Disclaimer: I don't own "Celtic Spirit", as all you intelligent people may have guessed.

Chapter II

"Hear my cry in my hungering search for you
Taste my breath on the wind
See the sky as it mirrors my colours
Hints and whispers begin

I am living to nourish you, cherish you
I am pulsing the blood in your veins
Feel the magick and power surrender to Night

Ev'ry finger is touching, searching
Until your secrets come out
In the dance as it endlessly circles
I linger close to your mouth

I am living to nourish you, cherish you
I am pulsing the blood in your veins
Feel the magick and power surrender to Night…"

My voice echoed down across the burned, wasted land. I stood on cracked, broken steps high above what was once a magnificent Circle. Now the Circle lay in shattered fragments, the Pillars it once supported long since dust in the wind. Strange that I should find myself in the lifeless wasteland where no sentient being, living or otherwise, had set foot for millennia. I walked down the stairs through the silver rain. Huge, long drops of this silver rain fell all around from the purple sky. The rain was neither wet nor cold, but created a warm tingling sensation on my skin. Strange again how I didn't wonder at this either. It was as though I had known no rain other than this, and so of course this seemed natural. Everything was natural. I knew this place.

"Come back…"

I sighed. Echoes of voices that once rang in this valley still remained to taunt me. I knew the voices, but their names always eluded me. They never said anything worth hearing, really. They could not speak for themselves, but merely echo what they once knew. And apparently, they once knew me.

"Come back to us…"

"Come back…"

"Come back to us, Miss Reaver."

I frowned. This was a new one. No one called me that except for…except…

"Miss Reaver!"

"What, what!" I cried, my head snapping up from off my desk. But I knew what. I had fallen asleep in History again. The rest of the class sniggered, but I didn't blush. I had long since stopped being embarrassed about what I could not control.

"Hah! You should've heard yourself, you kept mumbling 'I don't wanna'!" laughed a boy near my desk, Don.

"Well, at least I don't snore and ask my mommy for a cookie!" I retorted. Laughter erupted and Don's face caught fire.

"I never-" he protested, but stopped when I held up a tape recorder.

"You did, and I can prove it," I told him. "So leave me alone."

"People, people, please!" came Mr. NitWhite's voice. "Simmer down."

I rolled my eyes. Mr. NitWhite was the kind of guy who thought he was the funniest thing since the rubber chicken. "Sorry Mr. Nitwit."

"That's NitWhite!" he shouted.

"Whatever." I knew perfectly well what his name was, I just liked annoying him as much as he annoyed the rest of us. No one, not even the other teachers, got his name right the first time. Sometimes not even the second or third. It was pretty funny, really. I sat down in my desk again, folding my hands and gazing up at him innocently, the picture of a perfect student. Mr. NitWhite rolled his eyes and returned to his desk.

"Well, Miss Reaver, since you seem to be in an unusually talkative mood, maybe you would care to answer the question?" he said.

'Uh, no, not really,' I thought. "What was the question, again?" I asked instead. My head was still a little foggy, and I couldn't get the dream out of my mind. Mr. NitWhite sighed exaggeratedly.

"Very well then," he said, as though he was doing this as a personal favour to me. "Where did the signing of the Declaration of Independence take place?"

'Philadelphia,' said my brain. "Nosgoth," said my mouth. Laughter again, and this time I flushed furiously, wondering what had possessed me to say that.

"Uh-huh. A comedian, I see," said Mr. NitWhite. "I like comedians. Just not in my classroom. I want to see you after class."

"Yes'm," I mumbled.

"Very good," said Mr. NitWhite, oblivious to the fact that 'yes'm' was the contraction of 'yes ma'am'. There were snickers, but this time they were directed at him, not me.

"Can anyone else give me an answer?" he asked with exaggerated patience.

"I dunno, I liked Soul's," said another guy behind me. I grinned. Mr. NitWhite threw up his hands and turned his back on us. He did that all the time. I wondered if he was trying to make us feel guilty about being the way we were. Well, it wasn't working if that was his intent. As he spun back around to confront us again, not words but the blaring of a bell came from his mouth.

"Yallume(1)!" I muttered, putting my books back in my bag slowly to escape being trampled in the customary frenzy to get out before the hallways clogged completely and made movement of any kind impossible. Once everyone had left, I made my way out.

