The Breaking of the Fellowship

Midnight.

Three days since the event. The stars were still out in force, the way they'd been ever since that night. Hell, there are a lot of stars in the sky, but that day, they invited all their friends, their friends' friends, their friends' friends' former roommates...you get the idea.

There are things in the night sky the human eye can't see. There are a few creatures who claim to be able to see them--dragons, for one. Some lizardfolk, maybe. Catfolk. Yak folk...fuck, there are a lot of fucking folk. But, you know, real people...er, humanoids...well, you know. Most people can't see this shit.

Like nebulas. Keket had to explain what those were. She's into astronomy and shit like that. Apparently they're where stars are born, or where they go when they die, or something. Anyway, they're pretty. And weird.

There's a huge swath of stars that cuts the sky in half; at its center, it bulges outward into a great multitude, and at its edges, it is thinner, but no less grand. Scholars call it the Eye of Mystra, and until now, it was only possible to see it on the clearest of nights.

Now every night is clear. If the moon weren't full, you could read by the light.

And it doesn't seem like it's going away.

Highharvesttide 1380 was a crazy day for just about everyone in the East. Nobody missed the wave of prismatic light that cascaded across the land, into the sky. It passed through everything, and everyone, for a tantalizing, infinitely short moment. In that moment, everyone touched the Goddess, and she touched back.

Ecstasy isn't the word. Mystra has a way of ruining you for all women everywhere. Men, too, if you're into that sort of thing. Whatever. It's the sensation every wizard gets when he harnesses that most primal of forces, the flush in a sorceress' cheek as she completes a challenging spell. Some lucky bastards touch the Goddess all the time; that day, everyone did.

The moment lasted a lifetime, but it was over too soon. In that moment, anything was possible. The entire Universe was at everyone's fingertips, and every future it could have was right there, for the choosing. Any mage will tell you that the moment of creation, the very moment a spell is conceived, all possibilities become apparent--only the wise mage will hold onto the spell he imagined, while the others are swept away in the limitless expanse of possibility, their minds along with them.

Who knows if a million people spontaneously started casting spells. The important thing is, it was over as soon as it began, and that wretched Shadovar contraption fell apart soon after. Did it work? Are they gone? Why knows. Probably. Probably not. Nobody's seen a wink of them since.

It had been three days, and those days were mostly rest.

Well, okay, not for everyone. It was still the full moon, after all. Raithen had taken Keket every way 250 years'll learn ya, and a few others she had to teach him. That is, when there wasn't an endless torrent of steak to eat. Since that morning, the one that should have been the last, everyone was being awful nice to him all of a sudden. Ani sure is a good cook.

Apparently, some of the others went to go do some things. Tal had shit to do in Velprintalar, and someone's gotta tell the King, it seems. Raynar went to go powder his nose, and Logan seemed pretty distracted. Whatever, less distractions are a good thing.

The memory of dozens of beautiful, nude woman presenting steak, pie, and wine lapsed slowly from Raithen's mind...very slowly, yet far too fast.

It was midnight, and the moon was pregnant with beaming fullness. The clarity of the night sky only intensified its luminosity; on these nights, it might be enough to burn an ordinary man's eyes, let alone a werewolf's.

But stare he did, until he couldn't anymore, and then a bit more.

It's not that the urge was gone. That's silly. In some ways, it was worse than ever. But it was just physical--a memory of an urge, with no teeth, no raging spirit behind it. He wanted it like a fat kid wants cake--bad, bad as hell, badder than you can stand, but he's not gonna kill a man for it. He doesn't *need* it.

And he didn't.

And he wondered why.

Was it the dream? Was it the explosion? Was it love?

Or did someone actually die that day? Someone who knew when his time was up? Someone brave enough to cross that line.

A silly thought. The wolf was nothing if not a survivor. Its hunger for meat could fell cities, but was as nothing to its hunger for life. He'd give it that--what horrible tastes it might enjoy, what awful murder it relished, it had a thirst for life and freedom that could only be admired.

Maybe that's why.

It doesn't matter.

He gathered himself. It was going to be a long, cold night. Usually, this time of the month, that meant a head-pounding, palm-sweating mental race against an ever-faster foe, like doing calculus with a gun to your head. Not tonight. Tonight there was room for thought, for doubt, for nagging concerns.

Why was it okay? Why did it have to be the end? Was it really so easy to say goodbye?

Why aren't there bigger things to think about?

After hours isn't, not at the Birds of Paradise festhall. Keket, dressed only in a translucent silk gown, made the rounds, checking on her girls. The cold stone was soothing on her bare feet; she'd had enough hot...things lately.

In the Red Room, a classically-appointed room of thick, soft, redness, a young man lay on his back, clearly relaxed, as the glistening form of a nude, lithe mulan girl undulated across his length, from breast to groin and back, using her body like a masseuse's hand. The slick sounds of oil--in fact, a rare gel harvested from eastern seaweed, terribly expensive--and the soft moans of the masseuse were all she could hear. But then, Lt. Friedrich Landsend wasn't very vocal, she knew that from experience. He showed his appreciation with gold, and that was perfectly find. Lyande would do well tonight.

In the Room of Mysteries, incense smoke cloyed into an intoxicating bouquet, wrapping itself about the chimes and silk curtains draped throughout the room. It was a place for secret dalliances, a playground of the mind. It must be Lord Halverton, then; she'd seen him in an hour past, and he didn't like to be seen. Pity, he wasn't so bad to look at, but it was likely his habits that made him self-conscious. She could hear Evaine sucking in breaths, cooing through the gentle pains of the Lord's particular delight. The man grunted with the effort, clearly no stranger to the virtue of ardor.

The Night Chapel, as it was affectionately known, was an affair of black velvet and cold stone, a somber and serene place. Men seemed to like it, because it was like fucking in church. Frain, Kav, and Simon were entwined on the bed, in a triangle of oral pleasure, their moans resonating through one another's bodies, as Father Donovan watched from a hard, uncomfortable chair nearby. Hear no evil, speak no evil, fuck no evil? Keket winked knowingly at him, leaving him to gently flog himself.

In the main chamber, a symphony of delight was being composed in her honor. Sprawled across the floor was a carpet of nude flesh, writhing bodies, and absolutely no restraint. Tress, an inexperienced but eager Cormish girl she'd recently introduced to the staff, was being cheered on by her sisters as she carefully descended on something truly naughty. It seemed two young lads had assembled themselves on the floor in a position that totally didn't make them sodomites. As she maneuvered herself onto the twin poles, Keket watched in rapt fascination, her mind fixating for some reason on the twin barrels of Raynar's shotgun. She winced, despite herself, to see the deed done, but Tress was definitely talented, there'd be no more argument there.

