"Where is that dratted kender!" Tika growled, slamming a freshly washed skillet onto a pile of onion skins, dirtying it once more. "He promised not to go gallivanting the moment you two returned. And what does he do? He takes off the first chance he gets!"

"Now now, Tika," Caramon chortled, carefully brushing the onion skins off the back of the skillet. "Tas will be back. Can you honestly expect a kender to stop adventuring because of a silly promise?"

"I thought that kender was different," she grumbled, snatching the skillet from her husband's clumsy hands and dunking it back into the soapy dishwater. "The moment he sets that wanderlusting little foot over that threshold, I swear--"

"Tika! Caramon! I'm home!" Tasslehoff skipped into the room, his pouches bouncing around him like children around a tetherpole. "You'll never guess what I--"

"Oh, I bet I can," Tika interrupted, drying her hands on the front of her apron. Crossing the floor in a few swift steps, she caught up the little kender by his arm and knelt to press her face into his. "I'll bet that you've been out adventuring again, haven't you?"

"Uh…" Tas's eyes darted hopefully to Caramon, who only snickered and waved his friend's silent plea away.

"That does it!" Tika stood up and began to drag Tas down the hall.

"Tika, what are you doing?" Tas cried, alarmed. He tried digging his heels into the ground as Rounce had done, but to no avail. Tika was stronger than she looked.

"What I should have done a long time ago – I'm going to tie you to a chair so tight that your ears will fall off!" The red-headed fiend rounded another corner and went into the broom closet, grappling with Tas with one hand, the other frantically searching out the chair that had been stashed in the closet for repair.

"Tika, while I think that having my ears fall off would be a most amusing experience, I rather like them because they keep my hair on. So if you'll excuse me, I think I'll be retiring to my room…" Tas tried the old Twist and Duck, which was supposed to free his arm from a friendly captor. But Tika held firm, accustomed to all the kender tricks of the trade.

"Nope, you're not going anywhere," she said grimly, her read hair flashing in the candlelight coming from the hall. She pushed Tas into the chair and produced a length of rope, then started wrapping it expertly around the startled kender.

"Tika, love, that's really not necessary." Caramon came up behind his wife and caught her gently but firmly by the arm. With his other hand, he pulled the rope off the kender and tossed it to the side. "If we know we can do nothing to stop it, why prolong the inevitable?" he added teasingly.

"Whew! Thanks, Caramon." Tas brushed himself off and clambered to his feet. "Tika," he said sternly, "I really think you must reconsider the way you scold people. Being tied to a chair is great fun, but threatening to make one's ears fall off is a serious threat, as a body needs them to hear."

"I just wish they did," Tika muttered, but she relinquished her hold on the kender and nestled into her husband's embrace.

"So where DID you go, Tas?" Caramon settled his arms around Tika's lithe waist and mentally strapped them both in for what was certainly going to be a wild ride.

"Oh, you should have seen it, Caramon! Rounce and I took the flying citadel to this town I found on Tanis's map called Merilon. It was breathtaking! Despite the fact that we ran into some Dewar dwarves that looked a lot like the ones we met when we went back in time-" Tas gasped and clapped his hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to tell Caramon about the dwarves for fear it might upset him.

Apparently, his intuition had been right.

"You what?" Caramon demanded, releasing his hold on Tika and squatting to bring himself eye-to-eye with the kender. "The Dewar? You say you saw the Dewar that betrayed us way back then?"

"Uhr…no…I mean, yes, but I must be mistaken…" Tas tried ineffectively to edge around his big friend, but found his way blocked by Caramon's tremendous bulk. "Seriously, it must have been the lighting. After all, they were sitting back in the shadows until…"

"Until what?" Caramon urged.

"Until they started fighting over…who was going to pay the bill," Tas amended, feeling the object burn against his breast. Feigning a cough, he placed his hand protectively over his chest.

"Then you did see them clearly. Tas, this is really important. Dwarves don't live any longer than a hundred and fifty years to my knowledge, but then again, I've never really heard about Dewar dwarves in this time, aside from rumors of a city of them under the Barren Range. If they really are the ones we discovered back in time…" Caramon trailed off, his brow furrowed in thought.

"What difference would it make?" Tika asked, leaning against the door to the closet. "It's not like they would remember you, and if they haven't come after you by now, they most likely have forgotten you altogether. And, let's face it – there's not much dwarves can do in Solace."

