Once again, I do not own the places, nor most of the characters included in this story, I have borrowed them from Anne Bishop for the purpose of this story.

1/ Kaeleer

Night had fallen softly on Ebon Rih, no one stirred except Raehlvar. He paced in his room. Neither able to settle down or do anything, for Lucivar was a light sleeper and caught every noise past what was behind anyone's doors.

He opened the double doors leading from his room to one of the gardens below. The night scene of moonlit statues and cool blue water usually calmed him, but tonight he needed more. If he slept he dreamt of her, if he kept himself awake again as he had for the past few nights, he'd go mad.

Perhaps just the sight and sound of the garden was not enough. He scrawled a note to anyone who might check in on him, though he knew only Zalenar would look for him tomorrow, he had no lessons for a few days, except for the early stick training with Hallevar. And if he missed that, oh well, one less stressful point of his day.

For a few moments, he walked amonst the statues, taking in their solemn or jovial faces with an artistic appreciation. His wings stretched of their own accord when he reached one of the fountains. His body wanted to fly, to make one of the runs- or just to soar above the cities and towns until they turned into specks. He wanted to witness every moonlit stream, every dark forest, every flash of kindred running below him, every blue-tinted flower. The air called to him, teasingly whirling around him.

I'll be back by morning anyway, what's the harm? All Eyriens are called to the skies at certain points in their lives. Raehlvar lifted his head to the full moon and darted towards it, using only craft to ascend straight into the sky until he was high enough to catch some wonderful thermals.

The wind was pulling him east. Not yet, he told in silently. A slight stream ran with him below. He dove towards the earth, letting the wind blow him which ever way it wanted to.

Slowly, his muscles began to relax and he thought only of the skies, his home.

2/ Kaeleer

Della scowled at the tangled web she had spun in the small wooden frame. Image fragments flashed before her eyes, etching pictures in her brain; a shattered chalice, a twisted Eyrien, and most disturbing, little Mephis. The baby was ill now, but what did the web have to do with that? She discerned only that Daemon and Jaenelle would need time to themselves in order for the baby to get better.

::KaeAskavi? Can you reach Kaelas from here?:: She had found that, when it came to contacting his father, KaeAskavi had a much better range than she did.

The giant cat swished his tail. ::No.:: he said, uncomfortably.

She stroked his paw, a silent assurence that she didn't think less of him. She cast one last look back at the web and sighed. None of it made any sense. Perhaps if she tried again... but no, never again would anyone see what she saw in the tangled web. She reached out and gently broke the thin silvery strands.

Resigned, Della decided to at least give Uncle Daemon and Auntie Jaenelle privacy, as the web indicated, they needed. There were other places in the Realm for her to go without having Daemon worry. She would go somewhere where he would think she was being 'looked after.' Perhaps with one of the members of the old coven of Auntie Jaenelle. She had quarters with Lady Karla... but maybe it was time to visit some of the others.

::You might have to go back to Arceria and tell him where I've gone. I wouldn't want him to worry.:: Della warned KaeAskavi as she sent her craft around her. Her clothes floated out of the dresser, the bags from under the bed, her personal belongings into a private case, which she vanished.

::Gone where?::

The things in the room settled back down again with a thud as audible as her final decision. ::Ebon Rih.::

3/ Terrielle

Phaidian responded immediately to the summons, as any Healer would to the message she recieved, the thrid such message she had recieved in as many days. There was an outbreak of some mysterious disease in the court of the Queen of Dena Nehele. She was not only eager to prove herself as a true healer, but she was interested in being the first to discover the origin of the illness, and hopefully, a cure for it.

She glanced at the address on the paper in her hand, sure that it was leading her in the wrong way, despite her knowledge of the area, having lived in the outskirts all her life. She turned left down a small street and immediately saw the door she was searching for. It opened without protest, revealing a smoking bar-like setting. The man she was here to look at rose to greet her, but was restrained by his friend.

"Reserve your strength, Serod!"

His skin was shallow, sunken and purple around the eyes casting a strong contrast to the paleness of the rest of his face. Sweat covered his face and soaked through a white shirt that might have been presentable at one time. His long brown hair was thinning, bald patches could be seen despite the effort taken to comb his hair over the offending patches. A fever raged through his body, sapping all but a small reservoir of his strength. He was living only on the power of his jewels, and even the red was giving out on him.

The other two men had not lived to fight as long as this man, though their jewels had been lighter, they had called for a Healer almost immediately. By the time Phaidian had reached them, it was too late to do anything but try to ease their pain and make their trip to Hell a more comfortable one.

"Why was I not informed immediately of the Master of the Guard's condition?" She scolded gently.

There was nothing she could do for this man now that he had drained himself. If she had arrived earlier, perhaps he would have had a fighting chance. And maybe the effort would have broken him to his birthright, or of the jewels entirely, but he might have lived! He was the strongest yet to have been infected by a disease that seemed to affect only the Blood, and the darker the jewels they wore, the harder the fever gripped them. They fought harder, but the same fate met all the victims eventually. A painful death where their air was cut off. They struggled to keep the faces of their loved ones clear as invisable hands strangled them to death.

A tear, caused as much by frustration as by sorrow slipped down her cheek. "Make him comfortable," she commanded, turning away. She clasped the arm of the second man and whispered gently, "Don't stand too close."

He nodded, resigned, and propped up Serod, who was hallucinating about a happier time in his life.

Phaidian let herself out, whiping her eyes on her sleeve as she walked. Her eyes closed for a moment, giving the men watching her a chance to surround her. "You are the Healer tending the inflicted of the Hell Fever?" A shabby looking peasant spoke to her, his voice and grammer too perfect for his disguise.

She nodded. She had no weapons with which to defend herself, she was at the mercy of these men.

"We have a patient for you."

Reluctantly, Phaidian allowed herself to be lead to the wildest, darkest part of the city. The man before her opened the door for her and motioned for her to go in first. As a show of good faith she smiled, there was no one inside the room. "Let's see to this patient."

The blow she had been expecting for some time connected with the back of her head, and darkness swelled around her. For the tired Healer, it was almost a relief to sink into a weary unconciousness and sleep with out haunting dreams.

4/ Kaeleer

Della walked the distance from the official landing spot to Lucivar's holdings with a smile. The sun beat down on her golden hair, warming her. Behind her smile, her mind raced, her thoughts as jumbled as the images from her web. Ahead was a bend in the road that easily could have hid twenty men waiting to ambush her, but her thoughts did not stray from Mephis's to her own safety.

The Eyrien from her visions, fit his arms easily around her, adding a spell to cut her from accessing jewels before she thought to call in her dagger or struggle. A rough bit of cloth silenced her scream, and she was airborne, at the mercy of his strength until he chose to set her on the ground once more.

::Please, let me live through this.:: She sent out her wish on a Sapphire thread, almost subconciously.

She felt the Eyrien holding her stiffen as he heard her remark and struggled to re-bind her jewels. The consiquence of sending the message was immediate and painful.

Please, she added silently to herself, her strength gone and blackness filling her vision. KaeAsvaki!