Crimson drummed his long, thin fingers irately on the stone window ledge overlooking the south corner of the bailey and part of the southwest control turret. He stared down towards the wide, sweeping grounds, eyeing the dark inner ward impatiently. He breathed an annoyed sigh of relief as a figure clad in red stumbled from the barrack entrance, letting the heavy oak door slam shut in his haste. He was quickly followed by four others, their grumbling and yawns partially audible from Crimson's position in the upper keep. Crimson turned from the window, and moved gracefully across the room to sink into a red-stained leather armchair, facing the door, its back to a roaring fire. Crimson's foot tapped impatiently on the plush red Oriental rug carpeting the royal quarters. He smiled coldly, and held up four fingers, ticking one of at minute intervals. As the last finger curled to his palm, the chamber door, a heavy wrought-iron door, underwent an apprehensive rap. "In. Now." Crimson said quietly, placing his fingertips together. Four Chareuset Charraps, followed by Frildur, stumbled into the room, their eyes averted from their master. They filed in, and balled their right fist, bringing it lightly to their nose-tip, and bobbing their head in the customary Chareuset salute. Like the others, Frildur kept his veil down, but fixed Crimson with an unwavering stare. Crimson matched his gaze through the gauzy material, his voice cold, harsh. "King Iye is dead." The Charraps stood silent, they all knew this, and had stayed up late bickering and spreading rumors around the tavern tables in the barracks- which was one of the reasons the quintet was nearly four hours late. Frildur's eyes slitted, still angry with himself. He didn't want to be late for Crimson's conference, but the worried whispers raging through the barracks were too entertaining. Mad Eyes had lost track of time, and only came back to earth with an unpleasant jolt when his hypnotic stare glanced at the dark window from over a tankard of plum wine. Splashing nearly half its contents on his robes, he had left the barracks in a rush, snarling at the other Charraps as a reminder of Crimson's meeting. Frildur's flash back was interrupted by Crimson's grating voice, now very soft and slightly amused. "But you all know this. All of you." Mad Eyes carefully watched Crimson, and noticed Crimson's dark eyes flick towards him. Crimson was careful, Frildur thought to himself, cautious, and his mind is quicker than that warm, supposedly plum wine. Mad Eyes smiled darkly to himself, silently laughing at his own brilliance. Again, Crimson's harsh, cutting voice erupted from his throat. "But that is besides the point. The point is this." With a sharp motion that made half of the present lurch backwards in alarm, Crimson whipped out a folded piece of parchment from his robes. "Iye didn't want Sawney to rule. Iye wanted Sawney dead." The Charraps stared at the parchment, which was in letter format. 'Sawney shouldn't rule alongside me- he's not magical and their for untrustworthy. As soon as I reach my castle, Sawney will be disposed of once he returns from his errand.' The Charraps glanced at each other, then back at Crimson's impassive face. Outside Crimson's eyes were placid, and dull, but inside he was laughing. Laughing raucously and uncontrollably.

Serena woke to an odd apparition, the shadowy outline of some smoke-colored creature, murmuring incoherent words to her, dancing before her vision. This was followed by another form, taller, but blood red. It suddenly began to charge at her, coming closer, blinding her with crimson light. "Argh!" Serena jerked upwards, feeling the cold sweat trickle down her nose. Her heart thumped painfully in her throat, her chest feeling condensed and squeezed. Standing on trembling legs, she stood, leaning unstably on Moony's giant forepaw. Aragorn hurried up to her, one cheek bulging with a crude tortilla made of dried vegetables, shriveled remnants of a horse, and cornmeal patties. "Mph- mornin' Zerena. Moror is jus' on 'ee 'orizon." He said through a mouthful of Ambrose's stomach fiber. He swallowed, and pulled a wry face, spitting out a cracked, rubbery film that once served as the membrane pocketing Ambrose the horse's spleen. "Not bad, but kind of chewy. Want some?" He asked, offering the lopsided yellowish brown mess before the elf maid. Serena held up both hands, and gave him a meek smile. " It's okay. Really." She added, as Aragorn tugged out a twisted, gnarled, string-like vein canal, that once was rich with blood and oxygen, powering Ambrose's left hind leg, and waved it tantalizingly before her. Serena tugged a dried body of a cod from her sack, averting her sight from Aragorn's gristly meal. She nibbled on the dried fleshy underbelly of the cod, maneuvering the needle-like rib-bones to the corners of her mouth with her tongue, and spitting them from the white, savory fish. Her mind fell back to the dream she had. How odd. "Serena! Let's go!" Aragorn called, surrounded by Sagitar and Astenfire. Serena thrust the flesh-less, bleached skeleton of the late fish, once a thriving colony matriarch, into the crusty red soil of the Dead Marshes, doomed to be forgotten and deteriorate in the blazing noonday sun. "There 'tis! Mordor ahoy!" Called Calyces with mock glee, waving his rapier feebly. All heads turned westward, where the top spire of Castle Iye was just visible over a dip in the land. "We're close. Really close." Sagitar whispered to Astenfire. "I'll bet there is a ton of armies swarming over there." Astenfire nodded, staring into the swirling green infinite depths that held her gaze, plunging her into warm emerald mist. She smiled, patting the supple yew over her shoulder. "I'm sure I can lower their numbers." Serena whispered her contribution, staring at the spire. From it hung no pendant, but the blood red sandstone tiles glinting in the afternoon's waning sun triggered a sudden thought from the depths of Serena's brain. "Castle Iye." She murmured. Astenfire stared. "Huh?" "Castle Iye." Repeated Serena, her eyes wide and unblinking, as if in a trance. "I had a weird dream last night- this diamond thingy flanked by a pair of big green eyes, like a cat's eyes, and some soft voice said 'on the morrow Castle Iye will you see, a blood red monolith to kill thee.'" "Pretty bad rhyme if you ask me." A dark-haired elf said quietly beside Aragorn. Aragorn elbowed him sharply, as Serena eyed him darkly. "It wasn't my rhyme. And I think I know who the cat was. Osiris!" Astenfire's labored breathing filled the silence that followed. "Osiris?" She echoed weakly, thinking of her lost friend Nightshade. "Wait," Sagitar said suddenly. "What was the last line?" "A blood red monolith to kill thee." Serena repeated. " 'To kill thee'.sounds like a warning. Castle Iye, huh? Never heard of it- must be a very recent establishment." Mused Sagitar, looking back at the spire. "Well, there's only one way to find out!" Astenfire said resolutely, pulling an arrow from her quiver to point at the spire. "Onward to hell!"