The next chamber was meant to be billed as the Songbird's Perch, for it offered an elevated bed in a turret, open to the outside air, but the girls knew it as the Ol' Diamond Tits, for how typically cold it was. On such a cold night, she expected it to be empty, but she instead found Talia, wrapped in spidery silk, flogging a flabby man's butt. She arched an eyebrow, not recognizing the client. Talia just gave her a wicked grin, and whipped him again. "Did I say you could talk, bitch?" she jeered at him, receiving only blubbered gibberish in a Sembian dialect. Keket only shrugged. Paying customers are paying customers.

The next room, Springtime Fun, was an affair of white, gold, and flower petals. So it was jarring to see a massive half-orc, at least seven feet long (and tall, too!), kneeling upright in the dainty bed. Sariami, the well-endowed Zakharan girl who still struggled with Aglarondan, struggled with him visibly as his horde conquered her alliance. From her angle, Keket only saw the girl's face, and her massive breasts swinging like sacks of grain left out during a thunderstorm. Her expression captured the moment better than any words could, and Keket could only commiserate silently (and jealously).

Finally, the Ivory Tower, a room of pure white, was entertaining no paying customers tonight, but neither was it empty. Lying on the bed, legs curled up to her shapely rump, fingers tapping away at some glowing contraption, was Kara. She wore her usual form-fitting pale grey jumpsuit, though she could apparently split the cuffs up her legs and wrists for comfort, revealing more of her pale, virgin skin.

"Goodness," Keket intoned, slipping inside, "why, this is no place for a young lady." She sat gently beside the girl.

Kara shifted her attention slightly away from the flashing images on the device, which was about as good as it would get. "Hmm."

"Did Raynar bore you with his trifling talk of...everything we puny humans have have learned about science?" She smiled invitingly, her expression lost, as the girl's eyes were deep in the three-dimensional illusion of charts and paragraphs displayed before her. "Have you come to my whorehouse to...study?"

Kara sighed. "I came because it was less distracting than Raynar's place, and there's nowhere to work in the orphanage. I suppose I could work outside, my suit is rated to 172.6 kelvin."

Keket furrowed her brow. "Dear, I didn't come here to bother you. If you want your privacy...ooh, what's that?" She leaned in for a closer look, but Kara defensively lowered the lid of the clamshell-like device.

"Private," she sneered, though scrunching her face only made her look cuter, not fiercer.

"Well, sweetheart, my Roushoum isn't perfect, but I dare say that was a passage from a Zakharan book I once read, I believe it was...the Kama Shastra?"

"It's none of your business," Kara replied grumpily, closing her device and moving to extricate herself. Keket halted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. The fabric was nearly frictionless, making it difficult to maintain a firm grip.

"My daughter, it happens to be quite specifically my business. Are you really researching the sensual arts through...text?" She let her piercing blue eyes fall upon Kara's face as it flushed with red.

"I just...there's a whole part of your life I don't understand. A part of being human."

"Sweetheart, I am your teacher, and your guardian. You can trust me with all things. Especially the things I know most about." She grinned, taking the device and setting it aside. "My dear, could it be that you are still a virgin?"

Kara nodded sheepishly.

"It's just that...well, in the Shadovar, there aren't many...there's a lot of..."

"Cold fish?" Keket grinned knowingly. "Oh, my dear. Why, you remind me of Ani; poor thing thinks her purity is a source of magical power. You don't subscribe to any of that primitive drivel, I assume?"

Kara rolled her eyes. "Of course...it's not that, I just...don't know what to do. Or who to do it with. Or...how."

Keket gazed at her levelly. "Do you want to?"

She nodded.

"Do you want me to teach you?"

Steeling herself, she nodded again. Keket embraced her lovingly, the warmth of her breast reassuring the untried student before her.

"My sweet love, you have come to the right place. Now, first and foremost, you must learn to love yourself, to know the Goddess within. Now take off-" she cut herself off as Kara stiffened in response to a sudden presence.

In the open doorway, Talrendis stood, awkwardly. Keket straightened herself, carefully positioning her body language to subtlely reflect her disposition.

"Yes, Talrendis, what is the matter? I trust your business is urgent." Never did a hint of annoyance flicker across her moist tongue, or shine in her enchanting eyes, but Keket's poise said it all.

"I'm...er, terribly sorry, madam...er, not madam, but-"

She cut him short with a slight tilt of the head, more an act of will than a gesture. He seemed to reboot.

"Anastasia and I have returned from Velprintalar, my lady. I'm afraid she has news--urgent news, which cannot wait."

Keket breathed carefully and deeply, resetting herself. She rose, put on a beaming smile, and glowed at him. "Well, it is wonderful to know you have returned safe and sound. Tell my dear Ani I shall make my home open to her and comfortable at once!"

As she began to bustle out, Talrendis winced, spitting out the rest, "She is, in fact, at her abode in the bog. She didn't...specifically...ask to speak to you, I just thought you might wish to speak with her, while you have the chance."

Keket raised her eyes worriedly. "The chance? I don't understand."

"You'd better talk to her then. I can arrange transport...I believe I can find the way."

"In the dark? In the middle of the night?" Talrendis shrugged.

"Night, yes, but hardly dark, not with the sky as it is, my lady." He was following her as she walked briskly into the main room. He thought he ought to avert his eyes from the spectacle inside, but...nah.

Keket grabbed what little might pass for a coat to be found in that room--an ermine wrap designed only to make her more alluring (which it did)--and hurried through the door. Sheelac raised a furtive paw at her, which is lazy cat for "hey, don't go out there, it's dark and there are wolves". She patted the old lioness gently and strode into the cold night.

The stars swirled overhead, dizzing in number and maddeningly bright. To his word, the night was abuzz with light, enough, perhaps, for a seasoned Master of the Yuirwood to navigate. She wasted no time mounting his gryphon, situating herself ahead of the seat, on the nub, the only place she'd be able to keep her balance. Talrendis sputtered as she pulled her silk gown up to give her legs freedom, only to wrap them like a vice around the great beast's shoulders.

