A/n: This chapter is very hard to write because I know nothing on the location of the Gates. So please don't yell at me. If you have any knowledge please indulge in telling me.

The Gate in Hayll, that used to be in the vicinity of Dorothea's keep, now lay amidst rubble with all things dead around it. A young Priestess new to her trade managed it, but since Dorothea's downfall a host of Blood males was there to assist. A system of checks and balances were put into affect, so that Kale had to endure much inquiry before he could even enter the Alter.

"Kaeleer's been quite popular recently, what business do you have there?" Said the Prince who led Kale into the Alter.

All needed questions were answered and this was just idle chatter, giving Kale the mind to not reply. Protocol got the better of him though so he responded curtly, "Family matters." It wasn't entirely a truth or lie, and he hoped it would ward off any unnecessary conversation.

It didn't. "I hear you man." The man began nonchalant. "I have a mother, and I tell you sometimes it would be easier to wrestle a dragon than listen to her fuss."

Kale found himself staring blankly at the brown hair, which made up the back of his guides head. What an uncaring clot, Kale's anger rose unbridled; Darlane, despite her eccentric ways, was his mother who he respected.

"So that mark, I heard it meant you were a Hishiek." He said the word like a curse. "Is that bull, or what?"

The doors to the Alter opened before him and he glimpsed the dark haired Priestess with in. Kale entered and, as his guide began to close the doors, he retorted, "Or what."

Candles were lit in order, the wall holding the Gate dissolved, and with only a moments hesitation Kale stepped through. The room he found himself in was polished and trimmed with gold; this Alter was much better kept. He breathed in his first breath of Kaeleer and was content.

(Break)

Phayaton drew herself upright, tired of the silence that fell like dew over the house. The cottage she had lived in all her life was small and cozy, lying in a village on the outskirts of Hayll. It had three bedrooms, all but her mother's now unoccupied, a small kitchen, and a sitting room, where Phayaton tried to pass the time. The contents of the sitting room were sparse- a sofa, wicker chair, and a small fireplace was present- but a lowly bookshelf also stood in a corner. So she had spent the day reading through all the Court books brushing up on her useless Protocol, but soon she tired of this. She wanted more.

Throwing a shawl over her blue summer dress, she opened the door and stepped outside. The village, called Tar, spread out pleasantly below her for her house stood on a hill. It was situated just so, that from her house she could see the town but anyone looking up from the village could not see the house. This contemplated Phayaton threw back her head and let out a call that sounded part bird-part wolf. The miller and his son, whom she could see, both raised their heads shading their eyes with their hands. Knowing that they couldn't see her sent her into a fit of laughter.

With that childish trick over and done with, she clicked her heels and descended the strewn path to the village.

"Good-day Prince Haorres." The miller was the first person she met, "Heard any strange birds recently."

He cast her a gleeful look and greeted her with a nod, "Lady."

Tar had been her home as much as her actual house, and she couldn't believe that any of the towns people would have given her over to be broken. Passing the mill she reached the market and followed her usual fancy; shopping. Perusing through the shops she shut out her brother's words, instead to admire a cloth here a broach there- anything to keep her mind preoccupied.

It took her only a moment to realize she was being followed; usually she'd think nothing of it but now when so much has changed. Quickening her steps she darted into a side alley turning to face her foe, the boy that turned into the passage behind her was an old acquaintance. Not particularly a friend but someone she knew none the less; a suitor she had turned down, many times.

"Phayaton, long time no see. Has your brother been keeping you indoors, safe and warm?" The mockery that crossed his face was intended to hurt her but she wouldn't let it.

"What do you want, Lonz?" She felt nervous under his gaze, he had more than once tried to push himself on her and she didn't want it to happen again. Her previous thoughts arose and she wasn't quite certain Lonz wouldn't jump on an opportunity to have her broken, he might even do it himself if given the chance. Then she shook her head, he would never truly hurt her; not like that.

"I've come to see if time has loosened your legs." He took two long strides forward and had her in his arms. She wore the Sapphire and was not afraid of his Opal but he was physically stronger, she could feel the power that pulsed in his sinewy muscles. "Come love, am I so distasteful to the eyes?"

He was older than her and taller, with a tan complexion and dark long hair. His eyebrows were usually arched mischievously and his eyes were golden sparks beneath. Never distasteful to the eyes but the ears begged to differ. "Has my brother's absence finally returned your balls?"

They both knew that he was terrified of Kale, and that the only reason he had stayed away so long was because of Kale's overbearing manner. "Ahha! You're are still as cocky as ever."

"I'm sorry you lack such necessities." She spit back, snapping like a viper.

"Ouch." Lonz withdrew his arms with a look of pain, "What a burn. Alright, to avoid anymore singeing, I propose a truce."

Phayaton was bewildered, had she just heard right, a truce with this self-righteous punk. Glaring at him suspiciously she saw sincerity in his eyes. Still she said nothing.

"A truce that even though you're still a tight-legged ice queen I might have changed, grown-up, and deserve another chance. You should know though that when I say grown-up, I mean just in the tiniest-slightest-way-possible." Smiling in the most charming manner, he extended a hand to close the deal.

What! The mental ability to understand anything shut down in Phayaton's mind, as she stared at the hand offered her. It had been no more than five months since their last meeting, could he really had grown in that time. He looked slightly older; his face had lost all boyishness and his eyes held a mature deepness that wasn't there before. Maybe he had changed, she knew she had. Not only had she shot up a couple of inches and doubled her bust, but she also found herself spending more time in the garden or studying Craft than stirring up trouble like younger kids.

Tentatively she raised her hand, placing it in Lonz's sealing the truce. Quickly before she could object, he raised her hand and kissed her fingers lightly; his lips brushing them like butterfly wings. Their eyes connected and she was suddenly sure of change. The warmth of his hand left her's, and she let her hand fall to her side.

The awkward silence that followed left them uneasy, and neither of them moved fearing to be the one to break it. The silence was unbearable, so a little prudishly Phayaton tugged the metaphorical coat tails of his attention, "Now what? This was your idea."

"I do believe I interrupted you while you were shopping." Giving her a knowing smile he linked arms with her, whisking her onto the street.

(Break)

The High Lord of Hell was an impressive man, Kale thought as he stared up into his powerful golden eyes. From his hair, whitened at the temples, to his legs that despite the cane looked sturdy he held the air of magnificence. Kale felt very shrunk when he noticed the Black Jeweled rings on his fingers, for Kale's Red could never compare. He had always taken pride in his Dark Jewel, despite the fact that his sister would soon wear the Ebon Gray, but now against this awe-inspiring man that wielded the Black he was nothing. A shiver rocked through him.

Casting his eyes down he stared idly at the floor. When the Red Jeweled Butler entered Kale snapped to attention.

"The High Lord will see you now, Prince."

Following the Butler out of the room he took one last lingering glance at the portrait.