Jessi: I'm very excited about these next few chapters. My work of five years (yes, this story is really that old) is almost complete. :)

The magic was stronger up on the peak. The elf's eyes were wide as she stared upwards at the riot of colour above her head. Streams of raw magic flowed past the sheltering boulder that she had landed behind.

The other's presence was close. It pulsed like a dark cancer amid the magic, drawing it in and devouring the raw power.

Vale's body walked towards the magic and knelt a little way from it. Her hands extended, the slender fingers disappearing into the whirling mass.

Magic tore up her arms and into her body. The flesh of her hands began to blister and burn, the pale, once-golden flesh turning black. Blood oozed from numerous wounds.

Still she worked at her task, working the raw magic into a new shape. A shuddering scream escaped her mouth as something flowed down into her creation.

Everything went black.

On the roadside leading into Waterdeep, Chel awoke. He sat up, his senses screaming at him that something was wrong. He blinked.

When he took in the sight above Mount Waterdeep, his eyes widened in horror,

"Vale? Where are you?"

"She..." Keroigar knelt by his brother's side, his hands directing healing magic into him, "She flew to it... to the summit."

The elf stood, glad to feel his wings again. The white feathers were newly regenerated and amongst them were thin threads of blood. But he could fly again.

He lunged into the air, flying with all the speed he could muster towards what he knew would be a battle.

Just a few metres away from Vale's slumped body the creation born of the raw magic taken into the little elven body opened his eyes. He almost laughed at the feeling of relief of being in this body that he had so despaired of being trapped in.

Tiamet Pendragon stood, the long, delicate fingers of his new elven body brushing away the dirt from the dark robes he had clothed it in. His green eyes, the beautiful pale green he had preferred for his many forms, took in the sight of the corpse of his cleric lying in the dirt.

Slowly he made a gesture in the air and almost cried out with joy when the magic lifted Vale's body into the air and brought it to his feet. His magic... his spells were back, a deadly arsenal at his fingertips.

He knelt by the elf, sadly taking in her blue-tinged lips and the reopened wound in her stomach, the hasty repairs, done with her own sorceress' magic, gone.

"I am sorry, my cleric, to use your corpse in this manner," he softly whispered into the deaf ears. The bastardised mix of Elven and Draconic that her people spoke and prayed in flowed from the pale coral lips, "But... she will pay for this, for your death," he stood, glancing off towards his enemy's presence, "I will see your soul in Mercuria."

With this Tiamet strode off, the magic changing course to return to the body from where it had been stolen.

A moment after the deity had vanished from sight, the winged elf arrived on the scene. His eyes took in the slumped form of Vale and instantly he was at her side.

Easily he lifted her, cradling her against his chest, rocking the young elf as he'd done so many times in her too-short life. But she would not respond now with similes or kisses, she never would. A moan of pain escaped him and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, falling to his knees, hunched over her body.

Abruptly the pale elf felt something. Quickly, he laid his sensative elven fingers on the same spot he'd just placed his head.

A pulse! Slow and faint but it was there!

"You are alive!" he berated himself as the words had escaped his mouth. This was no time to be stating the obvious. Quickly he began healing her.

The platinum light flowed down into her body, from his lips, from his hands, even illuminating his white tresses in a ghostly light. It took all his will to stop himself from pouring all of his healing magic into her, which would have killed her.

Chel saw the terrible damage that had been inflicted on her delicate hands and raised them to his lips, planting healing kisses on the blackened flesh. When the silken flesh of his mouth brushed her palm, a very sensative area of an elf's body, she involuntaryily shivered.

Work done, Chel placed her on the ground, in the shelter of the boulder. The winged elf leapt over the rock, hoping he would be able return to Vale after the approaching battle.