"I'm not going to die for the sake of modesty," she explained coolly, as he gingerly settled in behind her. The saddle allowed for little in the way of double riding; even a single rider could barely afford to sit, for standing on the stirrups and leaning forward onto the harness. In her case, she wouldn't reach the stirrups, and grasping the beast's head wouldn't work well, as it would need to maneuver it about. There would be no sitting behind him, as the wings would give her legs nowhere to go. So she sat on a round nub of leather, and secured herself only with a firm grip on the lip of the harness, just between her legs.

"Hey!" called the small voice of Kara from the entryway as the mighty beast began to surge forward. "What about me?"

Keket strained to look over her shoulder, trying to put the unnatural forces acting on her stomach out of her mind. "Be vigilant! I will return!"

She wanted to say more, but she wasn't going to be able to. The nub between her legs thrust upward, as the mighty creature's wings caught lift, and she could scarcely hang on as unease settled from her throat to her stomach, meeting a wave of unexpected pleasure traveling upward, in a confusing melange.

There was little to do but grip the leather for dear life, and let the beast's repetitive upward surging motions carry her into the sky. Before her, she saw a vast sea of blue-black night, with innumerable stars above bright enough to cause flares in her eyes. She dared not look down, to see the earth plummeting beneath her, too fast and too far for her gentle constitution.

The air was absolutely frigid, and her excuse for a coat had already flown off, leaving her with only a millimeter of silk and two diamond-tipped spearheads as defense from the elements. The gryphon soon stopped beating his mighty wings, and settled into a gentle glide, only occasionally flapping in his undulating motion to maintain altitude, as he skimmed along a cushion of warm air blanketing the earth.

His unpredictable jolts caught her by surprise every time. With each flap, his chest sunk, and her heart with it, as inertia bade her to wait just a moment longer before following the bird-beast toward the ground. Then, his enormous mass would thrust up again, catching her in the only place it could, and forcing her to arc her back to keep from flopping forward...not that she could do anything else.

The mix of terror and exhilaration was mind-numbing, and for minutes, she lost herself in the raw experience. Perhaps it was her subconscious mind, or the guiding arm of Talrendis that had slid around her to keep her safe when, at some point, her arms flew free from the harness, but she soon learned to match the motions of her body to the wave-like motion of the bird's back.

"My lady," was all he said, a gentle reminder, not entirely sure he wanted a return to prudence. She had spread her arms wide, as if they, too, were wings, and was leaning against Talrendis' chest, her head back, her eyes taking in the sky. A soft moan escaped her lips, perhaps a grunt of disapproval, as she pulled herself forward, renewing her grip upon the saddle, and, for the first time, taking a tentative look over the beast's shoulder and down toward the ground.

She was hundreds of feet in the air, but damned if it didn't feel like thousands. Her fingers went pale, clutching the leather for all it was worth (or was it the cold?), but her eyes couldn't drink in enough. By moon and starlight, she could see waves of grain, rolling meadows enjoying the waning days of the indian summer, and patches of trees separating field from field.

From above, large farmhouses seemed like toys, and rows of crops seemed like artwork scrawled upon the canvas of the earth. Night birds flew beneath, as if unwilling to reach the soaring heights of the magnificent animal she rode. From her height, she felt as if she could reach down and pluck men from the earth, to squint and toy with them like dolls, and cast them back down.

She felt like a god.

He ran, deep into the forest, as so often he'd done before. But this time he wasn't seeking a hunting ground, a safe place to get away from innocent people; he was looking for someone.

Around him, the tall trees at the heart of the Yuirwood soared into the night sky. Always, the old forest had been a sight for elven eyes, aglow with phosphorescence. Vines crawled up the mighty wooden trunks, bursting with flowers that glowed pale white in the moonlight. Tree moss sprouted bulbs which twinkled every shade from red to purple to blue. Insects found one another in the darkness, guided by glowing abdomens, like massive, primal fireflies. This forest was something far beyond anything he'd known in Evermeet, in the west, where elf had tamed earth.

Finding the markings on the stones that flanked the great trees, he ascended a trunk and scanned the woods, searching for signs of habitation. There wouldn't be much, he had to admit to himself, but he though he might have the animal instinct to sniff them out. Then again, they'd been dodging mighty predators like him for thousands of years...maybe here, even the Wolf was bested by the most dangerous game.

But not today. Hundreds of feet away, lying in the mud, he saw the glint of moonlight against the sharp edge of an arrowhead. It would be enough.

He leapt from the branch, soaring through the air. Neither he nor the Wolf was a natural briachiator, but he had something monkeys didn't. A gentle invocation of winds wrapped around him, winging him gently to the ground, giving his momentum time to carry him far from where he started. He set down on the earth with the softest of sounds, and let the motion carry him into a crouch, bending down to examine the arrowhead.

In the natural earth, he drew a circle, and about it, another. At the center of the circles, he placed the arrowhead, its point to the north. Into the first circle, he poured a small quantity of salt, just enough to form a barrier. The second he traced with a silver athame; though it left nothing behind, it did create a symbolic boundary, temporarily diverting the threads of magic woven through the forest from the tiny circle. The silver dagger didn't cut those threads, but acted as a spindle of sorts, allowing him to left them up and away from the working area. The subtle but massive ebb and flow of energy in the forest would sweep away a delicate working like smoke in a hurricane, if not for the protection of the circle.

He pierced his skin with a silver needle, and allowed a drop of blood to settle onto the salt barrier. With an act of will, the circle was closed, and, for the time being, it was a part of himself.

It was a simple spell, the simplest of spells. It was the kind an elven mage would master before even considering leaving Evermeet. But tonight, he might as well have been moving a mountain. This was the first time he'd tried to cast a spell during the full moon since...longer than he could recall.

As he knelt, perfectly still, at peace, swaying gently in the breeze, so like the great trees surrounding him, Raithen emptied his mind, filling it with Void. Somewhere, the Wolf howled and bayed, clawing savagely at the corners of his mental fortress. It was never routine, never nonchalant...always, the Wolf had clever new tricks. But ever since Highharvesttide, it didn't seem to matter anymore. The beast's heart just wasn't in it.

And so Raithen outmaneuvered him, luring him into the Void, and sealing it behind him. His mind opened again, but he filled it not with thought, but perception. Gently drifting spores, fallen so high from the upper branches, so tiny and slight an owl wouldn't notice their passage, wafted on invisible currents of air. He saw them all, not focusing on any one, but on every one. He saw their movement, and understood their entire existence in that moment.

