Goliath wearily made his way through the castle corridor toward Demona's rooms. He'd had no luck before, in convincing her to consider another round of treatment using her implants. He couldn't really blame her. The initial attempt had been devastating, even just for him to witness. He could only imagine how difficult it had been for her to endure. For a time, when she'd seemed trapped in silent darkness, he'd been mortified by the thought that he might have pushed her into doing something that had destroyed her permanently. The possibility horrified him, for surrendering herself to him was the first, and the only act of trust she had managed in centuries. He couldn't bear the thought of failing her. But to his relief, Dr. Chatoorgoon had insisted this was not the case; that she was merely processing all the anger and sorrow that she had been forcing out of her consciousness for so long.

Although the basics of the procedure had been explained to him, he had not really fully considered all the ramifications of removing Demona's only coping mechanism. Granted, it was a horrible coping mechanism that had led them all to devastation and death, but it was the one that had allowed her to survive all these centuries. Depriving her of it meant unthinkable anguish and weeks of vulnerability that her prideful spirit simply could not tolerate. He was certainly not surprised that she declined to risk another round, even with Dr. Chatoorgoon's insistence that a need for subsequent procedures was to be expected and that they would be neither as painful nor as debilitating as the first.

And yet, there was no doubt that the procedure, in all its awfulness, had been miraculously effective. As she recovered, the change in her was as immediate and significant as promised. It was uncertain how strong her newly reborn spirit was, whether it would last, or whether or not they could fully trust it. But it was clear that, in whatever precarious, broken state, Dr. Chatoorgoon had delivered their sister back to them. At least, it was clear to everyone except herself.

That was why he was visiting her this evening, just a few minutes before sunrise. He proposed that if she were to become aware of her own progress and what it meant, if she saw a bit of what she stood to gain, she might well reconsider. All the while they'd been on patrol, Goliath had tried to think of subtle ways to bring this about. His mind kept returning to the idea of taking her on an outing. Of course, leaving the castle was out of the question. The permanence of her new-found sanity had not yet been challenged and he realized that they would do well to consider her still very dangerous. Two years ago, he would never have entertained the idea of her ever being allowed to leave the castle. He'd felt it his responsibility to make provisions to ensure her captivity for long after his own death. There was now a glint of hope in him that this measure may be prove unnecessary, but that possibility was too far off to even consider at this point and he had another sort of "outing" in mind.

The Eyrie Building boasted a large atrium, just below the foundation of the castle. Over 20 stories, enclosed by steel beams and glass, it gave the impression of being in a park on an open rooftop. In the center of it, was a large swimming pool, where the Xanatos' often entertained guests for both business and social purposes. She had always enjoyed swimming with their rookery siblings in the sea when they were young, and Goliath thought perhaps she might find it pleasant to spread her wings through the water. He hoped he would have a chance to invite her before she was asleep. She had great difficulty sleeping without the use of her implants, as normal stone sleep was now impossible for her and human sleep was difficult for her to sustain and came unnatural to her. For this reason, and to avoid the pain of her transformation at sunrise, she often used the control of her implants to put herself to sleep just before sunrise. Goliath hoped to catch her before she did so.

He hurriedly entered her rooms, calling her name, but to his disappointment, he found her unconscious on the floor near a large armchair, as if she had fallen from it after engaging the implants. She was already asleep, and he would have to wait until dawn to speak to her.

He reckoned that she hadn't meant to sleep on the floor, though. He reached to lift her, so that he could place her on her bed. But at the first touch, he noticed she was sweating and her limbs were trembling. As he lifted her, the trembling turned to shaking and she began to gasp and cry out in strange sounds. He lay her on the bed, confused as to what could be happening to her, but he slowly realized that the implants must have trapped her in a nightmare, from which they wouldn't allow her to awaken. Urgently, he glanced about the room, seeking the remote control. Finding it on the floor near where she'd fallen, he disengaged the implants. He held her by the shoulders, calling to her, and her shaking became more violent until she woke with a cry and a start.

"It's only me," he assured her, "You were having a nightmare, so I turned off the implants." She looked up at him with recognition and nodded.

"Thank you," she said, after a moment, "But it's a futile endeavor. No matter how I try to sleep, the nightmare keeps returning in some variation or other."

"I didn't realize. Perhaps there's something that can be done about them?" he suggested, "Perhaps if we ask Dr. Chatoorgoon…"

"I think they're meant to tell me something," she interrupted. Goliath looked at her curiously.

"Do you mean, like a vision or premonition?" he asked and she nodded.

"Can you tell me what you're seeing?" he asked gently. She looked pained at the very thought.

"Is it about that night at Castle Wythern?" he urged her. He knew he didn't have to clarify which night he spoke of. He had suffered waking flashbacks to those horrible moments for over a year after his resurrection. He'd told no one of them, though he was sure that Hudson suspected it.

