Okeh Dokeh... It's been over a month since I've posted... I'm sorry about that... I'd been rather busy with midterms and winter vacation and such... I hope you all understand. Now, a friend of mine mentioned how I've been just really meandering around and I really haven't done much with the plotline, so I'm going to remedy that. Just understand- this is a romance, so I've still got to stay true to that ... I'm still basically an Author Trainee.

Replies to Reviewers:

Meowwl: I would, but CoC is really long and it continues where Misty left off (if you discount the Owls Trilogy, but that didn't really continue the story, just told another...) but then again, 'Errold's Journey' by Catherine S. McMullen did mess with canon by making Errold and the original settlers of Errold's Grove part of Urtho's Army... which goes against canon since the settlers would have accepted all of the weird things that occurred in the Owls Trilogy with ease... and I vaguely recall Errold's Grove as being mentioned as a young town in the first Owls book (but then again I could be wrong,) so that's that. Plus all of the other stories in the anothologies were sort of glimpses at people's lives...

Lil-sis4556: The comment last chapter that I made was unwarranted. ((bonks self in head))Thank you for the review.

Thanks to: Shadowfax, Fireblade K'Chona, Moondance, vreader, wizard116, and Amber Stag.

And Mischakitsune. Can't forget her. She's my homie.

Every eye sees its own special vision;
every ear hears a most different song.
In each man's troubled heart, an incision
would reveal a unique, shameful wrong.

Stranger fiends hide here in human guise
than reside in the valleys of Hell.
But goodness, kindness and love arise
in the heart of the poor beast, as well.

- The Book of Counted Sorrows

Chapter 20: Stranger Fiends

"You are aware of the threat of the nation of Valdemar." The query was posed as a statement, not a question. The Emperor prided himself on never asking questions unless he had to.

"Yes, my Emperor," the middle-aged, flaxen-haired man kneeling in front of the throne said smoothly, staring at the square of early-morning sunlight under his nose.

"One of the men that returned brought some of the blood from the creature that Valdemar set to run us out of the towns. One of my Farseers cast a Seeing spell on it, and do you know what he found?" the Emperor asked, regarding the man as if he were some form of bug. The pack leader on the front of the Wolf Crown gazed at the man, yellow eyes unblinking.

"No, my Emperor."

"The creature is at the castle of the King of Hardorn, is in the company of a barely-shielded Empath with power barely kept as potential, and the assassin we have placed there has an unactivated dyrstaf. You have the power to open or expand existing Channels and activate potential. I want you to open the Empath's Gift to the widest it can go, and I also want you to open the creature's Flamecharming potential as far as it can go, as well as any other Gifts likely to cause chaos."

The man's eyes widened. Undoubtedly he knew the task was near-impossible. The best any mage with the Opening Gift could hope for was to open one Gift at a time and not die from the resulting reaction-headache, yet the Emperor was asking for at least three Gifts. And unfortunately for the man in question, he was the only mage capable of such a feat at the moment; all of the other mages with the Gift were either in the midst of training successors by opening Gifts at very small intervals, or their Gifts had been made null by the mage-storms.

There was also the fact that he was one of the most powerful Openers in the Empire, and had the best chance of completing the mission.

"I also want you to tell our operative to let fly the birds and to plant the branch of terror. Can I trust you with this, Erius?" the Emperor asked the now-nervous man.

"Yes, my Emperor."

"Good. You may go." The Emperor nodded, dismissing the man.

Erius rose and backed out of the room, eyes lowered. As he neared the doors and the Guards opened them, the Emperor could see that his hands were shaking and his forehead was shiny with sweat. Emperor Melles watched the doors shut behind him and let out a nasty chuckle. With this move he could finally be rid of that fool Tremane and throw Hardorn back into chaos as well as destroy the creature that had made his border attacks so difficult.

This was rather fun. No wonder Charliss had always looked so pleased after he'd made some move or another involving taking over another country.

Melles decided that after he'd taken Hardorn, he might make a move towards Valdemar, and from there- who knew? Perhaps the Shin'a'in or even Karse. Iftel was too chancy; he'd wait until he had them surrounded before attacking, but that shouldn't be too hard. After all- if he killed the leaders, it should be easy. Tremane, then the Queen of Valdemar, then perhaps the Son of the Sun in Karse or whoever ruled in Iftel. Oh, this would be fun! Melles exulted as he signaled for the Guards to let the courtiers into the room and watched as the strikingly beautiful Krindala sashayed in with her father. She wasn't the brightest of creatures, and would probably be eager to dance to any tune he played. He would have to make some inquiries into making her his mistress or even his Empress. His thoughts followed her and he shelved the plans to conquer Hardorn and the others; they could wait until the dyrstaf was placed and Tremane's court was in chaos. For now he would wait, and watch the female courtiers for a likely candidate for Empress.