The earth beneath was dark, cool, and moist. He could feel it's gentle push, as the soil settled beneath him, gathering itself to push back, to find equilibrium. With his mind so open, so focused, he could almost feel the earth's entire mass beneath him, as if he were part of it. He could truly grasp its magnificent scale, its inner fire, its outer serenity. He could almost feel it spinning beneath him, carrying him along on its cosmic journey.

The trees around him were ever present. With no need to see them, he could sense their towering bulk in every direction. They were watchful, waiting, guarding. They too, had no thoughts, but a world of perception. They were part of a greater lifeform, a legacy of ancient life long outlasting all things elves ever knew. The spirits of the elves who had lived in this land lived on in those mighty trunks, in their long branches, in the flowers that bloomed in spring, in the leaves that now fell to earth.

As the leaves drifted down, he could sense each one, he knew, intuitively, of that leaf's struggle to grow, to quest for the sun, its long, contended summer, its drawing down, its final surrender. He was the leaf in the wind, drifting down, looking ever up at the unknowable sky, as it vanished into the treetops above him, as it returned to the earth to die.

And to be reborn.

His moment of Satori came to an abrupt meaning and end. Nothing was obvious at first. It was like waking from a dream; as ever, his memory could not truly contain the sensations of that state. And yet, it was more like those dreams about falling, that jolt you awake--those dreams he would know nothing about, but somehow did. Ever since *that* dream, he'd had more...worlds he'd never seen, people he'd never met, and, inevitably--dreams about falling.

A human wouldn't understand. An elf wouldn't understand. There might not be anyone else in the world. But it didn't matter.

A tear struck the ground, as he contemplated the untold cosmic infinity stretched out before him. In his own mind, he could travel to far-off worlds, imagine fantastic places, meet--and know--women that existed only for him, that knew him like no earthly ones could. And though to humans, none of it mattered, to him, it was a world of opportunity, an escape from the rigidity of his thinking, the retreading of old ground. Dreaming itself may have no other purpose than to bear dreams, but dreams are the stuff of possibility, the seed of creation. They must be part of the Mystique, a way to touch the Goddess he'd never known before.

And it was a beautiful thing.

It wasn't clear how much time had passed. His body was entirely relaxed, with not a muscle the slightest bit tense. He balanced perfectly on his spine, as much a part of the earth as the swaying trees around him. He felt as if he'd slept all night.

And there wasn't a trace of the wolf in his thoughts.

He panicked. As much as he would, of course. A slight twitch, a nagging nervousness. Even the thought of the beast didn't invoke it. Had he reached such a high level of meditation that he had locked it away even from his perceptions? Logan had said it was possible, but he couldn't imagine how. Now, with what seemed like no effort at all, had he transcended his limitations?

Or was it something else?

With nothing else to do, he completed the spell. He conjured the energy, which flowed eagerly from the earth, through his base and core. In his heart, he formed its purpose--he poured his emotions into it, giving it a heart of its own. His confusion, his unease, his longing, his love. The spell rose to his mind, and there he gave it focus and meaning--he shaped it into an instrument, subtle, delicate, and so tuned to its task that it could not but perform it.

As the energy flowed into the circle, his spirit drifted into the River, the great currents of magic of which the Weave is woven. Like a uncertain child placing a furtive toe in a cold pond, he dipped gently, just so very gently, into that massive current, and the power flowed into him, a nexus of possibilities. It swirled through his mind, through his heart, through his being, trying to know him, trying to become him, to expand him and to become something else. He danced with the currents, his spirit entwining them, making love to them, but never truly taming them. He could only guide the Goddess' weave, never command it.

As ever, touching the Weave was a profound ecstasy, filling his very being with deep fulfillment, yet deeper yearning. It was intoxicating, and, as with every spell, even the merest of them, there was the urge to let go, to dive deeper, to let that current fill him, take him away, and to become one with the Goddess. As with every spell, he had to deny it, to hold short, to frustrate his spirit and let Her tantalize him with thoughts of her cosmic love.

He guided the currents to the spell, and they filled it with power, with possibility. His imaginings were given life, his dreams made real. What was once simple will, and the cool energy of the earth, became something more, something new, yet something as natural and right as any of the life in the forest, right as snow on the mountaintops, right as the silver moon in the sky.

The dweomer took on life, becoming the spirit of the otherwise inanimate arrowhead. It could not move, it could not speak, it could only yearn to be reunited with its mate, its lover, the rest of the stone of which it was forged. He had shaped it carefully, to seek not just the stone from which it was carved, but the other members of its family, the others like itself, all brothers of the same mother, different in form but alike in purpose. Through the long distances of the great forest, it would guide him inexorably to other arrowheads, and thus, hunters.

Taking the arrowhead in his hand, he felt its gentle energy urging him to the east. He scattered the circle with his right hand, dispersing its energy with an act of will, and rose to fulfill the purpose of the spells' existence, to close the circle, to complete the story of the dweomer and return it to the Weave.

Through the forest, he ran, as fast as he dared in the dark, and yet never fast enough for the eager energies of the spell. The closer he came, the more urgent it was, almost leaping from his hand. He soon saw the signs, and knew he had come to the right place.

The smell of fire and roasted meat preceded anything else. Soon, he could see the dim light of a campfire, and yet still had to strain his perceptions to notice the bank of deerskin-wrapped bodies lying in its warmth. He knew he was not alone, was not unnoticed, but the hunters were not afraid. They returned to their sleep as she emerged from their mass to greet him.

Her skin glowed with infrared warmth, which his lupine eyes could almost feel. He could see the faint form of steam vapors wafting from her skin, so warm she had been amidst her kin in that pile of loving flesh, and so cool the night air was around her. Her nude skin glistened in the moonlight, her tattoos enwrapping her nubile form, cupping her soft breasts, encircling her supple thighs. Her scent was intoxicating, her readiness clear in its bouquet. Her lips parted in anticipation, but she didn't need to say any words.

The Wolf inside him howled in primal need. Her body quivered in heat. They met like the sea meets the rock, like thunder meets the sky. Under the bright blanket of stars in the night sky, beneath the boughs of the mighty elder trees of the Yuir, they became one.

They became one for like 6 hours. The other elves eventually wandered off somewhere more quiet to get some sleep. Or reverie. Or whatever.

And so the night passed.

It didn't take long to reach Ani's tower at the gryphon's speed, and though her spirit longed to stay aloft in the sky, her ravaged body rejoiced at the prospect of solid earth. She all but fell from the beast, saved only by Talrendis' quick reflexes. Even so, she couldn't stand, her legs numb from their death grip, and from the cold, so he hoisted her and carried her to the doorway, pounding on it with his foot.

