Alanna wanted it to stop, to go away. But she was caught in the rush of horrible memories now, and all she could do was pray they'd end soon.

Chapter Twelve

Two Years Ago:

Alanna was woken up during the night by a tapping on her window. Grunting and moaning, she pulled on an overlarge nightshirt that would hide her breasts, and crawled over to the window. It was pitch black inside and out, and she couldn't see anything. After fumbling with the latch for a moment, she undid it.

"Thanks," someone grunted, slipping through the window and into the room beside her. The voice was familiar, and feminine, but she couldn't place it. She put the thought aside for now.

Alanna reached over to light a branch of candles with the flint next to them, but whoever was with her grabbed her arm. She could make out the figure shaking their head in the gloom.

"Why not?" she whispered, feeling that for some reason she should be quiet.

"I hate light," the person replied simply. "It makes my eyes hurt. In fact, it would make your eyes hurt if you spent all of eternity in hell."

Alanna swallowed, backing up against the wall, fumbling for the dagger on the table. "Don't run if you want to live," the person advised. "Sit down, listen to me; hear me out if you value you life."

Alanna sat, though not of her own will. Something stronger than she forced her downwards.

"You are Alanna of Trebond." It was not a question, it was a statement. "And your brother was Thom. You heard the prophecy he uttered: 'In the darkness lies the danger, forever bound to His will. Magic beyond his own understanding lies there. While he seeks it he puts more than himself in danger. But he will not rest, will not stop.' Once upon a time he was right. But--I assume you know he was talking about Roger--he is wrong now. The tides have turned. It is no longer His will, it is Her will."

Alanna gulped. She remembered the voice. When the Mother spoke her voice was like a lullaby, but also like the howling of the pack at hunt-time. She had heard that voice recently. But alongside the Goddess had been another woman, who could have been the Mother's twin. And while she had said nothing, Alanna somehow recognized that this was her voice.

The Goddess started to pace. "When my sister, the Great Mother, and my brother, Mithros, were born into the heavens their lowly sister was not accepted. I am the Great Mother's twin, but my heart was made of ice, the Gods' said, so they rejected me. They said they already had a Dark God, they did not need a Dark Goddess. But I found respect from the Dark God. He said he needed help. He was tired of dealing with the damned all the time. So he took me on as his apprentice, telling no one about me. As the years went on I became his savior--of sorts. When he was tired of toiling with the upset dead he would let me do so. Then, a year ago, when the one known as Roger began toiling with the powers of the dead, I hooked my claws into him."

She drew breath. "I used the power he was playing with to gain control. I began to put the ways to use it into his mind. But no matter how strong he was, he was still mortal. I told him how he could use the powers without tearing himself apart. He would have power to do anything with this. He listened to me. Then I used the powers he was playing with for myself. If anyone found out I would be exiled, but they couldn't; I could blame him. So I used those powers until I became more powerful than the Dark God. Now Roger serves me, as does the Dark God."

She leaned her face next to Alanna's. "I am the Dark Goddess," she whispered, her voice icy.

Alanna swallowed. "Why tell me this?" she asked, trying to keep the quiver from her voice.

"Because, I want you to tell everyone that the Dark God is last year's history. This year they must worship me, or feel my wrath."

She laughed, then, with a whirl of cloaks, she was gone.

Alanna sat there for another moment, shivering with fear sweat.

Jonathan woke up sweating. It was just a dream, he told himself, wishing he could look around. He strained his ears, trying to find out if anyone was in the room with him. Finally he sighed. "Is anyone there?" he called.

He waited. There was no response. Unfortunately that didn't mean anything.

Jonathan just felt himself calming down when he heard the door open. He sat bolt upright, and yelled out as pain spiked through his body from between his legs. It seemed that perhaps his 'dream' had not been a dream.

"What's wrong?"

Jonathan smiled gratefully, recognizing the voice as Raoul's. "Nothing," he hissed, biting his lip in pain.

"Nothing?" Raoul accused. "Of course it's nothing, Jonathan. You've been screaming all night--what happened?"