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Erius sat gingerly on the bed and shielded himself with the strongest barriers he had. He arranged himself into a lotus position, placed the arrow that had been retrieved from Castogol on his knees, and forced his body to relax, cleared his mind of all distractions and sent himself into a deep trance. As much as he hated leaving himself open to both magical and mundane attacks like this, it was the only way he could Project, and he was reasonably sure that Melles had some form of a guard outside of his room; after all, he was on a mission that was an official order.

He cast that final thought from his mind and focused all of his being on the bloodstained arrow in his lap, following the peculiar pull that the spell cast earlier was causing. It was a small spell; meant usually to find the second of a pair of earrings or something lost. If you had a piece of someone, such as hair or a nail, or if you were lucky- their blood, it would emanate a special pull that a mage with the Gift of Farseeing or Projecting could follow to the actual person. In an instant a shadowed form of himself was floating above the castle that served as the new Capital of Hardorn. It was still twilight here; even though it was full dark in Jacona, the throne city, the sun was still hovering in the West here.

A thought allowed his soul to 'fall' through the roof and into the central chamber. Another thought allowed him to go to the room that the assassin was in and pass along the 'let fly the birds and plant the branch' message that Melles had obviously deemed important to this mission, and tell the man that he had to do the second in an hour, then take whatever time he needed for the former. As the assassin scrambled to get ready, he released the thought that made him visible to normal eyes and left the room.

He traversed the hallways with ease, letting the pull draw him to the chamber where the creature lay. He would take care of the thing first and then find the Empath and deal with him. He drifted through a final door and blinked when he found himself inside a dimly lit white-tiled chamber. There were two cots pushed together in one corner, but it was what was lying on them that surprised him. Seemingly a melding between a human male and a horse, it had gleaming black fur on the horse section, and the human half was bronze-skinned, muscled and had midnight black hair to match the fur. It vaguely matched the description he'd been given, even though it was missing the fangs, scorpion tail, demon wings, and didn't look like it was fifty feet tall. It was currently sleeping, oblivious to the second shadowed form that was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall near the door. That proved to be a young blonde man dressed all in scarlet and argent. He had his eyes closed, and at a closer look, Erius discovered shields around the young man, and upon probing them- oh, how convenient! The creature and the Empath were in the same room, which made his job much easier. Now the only problem was which one to Gift first...

After hovering between the two, Erius picked the Empath. He would need all of his concentration to get through the shields without rousing the man, and the creature should be easier anyway.

He shaped his soul into a bright red stiletto-point and set to work, insinuating himself through the shields and into the man's mind. He searched through the channels until he found the one that glowed a happy green and was wider than the others. This was the Empathy channel, and he forced an extension of his self into two narrowly crossing points, inserted them into the channel, and pulled them apart. Analogies were the easiest way to do these things, and required the least amount of concentration. This way was like a scissor- inserting it closed and then opening it inside the channel. The channel edges resisted for a second or two, then the ends of the channel lengthened, and then the edges widened, and the channel was opening. Slowly at first, it opened faster and slid apart slickly as he poured more energy into the 'scissor.' The man awoke in a rush and Erius was thrown out of his mind as pain rushed in and spilled over, flooding the room and waking the creature and likely everyone else in the castle. Before the reaction-headache could set in, he sought refuge in the creature's mind, sifting through thoughts and worries for the scarlet-and-argent man to the very core. It was dark now, and he searched frantically through the channels to find the potential Flamecharming channel threading under the grey-brown blanket that kept the potential from becoming reality. After what seemed like hours he found it, crimson and ruby moving in a tiny stream under the barrier.