"Tika's right," Tas said quickly. "Even if they were – which I seriously doubt – the Dewar we met back in the Dwarven Wars, it's not like they would want anything with us now. Your wife is very intelligent, and I agree with her when she says they probably don't even remember."

"But trouble always seems to follow you around, my dear friend," Caramon sighed, rubbing his temple. "And, just knowing you the way I do, you probably picked up something of theirs along the way. Accidentally, of course," he added hastily at Tas's indignant snort, "with full intention of returning it." He cast a look at the kender's hand, which was still clenched tightly over the object. "Is something wrong with your chest?"

"No," Tas said truthfully, taking his hand away. "Just become a silly habit, that's all. I'm getting up there in years, y'know."

Tas was no more getting up in years than Tika was growing a beard, and Caramon knew it, but he decided to let that little notion slide. With a wondering shake of his head, he got up, letting Tas slither past him and dart down out the door to the Inn, heading for the vallenwood house perched in the tree above it.

"I don't believe a word he said," Tika announced the minute the kender's was out of sight. "He wouldn't have brought up the Dew…Dewee…whatever they're called unless he had a good reason. Tas is hiding something from us, Caramon. You don't suppose he actually DID take something from those dwarves, do you…?"

"No," Caramon assured her quickly. "Dewar were a strange bunch. They rarely carried possessions other than a weapon, and I doubt Tas would have any interest in those."

"You never know. He might have found one that was wearing gold-threaded underwear and gone after those," Tika said teasingly, smacking her husband fondly on the buttocks. "I guess you're right, though. Done's done, and there's no use dwelling on it until the draconian comes bursting through the door."

"Or the fresco dwarf," Caramon shot back, winking.

Tika laughed a little too loudly, then turned and went back to washing the dishes.

Tas ran into his room and shut the door behind him, then collapsed, panting, to the floor.

"Tasslehoff Burrfoot, you are an idiot!" He gave his ears a scolding tug. "Look what you did. You went and made Caramon worry over nothing! Well, something, but nothing that was worth worrying about. And after all he's been through, too! You're a very bad kender," he told his reflection in the full-length mirror across the room sternly, who scowled at him in return.

"But," he remembered brightly, "I did manage to keep this hidden." Pulling the object from his shirt front, he admired it in the candlelight. "It's obviously magical, and Caramon would be reminded of Raistlin if he saw it. I spared him a great deal of grief, that's for sure. I guess I can give myself a pat on the back for that." He settled back against the door to examine the object closer.

It was a simple piece, as jewelry goes, but it seemed to be illuminated from the inside, as if a firefly had been caught within its ruby depths. A bright red garnet the size of the kender's small fist was held in a thin silver casing that shimmered as he turned it round and round.

Tas allowed himself a small whistle. "I must say. This is one of the most interesting objects I've ever seen, even if it is rather simple. It seems to have a life of its own, the way it glistens in the candlelight like that… Well, better tuck it away for safekeeping." Skipping across the room, the kender deposited his magnificent find into a pouch, then dropped the pouch into the bottom drawer of his nightstand. He gave the hard mahogany a loving pat, then scrambled onto the bed to sort through every other object that had somehow found its way into his pouches.

Tika woke to the sound of hammering on the roof. Afraid she had missed the opening hour of the Inn, she ran to the window and flung open the curtains. To her relief, the sun was just barely peaking its sleepy head up over the horizon. She sighed and began to dress.

The hammering stopped for a moment, and Tika could hear the strains of a somber war tune being sung from the boughs of the vallenwood. The voice was untrained and coarse, but it was a voice she had missed and longed for ever since its departure all those months ago. Caramon's voice permeated the still summer morning as an ax cleaves a tree.

A somber day has dawned this morn

The sun is wary of what it will see

As brother kills brother in hatred born

Of ambition and bitter bigotry.

March on, march on with fire in your eyes

Think nothing of whom you've left behind

Forget, forget, for with memory dies

All the tethers of the mind

A man holds dear the fallen leaves

He gathers to him the breath of the wind

And while his bitter hatred seethes

He mourns the loss of beloved kin.

Once more her husband's words were drowned out by the sound of his axe, but Tika was glad. She did not think she could bear any more of the sad, emotion laden song without turning her head away in misery. She had no doubt of whom Caramon sang, and it made her heart bleed to hear it. Hastily throwing on the rest of her outfit and tying the apron around her waist, Tika made her way for the door. Just as she was about to open it, however, Caramon stepped in, and the two almost collided.