"Ani!" he called, and again, almost angrily. Keket was almost drugged with endorphins, her brain washing away the deep muscle pain and frostbite, and leaving her to contemplate the gleaming sky through the naked branches. It seemed, somehow, that the Eye of Mystra wrapped itself just so around the tower, as if centering itself upon it.

"Open the damn-"

The door creaked open, revealing a crooked hall, and nothing else.

"Door."

Her eyes blurred, and she saw only streaks of pale green and flickers of torchlight against a backdrop of black and gray. Talrendis' voice was a murmur, and she laughed at him, mocking him for sounding like a duck. Actually, she was just quacking lightly to herself, though she'd only learn this later.

She came to on a huge, soft bed. Her first thought was a reflection on the feeling of the velvet comforter on her fingertips. The room smelled like fresh fruit and candle wax. It was cool, but half her body was warmed by a nearby fire. She could hear owls calling, muffled by warped glass. Four posts of oak surrounded her, and white, sheen curtains hung neatly between them, folded up and stowed. All this, she sensed, before even opening her eyes.

When she did, she saw the Witch. She didn't notice at first, as she was too much a part of the scene. To her right, a massive hearth, burning with a tall but gentle flame. The stone mantlepiece above it held cameos and small portraits of Ani's family...and one of Raithen, one of herself...

Above the mantle, mounted directly to the pitted masonry wall, was a beautiful painting of a unicorn, prancing as if in greeting, or perhaps in the midst of a charge. Flanking it were sconces, holding thick, tall, white candles, that had been set alight recently.

Opposite the unicorn, on the left wall, was a long dresser. It was neatly packed away, save for a couple of small, fancy bags, and a few jars of makeup that seemed to be discussing amongst themselves which among them would fit in the last possible space remaining in the open, overstuffed bag.

Above the dresser was a large oval-shaped object mounted on wooden legs, covered by a black cloth...probably a mirror. Green candles burned at its base, also freshly lit.

The Witch stood in the center, staring at Keket with concern, love, and apparently a bit of annoyance. A most curious sound was coming from her hand, like a tiny, tinny voice, braying like a donkey.

Ani was loaded for bear, it seems, assuming witches wear that when hunting bear. She was robed in black, and topped with a point hat, naturally. Her magic bags, her Book of Secrets, and her athame were all securely strapped to her waist. In her left hand, she held a gnarled staff of dark wood, its tip clutching a massive emerald orb.

Her eyes lit up as Keket stirred, then narrowed slightly in worry. "Oh, Kat, I'm so sorry." She moved to the side of the bed and knelt down, even as Keket tried, and failed, to rise. "Don't sit up yet. You'll get sick. Here, drink this."

Ani set something down on an end table, then handed her a cup and saucer, careful not to let go until she was sure Keket had a solid grip on it. As she sipped the bitter tea, Keket tried to focus her blurry eyes on what she'd set down, and was beginning to remember an important detail.

"Ani," Keket began, her voice throaty and weak, "what is that?" Ani's face flushed, and she shrugged apologetically.

"I was...I got mad, okay, and sometimes when I get mad, I say things, and sometimes when I say things, it just comes out, and when I'm mad I can't unweave spells sometimes, because it's hard and I can't concentrate and-" She cut herself off as Keket strained to rise, reaching for the object. Ani coaxed her back down, and brought it close to her eyes.

It was a tiny doll of a donkey. Well, not quite a donkey...it still had Talrendis' head, the mouth of which was working furiously to speak, but emitting only tiny hee-haws.

Keket shook with surprise and anger. "Ani! Turn him back this instant!"

"But...but..." Keket forced herself upright, and soon regretted it, all over the floor.

"Don't! Oh, geez, Kat I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to find out like this. I was going to write-"

Keket steeled herself, if not the entire rest of the world spinning violently around her, and conjured her power. Though her entire body was useless, and her mind was filled with nothing but signals of pain, nausea, and an overwhelming need to lie down and sleep, she found her core of strength, her higher self, that which never abandons her. It swelled with power, with knowledge, with higher purpose. She felt the energy course through her, tickling her senses with hints of pure love, peace, and joy, as it did in the best of times, even through the haze of pain. She compressed the energy into a single point, a nexus of possibility, and in the moment it burst forth into reality, she shaped it into a spell.

"Tnk sfvts!" she shouted. Well, not really shouted, more croaked, but inwardly, it was a shout, and that's all that matters when working magic.

Her spell swarmed over the doll, latching at what few weak points it had, frays in its weave, and began to unravel it. The Goddess worked her will, and Keket collapsed backwards, with no need to keep her eyes open to sense the magic's work. The spell wavered, then collapsed, un-polymorphing Talrendis into "an ass with a Talrendis face" as the curse had been worded.

Immediately, he surged back, into a defensive crouch. Something crazed was in his eyes, an animal instinct, that momentarily made him forget that he was among friends. Granted, being turned into a stuffed animal isn't normally a friendly thing to do, but the gleam in his eyes went beyond that, and into territory Ani didn't want to see. She shrank back, reflexively placing the staff between she and him.

It was only a moment before he regained himself, resuming his full stature, and shaking his head disapprovingly at Ani. "As I was saying, young lady, I brought her here because you refused to listen to reason! I am not going to stand by and let you throw your life into that viper's nest, and I'm surely willing to bet the Reverend Mother isn't either!"

For what precious seconds the exchange had bought her, Keket had been in deep meditation, withdrawing from her weary body and trying to call another spell to heal herself. The first seemed to have drained her quite severely, although perhaps that had helped. Her shivering had stopped, and she was beginning to feel very warm.

"Ani, perhaps you should steer...start from the bag. From the...beginning," she stumbled over her words as she clumsily tried to pull at her shift. It was far to hot to wear such stifling clothing. "Tree brought me here to talk about your...mask..."

Silence.

Dewdrops settled upon them like lily pads on a lake; though there were no frogs to be seen, enterprising toads might have clambered up onto them, oblivious to their presence, for the pile of cool, naked flesh seemed as much a part of the earth as a nice fallen log might be.

Kirna clung to Raithen's warmth, wishing only for rest, for time to...well, heal...but the urgent morning was dawning. Birds called, monkeys chattered, and all around, the forest was coming to life. Loud, obnoxious life.