Ruthlessly he grabbed it and dragged it to the surface, and grabbed the yellow of the Hearing Speech and a snippet of the Projecting Speech and brought them, too. He pulled open the Flamecharming as far as it would go, (which was only about half of the Empathy of the man) then started on the Projecting Speech. When he realized that he could open the other two at a minimum, he divided his attention between the two and pulled. The sudden pain resonating between the two tossed him into the room which was rapidly filling with more pain than he could stand. The creature was emanating pain and the Empath was receiving it and projecting it and his own magnified, and the sheer quantity of it threw him off balance, and his own physical tie to his own body was rapidly disintegrating. It pulled him back like a slingshot, and as he hurtled back towards his body he knew that he wouldn't survive the impact. He cursed his loyalty to his country, cursed the gods that gave him the power that led to his death, and as he impacted with his body and felt his mind shatter, cursed Melles with his dying breath.

x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X

Masaan watched as the frightening scene before him unfolded. Julian was in Rowen's room, thrashing and screaming on the floor, and pain emanated from him like something from a battlefield. Rowen was standing, locked in place, trembling, and his eyes were flashing, and Masaan noticed with a sudden shock that a few papers that had been left lying on the desk were smoldering, and the bedding was smoking. He caught a few stray Mindspeech projections of, :Pain! Goddess, it hurts, it hurts!Before he realized that most of the pain was emanating from Julian, and that the Bard was unshielded. Hurriedly he threw the most powerful shields he had over the thrashing Bard, and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him out of the room and into the hallway. Another Healer came rushing up with a Herald at her side, and he noticed vaguely that it was the Envoy, Shensa, before Masaan gabbled something about fire in the room and practically pushed them into the room with a hastily freed hand. He dragged Julian into another room, bodily lifted him up onto the examining table, and threw more shields over him. The first was almost gone, and Masaan had just enough time to wonder what had done it before another wave of pain washed over him and his thoughts narrowed to merely shielding the Bard. He poured all the energy he knew he had, and some he didn't, and he was at the end of his reserves when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned weary eyes to see Renain, a senior Healer lay his hands on Julian's still form, and the old man wheezed at him.

"You get to bed, lad," the man said genially. "Get under the tightest shields you have, though. And try to ignore the screaming. A fear-spell's been triggered somewhere in the castle, and it's driving everyone that's not under shield mad. It's going to get worse before it gets better, so get all the sleep you can get now."

'Fear-spell?'

He let his shields weaken the tiniest bit, and immediately felt a thin thread of non-directional anxiety wash over him. It was accompanied by fear obviously radiated by living things, for it had that peculiar flavor of fear of the unknown, and it was coming from everything, even the cats in the hallways, and the pigeons that had nested in the thatched roofs of the stable were conspicuously absent. .

He closed his shields, nodded at Renain, cast a last worried look at Julian, wandered out into the hall, and crossed into Rowen's room. The smoke was gone, thankfully, and the Changechild was calmer now. Herald Shensa was with him, and both were staring at something on the ground. Masaan watched in fascination as a single ball of lint sitting among its brethren on a porcelain plate burst into flame. Was Shensa doing it?

She looked up for a moment and glanced at him with weary eyes, and another ball of lint erupted. Masaan was puzzled for a second, then it hit him. Rowen was doing it! But how? He wasn't a Flamecharmer by any means, so- a possibility shined a dim light into his mind.

The old man was walking in front of the line of boys, who fidgeted and watched him boredly as he muttered things and made comments to the scribe that trailed him.

"This one is a Hearing Speaker," he said of a short, black-haired boy. The scribe made a note on the sheaf of paper he held, and marked the same for the next, a taller blonde with grey eyes. The man came to the third boy in line, who was a long-haired brunette, but completely nondescript, with ordinary features and brown eyes. "Ah, an Opener," the man said with interest. "You will be of great use to the Empire," he said as the boy stared up at him with curiosity in his eyes. The next two children were proclaimed to be a Flamecharmer and a Projective Speaker, and a FarSeer, respectively, and the sixth, a young Masaan, was caught and held in the man's cruel gaze. "A Hearing and Projecting Speaker and a Healer!" he exclaimed. The other boys stared at Masaan with envy, and he squirmed under the stares. The man looked intently at Masaan and laid his hand on top of the boy's head. "Also a minor Empath," he commented to the scribe. Masaan stared back at him with wide, frightened eyes and wondered what those words meant.

He knew that Flamecharming let you create fire with a thought, and Speaking let you talk to other people in your mind, and Healing was obvious, but what were FarSeeing, Empathy, and Opening?

