I am so sorry that this has taken so long. I have not given up, but my schedule has become almost more than I can handle. However, I think I should be able to have another chapter up next weekend. It is not a promise though. Sorry. Thanks for those of you who have kept faith in me! I don't know where I would be without you! I meant to include a reminder of the previous chapter but my computer will not let me access anything that has to do with this story, so you are going to have to look back yourselves. Sorry for the inconvenience!

You know only,
A heap pf broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in handful of dust.

T.S. Eliot

There are questions that must be asked. Love can feel a fleeting thing when faced with the belief, the fear that nothing is truly real and shall not last. Who is to say what is real and what is not? Is it the gods? Yes, they have done a grand job so far; their faces obscured, hidden behind gossamer wings or blinding light so that mortals cannot come to them for answers. No, the gods stepped aside long ago. Who then did they leave the task to? Mortals? Surely they were not so foolish as to hand mortals their own fates to do with as they pleased! Where does reality end? How long can reality and truth be tolerated? Questions must be asked. Who said they must be answered?

Daine slid one thin hand through hair snarled and wild. Thick, copper strands clutched at her fingers as she pulled her hand away from her scalp. What was in store for her this time? What was so unique about her that the gods were battling for her attentions and ultimate destruction? Why did they pick her to be their sacrificial lamb? What made them think she would let them lead her to the slaughterhouse without a thought? Some questions were not meant to be answered. Some were not even meant to be asked.

Arram followed the coarse movement of her slender hand with his dark eyes. She was hiding something from him so dark and consuming that she believed he could not stand to hear it from her lips. The words of the dark professor as he corned him in the doorway after Sarra had already passed into the shadowy hallway echoed despairingly through his mind, "Whatever happens, know that she loves you. Whatever secrets she hides, remember she hides them not for you but for herself. She is a girl no one could have ever imagined, and she loves in the same unusual way. Never doubt her, for she will not doubt you." His heart felt like a leaden weight as it pressed against his ribs. He never noticed the thin, wraithlike shadow that flitted across his path.

"Sarra, what is wrong? Why do you not tell me what it is you are so worried about? It seems whenever I look at you, your eyes are heavy with thought and your mouth is pinched to keep your fears inside. You can trust me."

She smiled hesitatingly, "It's not that I don't trust you." Something screamed in her mind; she shut it out, whatever Arram was thinking and feeling now was more important than one of the People's wish for attention. "It's just that I have to do this by myself. I have to keep this inside me because otherwise I think I could not live with it looking me in the face day after day. This way it stays where I can only hear it murmuring to me in the dead of night." She kept the memory of burning eyes staring hauntingly back at her from their colorless depths silent. "If I need help, I will come to you," she stated with utmost trust and faith in her eyes. It was all the faith she had stored over the years of standing by his side through battles and terrors Arram had never seen and could not comprehend yet. He had never seen the feral eyes of a hurrock as it swooped in for the kill. "I love you," she offered as a peacemaker between them; it was as if to comfort him and smooth the harsh differences between them.

"I love you, too," he sighed and ran a large hand over his face as if to wipe away his confusion. He did not understand the look in her eyes. He reached out for her and kissed her forehead. She relaxed into his touch and he could feel her bones aching in protest. He knew from the way she leaned against him that she was not sleeping. She was so far out of his control.

"Come, Sarra, it is growing late, and I have classes tomorrow." She kissed him lightly with a devilish smile and proceeded to permit him to lead her back to the University.

Soft night air caressed her flesh as she swung open the window to permit her friends inside. She did not wish to sleep, but her lashes seemed to weigh so much that she could not keep her eyelids open. Her body ached so sharply that she was sure the throbbing centered from her very bones. Carefully, she settled into bed with a prayer to anyone who would hear her that the torture would wait another night. One goddess heard.

As sleep slipped like a heavy drought down her throat and into her blood, total darkness reigned. Daine's body did not move, but she was somewhere far, far away from where she lay. Sudden, white light cascaded over her face and burnt her eyes. She tried to hold back the tears that would soothe the fiery touch, but it was hopeless. It was not like she would be able to see anyway. Slowly, sounds and smells wrapped around her. The tang of salt air and clatter of hooves on packed earth resonated about her. Her eyes cleared.