"Oh, sorry, Caramon," Tika mumbled, not able to meet his eyes, as her own were dim and troubled. "I was in a hurry to get to the Inn."

"No surprise there, love," her husband chuckled, brushing wood shavings out of his eyes and taking a nail from behind his ear. Leaning down, he kissed her lovingly. "I was just going to put my wedding ring on the table. I don't want it to get messed up as I work."

Tika smiled, but still didn't look up. "I would say that was a good idea, but with Tasslehoff around…"

"Ah, don't worry about that. Tas is off to some kender party by Crystalmir Lake for today, and he won't be back till tomorrow. So rest easy; your china is safe…for today." Caramon laughed at his own jest and walked over to the table, placing his ring on the smooth teak surface with a fond pat.

"I'm…glad to see you're working on the house again," Tika said suddenly. "I was starting to wonder if it would ever get finished. You don't know how much it means to me."

Caramon grinned at her over his shoulder and took a long drink out of the water pitcher on the table.

Tika uncomfortably smoothed the front of her blouse. "I heard you singing out there," she mumbled, unable to keep it a secret any longer. "It broke my heart. I think I know…who it was for. I'm so sorry." Finally letting her gaze meet his, she was surprised to find him regarding her with a gentle smile.

"Tika, my dearest…" he set the pitcher back on the table and strode over to her. Pulling her into his strong, supple arms, he rested his chin on her waves of red hair. "Just so you know…I regret nothing."

Tika twisted in his embrace so she could look up at him. "Really? I'm sorry, it's just so…hard to believe."

"In those final hours, I proved my worth to Raistlin, Tika." Caramon rested his head against hers. "He saw that I wasn't only a dundering idiot who would be at his beck and call for all eternity. Tika…" his eyes grew misty, and he let his hair fall in front of them to hide the shimmering tears that were forming behind his eyes. "Tika," he continued huskily, "I made him proud."

She gave him a questioning look, her brow furrowed doubtfully. "Proud?" she asked. "I didn't think he was capable of that emotion."

"No, I know I did. I could see it in his eyes when I walked away with Lady Crysania…the way his spirit grasped the staff above my hand…and well, we're brothers. We know each other better than anyone. I could feel it. Raistlin looked after me after I exited the portal…and before he…sank into death…he smiled." Caramon buried his face in her hair, willing the fiery curls to burn away his tears and the remorse he still carried in his heart.

"Oh, Caramon…" Tika hugged him close, feeling the sting of tears threaten her own vision. Blinking rapidly, she ran her sword-callused hands through his silky brown locks. "Oddly enough…I believe you. Because not only have you made your brother proud…" she tilted his chin up so he could meet her gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, but they were dry. She smiled despite herself, and said her next words with as much passion as she felt. "…you've made me proud as well."

Caramon grinned and swiped his hand across his eyes to alleviate the burning sensation that tingled their brown depths. "Thanks, Tika. You don't know how much that means to me. I've wondered so long how I could make it up to you…all those months I spent so uselessly…"

"You've more than made it up to me," Tika murmured. Kissing his cheek, she turned back toward the door. "Well, I'm off to the Inn. Feel free to continue your work. You know it's appreciated." With a wink, she crossed the threshold and started toward the Inn. Caramon's eyes followed her until she disappeared into the kitchen of the big building among the vallenwoods, then, picking up the hammer he had laid on the counter, he went back to work. A merry tune was soon on his lips, and he pounded and sawed with renewed vigor as the sun finally wound its way through the sky.

Chapter Two: Dark Omens

Nuitari sat in sullen, brooding silence, staring into a silvery crystal that was held in his hand. For once he was alone, having asked his cousins to leave him to himself for a while. They had eyed him warily and inquired after his health and well-being, but he had assured them that nothing was wrong and ushered them away, shutting a mental and physical door on the lot of them. In truth, something was wrong, but he didn't feel quite ready to share it with his cousins. And for him to keep to something from his cousins, his nearest and dearest confidantes, was like keeping a secret from himself.

Yet it had to be done.

Nuitari imagined with a bitter smile the looks on their faces, should they come to know of what he had just been informed.

