A/N: I know it has been a long time since I posted anything. Too long. I am very sorry. Even if no one is left that reads this I am determined to finish it if only for those that do and also because I'll feel silly if I don't.

Chapter 22: Blood, Bone and Stone

Lana shoved the presence the back of her mind again. Time froze for long moments as the confusion settled. Lana felt apprehension bubble up inside of her. What would they say? What had they taken from the scene especially with Rije's body still lying there near Vincent?

"We should go," Lana's voice was hoarse. "I-I need to get some things from my room."

She stumbled to her feet, adrenaline receding a bit and making her feel too soft. She tried to rush past Vincent at the door but he grabbed her arm and gave her a look. "I'll go and grab Damien's stuff too."

Lana tried to think of a reason for him to stay and couldn't. She just nodded. Her chest ached. How could she be afraid to be with her brother? Not just her brother, but also her triplet. Then why haven't I told them about the voice? She thought only to have another thought follow that one quickly. Was that my thought or his?

The trek to their rooms was silent and fast. Lana scooped articles of clothing into one bag not caring too much what she left behind. The one object she made absolutely certain was with her was the white blade.

She rolled clothes quickly, deftly stuffing them away in packs. She clipped the white sword to her, quickly magicking in to keep from being seen. When she finished her packing, and Zain's—the man did not have very much at all—she set on Damien's belongings and this was where Vincent joined her.

"Lana—"

She cut him off swiftly, color rising to her cheeks in shame. "I think it can wait, we're in a bit of a hurry Vincent."

He reached out and snatched up her moving hands, stilling them until she looked at him. "Secrets, sister? From me?"

She looked into his eyes. Only she could tell that his eyes were not the exact shade of their mother's. Her insides quivered dangerously as the guilt settled.

"You may as well lie to yourself as keep it from me," He remarked in a seemingly quiet voice but she knew he was deeply upset with a touch of anger. They finished packing in silence and rushed out leaving the money they owed behind them.

They tied Damien to his horse despite his protests. He was recovering rather quickly but Lana was not about to take any chances. She left Damien with Vincent and dropped Flash back beside Zain.

"Yes?" His eyes were still as black and blind as ever.

"Come with me to the front of the line," Lana did not raise her voice but she knew Zain heard. He complied.

Zain waited in silence knowing Lana would get to her point eventually. Not moments later Lana began, "When we met, you said you knew what brought me here."

"I did."

She bit her lip momentarily. "Can you help me then?"

"Help you with what exactly?"

Lana opened her mouth several times before finally settling on something that resembled what she was trying to convey. "I know I need to go somewhere I'm just not entirely sure where."

Zain cocked his head to the side and gave her an equally lopsided, dimpled smile. The sight of his smile made her stomach flutter lightly at her. For one brief moment she wanted to touch his dimple, a curious feeling in and of itself. She almost missed what h said. "Why don't you follow that feeling?"

"Wh-What?" She sputtered thinking he was talking to the flurries in her stomach which had risen in excitement at the thought.

"Listen to the sword," She stiffened realizing that while she had assumed he knew, now that it was said it was still much of a shock. "Follow that feeling, the one that tells you which way to go."

It was hard to follow a vague feeling, harder still to answer her brother's questions. Where were they going? She couldn't answer. By the second day, however, she fell into a routine of looking to the horizon and a sense of communication from the sword at her side. At times she felt like maybe she was leading them in arbitrary circles following a "gut feeling" which could have more to do with what she ate that day than going in any real direction.

Yet on the morning of the third day after they left the city and Rije behind them, three days of keeping to the outskirts of cities and towns as best they could, Lana awoke with a jolt. She felt like she had been some scrying crystal that low-level mages used, circling the map honing in closer and closer until finally she stopped right where she needed to be.

Lana shook her brothers awake and tried to speed up the process of putting away their temporary camp. She tried not to be too pushy, however, especially towards Vincent since she feared he might round on her asking why she could not share her secrets. Zain was the only one who did not need any prompting. Lana noticed how little he truly needed a guide as he put his things away (a process that he was already in when she herself awoke). When he was done he waited on the ground, feet tucked under him. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he'd slept very little.

Despite having his eyes closed, when she had been staring at him for a few moments his cheek dimpled in a smile. He knows, she thought with an odd feeling a smile forming on her lips then she had to wonder, how much does he know?

Vincent came along and thumped her on the arm, bringing her attention away from the older man. This of course brought her attention to the fact that she'd been staring at him for some time with a smile on her face looking a fool. Vincent gave her a look and a finger-point, one he was obviously imitating from their mother and quite well. Lana colored.