A dark haired man sat before her. His large hands were calloused slightly and his clothes were barely rumpled from travel. He lifted his face toward her and his dark brown eyes sparkled. The corners of his mouth twitched and he asked, "What is so interesting, Daine? Come, sit with me."

It felt like her heart was breaking. She was at the Swoop with Numair sitting on a sun warmed stone before her feet. Not a hair was out of place as he flashed her a taunting smile. Her eyes swam again, but she was happy. She fell into his arms with a satisfied sigh, "I am so tired, Numair."

"Then rest, my Magelet. You deserve to relax, for now." His hands caressed her wild tresses and drew unintelligible patterns across her back.

Slowly, the sound of screams and the smell of death wafted threateningly through the air. Terror swirled in the faintest breeze, and Numair's hands were still. His face was white and she knew hers was as well. The thick feeling of death dripped down their spines and she looked fearfully over his shoulder. Dark creatures she had never seen before rode toward them on wind from Hell; their eyes burned a darker shade than dried blood. She could not stand to look at them, but they came closer, ever closer. One drew a blade whiter than ivory and held it steady. The thick scent of decay spilled from its lips and it reached one scaly, claw like hand toward her.

Both Daine and Numair were on their feet. Both rocked back and forth on the balls of their feet as they braced themselves. This was to be the end. They both knew it. Fear is a terrible thing when it must be faced eye to eye like this. It is a monster with a mouth so wide it can swallow the world. Daine clutched Numair's hand, but he looked at her sadly and said, "I have to go now. If you run, I can still save you."

She tried to open her mouth to protest, but he had already thrown himself into the path of the horrible creatures. He had already sacrificed himself, but she could not move. She watched, transfixed, as the one with the ivory blade approached Numair and stabbed him though the stomach with an unearthly keen of laughter. It was so corrupt as to make the ground seethe and buckle in its desperation to flee, but Daine could not. She could not even scream as the sound filled her mouth, ears, nostrils, and eyes. She saw Numair drenched with his own red blood. The creature laughed again.

The sword was held limply in its grasp, Numair's blood dripped in slow, ruby drops to soak into the soil. Red on white was all she could see as Numair screamed in pain and fire leapt from the earth to consume him. Flesh and clothes burned away and blood boiled. She could see the fire reflected like a thousand miles of pain in his eyes glazed with death. His lipless mouth moved, but she could hear no sound as his bones melted into the heat of the flames. Her face was hard with tears. Her palms were red with blood from the tiny crescents her nails had dug into her unyielding hands. His eyes danced before her again and again until darkness swallowed her once more.

The shapeless terror drifted close to her once more and extended an oozing hand. "Take comfort, child," hissed the turbulent mass of chaos, "he died just for you." Her sibilant cackle was the last thing she heard as her mouth was filled with the drowning, galling flavor of fear as Chaos once again reached for her face.

With a muffled scream, she awoke drenched with a cold sweat. The salt of her tears melded with the ice coating her body. Her breath came in short bursts, but she was beginning to control herself. She had to face her fears. With broken wail she slid back into bed, but the dark pressed against her eyes so she could not close them. The shadows hissed as she attempted to quiet her breathing. With a determined sniffle, she clamped her eyes shut with the heel of her hands. She was determined to sleep. She had to say something to Chaos before she lost her nerve completely. Daine was so wrapped up in her determination that she never heard the whisper of silk against silk as a solid shadow oozed through her open window.

The corporeal nightmare slid his fingers into the inner pocket of his tunic. He removed a vial dark with the obsidian liquid. Slowly, he floated toward the bed where the girl lay with her hands pressed against her face. He knew this was a delicate job. He had to be even quieter than what was standard procedure. If she became alerted to any sound, he would be seen. That was not a risk he was willing to take. He uncorked the tiny, crystal vial and splashed its odorless fluid onto a soft, linen rag. Not even the sound of his breath could be heard as he approached the shadow of a girl.

