Skif awoke early the next morning as the first rays of burning sunlight splashed on the back of his eyelids. He opened his eyes slowly, fearing the worst. Taking a deep breath he glanced at the bed beside him. Skylar was gone. Sighing he reached over and rested a hand gently on the sheets. He discovered, to his chagrin, that they were ice cold. She must have left in the middle of the night, if not as soon as he fell asleep. Pulling his blankets tighter around his shoulders, he rolled over and sent his mind out to the rolling whiteness below.

: Well, you should have expected it, Chosen. : Angry at Cymry's sanctimonious response he slammed up his shields, abruptly severing contact. He felt her half-heartedly push at the barrier, and then give up. He could almost hear her affronted snort. Tucking his hands under his curls, he realized that instead of feeling better by taking his frustration with Skylar out on Cymry, he just felt more alone.

… … …

Skylar sat in the old chapel idly watching the dust dance patterns in the slanted sunlight. The bodies had been moved of course, but Skylar could still see the imprint of the past in the dust all too clearly. Chalk outlines she thought to herself.

: Chosen, please come out. I want to be able to see you. :

: Please Kavi, just give me another minute. : Kavi kicked the door lightly, sending vibrations through the cracked slate.

: This isn't healthy for you Sky. You're going to make yourself sick. : In response Skylar rose to her knees and reached out to touch the floor. The stone felt surprisingly warm under her palm. She pressed her hand down harder. Staring at the dust outline she no longer saw the body of Antron, she saw Tylendel, dead and broken. Her eyes blurred with tears and to her abject shock she felt a flash of burning pain in her hand and the walls of the chapel erupted in flames. Standing shakily she looked at the fire uncomprehendingly, deaf to the screams of Kavi pounding on the door. Staring into the flames she saw Vanyel sitting in the chapel. She saw the glint of metal clenched between his thighs. She heard and saw the dagger flash through his wrists. Gagging at the smell of blood hissing in the flames she fell to her knees again.

"Stop" she whispered to the uncaring fire. Suddenly she felt the companion's screams tearing through her body, but it wasn't Kavi she heard, it was 'Fandes. "Oh God, the blood." She thought wrenchingly. "It's choking me." The flames roared higher, reverberating deeper into her. "Stop!" She screamed with every ounce of breath in her lungs. People outside were screaming, yelling, crying, talking, pounding, why wouldn't they stop. Raising her eyes to the flames again she saw Urtho, poison slowly seeping through his veins. She watched the breath choke in his throat and the light in his eyes go out. Hurling herself to her feet, she flung herself at the image in the inferno. "NO!" She felt the heat radiating towards her, her hand stretched out to touch Urtho, to touch Vanyel, to touch Tylendel, to touch … oh God, to touch Skif. Just as her fingertips hit the farthest flying sparks, the fire died and her knees cracked on cold unforgiving stone. Cold like there had never been a fire. Cold like she felt cold. Just as the world went dark she glimpsed people running in, felt hands grabbing her roughly. And then she fell into blessed unconsciousness.

… … …

Murmurs pierced through the darkness like tiny sparks of light. Skylar knew that if she let herself go into the darkness she would never come back out again. Part of her wanted to, wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life. But as soon as she started to let it envelop her, those murmurs would flash through. Pinpricks of light that burned in the back of her eyes. Irritably she struggled to push them away. They were giving here such a headache. But the more she pushed at them the more insistently they came. Gradually they came with scent attached to them, and discernable sound. There was a faintly acidic smell of medicine, and a rich baritone, and the lighter warm alto tones of someone who could only be Selenay. Skylar felt her stomach contract sharply at the realization of where she was as memory began to flood her with why she was there. Then the pain in her head intensified and she concentrated all of her efforts on filling her lungs with cool air.

"I still don't understand, how could she possibly have done that?" The baritone again.

"I've already explained to you who she is Dirk, and you know as well as anyone that while fire-starting is not a common gift; it's far from unheard of."