It hadn't been until much later that Masaan had learned what they were. FarSeeing let you see things far away, Empathy let you feel emotions, and Opening... Opening was the rarest Gift of them all. It let you enter another person's mind and Open a Gift that they had potential for, or expand a Gift that they already had. That was one of the reasons why the Empire had so many powerful mages, and one of the reasons they had so few Openers. Using the Gift would kill most people unless you were powerful enough or had someone to shunt off the reaction to, and Masaan was willing to bet everything he owned that that was what had happened here. None of the mages here had Opening, and no country outside the Eastern Empire had that Gift, save a few mage-schools that one of the Heralds had mentioned, and Masaan didn't think that any of them would do anything in Hardorn of all places. Besides, their use was supposedly strictly regulated, so how had Opening happened to Rowen? He was also willing to bet everything he owned that the exact same thing had happened to Julian. Could the Empire? No. They couldn't have. They wouldn't have; these two weren't that important for Baron Melles to have ordered an Opener to do anything to them. Even though- an untrained Empath was often more dangerous than a trained one, for the rawness of their power often caused them to lash out at anything and everything around them, and since they had no control, they didn't know their limits, so they would overextend themselves and broadcast their pain with a frequency no normal Empath would do. And if the Empath was a powerful one... hopefully the fact that Julian had had some training in it, already knew how to use his Gift, and had been taking previously unheard of risks into Rowen's mind would be able to help him get through this. If the Empire had had something to do with it, the only thing they could do here was try to train the two before their Gifts got the best of them in a real sense.

But first, if the small group of people immune to the fear-spell were going to ever do anything or help them, they had to find the origin of the thing. And that would be hard enough.

x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X

The first part of the plan was not complete, the assassin thought, as a frown made its way onto his face. The Healers and mages had overcome the original plan to throw the castle into chaos, but it could still be salvaged if he could manage to kill either the Valdemaran Bard or the Changechild, then Tremane himself. It shouldn't be too hard; the Bard and the Changechild were both incapacitated from the rawness of their Gifts, and Tremane was only a Master, unable to command the magic he once had before the Storms. It would be difficult, but it would border on the original plan, and it would require all of his cunning to escape from this alive, for Tremane would die in front of his entire Court, killed by a dagger thrown from the midst of the Valdemaran courtiers. The assassin himself would then escape in the confusion, riding ostensibly as a courier, and escape to the Eastern Border, leaving the Hardornen Court without any subject to blame except for some poor fool that would somehow manage to get himself charged as the killer of both Tremane and the Bard or Changechild.

His frown deepened. Now was the time to act, and he fully intended to take advantage of the fact that the Healers and mages hadn't managed to shield everyone in the castle; merely those involved in the search for the dyrstaf, though he doubted they knew what it was. They had only managed to shield a few large rooms on the first floor, and all of the unshielded people were gathered there. He decided to change the plan. If he killed Tremane and then broke those shields, a full-scale panic would break out, and he could escape in the resulting chaos. Yes, that should work nicely.

x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X(I think I'm having a little too much fun with these little scene-break things.)

Julian tried to sort through all of the emotions flooding his senses. They hurt, they hurt, and no one seemed to be able to shield him properly. He had absolutely no idea of what was going on outside his room, but he knew that it was something terrible. Fear kept filtering through the shields, and he was ready to go mad from not knowing why.

A tentative knock sounded on the door, and Sendan's voice called out tentatively, "Julian, are you awake?"

He sighed and rolled over. "Yes, Sendan."

"Okay. You- uh, you have a visitor."

Oh? "Who?" he asked curiously.

"Rowen." Julian's heart gave a sudden leap at his friend's voice at the door, and he tried not to look too excited.

"Oh! C-come in," he said nervously, sitting up and pushing the cover away. The door opened, then closed, and he heard hooves clop-clopping on the tile floor, moving towards him and then stopping next to the bed. He could hear a creak as Sendan took a chair on the other side of the room.

"How are you holding up?" Rowen's voice sounded raspy, and he didn't feel like he'd been getting too much sleep.

"Not so good," Julian replied truthfully. "I keep feeling fear coming from everywhere except for the Healers, and my head always hurts." He paused. "Masaan told me that you now have the Gift of Firestarting. He says you got it on the same night my Empathy expanded, but they still don't know how. How long has it been? I can't tell time down here, and no one will tell me anything."

"It's only been two days. I've had some training in using the Gift, or enough to keep it under control, anyway, had minimal lessons in Shielding my thoughts, but sometimes the fear leaks through-"

"Wait, what?" Julian interrupted him. "No one said anything about you needing a shield! What else happened to you?"

