Good day to you my friends! I am terribly sorry I haven't been writing. But let me tell you why….Are you reading this or the story? Oh well… My dream has come true! Yes! My dream! I am now a Funeral Director and Embalmer apprentice! Sounds strange, I know. But I've wanted this career my whole life. And now I'm livin' the dream! I am bursting with joy! I must share it with you! That's why I haven't been writing. I am working a lot! So praise me! YES! PRAISE ME! MY DREAM IS ALIVE! WEEEEE!

White Emotions

Father Leren shivered. A chill that penetrated his very bones would not seem to warm, even as he sat by the crackling fire in his room's hearth. He just had another "visit" from Lereath. It was always the same. The decayed body of a raven would tap at his window and through it, Lereath would "speak".

Taking a deep drink of warmed wine, Leren tried to avoid looking at the retched body of the dead bird. It lay outside his window. Inanimate, with dull black eyes staring at him. Leren couldn't bring himself to brush it off the ledge after his meeting with his Master was over.

Turning back to the fire, he recalled the conversation.

"I trust everything is well, Father," Lereath harsh voice could have very well been the raven's voice if it could speak. The bird's lower jaw dangled open as a chuck of rotted flesh peeled off its wing to land with a thick plop to the floor of Leren's room.

"I have followed your orders, precisely, Master…" the priest couldn't help but trail off as a few of the raven's insipid feathers broke loose from it's motley body.

"I am looking for some one, Leren. A young man. He is very beautiful. Black hair and silver eyes. I want to know who he is. Use your contacts to find out."

Swallowing a gulp, Leren twisted his fingers in his robe. "I may know some one who fits that description…His name is Vanyel Ashkrevon. He used to live here at Forest Reach…"

The raven did a little hop-scotch as Lereath's laugh crawled its way out the dead thing's very body.

The fire popped and caused Leren to jump in his seat. The over-stuffed, graying arm chair he inhabited was the most comfortable one he owned. It felt like he was sitting on rocks. What does Lereath want with that sniveling boy?

-.-.-

Vanyel couldn't hold back a sigh of longing as he watched Tylendel studying with Mardic and Donni. He felt like they taunted him when they all sat around talking about their classes. He dared not spy on them any longer. Quietly closing the door to his room, he tried to ignore the sound of them talking and enjoying themselves. For some reason, when Vanyel thought about Tylendel, his ice threatened to melt.

Steeling himself against a wave of loneliness, Vanyel threw himself into the soft embrace of his bed on his stomach. He burrowed his face into his pillow as images of Tylendel's brightened smile directed at him. Gods! I am an idiot! What is wrong with me! Why do I feel this way…

-.-.-

Always the dream. Vanyel began to feel a presence in his snow capped world. He didn't know why, but it was life he was being scrutinized. Like being judged. He began to shake, but not from the cold he envoked into his heart. Then he found himself in a narrow valley of sheared ice. Something was coming. An army! Ghouls and men, side by side in dull black armor.

Head held high, Lereath smirked as his army made their way down the ice path he had carved. He thought to himself that the blue colour of the ice would better befit red. Like the blood from the dying he used so often used to work his perfected magic. The soldiers suddenly stopped. Hiding a frown of frustration, he signaled to his wizards to move to the front to see what was keeping him from accomplishing his destiny. He was excited and ready to kill the inhabitants of Valdamear. Nothing would stand in his way...