"So," He began loudly, his eyes still had not lost the sheen of slightly betrayed anger. "Where are you dragging us to today?"

"You'll see," She retorted. Behind her feeble front her insides crumbled. Vincent's opinion was obvious and it hurt, Damien on the other hand had kept more to himself than ever before. His recovery had been fast and yet it was hard to tell if he'd been shaken by the experience or if the scene that had bothered Vincent had affected him too. Perhaps it was the hours they spent riding beside each other. Again, her insides ached at the implications. She bit her lip.

"Don't worry about saddling the horses," She said just barely loud enough to hear. Hearing it those that knew her best noticed the flat, depressed tone. Flash nudged her, knowing there would be no riding. Damien sent Vincent a pointed look with a head-jerk towards Lana. Vincent shook his head, refusing his triplet's order. Damien looked between the two of them, lips pursed. Silent exchanges being quite normal, and the effect of them garnering about the same response they would if verbalized, not one bothered to voice aloud.

What they had come to was a cave, the mouth of which was in a sort of depression. They had to fight through underbrush to get to that point and seeing it they knew that their horses could make it if they went slowly as the depression was lined with rocks.

Lana led the way, going slowly so Flash could take his time picking his way.

"Lana, are you serious?" Vincent called.

"Quite."

She could not remember ever being in such a mood. Most problems rolled off her like water from a slick, oiled surface. But then, almost no one in the world meant more to her than her brothers. On top of that, she could usually tell when one of their little fights was stupid and it wasn't too hard to play it off. This, however, was bigger. The guilt ate at her from the inside just as Vincent's snide comments and angry looks broke her down from the outside.

I have to tell them, she thought clearly. Then was immediately stricken. She trusted them more than she could possibly imagine but how would she fair if they turned disbelieving eyes to her? Or when she began to see the thoughts rise behind their eyes that their sister was not all sane. Hearing voices? Madness.

Special care was given to the horses that evening. Tension pulled taught over their campground that night as they lay at the mouth of the cave. Damien spent hours staring into the fire and then later when his bedroll was made simply sat atop of it gazing to the circle of enchantments around them. His blankness began to worry Lana. Though he, too, slept after some time.

Vincent ate what meager provisions they had left in stony, affronted silence. Without a word he tucked himself into his bedroll and for all intents and purposes slept. Though unbeknownst to those around him, his anger took a long time to die to a point where sleep could claim him.

Lana tried to sleep several times only to crawl back out of her bedroll and pace from one end of her circle of spells to the other, usually the mouth of the cave. Eventually, she took out the milk-white blade and found a place next to Zain. She continued to clean the blade longer than was necessary, enjoying the company of Zain even though hardly any words were shared between them. So grateful was she for his calming, nonthreatening presence that even when her nerves had momentarily died to a level where she could sleep, she stayed there beside the man and looked up into the slits of sky while her brothers dreamed.

Vincent found himself atop a mountain looking down upon an empty wash of land. The earth below him stretched for miles as far as he could see. To his left, Damien stood. His brother lifted one hand to his face then turned and they met eyes, one's questioning the other confused.

"You who have come to me with violence in your minds," A voice trickled to them. It seemed the sort of calling that should have boomed over them with power and yet it came softly and for its seeming gentleness there was no less amount of persuasion. "Why are you here?"

"We have not come seeking violence," Vincent answered.

"No," The voice whispered. "I can see that clearly. You're aim is not to do violence here, but violence solely in this precise area is not the only violence to be had."

"We have come seeking nothing from you," Vincent glanced at Damien.

Damien sighed. "Is there something you seek?"

"A peaceable mind, a gentle heart, and the strength not to use a weapon only for death," The voice seemed to wind around them though as Vincent whipped around he found nothing that emitted such sounds.

"What sort of weapon is not constructed for death?" Damien asked.

"What sort of mind cannot construct a different meaning for the weapons created?" Damien felt a presence behind him as if it were standing not inches from his skin. Against every impulse telling him to whip around he stood still. "I sense in you a stillness, a calmness. Calculated some might call it. A trait that could be deadly just as it could be healing."

Damien turned then with a start of surprise but it had moved to Vincent who shivered.

"And you," A cool wash fell over him. "You beat like the motions of a heart, strong and steady and alive. A vivaciousness that could rend as easily as it could give life.