And as he had done for a thousand months, Raithen rose to meet the dawn, reflecting on the night that had passed. Never before had there been an awakening such as this, on the night of the full moon. Well, indeed...once, before, with Keket, just a month prior. And yet it seemed a lifetime ago; he, a different man, and Keket, well...was she even a woman? A goddess? An ethereal spirit flitting through this existence? Did she truly experience him and he did her? As Kirna did? Several dozen times last night?

He looked at Kirna's beautiful, sleeping form as she curled up into a ball. Her jagged, red tattoos, meant to look fierce, only made her adorable; for a chieftain, she seemed very young, in body and spirit. Maybe that's just the way of the primal elves.

He didn't feel old. Not exactly. Old is how men feel when they are at the end. He was...beyond that. As if Death had kindly stopped for him, and waited...and left, Raithen having missed the carriage entirely.

Now who was he? What was he? Was this beautiful world his? Or was he malingering on, like fish after 3 days, the world all too ready for him to move on. To where? To her? Is that what he wanted? Had he not let her go?

Questions swam through his mind like visitors--er, fish--and he had no answers. That's why he had come here. That's what he was looking for in the forest. Presumably.

He gathered his things, and prepared to go, not wanting to disturb Kirna's delicate sleep. But she was a huntress, and not so keen on being the other woman that she wouldn't notice. By the time he returned to her, she was awake, perched on a low branch, watching him almost like a hawk tracking its prey.

"You go now?" she asked in her pidgin mastery of "proper" western elvish.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

She scrunched her face and jumped down, striding toward him to the usual distance for her kind--far too close for comfort, where it not such a pleasure to be within kissing distance of her. She was short for a Yuir elf, though that wasn't saying much, as they tended to be taller, lankier, and more strongly-built than their western counterparts. Still, he was no slouch for a western elf, and she had to incline her head to meet his eyes, which she did, firmly.

"But you want mean to...kiss me," she pieced together, emphasizing her words with a sharp poke to the chest. "We kiss all night, but no talk."

He held back a chuckle at her, instead cradling her head in his hands and teaching her what the word "kiss" properly meant. She purred in delight, but steeled herself to remain true to her task.

"You come to Kirna only for kiss? No hunt?" She began to pace around him, as if appraising his worthiness as a hunter.

"My apologies. I was not thinking clearly. I was being selfish. I would love to hunt with you, Kirna." She came around to his front side again, gazing at him levelly.

"You do not come to hunt with Kirna. You have mate now. For make own tribe. But you want no to make tribe. Not in Raithen heart." She placed her hand on his breast to underscore her point. He clutched it tightly. It was her gift, to cut through the complexities, the facades, and see his true feelings, even if he could not.

"She is...distant. It's like...being in love with the moon. The stars. Can they ever really love you back?"

Kirna angled her head, perhaps in thought, perhaps merely confused.

It made sense now. When two people mate, they choose to walk a common path. If neither can leave the one they walk, the other must change for them, or it won't work at all.

To be Kirna's mate, he would have to be part of her tribe. She was a chieftain, a leader, and could not abandon that duty for the sake of love, no matter how much she may want to.

Keket is a goddess, he thought to himself. A queen. A prophetess. So many things I can never share with her. What kind of fool am I to think she would descend from those heights to walk my earthen path?

He looked lovingly upon Kirna. ''She would consider it. But she's been raised as part of a family, a close-knit community that she could never leave behind. She would take me in, but she couldn't come with me if I left.''

"In the end," she said, finishing his thought, "we have only family." She kissed him gently, and took a few steps back. "Hunt time. Train younglings. Many lost in war. Many new babies."

She grinned wickedly. "Maybe I have baby soon. Maybe Raithen baby. Maybe carry crooked sword and wear girl clothes too."

His heart paused at the thought. A child? Wouldn't that change everything? Would it change anything?

"But no baby yet. I pray to moon," she mused, wandering wistfully away.

He didn't want to say that would relieve him. He wasn't sure if it would. He closed the distance with her and embraced her firmly. "I love you, Kirna. I would never ask you to leave your tribe. But I cannot stay here."

She sighed, whirling to face him. "Always love Raithen. But lone wolf must wander." She kissed him deeply, and long, but it couldn't be long enough.

Before he could vanish into the forest, she caught up with him. "Wanderer! Wait. Maybe Moon say okay now. You give baby Kirna? Strong baby. No girl clothes." He smiled at her, and they "kissed" again.

When she awoke, she felt warm...truly warm. She had been delirious, and her spell had made things worse by tapping into what reserves of warmth she'd had left.

She was wrapped thickly in fur, which gentle tickled her naked back. Even so thoroughly wrapped, her backside still felt cold, even as her front was burning hot and sweaty. Something very warm was in the roll of furs with her. She realized she felt arms around her, and warm hands on her back.

She was being clutched tightly by Ani, who was entirely undressed--as was she. They lay together wrapped in every blanket on her bed, inches from the flames in her massive hearth. Ani was very hot, and her warmth was flowing into Keket's near-frozen body. Her hot breath felt wonderful on Keket's neck.

She didn't bother thinking about it; thinking only gave her a headache. She enjoyed the warmth for a time, until it penetrated her body, and she began to feel it in her core.

"Ani," she breathed, and the witch's body jerked suddenly in surprise.

"Kat!" came a sharp, whispered cry. Before she could respond, Ani kissed her, full on the lips. "You're okay! Thank the Goddess you're okay!"

"Ani, darling, I don't mean to spoil the moment, but...you haven't even bought me dinner."

Ani was stunned for a few moments, then put it together. "Oh you...oh he...Tal said that you were suffering from exposure, and that there was no time, and we were supposed to get naked and hug you, and I thought he was crazy and I locked him out. But then I did it because he was banging on the door and begging. And I guess it makes sense but he was weird and mad oh please don't be mad Keket!"

She squeezed Ani, feeling the sobs of tears flowing forth. The tears fell onto her own face, but she didn't mind the extra warmth.

"Sweet girl, all is well. All is well. We should get up." She moved to extricate herself, made easier by the patina of sweat between them, but Ani was clutching too tightly to escape.

"No, no, he said not until you're absolutely sure you're okay."

Keket sighed and smiled at her. "I'm fine, sweetheart."

"...well ''I'm'' not sure." Ani kept clutching. Keket surrendered, and cradled her head against hers.

"Goodness, darling, what has gotten into you both? I've never seen him so...forceful before. And you, you're moving at a mile a minute."

Ani's sobs were abating, but she didn't bother removing her head from its nook in Keket's arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I should have told you and I couldn't tell you."

