Author's Notes: You'd think that with such short chapters I could churn these things out a bit faster, but my muse is a perfectionist. My biggest problem was Erik's entrance. How do you introduce somebody like that?

Of course I am greatly indebted to CloudXInXCrimson for giving me some motivation to get going with this piece again. Are you happy now!

Also to Breanna Senese – read the book, gerfan – glad you like, and Brosia - I will NOT fall for my own trick, no matter how much you cry! Not a stalker, huh? We'll see…

Disclaimer: I don't own Erik or Christine but Vadoma and Bera and everybody else are mine!

"Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet." Jean Jacques Rousseau

Vadoma watched as the brave young man set out, determined to return with the mysterious man who might be the only chance the Skychild had left. She wondered why he felt so strongly about the girl. She was nothing more than a stranger to him, and though very beautiful, there seemed to be nothing special about her. There were stories, of course, of men who fell in love after only a passing glance, but unless the girl were to be accepted into the clan, Bera's honor would keep them apart. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the three girls who were slipping ever deeper into their world of dreamless sleep. No the Nightwalker could do nothing for them, she decided as she felt the shadow of death creep closer. They would never wake from this night, their first night of freedom in so long…

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His feet led him to the looming shadow of the tent. It was so different from their own humble homes with its strange shape and eccentric patterns woven in the exotic cloth. Its compelling aura of power befitted its enigmatic owner who resided within. He had arrived with the first deep snow, as the travelers settled into their winter haven to rest till spring fairs and festivals lured them on. When Colren, leader of the small band, had decided he must leave, Vadoma had swayed his decision, her mystic's knowledge still held power even as the modern way had begun to creep into their lives. Why she had allowed him to stay and why she now sought his aid, Bera did not know. But if this stranger were the only one who could save the life of the brave girl, he would do everything possible to gain his aid. Summoning his courage to him, he again marched forth through the deep snow, stopping only when his feet reached the entrance of the forbidding lair.

"Sir!" he shouted over the keening winds. "I have been sent by Vadoma. I seek your aid." He stood proudly and tall in the frozen world and waited for any reply. The swirling wind carried with it the faint strain of a haunting melody of a violin, which vanished into the night as quickly as it had appeared.

The tent flap snapped open, the sudden blinding light startling him enough to cause him to step back. Finding himself so close to the stranger left him wishing he had jumped back even farther. Though he had only met him once before, Bera had never forgotten the angry power the man possessed. He stood outlined in the brilliant light, dressed all in black, melting into the darkness of the night like a shadow. Yet his eyes burned golden as the moon, hidden behind the pale mask he wore. The mask was not the same as before, that mask had been quite black…

"Yes?" the magician whispered, his beautiful voice easily rising above the dying scream of the wind, drawing Bera's eyes back from the mask.

"There is a girl," he began, suddenly unsure as to what to say as the man's eyes glittered dangerously. "She will die if you do not help her."

A pause which stretched into forever filled the space between them as the man continued to stare at him, considered his words. "Tell them I will come," he whispered, before he turned with a sigh and retreated to his tent. Just as the entrance fell shut, Bera caught a glimpse of what lay inside. A thick Persian rug, a carved chair with a red cushion and a black violin.

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Dreams swirled through her fevered mind, memories merging and twisting together with fantasies to create endless kaleidoscopic visions. She fought against the lies in her head, desperate to forget their truths, which crept insistently into her aching soul. Writhing violently she suddenly froze as a poignant melody, carried by a strange wind entered the silent tent and lingered briefly beside her before vanishing like a sigh.

AN: More Erik in the next chapter I promise! And I also promise to post the next chapter sooner that I did this one. (Of course promises don't really mean much to Erik, who is my muse so I'll just have to threaten him again…)

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