(The lyrics are from Sarah Mclachlan's song, "Adia", which I do not own, nor
do I write my fiction for a profit or gain, never claming ownership)

Mozenrath traced the patterns the window cast across his sheets.
It took forever to convince Destane to let them be put in, but the confining
darkness of his room and Destane's in that respect was too much.
But no favor is too impossible when you know what strings to pull.
Mozenrath's stomach lurched in disgust, but the feeling naturally died.
The room glittered on the back wall as the rising moon spun patterns on the
floor in shades of purple and blue.
The figure next to him shifted and he froze; ready to dive back under the
covers and fake sleep.
But all that followed the movement was a sigh from the Citadel master, and a
turn in his sleep, one arm reaching out for the body next to him.
Mozenrath moved away, a little bit further to the edge.
Ahhmal
Deciding suddenly, he slipped quietly of the bed's foot and slipped on some
cloth shoes that lie on the floor, using a band on the dresser to pull his
hair up, not risking looking for his turban.
He didn't bother to try and shut Destane's door behind him, and shoved his
hands into his pockets, hunching against the slight draft that always
haunted the Citadel.
He let his power fluctuate enough through the cracks that slanted between
the front doors, forcing them open with ease.
Many things had changed, while nothing was perfected, he was able to do so
much more than before, his powers more intricate than simple forced blasts,
and though he still wasn't able to master that, he worked techniques to
supplement what they could do, a method, that while wasn't good for
everything, certainly compensated for a lot.
Learning, training, studying and refining had become the motive to rise each
morning, the purpose to each step.
But Allah he felt so dead.
He'd give the world to feel.
The sharp cold of the wind that whipped past him should feel more than a
numb sensation.
But that's what he had become, numb.
Time blended in and out seamlessly and worthlessly, passing without notice.
Tasks, routines became just that, tasks and routines.
What kept him going?
The rare dreams kept him going.
Ahhmal, his life, his humanity and living.
Destane couldn't reach him there.
Guilt could not reach him there.
But why guilt?

"Adia I do believe I failed you
Adia I know I let you down
don't you know I tried so hard
to love you in my way
it's easy let it go..."

Who was he fooling himself, he knew why, what was there left to do but pick
at that which haunted him?
There was guilt because he felt he had forgotten.
He had forgotten even the look of Ahhmal; he had to rely on his dreams to do
that.
He had forgotten, when he had promised himself not to.
What place was there for waking dreams in the halls of the Citadel?
What right did hope have in the city of Necropolis?
But he had tried, hadn't he?
He asked himself many questions as he walked down the streets, his feet
taking tired treks he knew by heart, the city, with its occupants dodging in
their homes with glares of venom, knowing by now where the apprentice of
Destane went, problems followed.
But it didn't matter much to Mozenrath; he wasn't interested in
companionship, not after the murder he was responsible for, not now, not
then.
Besides,
The silence sang.
He let his wanderings, head bowed, ignoring the slam of doors as he passed,
carry him to ruin that loomed above, gray and drenched with dew at all times
of the day, shaky on rotted wooden foundations.
It was an old stable that had once housed the greatest and finest steeds in
the desserts, famous for their ebony coats and flashing white eyes.
But as Destane's sanity faltered, so did the honor he held in the horses and
they fell into unkempt and uncared for states, till the stable help
disbanded and the horses died out without so much as a blink from Destane.
But now, from its steely presence atop a gray knoll, it served as a place
for Mozenrath alone to come to.

"Adia I'm empty since you left me
trying to find a way to carry on
I search myself and everyone
to see where we went wrong "

He threw his cloak about him, and, like he was trained, the appeared where
he wanted, atop the stable's roof, a nook for him to view the city.
He grit his teeth angrily, remembering the painful way he discovered he
could not escape The Land of Black Sands simply by teleporting.
Destane had laughed.
He'd already paid for the privilege, why shouldn't he?
But as he watched the moon set the now sleeping city from its toil, his
thoughts always dragged him back to Ahhmal.
Would he remember if he saw him?
He no longer said "when", it felt foolish, even though he still maintained
the belief, if not shaky, that he would get back, saying it still made him
doubt, it sounded so hopeless to his ears.
But what was worse still was…
Did he want to go back?

"'Cause there's no one left to finger
there's no one here to blame
there's no one left to talk to, honey
and there ain't no one to buy our innocence"

He held his head in his hands, feeling so completely and utterly restless.
He felt no conviction, not for anything.
But did that include Ahhmal?
Did that include his home?
He couldn't even tell what he wanted.
Sometimes he wished he could find some sort of spell to get ride of those
damn dreams at night, those horribly wonderful dreams that darted in and out
of his grasp.
Even his mind was betraying him.
Why taunt him with something he couldn't have?
His grip on his head tightened as it became to pulse in rhythm to his
frustrations.

"'Cause we are born innocent
believe me Adia, we are still innocent
it's easy, we all falter
does it matter?"

He took a deep breath and with a surprising amount of wistfulness, almost
wished he could cry.
It would lessen the pain in his chest, the constant pressure that abated
when patiently ignored as so happened, but it wouldn't come.
No amount of pain would bring back what Destane stole.
He took his freedom, his home, his innocence, his virginity, his pride, his
esteem, his will to live, his hopes and aspirations.
All were dashed to the floor carelessly, as if on a whim.
That's all he was to Destane, a whim.
A hobby.
He let his hands fall to his sides, a simple imitation of the defeat he felt
inside.
But it didn't matter.
He felt a sharp sting, the nagging presence of disgrace.
Would Ahhmal want him back at all?
He looked at himself from the inside out, noting every scar and bruise that
littered in faint remain, knowing they were there without checking, and
noticing every internal abrasion as well, the wounds that would not heal.

"Adia I thought that we could make it
but I know I can't change the way you feel
I leave you with your misery
a friend who won't betray"

He smiled ruefully at the smeared jettison sky above.
He had a lot of work to do.
Somehow, he knew if he willed it, if he worked for it, things had to be all
right in the end. It had to be.
He eased himself down off the roof without the help of his magic, letting
himself fall for a moment to the ground, using some of the cat instincts
Mirage had passed on to land on his feet, which startled him in the jolt it
caused.
It had been so long, so deep into the pursuit of earning his right to
freedom, he'd forgotten he's still human mostly.

"I pull you from your tower
I take away your pain
and show you all the beauty you possess
if you'd only let yourself believe that "

He trudged home, and, perhaps it may be the lack of sleep, but Mozenrath's
thoughts were blurred, drowsy, and far too infrequently pleasant, at lest
remotely.
He rubbed the spot atop his head where his ears had been amputated, in a
sense; His empty and bare tail spot acting up.
They still had ghost feelings at odd intervals, still feeling the need to
express what he was feeling in ways voicing it could not.
How do you translate the subtle twitch of a tail into words?
How do you eloquent the venom in the flattening of cat ears back onto one's
head.
He wondered if Ahhmal would find the changes in his
appearance…dissatisfying.

"we are born innocent
believe me Adia, we are still innocent
it's easy, we all falter, does it matter?
believe me Adia, we are still innocent
'cause we are born innocent
Adia we are still innocent"

And two seconds after having the thought, he gave himself a mental slap on
the forehead.
Of course Ahhmal wouldn't care about something as trivial as that.
His faith in he who most assuredly waited for him grew and swelled,
banishing all thoughts of hopelessness that hunted him earlier.
"Hello little kitten".
Mozenrath looked up startled, realizing too late he had walked straight into
a grim faced Destane, calmly waiting for him at the entrance to the Citadel.

"it's easy, we all falter ... but does it matter?"
Dean