"Tell me what, sweetheart? What is it that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Ani choked back a few more sobs, steeling herself. "I'm leaving."

Keket answered only with silence; for her, that said it all.

"I'm going to go study magic. I have a new teacher. In...in Thay."

"Blessed Goddess," Keket uttered, "what do you mean?"

Ani lifted her head and tried to meet her gaze, but couldn't. "I'm going to go study with...the Empress."

There was nothing else, for a long moment, only the tight confines of the fur blankets, the two hot, sweaty, well-formed bodies entwined, the straining of fabric as their breathing intensified (due only to the restricted air, of course), and the glistening of sweat in the firelight.

"We should-"

"Yeah, we should definitely-"

"Let's go make some tea."

Having purged herself of the urge to get involved with the events in the Birds of Paradise, Kara extricated herself from the troublesome situation, and found somewhere relatively quiet--Keket's own bedroom. Getting past the lock wasn't really much of an issue. It had been a long day, and she didn't have the patience for anything else.

The bedroom was simple enough: while large, the vast majority was given over to closet space, dressers, and armoires. All Kara cared about was the lush, circular bed at the center, well-made, just begging to be jumped on.

With the press of a button, her nanosuit unwound, retracting into a voidspace container, leaving her bare, and cold. She pulled apart the thick, velvety blankets and climbed inside. Whatever the bed was made of, it was heavenly; the blankets were heavy, but applied no pressure--they wrapped themselves around her, leaving no cool air, but did not suffocate her body with its own heat. She oozed into the bed, feel herself unwind as completely as the graphene plies of her nanosuit.

As she drifted into sleep, she kept part of her mind awake. As she'd done so many nights before, in her silent youth, she entered a world of dreams, where not only could she speak, but she could sing, and talk to the birds and the kitties and the puppy dogs. Where there were gingerbread castles and faeries to tie your shoes and lakes made out of honey milk.

Gone were the fancies of a little girl, in at least so obvious a form. Instead, she entered a clean world, a blank slate, nothing but pure white as far as the eye could see. Instinctively, she retained her light nanosuit, with full battle gear, complete with energy pistol, force shield, active response system, and the works.

In this dream, she was the architect, fully in control of every detail. This was her command center, her sanctuary, a place that was fortified and well armed long before she'd regained the use of her body's full faculties. She spoke--well, in truth, she didn't speak, but silently willed, but silent will and speech are the same thing in dreams.

"Armor."

Racks of nanosuits blazed in from infinity, rocketing past her at supersonic speed, like bullet trains on their way to an armory. Abruptly, they all stopped, with a deafening clang. Armor, in every form she'd ever seen or imagined, was arrayed before her.

She chose a heavy nanosuit, a thicker suit of dense graphene that was rated for high-energy combat. As supple as soft leather, it retained the appearance of chrome-plated armor, conforming liquidly to her form. The suit was complete with a compression helmet, with a narrow visor. The whole thing was powered by a compact energist assembly mounted on her back, aglow with neon blue light, which traced across her body to the powered legs, which would enhance her speed and mobility, the ports in her hands that would link up with heavy energy weapons, and to the helmt, lighting up the visor and the other sensory ports.

The liquid metal woman stood ready for anything, invulnerable in her shining mail. Her voice was altered by the electric feedback of the helmet--louder, and fiercer.

"Guns."

The racks flew by again, accelerating with no regard for physics. When they stopped just as abruptly, they presented her with a dizzying array of energy weapons. She chose a long rifle, its barrel concealed by a shield of chromed mail, its many features hidden behind slide-away panels. In her hands, it was connected to the energist, and it came alive with that same neon blue light, ready for action.

She fastened a few holdout weapons to her legs and hips, and dismissed the equipment racks.

"Cloak."

Not a command to the dreamscape, but to her armor, which obediently began to warp light around her, making her form shift oddly, then disappear altogether, including her weaponry.

"City."

The dreamscape came alive. Blinding white yielded to utter darkness, save for the galaxy of orange lights from below, and the cool running lights of hovering domo-pods swirling about her. The city of Deep Imaskar, in every detail, manifested in her mind.

She stood on the edge of a tower, a smooth, slate-blue cylinder in the heart of the High City. All around, levi-pods arced through the sky, everyone on their way somewhere, doing something terribly important. The Enlightened Ones, all dressed in sterile white, were going about their routine, tending their precious knowledge, making sure none of it leaks into the hands of the filthy masses below. Nothing to see here.

Down below, in that chaotic nest of the Unenlightened, was her true quarry. The undercroft of the great city was its true heart, the place where all things that mattered were negotiated. The only ones with hearts, with souls, with emotions and feelings, were all down there, living lives, being human.

And so was She.

She leapt from the edge, in the swan dive to end all swan dives. She plummeted past two thousand feet of samey, flat-blue-gray towers, through the cracks in the foundation of the High City. She plummeted through miles of thin, cold air, through the layers of obfuscation and mystique that shielded the Enlightened from the curiosity of their betters. She plummeted through the fake clouds, through the holograms, the illusions. Below her, the rhombic triacontahedric nature of the city unfolded into a more physically-meaningful grid, a tesselated pattern that revealed the obscene order, the oppressively intelligent design of this tiny, doomed world.

Falling now at near-supersonic speeds, the tops of skyscrapers where only a second or two closer than the unyielding asphalt. She activated the force shield, forming the barrier into a delta shape, and aerodynamics took over. The wing caught the air, and she bent it at its edge to redirect her fall into a very fast glide. She arced toward the ground, narrowly missing the pavement, and soared back up into the midst of the skyscrapers, hurtling past them too fast to see anything but a blur.

But see she did. She accelerated her mind, closing her limited physical eyes, and accepting the input of the many cameras mounted on her helmet. She examined high-definition, three-dimensional images captured of thousands of citizens, photographed through the windows of their workplaces, their apartments, even the windshields of their cars. She examined each, and filed the data away for later reference. None of them were who she was looking for. She flew on.

Her momentum carried her for miles, her nearly-frictionless suit and truly frictionless force-wing doing little to drag her airspeed down. But physics eventually caught up with her, when she'd canvassed nearly all of Sector 9. She was just about to give up, when her cameras caught a brief image of a woman, a reflection in her car's side mirror. The car was descending a ramp, pulling into the parking garage's upper level.

She arced around, gaining enough altitude to slow her airspeed somewhat, then dismissed the barrier-wing, becoming a projectile. Her mind still racing, the world moved in slow motion, as she activated her energy rifle, set the weapon to fire a narrow, ultra-focused beam, and carved a circular hole in the 72nd-story window toward which she was currently hurdling.