Rowen sounded surprised. "Whatever gave me the Gift of Firestarting also opened Mindspeech of both types just a little bit. It's not much, but if I don't mind getting a bit of a reaction-headache, I can Mindspeak someone else if they're also Gifted enough." Julian could tell that Rowen was eyeing him. "You would be easy enough, I think."

He felt Rowen lower his shields, but before anything happened, Rowen slammed them shut again, gasping. "The fear- Goddess, the fear just overwhelmed me. I didn't realize that I was in a shielded room when Shensa was tutoring me in the shielding process. Lady, that hurt!"

Julian decided to lower his own shields to see exactly what Rowen was talking about, and braced himself for the coming revelation.

Fear hit him like a brick between his eyes, but in the midst of that fear- there was something else. A null area, very unlike the clean shields of the Healers or the smooth shields of the mages. This shield was- odd; like water, it was very flexible, but 'tasted' sort of like vinegar. It was also a very tightly woven shield, and Julian realized that it was heading towards them, through a back corridor that no one should be using because of the unsure masonry in that area; the floor was slightly warped and had a tendency to cause falls. Who could that be? He suddenly had a vague feeling of impending doom, and the room felt very cold. "Sendan, I want you to do me a favor," he said. His voice shook slightly, and he hoped that the others would pick up his urgency.

"Eh?"

"Get into the privy, and don't come out until I tell you to." The shield was at the end of their hall now, and it had slowed considerably.

"What- why?" Rowen asked.

"Just do it!" the Bard snapped. "Don't come out for anything until you hear either me or Rowen tell you it's okay."

"But wh-" Julian lost all patience with the boy, launched himself off the bed, and dragged Sendan to the door of the privy. "In, now."

"But-" The boy's protest was muffled as Julian opened the door, unceremoniously shoved Sendan through it, and slammed it behind him. "Stay," he said.

"Julian, what in the nine hells has gotten into you?" Rowen asked bewilderedly.

"No time. Do you have any weapons?"

"Uh, no." The unknown shield had stopped outside the door, and Julian sensed that it was listening.

"Rowen," he hissed. "There's someone on the other side of the door that's going to try and-" Then there was no more time to speak, for the door burst inward with a clatter of metal and the crack of wood breaking under unimaginable weight, and Julian knew without a doubt that this unknown person was the assassin that had killed both Lord Rhandon and Chancellor Hythrel. He just wished he could see him.

"Duke Ormus!" Rowen exclaimed. "What brings you here?" He seemed to be ignoring the fact that the door had just been blown in by a force greater than any axe.

Now Julian had a name for the assassin. Duke Ormus was an older gentleman relatively new to the Court. Having spent much of his life in the country due to Ancar's atrocities, he'd decided to come to Court to verify that Tremane was a good ruler, and upon finding the interesting things, decided to stay. Now Julian knew that it was all a ruse. Duke Ormus had to be the assassin, quite possibly one of the men captured in raids along the Border and brainwashed to serve as an infiltrator in the Hardornen Court. Whatever the case, he was here for what was quite possibly a nefarious reason, and Julian had no intentions of letting his plan succeed.

"I came to pay a personal visit to young Julian, here," came the slick reply. "Have I interrupted something?"

"Oh, no," Rowen said, although there was something in his voice that sounded like- 'He got the message!' Julian exulted. 'He knows!' Now if only they could catch the man in the act.

"Ah, might I have a moment or two alone with Julian? I would like to give my personal reassurances that I think everything will turn out right, in the end." He paused, and when he spoke again, oily persuasion practically oozed from every pore in his body. "May I?"

Exultation turned to terror, and Julian felt his shields weaken. 'No, no, no, don't leave me alone with him, please don't, Rowen, don't leave me here!'

"Of course," Rowen said, and Julian's heart sank. "I'll just be right outside the door."

"I'll make this quick, then," Ormus said, and Julian could just about hear him jumping for joy.

Rowen left the room, and Julian could hear Ormus mutter, "Idiot boy," and Julian felt the fear-blocking shield vanish, and a new one spring up in its place.

"Well, my boy," the old man said. "It looks like it's just you and me now. Let's get on with it, shall we?" Julian heard the snick of a dagger being drawn from a sheath, and his terror increased.

"Rowen!" he screamed. "Rowen, now!"

"Oh, come now. You didn't think I'd be that stupid, did you? That shield blocks all sound from escaping the room."