"I would most likely have to pluck Solinari's slack jaw from the floor, then shackle dear Lunitari to keep her from ravaging the Abyss looking for the wretch," he muttered wryly to himself. Irritably he tossed the crystal taken from Solinari's pouch into the shadows. He let his head fall into his hands and rubbed his temples with the tips of his middle fingers. "I should have foreseen this," he raged suddenly, jerking his head in a way that sent his shimmering black locks tumbling wildly about his pale face. With a single shove, he overturned the table that supported the horrid, magical message. The arcane paper of the immortals fluttered to the floor and laid magnanimously on the black marble, as if patiently forgiving his sudden outburst. Disgusted, Nuitari ground his heel into the message and stalked away in a flurry of black robes.

A little ways away – or so it seemed, considering that in the Abyss there was no grasp of distance – Solinari and Lunitari waited in uneasy silence for their cousin. The three were rarely separated, and the god of dark magic had been acting very strangely when he so hurriedly shooed them out of his room. The two immortals cast worried glances at each other, each thinking the same thing; what was wrong with Nuitari?

"We should go in after him," Lunitari announced for third time. "I demand to know what's going on. Nuitari knows that everything we do is shared by all! This secrecy is inexcusable!"

"I do not know, Cousin." Solinari's brow creased in a thoughtful frown. "He is not usually so…withdrawn. Something has definitely happened, and it can't be good." Lifting his gaze, he stared toward the room that held his cousin and whatever secret he might be keeping.

"He has never kept anything from us before, not even when Raistlin Majere betrayed him and sought godhood himself!" Lunitari sniffed indignantly. "Why start now?"

"I do not see why you ask me these questions, dear cousin," Solinari said angrily, "for you must know that I am just as much in the dark as you are."

"I take it that was said with no pun intended, as the people of our dear Krynn are prone to say," Lunitari scoffed, shooting Solinari a scornful look. Tossing her hair, she started toward the doorway. "Anyway, there is very little even Nuitari can do without first consulting us. I suggest we make him tell us, using whatever means necessary."

Solinari shot her an amused smile. "I fail to see what good that will do."

"At least it will make me feel better to know that I have at least tried," she said grimly. Raising her fist, she pounded three times on the door that stood firm and yet wavered, immaterial as the Abyss in which it resided.

No answer came. Lunitari pounded more vigorously, her impatience radiant on her sharp-featured face. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and her eyes flared as she knocked ever harder. Finally, she stepped back furiously and cried, "Nuitari! Open this door immediately!" When she received no answer, she gave the door an enraged kick. "If you won't open it, I will be forced to resort to other measures!"

Solinari came up behind his cousin and rested a gentle but restraining hand on her shoulder. "Dear Cousin, you know if Nuitari does not wish to be disturbed, the Abyss itself will let no one pass through this door. You must calm yourself and think rationally."

"I cannot stand this, Solinari! If he knows something that might affect us or Krynn, we should be the first to know!" The goddess looked up at her kin with glittering eyes. "Solinari, we just returned to our lovely planet. For the first time since the Cataclysm, we have been called upon for our divine assistance, for our loving blessing. I do not wish to lose that again. I have no intention of letting the ones who look to us for guidance go again, with their only blessing being the magic that was theirs by right."

"Well in order to do that, you must remain a goddess, and not succumb to the ways and emotions of the ones we must protect." Solinari embraced his cousin gently, trying to ignore the fact that she trembled with what was either rage or sadness. "You must remain strong. The ones our parents created all those eons ago will not follow one of their own as faithfully as they will follow a goddess of immortal love and compassion."

"Sometimes I think they have the best lot in life," Lunitari muttered to herself. When Solinari inquired after what she had said, she simply shook her head and said it was nothing.

At that moment, the door swung open, startling both gods as they came face to face with their cousin.

"Curse you and your pretty words, Solinari," he hissed, giving his cousin a look of grudging respect. "You have more of your father in you than I would like to admit."

Solinari grinned, releasing Lunitari from the friendly embrace. "So you were listening after all. I suppose I might say the same for you, but I value my health."

"Quiet your silly ramblings, Cousin. Come inside, I have something to show you." Sidestepping out of the way, Nuitari granted his cousins entrance into his chambers. Solinari noted grimly that he had struck a nerve with his well-meaning jest, for Nuitari's mouth was tightened into a bitter line, and his eyes flashed furiously in the dim light of the Abyss. But before the god of white magic could make amends, Nuitari had already started speaking at a breakneck pace.

"I had been hoping that you would trust me enough not cleave into my business," he began, shooting his cousins both a disparaging glance. "However, I do realize that my request for privacy was quite sudden and unprecedented, and I forgive you for your intrusion."

