Kaeleer's Dark Alter wavered in the flickering flames of witch light, which cast shadows into every corner. All was still with the exception of this light, all was silent; the Priestess who tended the Alter was long gone, lying now in the land of dreams. No one expected what was to come, not even the Darkness that lingered in that place of power. And no one was there to stop it.

Suddenly the Alter surged with life, snuffing out the witch fire to let the Darkness reign over all. Something foreign yet familiar stirred amidst the Darkness, casting cautiously about into its surroundings and expanding with each moment. It converged at the Gate, opening it with a power that hadn't been used for years. The Darkness watched this all in awe, making way for its old friend. Then the power subsided drawing into itself, into a young witch, to reveal the four figures that had cradled in its safety. As the power returned to its dormint state the witch flame snapped into being, and the Darkness withdrew to its respectable corners.

The young witch, from whom this craft came, slid to the floor in exhaustion. Her eyes closed involuntarily and her head lulled to the side, as shadows etched into her features. All was still again.

(Break)

Jolouque struggled to wake as light hit his closed lids but the darkness was clawing at him, pulling him down into the comfort of sleep. A damp cloth pressed into his forehead, soothing him like a lover's caress. He had to wake, he had to find Zalean, he had to save her from… from…

"Oh good, you're awake."

He didn't remember opening his eyes but there above him was the red headed vixen, concern and exhaustion clear in her brown eyes. Words rose in his mind, which were blocked by the soreness in his throat. All he could utter was, "Zalean?"

A darkness seemed to shift into her expression, a darkness that perplexed him and added to his fears. Ignoring the pain that throbbed through his body, he lifted himself into sitting position and looked around him. They were in an Alter room but not the one he had brought Zalean through. They must have made it through the Gate, but he couldn't remember much; only the dark light.

The Priestess caught his eye; she was bent over a body Opal craft flowing from her hands, and a look of deep concentration scrawled on her face. His eyes fell to the body, taking in the rich mahogany locks, the olive tinged skin, the body that had wrapped around him in his moment of weakness; Zalean. She looked like she was in a deep sleep, which he would have believed if it weren't for the wounds that covered her. He had seen her like this before, limp and defeated in his arms. He was enraged, incensed that this had happened to her, and then he broke down as tears filled his eyes.

The vixen got to her feet and went to her friend, a flower that had been crushed beneath someone's boot; settling down and crossing her legs, she took the sleeping girls hand. "She'll be okay. As long as we're here for her she'll be okay."

Jolouque wanted to believe this, he wanted to with all his heart, but just couldn't.

"You can't let doubt steal her away." The vixen said after studying his expression, "She is healing herself, you know? She has managed to keep the Purple Dusk and-"

"What?" Jolouque looked at the girl surprised, "She doesn't have a jewel, she's Landen."

The vixen looked down at the hand she held, and then to the bracelet with its purple jewel, "That's what she thought too."

"Priestess?" Jolouque turned to the Priestess for reassurance. This wasn't possible, how could it be? There wasn't a magical trace on her, nothing that symbolized she was Blood.

"Warlord?" The Priestess's expression said that this was too complicated for even her to understand, so he should just accept it.

Jolouque found that he couldn't wrap his mind around the concept that Zalean was Blood. He almost felt betrayed that she hadn't told him, despite the fact that he was there to help her. How could this information be secluded from him? "So she is a Purple Dusk witch?"

"No." This answer confused him more; she wore the Purple Dusk but wasn't a Purple Dusk witch. Sensing his confusion the Priestess continued to explain. "It seems that the jewel she carries, the jewel I gave her, scales the jewel caste copying the power of any jewel when needed. I don't understand how or why, but I know she cannot keep a set jewel forever. Her jewel will either ascend or descend when time comes. Since we arrived her, she has ascended to the Purple Dusk from the Sapphire, and it seems she is hanging on to this."

Jolouque felt his mind clouding, and he knew it had nothing to do with the sleep threatening to pull him under. This was too much to handle all at once, and belief didn't come easy. His eyes focused on the Purple Dusk jewel wrapped around Zalean's wrist, and felt the throb of energy that flowed through her; she was healing. Slowly but surely.

"Will this really be enough?" He directed his attention to the vixen.

"Of course."