"And your sister." Both heads snapped to attention to the one person they loved and protected most. "It chose her because it sensed in her a softness, an innocence and caring it had not run across in years. And it had needed that for all the bloodshed it had known. Yet even she with her gentle heart could not entirely look past its exterior."

"Lana has never done something if it would not help or save something else," Vincent said through gritted teeth. Let this being say what it would about him, but his sister truly was a gentle soul and despite the words there was a definite note of disapproval.

"This is true, which is why it stays. It believes in her. It thinks she can rid herself of the poisonous presence riding her," Before either of them could comment or question. "And soon you, too, will be able to prove yourselves true."

Pain erupted in Vincent's center, sharp and immediate as if the presence had shoved a spear through him. Then the words rang out, "To you I give the heart of blood."

Blood spilled down him; bright as a ruby it fell in drops thick and rich as garnets. Each and every drop fell into a form that continued to take shape in front of him.

Damien barely had time to react when a similar agony flowed through him. Except his brand of pain was slow as if from depths the aching rose and rose spilling forth in black blood from his chest.

"And to you I give the heart of stone.

"Blood, bone and stone." The voice continued as their colored blood—one a bright crimson the other black pitch—continued to take form even as they writhed in pain. "Each carries its own properties for death as well as healing. Each had known its fair amount of death by hands that knew no better yet were these swords ever to be used against each other death befalls its handler."

The dream began to fall apart around the brothers panting, each grasping their hands out in front of them and holding onto the only solid object to ground them in their pain.

Hands flying to his chest Vincent woke with a start. Instead of a pool of blood he found a hard line down the length of him. He stayed frozen for long moments barely noticing that Damien groaned not too far away.

He sat up gingerly as if the wound in his chest would spill open at any moment. His hand grasped a hilt. It gleamed a deep crimson at the heart of it glowing out to a brighter shade at the outer layer. It truly looked like his blood spilt and made solid. The hilt buried its blade into a hard leather sheath similar to the one around Lana's with complex markings burned into it.

Damien stood suddenly, so urgently fast that Vincent had to give him focus. He, too, clutched a blade—black, not red or white—in his hands as he stumbled away from his sleeping place to vomit.

"Damien?" Lana called, her voice uncharacteristically careful but clearly worried.

"Lana," Vincent croaked. "I think we need to talk."

She had already risen from her position beside Zain. "What's—oh my."

She'd noticed what lay in Damien's hold. Her first motion was to reach out and touch the blade in his hand but something had her pulling back. Damien, too weak from his stomach recently vacating, only white-knuckled the sword.

Rekindling the fire, they positioned themselves around its low flame. It gave off just enough light to see their faces. Progress stuttered when Vincent argued against Zain joining them but Lana won on that front.

Vincent and Damien recounted their dream. There were parts where both paused and simply exchanged a look as if there were no words for what they had experienced. Lana knew that look, had been part of it with them so many times before now. But here she viewed it from the outside and had a sinking feeling. They had gone together where she could not. It was a brand of jealousy. If she had been less angry or upset, would she have been a part of it too? Almost never had there been a time when wedge of different experiences changed them and separated them and yet she could feel it continuing further as if somewhere it had already started.

When they had become of age in their own times that first spurt of Lana being a woman and they men pulled them in different directions. Her having the Gift had never mattered. Their youthful awareness had binded them. The sex-neutral childhood made everything matter less and yet they had split for moments of their life to their primal urges.

Lana had dabbled in garnering the interest of men but all too soon kissing lost its fun. Vincent explored the world of women and still enjoyed it now. Damien hesitantly took Vincent's lead only to struggle through and realize his interests did not lie in women at all.

Of course, they had not simply gone their own ways all at once on one decided day. It had taken months and months and the changes had been slow but when they settled a bit they still returned to each other, needing time for themselves but finding true acceptance of those selves they had discovered amongst each other.

Lana frowned during their retelling. She gently stroked the white blade upon her lap. "Bone?"

Vincent swallowed, now feeling his own equally curious sword. "I don't think we can say whether these swords have truly been made from these items, who can tell? What sort of dark magic could turn blood into a blade? What sort of bone would that be you think?"

His last question taunted her instead of asking seriously. She glared at him.

"Well, why do you think the dream would come then and with the swords?" She frowned. "You certainly didn't have it before."

"We know that one, thanks," Vincent rolled his eyes.

"To heal," Damien offered, ignoring his siblings' biting comments as best he could. " That was what it said. To heal."