"Soul, remember I wanted to see you?" said Mr. NitWhite. I cursed silently and turned back to him.

"Yes?" I asked, trying not to sound exasperated. What would the diagnosis be today? Depression? Languor? Insomnia? One too many hours of video games before bed? What did he think was wrong with me now?

"Is something bothering you?" he asked. I was thrown. This was not expected. Was this a trick? NitWhite never asks if something's bothering you, he just tells you what he thinks your problem is and shoos you out of his classroom.

'Huh, looks like someone remembered their Prozac this morning,' I thought. "What makes you ask that?" I inquired.

"This is the third time this week you've fallen asleep in class. Are you getting enough sleep at night?"

What was I supposed to say to that? Well, I had three options:

Truth-"No, not really. I can't fall asleep for hours, and when I finally do sleep it's not at all fitful. I've been waking up every morning for the past few weeks now with fresh bleeding cuts on my arms and face, and blood on my mouth that I know isn't mine. What's more, the muscles of my legs, chest, and sides are cramped and tired, like I've been running all night. From the way my heart pounds, whatever I'm running from I'm afraid of. So no, I'm not sleeping well."

Lie-"Oh sure, great. Really, I'm fine. I don't know, I just don't like history."

Run-"Oh would you look at that, I'm gonna be late for my next class! Great talkin' to ya, see ya Mr. N!"

Hmm. I was torn between the last two. There was no way I was going to tell the truth, I'd be back at the shrink's so fast it would make your head spin. I chose the lie instead.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I need more sleep than most people, but I can manage."

NitWhite didn't look convinced, but he nodded grudgingly. "Well, I'd better let you go before you're late to your next class. Do you need a pass?"

"No thanks, I'm good. See ya!" I was out of there so fast I wondered if there was a cloud of dust behind me like in the old cartoons with the Road Runner and Wiley Coyote. I breathed a sigh of relief. Damn, that was too close! Why can't teachers just leave us alone? We should have a period in the beginning of the day where we just sleep for ninety minutes. I guarantee we'll function better if we do.

"'Hoy, Moony!" I heard a shout. I grinned and turned around to face my best friend, Caitlin, and her boyfriend, Brad. Moony. I like that nickname. Caitlin gave it to me when we became friends in second grade, nine, almost ten years ago, when we were about seven. She said that it suited me, and I must admit it does. For some reason, I was born with a genetic defect that resulted in none of my cells producing pigments. You could say I'm albino, I guess, but that's not really it. I have thick white hair that falls to my elbows, sure, but I don't have red eyes. My eyes are silvery-grey. My skin's kinda silvery-white. The only colour I have is a burn on my forehead, a black crescent moon with its horns turned down. My short bangs, which just barely brush my eyebrows, frame it nicely. I don't know how I got it, actually – my parents say I was playing in my dad's workshop in the basement and I burned myself on a hot poker or something – but I don't believe it. It doesn't hurt, for one thing. It never did. I liked to think that it held some deeper mystery.

I waved back at my friends. "Hey guys, what's up?"

"On our way to class, duh," said Caitlin with a grin. Caitlin's really cool. She's kind of a punk, but in a good way. She wears black eyeliner and sometimes silver eye shadow, almost always the same black leather trenchcoat, and her short brown hair is streaked with devil red. She's a little on the short side herself, not even reaching my shoulder at her 4'11" height. I'm almost a foot taller, though since I'm more long-legged than long-torsoed I look a little shorter when I'm sitting, but stand proud at 5'9", but that only means that she makes a great armrest. I'm not kidding, she lets me lean on her shoulder.

"We saw Joe earlier," added Brad with a grin. Joe was an old friend of his whom I was kinda crushing after. I couldn't help smiling at the mention of his name, but I managed to refrain from giggling like a little girl.

"What did he say?" I asked. "Did he say anything about me?"

"He said he loves you, and he wants to marry you immediately and have your children," said Caitlin with a wicked grin.

"Ah, go to Hell," I said conversationally.

"He asked if you were still trying spells that use blood," said Brad severely.

"It was only a tiny little pinprick!" I protested. "And no, I am not!"

"A tiny pinprick turns to much more very swiftly," said Brad. "We're only watching out for you."

"Well I thank you, but I'm fine," I said firmly. "I won't do it again. Now let's get to class."

Elvish- (1) At last!