"Praise Gilean," Lunitari muttered.

"As it were, I am at a loss as to what to tell you and what to keep hidden," Nuitari continued icily. "The matter that has come before me is one of dire importance, but I do not wish it to be forced upon anyone other than myself, for it was my own folly, no one else's." Hands clasped behind his back, the god of dark magic began to pace the length of the room.

"What is this folly of which you speak, Cousin?" Solinari asked, watching his cousin anxiously as each step seemed to send a tremor to the heart of the Abyss.

Nuitari stopped pacing long enough to give Solinari a meaningful look. "Let's just say it has to do with a certain dark mage that has been quite a bother in the past."

"You jest!" Lunitari exclaimed, striding over to fall into step with her cousin. "He was effectively destroyed when Caramon Majere went into the Abyss to find--"

"And yet he lives!" Nuitari slammed his fist into the black marble wall. "A half life, a cursed life. And yet he lives on! He is free once more, and the manifestation of his accursed power remains where any unsuspecting, foolish mortal can find it!" He stopped speaking abruptly. Flicking his cousins a withering glance, he said, "I have already said too much."

"What does this mean?" Lunitari demanded, knowing full well that no one would be able to answer.

"It means that Krynn has finally bitten off more than it can chew," Solinari said grimly. He lifted his gaze to meet Nuitari's own black irises. "I think the more prevalent question, my dear Cousin, is what should we do?"

"There is nothing we can do," Nuitari hissed through gritted teeth. "We must wait until he manifests himself once more in the physical world."

"Well, I suppose that grants us considerable time, does it not?" Lunitari looked from one of her cousins to the other. "For he must find a mage of considerable stature and strength, and as of now there are none who possess the kind of power this monster requires."

"I'm afraid that is where you are wrong, my dear Lunitari." Nuitari continued pacing, his angry footsteps echoing through time and space. "So much has he sapped from his former host that he no longer requires the body to be magically inclined. He needs only the vital life force of one who has a strong will to live."

Solinari and Lunitari exchanged looks of helpless perplexity.

"I could speak to my father and ask him to send word to one of his clerics," Solinari ventured. "Perhaps they could do something that could be of help."

"I am sure that in doing so you would do us so much good," Lunitari shot back sarcastically. "The warning would only fall on deaf ears, as it has done so many times in the past."

"There might be one who could help," Solinari argued. "Lady Crysania, head of the Church of Paladine--"

"—would never want to be involved with magic again if she could help it, and with good reason!"

"I believe it would have the exact opposite effect, my dear cousin--"

"You are a fool!" Disgusted, exhausted, and utterly terrified, Lunitari swept out of the room. Solinari followed close after, trying to get her to listen.

"Of course he uses the one artifact over which none of us has power," Nuitari murmured softly after both of them had gone. "Yes, Solinari, go to Paladine; request his divine intervention, for what little good it will actually do. Krynn may very well be on her own this time. The magic this wretch uses spans the ages, and yet was embodied in one soul – one so completely dedicated to the magic that it gave access to the only one who could make it stronger, and that only by destroying his very essence." The god of dark magic folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes and bowed his head, his mind whirling at sonic speed and yet getting nowhere. "Thank you so much, dear Mother," he added acidly, "for giving him the one thing over which I have no control."

He could almost hear Takhisis' laughter as the world once more prepared to go awry.

Crysania walked through a world of darkness. To her left, an endless expanse. To her right, a void. In front, the Abyss. Behind, nothing.

And she was alone.

Even though she could not see, she could sense that there was no one else. No one else…anywhere. Shuddering, she walked forward, hand outstretched as it always was, groping through eternity.

"Where am I?" she cried to no one. Even in her blindness, she had never felt so completely estranged from the light. She heard her call echo back to her a thousand fold, and it sent shivers right down to her soul. It was as if the absent world echoed her cry, as if all creation braced itself for what it could not see and yet could feel inexorably drawing nearer. The feeling withered her to the core.

Then suddenly, the world burst into light. Once more she could see everything as it was around her. The brilliant blue of the sky hung limitlessly in front of her. Birds flitted through the trees, cocking their heads at her and whistling a merry tune. Huge trees towered over her, filtering sunlight onto her upturned face.

She blinked, amazed, astonished, confused, afraid. Had her sight been suddenly returned to her? And if so, how? Had Paladine some part to play? Slowly she turned around, taking it all in, savoring everything she saw even as she questioned and doubted her abrupt gift of sight.

