A/N: Inspiration finally struck. I like this version of the chapter a lot more than the old ones. I hope you enjoy it too. It's twice as long as the lastchapter and the longest chapter post to date. I hope it makes up for the time it to post it. Read and Review!

X-X-X

Rothas woke up slowly, acutely aware a burning pain on his arm. It hurt. He sat up trying to avoid using the pained arm, and looked at it. His right arm was scorched from his fingertips to about halfway up his forearms. Rothas attempted bending one of his fingers and gasped sharply, barely containing himself from crying out.

I don't want to experiment with that arm anymore …

With a shaky breath, Rothas stood up and looked around. It was dim. The only light he could see was coming from an opening … with metal bars.

Rothas ran to the opening.

He was in a prison cell. A prison cell made for prisoners. Which meant he was a prisoner. But why? His mind was working slowly right now. Last he remembered, he had been talking to Lythe—

Lythe! Where is she? he thought, now in a slight panic that he hadn't had when he was thinking about the cell. He looked around his prison, but it was empty. Rothas pushed his head against the metal bars and darted his eyes everywhere.

She had to be somewhere.

Then he saw her. Actually, Rothas couldn't see Lythe's body, but he saw a patch of black hair, too dark to be a shadow, sticking out from the cell on his right.

This relieved him … slightly. He knew where Lythe was, but not what condition she was in. For all Rothas knew, she could be dead, or in a coma, or dying of blood loss, or—

Stop thinking like that! he ordered himself, trying to get ride of his anxiety. Just try and wake her up. If she doesn't respond, the answer could be as simple as she's unconscious, or something similar to that.

"Lythe," Rothas called quietly, trying not to alert any guards, if there were any. "Lythe, wake up … Wake up, Lythe!" At the last call, Lythe stirred, but change otherwise, so he tried once more, this time his voice being a near-shout. "Lythe!" Lythe, or her patch of dark hair, moved so suddenly, Rothas was sure she had jumped up from surprise. At least she was awake though. Now he called her more quietly. "Lythe, are you awake now?"

Rothas heard her grumble something and then, sarcastically and loudly, "How could I not be awake with you screaming in my ear?"

"Shhh!" Rothas exclaimed. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

Rothas could almost see her confused face as Lythe asked, "What do you mean? What do you mean, 'get caught?'"

"We were captured, kidnapped, something! We're both in prison cells. I have a feeling whoever caught us doesn't want us yelling though."

Lythe was silent, obviously thinking about what he had just said. She finally said after a silence, "When do you think we'll find out who our … captor is?"

Rothas was just about to respond when—

"Right now, actually." The amused voice echoed in the dungeon, but behind the amusement hid something more sinister.

"Who are you?" Rothas called out, his voice echoing back in forth like a never-ending shout. "Where are you?"

Rothas could feel the delight of his kidnapper and knew he was smiling. "Don't you hate it when you have no way to defend yourself? When you have to bow down to some unknown power? When you have no control and are at someone else's mercy?" The amusement was still evident in the voice, and with the constant echo, it sounded like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, like some kind of god. "Like you are now, Rothas Ashkevron … 'beloved' …"

How could he know my name! He—he must have read my mind or something! But I don't feel any different. Am I even supposed to?

"How did you know my name? And what was with the 'beloved' part?" Rothas asked angrily, loudly. He hoped his voice didn't betray any of his alarm or tension.

"You don't know your own namesake, ashke? How pitiful. Surely you would know who, or rather what you were named after?" The accusation bounced off the walls and attacked Rothas again and again. Over and over.

He tried to ignore it. Rothas could feel the arrogance rolling off the man in waves. He could almost see smug smirk on his face with his upper hand in this form of a battle. But he didn't dare answer. He just might do something stupid, something unknown to offend to other man. The man may have just been playing with Rothas now, but Rothas knew this man was powerful.

"Haven't you heard of the Tayledras, of the Hawkbrothers?"

Rothas couldn't let the man think he was some idiot! He had to answer. "They live in the Pelagiris Forest and are mages. They do who-knows-what and abduct children to train for themselves."

Rothas could feel the man frown and fake disappointment, but he still hadn't shown his face. "They are much more than that, ashke, much more. But I doubt you would understand."

Rothas wanted to strike out at the invisible enemy for that. He had called him brainless right in from of him. Maybe he hadn't actually said that word, but it was clearly implied.

"In Tayledras, the Hawkbrother's tongue, ashke means …" Rothas held his breath as the man dragged on the moment. "… beloved."

"What?" The word echoed back and forth, loudly enough it hurt Rothas' ears.

"Calm yourself, ashke. There is no need to get angry." The voice remained as calm as ever, but the amusement was back. "You should be honor I call you such. It is a rare pleasure."

By now, Rothas wanted to tear of his cage door and attack the man with everything he had. It, unfortunately, would be neither possible nor smart. "I am not your 'beloved' so don't you dare call me so!"

Rothas felt the man's glee intensify and felt him smirked. "I am afraid, ashke, you don't have much of a choice, now do you?"

Rothas could barely restrain himself from lashing out at the man, but that was only because it would do much more harm than good, not that he even could do it anyway. "How did I end up here?" he asked as calmly as he could. When the man did not answer, he only got angrier. "Tell me!" There was silence as the last of Rothas' echoes died away.

"Now be nice, ashke, and ask politely."

Rothas could have strangled he man if he could see him. "Please tell me," he managed to say.