All Daine could see was darkness. She was falling into herself and she could feel the emptiness encroaching. Satisfaction was so close, but she would never reach it. Slowly, she felt her limbs tingling as sleep began to insinuate itself into her body. She was too far gone to struggle too much when she felt the feather light weight of cloth against her face. Awareness, instead of coming closer in her terror, fled further from her grasping hand. Desperation flooded her mind, but she could not fight. She was so tired, so very, very tired.

A dull light flickered on the edge of a black horizon. She did not know what it was, but she felt soft satin beneath her palms as she reached toward it. Velvet curtains and plush pillows surrounded her as color began to reemerge. Sudden fear made the last of her befuddled thoughts vanish. She was not alone. She could feel the soft, rasping breath of her companion, and she was afraid of what she would find. She had never been so afraid of the unknown. Unconsciously, she thought of Numair and how she missed his hand holding hers.

"So, you've come at last, girlie. I had to wait in line and I'm not fond of waiting," came the familiar, cracking cackle of the Graveyard Hag. Some of her fear vanished; however, the last time she was with the Hag, she had died shortly after.

"You've been busy it seems. Who is it that made me wait?"

Despite her appearance and demeanor, the Hag was still a goddess. She had to answer. "Another goddess; my mother became a minor goddess in my homeland when she died." It was not a lie, but it was not the answer either.

The Hag looked at her long and hard with her one good eye. The girl was not lying. She was god-born, that much she had already known. "Who's your father?" she was nothing if not direct.

Daine made a slight face. She did not like divulging all her secrets. After all, her mother was still alive, and she was just a baby. "My mother never told me before she died."

The Hag narrowed her eyes. She did not like being lied to, but it did not matter. "Very well, don't tell me. I have things to tell you anyway. You are not meant to be here. This is not your time, nor your place. Leave my chosen ones alone."

"Chosen ones? There are more than just Ozorne?"

"Of course, even as lovely and charming a boy as he cannot be expected to make my country the greatest all on his own, can he? Anyway, that's not important. You could be valuable to me. You can make my country greater than all the others because you are unique. You are the only one with the power of the gods. My chosen ones would be pleased to have you." Her smile was wicked and possessive. Her greedy hands were clasped tightly together, and her grey, wispy hair fell into her eye black with desire. She wanted power.

"No," Daine frowned up at the goddess on her dais of soft pillows. "You already owe me a service from the last time I was here. I will not have you take advantage of me again."

"Whatever it is, it hasn't happened yet. I can't owe you anything for something that I have never done." A deep, almost petulant scowl creased her brown face.

Daine scowled just as darkly back. It was not good to let this goddess do anything remotely against one's will because she would then seek to completely take over. "But if you want to be able to use me in the future, you are going to have to agree to my terms. Things change, you know."

"What is it you want, girlie?" The Hag's toothless grin made Daine cringe. She hated having to agree to this. However, her disastrous time in Carthak the year before had been incredibly important to her life. If she had too, she was willing to part with that part of her innocence again. "I need help getting home, to my time. They need me there."

"Is that so?" was the skeptical cackle. "You are so important, that you can't stay and fix the problem before it starts?"

"If I did that, I think I would die before I even became this age. I will not risk that. I've made promises."

A strangle tickling began in her abdomen and trickled out to her appendages. Her head started to swim and her eyes tried to become unfocused. The Hag cackled again with more mirth. "Our time's run out. Leave and I will think about what you want. We will meet again."

Marlon Salor was congratulating himself on his success. The potion had worked instantly and she had slept deeply. No one discovered him slipping from her rooms; no one had been stargazing as he whisked her away. Every no and then she would writhe and scowl, but she did not wake up. It had almost been too easy. Now, as she blinked her storm blue eyes open, he realized the depth of his accomplishment. No one knew she was gone. No one would miss her for some time. Perhaps the emperor would wish to see her. It was always a thought.

The heavy slam of the cell door and it slid into place was more satisfying than he was willing to admit. It had been a long time, a very long time, since he had created such havoc. Now, he began to remember why he subjected himself to such pains every day. He slid his thin fingers up the silk cuff of his sleeve. The angry, red lines protruding from his flesh was a reminder to himself. He should not be so pleased. He had not yet completed the job. His face twisted into a brutal sneer of pain, hatred, and disgust. Those scars ran in thick lines all the way up his arm. They were nothing to the scars littering his soul.