"No," she replied, shaking her head, "It starts with another massacre I lived through… and live with."

Reluctantly, she told him the story of how she'd led the last clan of gargoyles in Scotland. Or rather, the last known group of gargoyles, for they were less of a clan than a tired brigade of rogues and orphans, joined together in the hope of finding a way to survive in a land increasingly overrun with humanity. Full of bitterness, she recounted how she'd forged an alliance with MacBeth, hoping that he would be different from the human's she had known in her past, and that their kind would finally know peace and even friendship among his people. It was not to be though. She explained how she'd overheard him one night, discussing betraying them in order to seek an allegiance with the English.

"You don't really believe that he would have…"

"He would have," she insisted coldly, "If not that night, it was soon to come, once the price was right. And I, like a fool, had let my guard down again. I let him take me with flattery and praise, promises of safety, and I put my charges in harm's way."

Goliath listened to her tale with astonishment. He'd never know exactly what had transpired between her and Macbeth.

"You were trying to give them a safe place in the world."

"It's all I wanted," she whispered, "But it is not possible. Not as long as humans rule this world. I know that now. I should have known it by then. And the most tragic part of all? I had gotten them out! That very night, we left the castle and Macbeth and his clan to fend for themselves. I did for my adopted clan what I'd failed to do for my own brethren. My pride was wounded, for certain, but we were safe and could have found a new home and started again. But then…"

She paused, shaking her head sorrowfully.

"But what?" Goliath urged. Her eyes closed and tears brimmed her eyes.

"I wanted vengeance," she explained, her voice cracking, "I went back to face Macbeth. I left them alone, at the mercy of the Hunter." She angrily wiped the tears from her eyes, as if her own spirit accused her and told her she had no right to mourn.

"And now you know," she told Goliath, "You can add this tragedy to my long list of crimes." They sat in silence for some time. Goliath finally said,

"Is that the dream that torments you whenever you sleep?"

"That is merely the start of it. I see the Hunter killing my friends that day, and then following me through time, slowly destroying all the rest of our kind. Sometimes I cannot tell if the Hunter is Canmore, or MacBeth, or even myself. If I don't awaken in time, the nightmare ends in the Hunter destroying you, the others, and our daughter. And I am left alone again, and powerless to stop it."

Goliath knew the sense of despair she described. He'd only suffered it a few hours before the Magus had cast his spell on him, granting him the mercy of sleep. But she had endured ages of it, and now she still lived in fear of it recurring.

"Why do the Hunters still pursue you?" he asked. Her eyes widened.

"I told you once before, I don't know," she insisted, "MacBeth sought to kill me for vengeance, and you captured me to protect your humans, but they've never given any reason for their vendetta against me and our kind. I've defended myself against their attacks, but I've never sought them. The current installment of Hunters I left alive when they were children, which is a decision I have lived to regret. I have to wonder if they themselves even know why they continue to waste their miserable lives hounding me. It's maddening! It is almost as if…" She looked down quietly.

"Do you suppose they are under some sort of spell?" she asked finally. Goliath looked up, surprised.

"A spell?" he repeated.

"Or perhaps I'm the one that's cursed," she suggested, "Perhaps we're both cursed and they must continue to hunt my kind forever, destroying all the innocent gargoyles, while I myself can never actually die. What if that is what the dreams are meant to tell me? The Archmage knew of curses that could follow generations of victims. I remember reading of them in one of his tomes." She paused, as if trying to remember back through the nights of her youth when she'd served the Archmage.

"I wish I could remember how to break them," she confessed finally. She looked at Goliath suddenly.

"Aren't you going to tell me that they're only dreams?" she asked. He stood, and placing his claws on her shoulders, he said, "They are only dreams. I suspect they are a side effect of the treatment, still hanging on."

"And you want me to have another go at that?" she accused, looking away frustrated.

"Actually, I'd like you to come swimming with me," he corrected her.

"Oh?" She looked quite surprised.

"In Xanatos' ridiculously large, lavish swimming pool in the atrium downstairs," he explained. For a moment, she looked as if she didn't know which question to ask first. But she finally settled on, "Very well. Thank you."

"I will come for you tomorrow night," he told her, "May the sunrise bring you some peace and rest."

Curiously, she watched him leave her room.

"Peace and rest," she thought to herself. Decisively, she rose from the bed and opened a drawer in the nightstand. Inside was the glistening dew drop the fairy boy had given her. She had not used it yet. For one, she was a bit suspicious of what she was inviting by using it, but she also wanted to keep it a while, as proof that the exchange had really occurred. She laid it on the bed, now, beneath her pillow. She lay down upon it and she didn't even require the help of the implants to fall asleep this time. She enjoyed the sweetest of dreams for most of the day.