"There, isn't that better?" Rothas did not respond. "Lately, I have been on the look out for powerful mages. At the moment, I have only look as far as the borders of Valdemar, and did not expect to find any Masters or Adepts outside of Haven." Rothas was already confused by the man's terms of Master and Adept, but stayed silent—he was finally hearing how he got here. "Imagine my surprise when looking on the eastern border of Valdemar, I feel a powerful release of mage-energy on the opposite side of the country. It, of course, was quite powerful, having drawn my attention while I was in a meditative state and looking far elsewhere. I was able to quickly find the epicenter of the energy though it had long gone, and even more to my surprise, I find two people trapped in a forest fire about to die from the flames, unconscious."

The burn on my right arm … Rothas glance down at it, but in the dim light it was hard to see anything. That means Lythe must have been trying to save—Lythe!

"What happened to Lythe?" Rothas exclaimed, interrupting the man as he was just about to continue. He felt slight anger at being interrupted from the man. "Please!" Rothas begged. He didn't care how pitiful he sounded. This was about more than the man and Rothas' pride. It was about Lythe's life.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, I put a spell on her to put her to sleep and not wake up for a few hours, but she is on no permanent harm, don't worry. There is no point in killing you before I run out of use for you."

Rothas chilled at the thought, and then realized the man was a mage. "You're a mage!" Rothas exclaimed once again.

"Of course," said the mage. "Wasn't it obvious? But to a simpleton like you, I suppose not."

Rothas wanted to lash out at him but restrained himself. He still needed to know how he had gotten here and what the mage was planning on doing with him.

There was more silence as the mage seemed to wait to see if he would do anything. This was as maddening as having himself insulted, not to mention he could feel the mage's glee growing. But, soon enough, he started with his story again.

"Let's see, where was I before I was interrupted …? I quick banished the flames and sent an underling to gather you as I scryed and watched you. It was obvious one of you, if not both were the source of the burst of magic. So I waited for my underling to return with you, and soon enough, he did. You can imagine how surprised I was once I looked over you with Mage Sight"—Mage Sight, another word Rothas didn't understand—"and found quite a few things. First, you both were under a mage's curse. You, ashke, are cursed to fall into a cursed sleep whenever then sun goes down. Your Lythe is cursed to die if sunlight ever touches her. Quite interesting, no?"

"I can't say myself it's to interesting considering I'm the one who has to bear the burden of the curse while you just observe!" Rothas couldn't help but blurt that out, despite the stupidity of it.

The mage seemed to shake his head as he said, "Tut, tut, tut, ashke. The first thing we are going to work on is your temper."

What the hell does he mean work on my temper? Is he going to enslave me or—?

"I am not going to enslave you," the mage interrupted, as if reading his mind. He sighed in disappointment at something and then, "After I scanned you, I not only found the curses, but also two powerful Mage Gifts. Both of you, in fact, have Mage Gifts. Strong enough to be Adepts."

I'm a mage? Rothas thought with wonder, and a slight sense of dread. Out of all the things he saw himself being, a mage was the last one. Before he cold carry this train of thought any further, he blurted out another question. "But how did you know my name?"

The mage gave a chilling smile and said, "After I had looked over you with Mage Sight, I used my Thought-Sensing Gift to look through your mind … I know everything about you, ashke. Everything you ever wanted to forget, every mistake you ever made. Everything."

Rothas went pale at the thought.

"So now you have two choices, ashke." The mage stepped into the light in front of Rothas' cell. There was only one word to describe him. Untouchable. Gorgeous. God-like.

He had hair as white as the purest snow, coming down to the middle of his back, parts braided in the most intricate designs Rothas had every seen, with other parts his hair flowing down so smoothly and straightly there had to be magic involved. He wore elegant layers of silk in pitch-black and the darkest gray. It was highlighted in a red as dark as blood that gave the mage an ominous appearance.

"You can join me, and I will break your curse, train you to be a mage, and I can give you … anything else you ever desired."

At the last part, Rothas faintly felt his blood chill. But somehow, the mage was working some kind of spell with his voice, and it was entrancing Rothas. He could hardly feel anything else.

"Or," the mage said just as silkily, quietly, "you may die." Now the voice continued strong as ever. "I think, ashke, the choice is clear. If you ally yourself with me, I will not even rule you; we will be equals. You could have the life you always wanted." The mage's voice became silkily, quiet. "So what is your choice?"

Everything in Rothas' mind urged him, almost forced him, to say yes. Yes, he would give himself up to the mage, mind, body, and soul. Yes, he would bow down to the mage, do what ever he wanted. Yes—

No! I can't. I must be casting some type of spell. Some mind-bewitchment. I just have to say—

Sounds came out of Rothas' mouth as his mind and will fought, but no answers. If he had been focusing on the outside world, Rothas would have noticed the mage was getting more and more agitated by the second. "… No!" Rothas exclaimed gasping. "I won't join you or do anything that comes with it!"

The mage's anger flared. "Fine," he snarled, his beautiful facer twisting into one of anger. "Choose no for now, but eventually you will say yes with all your heart, ashke. Until then, I will be sure to give your Lythe that same choice, but I don't know how well she will fare!" With that the mage left.

What have I done! He is going to bewitch Lythe into saying yes. I must have some sort of resistance as a Bard, but she … She is going to say yes! She won't know what she's getting into. Oh, Lythe, I'm sorry. I truly am …

And Rothas was left in darkness.