"I have never been here," she realized. "Where on Krynn—oh!" Her wondering was cut short by the sight of a huddled figure cowering beneath a huge vallenwood. It was a man with wavy brown hair that hung in waves to his broad shoulders, which were matched by his equally vast girth. Crysania hurried over to him, prepared to offer him condolences and maybe a blessing. Moving closer, she reached out to touch the man's shoulder.

He whipped around suddenly, and she gasped, frozen in her tracks.

"C…Caramon Majere!" she cried, falling back.

Caramon's face was almost unrecognizable. His cheeks were sunken and drawn, and his eyes darted about with a fear that came only of madness. He reached out to her, his chafed, discolored lips uttering a silent plea for help.

"What…what is it?" Crysania couldn't keep herself from taking another involuntary step back. The hand that groped for hers was mottled and bony; it made her think of a body she'd seen wracked with the plague when she had taken her leap into the past. The thought made her shudder.

Suddenly, Caramon lunged forward, grasping for her, his mouth open in an unheard scream. Crysania cried out and tried to run, but her feet seemed frozen to the ground. She could only watch in horror as he reached for her…and slipped right through her.

"What in the blessed name of Paladine…?" Crysania stared as he continued to clasp at her, only to have his hands disappear through her ethereal flesh. Stumbling back, Crysania tried to brace herself against a vallenwood, only to fall right through the massive trunk. She tried to twist around to catch herself, but found that she was falling faster than she could ever have thought possible. Gritting her teeth, she prepared to hit the bottom of whatever chasm she had fallen into; assuming, of course, it had one.

But no crushing doom came. No hard ground came rushing up to meet her with greedy, inanimate eyes. Instead she was caught in a velvety embrace, surrounded once more in cool, welcome black. Her eyes had gone dark, but she accepted the darkness gladly, nestling into its comforting coolness. The void seemed to welcome her as well; it was almost as if it itself had taken on a tangible form, and was now holding her to it with a strength borne only of a lover's heart.

"Rest easy, my love," it crooned to her, and she felt soft, supple hands smooth back her hair. "Rest easy this night. Be ready. You must be ready; for the test that awaits you will be the hardest you will ever face." It leaned close, and, strangely, she could feel sweet breath upon her lips. With a passion she could not explain, she waited for their caress.

"Be strong," the detached voice murmured, making her blood catch fire and her heart ache with unfathomable lust – lust for strength, lust for compassion…lust for love…

Passionate lips met hers, and she drank of them as a man dying of thirst would drink of a waterskin. She reveled in their touch, was blessed with vital ecstasy just as she realized that it was all a dream.

"Raistlin!" she cried, sitting up in her bed of silk and down. Panting, she groped frantically for him to find only her gossamer bedcurtains. She heard startled yells and footsteps clomping toward her, but none of that mattered. Finally, she let her hands fall limp to her sides.

"It was only a dream," she said bitterly to herself. Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks, but she did not brush them away. She let them fall onto the bedcovers from unseeing eyes that still held the image of the one she longed for but could not find. "I cannot even remember what he said!" Crysania grasped her head, trying desperately to think of what she had seen, only to have it merge into a gabble of incoherent images and sounds.

"Lady Crysania!" Senan flung opened the door and hastened to her master's side. "What is it? What's wrong?" When Crysania did not respond, Senan took hold of her arm and gave her a gentle shake. "Please, tell me what happened so I may help you!"

"Leave me be," Crysania whispered brokenly. She could still feel his lips against hers. "I want to be alone. Please…please, go."

"But--"

"I am fine! It was only a nightmare."

Senan regarded her dubiously. Crysania was glad that she could not see the expression of pity and doubt on her Revered Daughter's face. Angrily she turned away, refusing to say anything more.

Senan finally gave up and left on the note that the Head of Church would call should she need anything. Shutting the door gently behind her, she slid to the floor with her back against the wall, ready to enter on a moment's notice to care for her master, should the need arise.

Crysania knew her young servant was there, but she dismissed the knowledge with an irritated shake of her head. She knew she shouldn't have been so gruff with the girl, but if gruff was what she needed to be in order to regain her solitude, then she considered it necessary. Sighing, Crysania let her head sink back onto the pillows. She could already tell that the rest of the night would be sleepless and dreary, so long as the scent of rose petals lingered so tantalizingly on the midnight breeze.