"But you-" Julian said weakly. He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Aren't a mage?" Ormus said. "Well, yes, I am a mage. I'm just a very well-shielded mage. And you're a very stupid boy. And now you're going to die."

Julian felt movement off to his right, and suddenly Ormus' voice was in his ear. "We'll take this slowly, all right?"

Paralysis claimed his body and Julian couldn't move a muscle. The terror solidified in his gut as cold steel drew an invisible line down his cheek.

"Let's leave a nice message for your friend, shall we?" Ormus purred. "We could start with maybe a nice design here," and the dagger sliced into his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, pain and terror.

"Oh, your skin cuts so well," Ormus approved. "Another line here should help," and another cut appeared crossing the second one at an angle. His throat muscles were paralyzed, so Julian couldn't scream, but a thin whimper managed to escape his throat.

"Do stop whining," the assassin said. A third streak of pain criss-crossed the other two, forming a triangle. More lines of pain continued to appear until the entire left side of his face felt like it was on fire.

"Now, let's begin on your right side," Ormus said. The steel barely touched Julian's right cheekbone when a purely mental shout deafened both of them and startled Ormus, causing the blade to cut into Julian's cheek and draw a skewed line down to his chin, and the dagger dropped to the floor.

:JULIAN

Rowen crashed into the room, and Julian heard Ormus picking himself up off the floor. 'He's not going anywhere,' he thought angrily, and a plan solidified in his mind.

With a painful twist of his greatly-increased Empathy, Julian sent a wave of fear-pain-terror into the mind of his assaulter. The assassin fell to the ground, face twisted into a rictus of horror. The reaction-headache hit Julian almost instantly, and his shields collapsed, exposing him fully to the fear-spell flooding the castle with terror. The spell holding him vanished, and he fell to the ground, twitching.

Ormus rose again, and the feeling of impending doom was stronger now. 'Rowen...'

A sudden whumph sounded, and he felt intense heat blossom inches away from his left foot. The smell of burning meat filled the room, and he knew in a sickening instant what Rowen had done. The assassin was dead, his body consumed by the flames of Rowen's anger.

He heard a snort, and then Rowen's voice saying, "What- how did that happen? It didn't feel- like I was in control- Julian!" The Changechild knelt next to him, smelling of fear and something Julian couldn't identify.

"Julian, are you- Goddess!" Rowen hissed as he tilted the left side of Julian's face into the light.

The Bard himself couldn't feel anything but pain and fear, and his mind was rapidly going into overload.

A warm weight was suddenly pressed to the side of his face, overriding the pain for just a moment, and Julian could feel the warmth of a palm and fiver fingers applying steady pressure to the cuts. A second hand smoothed the hair back from his bloody forehead.

"Julian, please stay awake. I need you to stay awake- I think you may be going into shock. It's no wonder with what you just went through, but you need to stay awake!" Rowen was babbling, and he probably knew it, but the babbling was keeping Julian awake for the moment. So was the stink of burning meat, but that was abruptly lessened, seemingly by a blanket thrown over the remains. The fear was keeping him alert, too, but it was mostly the sound of Rowen's voice that kept him alive. It seemed like years had passed before the constant jabber and press of fear ended their assault on Julian's senses, and suddenly a wash of other feelings poured over him, and he was so exhausted by the fear and emotions of others that his limited world went grey, then black, then went away altogether.

Notes:

For those of you that were wondering: Opening is a self-named Gift that allows the user to open a Gift in another person as long as they have the potential for it, and they can also expand an existing Gift. Projecting is basically Astral Projecting; the power to have your soul leave your body in an 'astral' form. Any other questions- ask in a review.

Speech is Mindspeech, and Flamecharming is Firestarting. They call them different things in the Empire, so that's that.

A dyrstaf, as quoted in Black Gryphon, page 330-331, '"It's a rather nasty little thing. It's an object, usually a rod of a staff of some kind, that holds a very insidious version of a fear-spell. It looks perfectly ordinary until it's been triggered, and even then it doesn't show to anything but Magesight. It starts out just creating low-level anxiety, and works up to a full panic over the course of a day and a night. ... The mages always slept under all kinds of personal shielding, so of course they weren't affected. Anyone with Healer training would also sleep under shields."'

Hiro: Fwah. That's Chapter 20. Now tell me what you all thought, and will someone please tell me what they'd think of a MasaanSendan pairing?