Jon managed a hoarse laugh. "I can't tell you," he replied. "It's not something that would. . . it wouldn't be right."

"Can you at least tell me why you were screaming?" Raoul asked. Jon heard him sitting down on the stool beside the bed.

Slowly, Jonathan formed an explanation. "Something horrible happened. . . Raoul, is there a Goddess who looks like the Mother with red eyes and shark teeth?"

Jonathan knew that Raoul would be frowning now. "I dunno," he said at last. "I haven't heard of one, but that doesn't mean she doesn't exist. Why? Was there on in your dream?"

"Yes. She was what made me scream. She. . ." He paused, trying to figure out how he could explain what had happened without saying it. "She tortured me--I guess. Tormented me too." He gulped, feeling tears forming in his eyes.

"How?" Raoul asked. Jonathan could sense the frown deepening on his big friend's face.

"She pretended to be Alanna."

"Oh."

Jon cringed. Clearly Raoul was putting the pieces together to the definite end. Jonathan sighed, resigning himself. "I could see too. It was wonderful. I'd almost forgotten what it was like--because even in most of my dreams. . . everything is still black."

"I'm sorry, Jonathan," Raoul said, patting his friend's arm. "If there's ever anything that Gary and I can do, let us know."

"There is," Jonathan said quickly, summing up all his courage. This took more effort than he would have imagined to say. "Don't duel Alanna. Ever. Never duel Alanna, no matter how much anyone pleads or tells you to."

"Why?"

"I don't know! I just have a feeling that it could be very bad if you dueled her--okay?"

"Alright. I guess. . . I have to go--I'll be back later."

Jon nodded, leaning back against his pillows.

He heard the door shut behind Raoul, and then everything was clear. He blinked once--twice. He could see! He was in a wooden room with a stone fireplace against one wall and a door in the other. Outside everything was dark--the light shone through the lone window above his head.

"Prrow."

Jonathan pushed himself up straight, sweat building on his forehead. Something slunk out of the corner, walking seductively towards him. The Goddess from his dream laid a hand on his face, kissing his forehead.

"You might as well know what to call me," she told him with a smile. "I have two names. I'm the Dark Goddess, or Kirasara. You may call me either."

Jon tried to push his back into the wall, but it was too painful to move. He stared at her, trying to meet her red eyes--but he found his own wandering. She was wearing black bandaging across her breasts, with a silky shirt woven together string-by-string on top of it. Over that she wore a black leather jacket that went just below her breasts, stopped, and went down her arms. This was unfastened to allow him the full view of her chest. Below she was wearing black-silk pants that flowed like a skirt, but were obviously pants. Under those he could see the white and black striped stockings on her feet. She grinned when he looked back at her face.

Determined not to give up power to her, he replied, "Then you shall call me Jonathan."

Kirasarra smiled. "Jonathan." She tested the name on her tongue, smiling at the result. "May I tell you a story, Jonathan?"

"If you like."

So she proceeded to tell him the tale she had told Alanna. As it went on, Jonathan grew more and more confused, angry, and distraught.

At last she smiled, plopping down onto the bed next to him. "So you see, I rule now. Mortals must do what I wish." She fingered a silver ring with onyx set into it. "That means you too." Kirasara smiled, touching his cheek. "It doesn't have to be horrible, if you cooperate."

Jonathan swallowed. "I don't want to cooperate," he informed her. "I love Alanna, won't you except that?"

Kirasarra smirked. "It doesn't matter if you love some silly mortal girl who's trying to become a knight. Do you want to be the reason that she fails?"

"No."

"Then you should do as I say--because I can expose her for what she is. And will. What's your choice, Jonathan?" She kissed him softly, smiling the whole time.

Again the Prince swallowed. "If you swear that you won't turn her in, I'll do whatever it takes."

"That's my Prince."

Hahaha! I love my evilness sometimes--don't you? Anyway, R-E-V-I-E-W. The next chapter shall haveth fluffeth, and deathith! Yar--I know, I'm weird right now. Love ya all for being great! See you next chapter!