"How do you heal with a sword?" Lana and Vincent blurted at the same time. Lana confused, and Vincent skeptical. They looked at each other for a moment; Vincent pointedly broke the contact. He was too set in his anger towards her to break it now with a moment of shared laughter at their similarity. She, too, set her gaze elsewhere, hurt more than anything.

In the light of recent events, Damien seemed to be shaking off his trauma rather well. He watched his sister and brother and rolled his eyes. Neither would share with him what this rich new fight was about but if they didn't settle it soon he would.

"Most materials have more than one use," Zain's comment took everyone by surprise, and also seemed rather useless until he continued. "Blood has often been twisted to seem like only dark magic but there was a time it was used to heal. Same with bone and stone."

"Explain," Vincent demanded at his most princely.

Zain's blind eyes stared blankly away from them all. "I mean that artifacts and materials with magical properties have been only recently been boxed oh, so neatly into specified areas. There was a time when a material had magical properties and it could be directed any which way as long as the mage or sorcerer was powerful enough. In the same way a sword in itself does not kill, but the arm directing it does."

"A sword in and of itself does not heal," Vincent's blue eyes flashed.

Zain smiled faintly, as if such a solid unwavering belief in anything were quaint. As if he wished he could believe in a world so black and white. "Who says? Even now the most successful sorcerers, the most famous ones, they haven't simply learned what there is to learn and taken it at face value. They push the boundaries because magic has possibilities only limited by their imagination if they have the means."

Silence fell between the four of them then. Nothing would stop them from killing with these swords. The being itself had said that. They had killed many before now. For the swords of blood and stone this information was not immediate to them but for the one in Lana's hold they knew it to be true. King Vincent the First slew many to secure his throne in Karucia.

Yet, was it not also said that the sword turned against him? And that any who used it after him were felled by its very edge? What if the sword had wanted more than death?

Lana liked the idea of healing where she could.

"It said something else, too. It said something about a poisonous presence within you, Lana," Lana froze at Vincent's words. "Know anything about it?"

Her heart beat furiously. For what seemed like long moments, she could hear only the sound of rushing blood in her ears. In a distant part of her, Uncle warned her not to tell. This would be bad.

"I only recently found this out," She whispered for to say it much louder was beyond her. Even Vincent seemed taken aback by this release.

"What?"

"There's been a voice, a boy in my head." The words were coming unbidden now, as the subject of interest wailed inside of her. She clamped her will tight. "He had taken control of my body before. I—I think he instructed Rije through me."

Only now did she look up to meet their eyes. Disbelief and worry coated their eyes. It cut her. No reaction possible could have not hurt her.

Damien rose to his feet, shaking with anger wearing a look that would have been more common on Vincent. "Then what have we been doing all this time? Trying to find swords? To what end? We've been wasting our time with this—this—"

Rage choked him and Lana noticed his eyes were overbright with unshed tears.

"You don't think I've simply gone mad?" Her voice sounded small and weak even to her.

Damien took her hands in his own and fell with something like a sob. "How can I know? Even if you told me you suddenly had a craving for blood and wanted to dance naked covered in entrails I would search the world for another option than you being mad."

"You can't be mad," Vincent too, sounded thick with some emotion but he curiously held it better than Damien. As if all the small things in the world could rile Vincent up, but Damien dealt with passively and when the problems were big it had a much different effect. "We know you too well to think that. This is what you've been keeping from us? This?"

"I have not known for so very long," Tears spilled down her cheeks easily at her brothers' love. "I only recently figured most of this out."

"We'll find a way to rid you of this," Vincent promised fervently.

"You know nothing!" Uncle snarled inside her mind. She fell back clutching her head in pain.

Cries sounded from all sides but Uncle surged in her mind. Her left hand moved by his volition, reaching for the white bone blade. Trained as they were to fight, both brothers noticed this and instinctively reached for the first weapon in their hold. For one shining, frozen moment the swords with a knowledge and magic alien to humans knew they were about to be used against one another.

The white blade also knew that the owner it had chosen for its own was not really to blame and did the only thing it could. In the split second it would have take for all three blades to meet it reached to the triplets, called to faraway blood, and shoved.

Lana knew she was leaving this place she tried to hold onto everything around her but some foreign power pushed and pushed. She fell back into arms and took it with her, too. Everything went black as she flew away from the land, the time, the space she thought she knew. She fell with a solid thump, more confused than ever.

A/N: That's it! Until next time. REVIEW and let me know what you think!

I do have the next couple chapters, but I'm trying to keep them as a buffer between me and this. I seem to write better when I have that. BUT I gotta tell ya, the next couple are a bit more interesting…. REVIEW