"I realize that she has a grasp of every gift, Your Majesty, and I've even managed to wrap my mind around the concept that she can use all of them without training."

"Then where's the problem? She has the fire-starting gift, but no training in it, and she momentarily lost control of it." Skylar managed to open her eyes a crack at these last words. Through a blurry haze of pain and light she managed to discern two figures sitting in chairs at the far side of the room. The room itself was white and clean and gave off an overwhelming aura of sterilization. Selenay, despite the intensity of all of the events unfolding, still looked as composed and as serene as ever. The stranger on the other hand, Dirk Skylar realized, looked frazzled and unkempt. He stood jerkily.

"Yes, she lost control of the MILD gift she has. Your Majesty, losing control of a gift of that level should result in a small sizzling cook fire, not an inferno that somehow manages to consume an entire stone chapel. It's just not possible." Selenay looked at him almost pityingly for a long moment, and then flicked her eyes over to the prostrate Skylar. She jolted when she saw Skylar's open eyes, and immediately rose and rushed over to her side.

"Skylar, how are you feeling?" Skylar managed to dredge up a rueful smile and dragged herself up to a half sitting position.

"Like someone is hurling daggers behind my eyes." Selenay returned the smile in relief.

"Well, it's wonderful to know you haven't lost your sense of humor." Selenay twisted around to grab a foul smelling mug resting on the wooden nightstand. "Here." Skylar gingerly wrapped her hands around the ceramic mug.

"Does it have to be this … green?" Skylar arched her eyebrow towards the queen with a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. Dirk on the other hand openly guffawed from across the room. He shifted in chagrin at the started looks both women flashed at him.

"Sorry. Bad memories." He said shortly. Skylar managed to down half the mug in one swallow, but blanched, though whether it was because the act of swallowing had sharpened the daggers in her skull or because the flavor matched the lovely green hue of the potion is anyone's guess.

"Well it can't be poison at least. Even poison tastes better than this … concoction." She swallowed the rest with only the slightest hint of a sputter and swung the mug back in Selenay's general direction. Dirk raised an eyebrow slightly at the cavalier way this girl was treating the queen, and raised it even further when Selenay wordlessly retrieved the mug and set it back on its table. Skylar struggled to sit up a little further and cast her gaze over to Dirk.

"So you're Dirk."

"Yes," he said hesitantly. She smirked and opened her mouth to make some clever retort, but then something flashed in her eyes and she was taken over by the unfocused gaze that results from a herald communicating with his companion. As soon as she shook out of her half trance she fixed Dirk with a frank and open stare.

"I'm sorry about Kris." Dirk practically shook with shock and gaped at Selenay. She stared back just as confounded as he.

"How…" Dirk asked a little too loudly, struggling to get his wits back under control.

"Perhaps this isn't the best time." Selenay cut in, flashing Skylar a significant look. "You need to get your strength back, and it would be very unheraldic of us to wear you out even further. Someone will be up with your dinner shortly." And with that Selenay and Dirk turned and whisked out of the room. Dropping the mask of impish strength she had worn for her guests, Skylar lay back and grimaced in pain.

: That wasn't exactly tactful, Chosen. :

: You're one to talk about being tactful. You're about as tactful as a brick wall. All you ever do is drop blatant hints about how you think I should be acting or feeling, or even thinking for God's sake. : Kavi gave a dry chuckle that felt like ripe peaches in her mind.

: You would of course be referring to my subtle references to you being lifebonded to Skif. Other than that I have been the absolute soul of tact, thank you very much. : Skylar jerked violently at his words and couldn't help but cry out at the stab of pain that brought on. :Sorry Chosen. : came the very soft, incredibly contrite whisper in her mind. Before Skylar could fully blink away the stars she was seeing she heard a soft footfall at the door. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she felt the intense presence of the Queen's Own.

"How did you know about Kris?"