that is."

This was the only comment from the doctor on duty at the flight clinic. Had anybody been watching her, they might have found her expression rather odd. She stared at the ravaged body of what had once been a human being. A human being who had once been called Kara, who had cast aside the power to make her own choices.

The doctor smiled in triumph. "Excellent," she whispered.