Soundlessly, she slipped through the hole, still moving at highway speed, and in one smooth motion, she caught the falling disc of glass, and came to a smooth, silent halt on the office floor. She owed her quick deceleration to a mental trick she'd learned, connecting her mind to the energist cell on her back, and altering the nature of her kinetic energy, converting it to electropotential energy, and transferring it into the cell. It was a net gain for her power reserves, though somewhat straining to the mind. Some of the energy was lost to heat, and she began to sweat underneath the inner nanosuit fabric; the suit's internal mechanisms quickly wicked the moisture away and transferred her excess internal energy to heat sinks.

She was in a dark room, an office annex of some kind, disused. That would be fine. Setting the glass disc aside, she rose to her feet, and pressed her back to the wall beside the only door. She focused her mind into her hearing and balance senses, to detect even the most minute presence of nearby individuals. She sensed nothing, and cleared herself to move on.

With a gentle touch, she hotwired the door's security panel from the opposite side, and it slide open with the sticky slide of a door not often used. The hallway beyond was brightly lit, with few places to hide; no matter, she was effectively invisible. She hurried along, following the signs for the elevators.

The elevator lobby was populated. A young man in a smart business suit was having an animated conversation on his cell, waiting for the elevator, while an older woman, looking annoyed, fixed her makeup on a nearby bench. She waited, patiently, as the elevator came up to claim them. When only the man entered, she moved on to plan B.

She crouched down, placing her hand against the floor, and felt her senses extend through the tile, through the cement base, into the wiring channels. Her essence quested through them, and found the circuits of the fluorescent lights of the lobby. She sent a surge of power through them, and they flickered out, plunging the lobby into darkness. Even as she did so, she sent a fragment of her will to the elevator door, pushing against the mechanical interlocks, and guiding the doors quietly open.

She burst into a run, caching in some of the energist's reserve for a burst of raw kinetic energy, and hurtled through the narrow opening of the elevator doors just before they shut themselves again. Her suit automatically kicked in its Van der Waals generators, causing her to stick to the wall, as a measure against falling. She manually overrode the reaction module, and let herself freefall down the shaft.

As she fell, she wrapped one hand around a support cable, allowing her to extend her will into the elevator system. The car was empty, and waiting on the first floor. She forced it to move further down, all the way to its service base, and goaded open the sub-level doors.

With another trick of energy manipulation, she altered the vector of her fall at the last moment, suddenly falling sideways, shooting through the open doors and rolling to a stop on the asphalt. Her timing couldn't have been better.

The woman's sedan came to a sudden stop as it struck Kara, her suit reflexively activating a force barrier, becoming an immovable object the car was forced to wrap around. Its bumper ruined, the car cried, its horn stuck on, its warning klaxons beeping, the air hissing from the deployed airbags.

A quick tap against the ruined hood was enough to silence the whining vehicle and force open the driver's side door. A man, dressed in a fine suit, but obviously no stranger to shady deals, was quick to emerge, leveling his pistol at the vague air distortions coming toward him. He managed to squeeze off a shot.

Time slowed. Kara's brain accelerated to well past its rated speed. She could see the expanding gases, the blinding but diminishing flare, the spinning lead round just clearing the barrel and heading right for her face. At that speed, she could count the rows of grooves formed on its sides by the gun's rifling, or map out the exact pattern of stress fractures on its head, even as it warped in mid-air from its inconsistent internal velocity.

It was a simple matter to step aside. Her body was sluggish--to be expected, when one's mind is running a hundred times faster than one's body--but a burst of raw kinetic energy helped mitigate that somewhat. Her head simply wasn't there when the bullet lazily wafted by. Before the guard could finish his double-tap, her hand was on the car door, and it swung shut, almost too fast for its steel hinges. The guards bulk surged into the car, but his exposed left leg and his firing arm were caught by the ankle and wrist, respectively, and the door only stopped when the crushing bone would give no more.

Before his bulk could tumble into the car, possibly harming her quarry, she jerked the door back open, and pulled him out with five times the strength needed for such a task. His well-tailored shirt, vest, and jacket tore under the force, but transmitted enough of it to whip him back toward and over her shoulder. He hadn't even hit the ground by the time she'd taken his seat and slammed the door shut.

Her cloak was failing, little arcs of electricity highlighting patches of chromed, pliable metalloid armor, but the woman didn't need to see that to know she ought to panic and flee. Kara's hand, already on the car door, made sure that was impossible, jamming the passenger door lock closed. It took only gentle persuasion to reset the onboard computer, overriding the crash sensors and readying the vehicle for normal use. She put it into gear and prepared to drive away, her prisoner secured, wail and flail as she might.

But no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy.

As she pulled the car around toward the exit, she found it blocked by a small motorcade of black sport utility vehicles, stuffed to the brim with men, all armed as well as they were dressed, and more ready for action than the schlub she'd taken out.

There was nothing for it. She gunned the engine, charging the barricade. The woman in the passenger seat screamed, recoiling backward, as if it would help. Alone, the mid-size luxury sedan's weight would have been for nothing against the heavy four-wheel-drive vehicle. However, with a little--or rather quite a lot--of manipulation, she could change the game. She channeled a significant portion of her energist's charge through her wheel hand, into the car's chassis, magnifying its momentum--she didn't change its velocity, so much as alter its mass, by modifying the inertial constant of the universe around her.

When the sedan hit the side of the SUV, it might as well have been a freight train. The black energy-guzzler sailed through the air like a home run, complete with a crack like a three-ton fastball hitting a five-hundred-ton bat.

The wooden bar across the exit lane wasn't exactly worth worrying about. It shattered easily, almost prior to being struck, just to get out of the Deathmobile's way. Sparks flew as the sedan's ruined bumper scraped against the steep concrete ramp, and the tires jerked with much complaint as they ran over what used to be the car's air dam.

She got a good ten feet of pure air coming off the ramp, fortunate since there was a taxi beneath her at the time. For an entertaining moment, surely lost on the Unenlightened pedestrians and motorists at the intersection, there was a black sedan floating above a yellow taxi, with a big black SUV flying above all the rest. From some angle, it must have looked like a car sandwich.

The moment didn't last long. The luxury car sooned slamed into the asphalt, its springy suspension doing little to protect the undercarriage from the vengeance of force normal. There was no time to tolerate laggy steering and under-tuned brakes, as in less than 300 milliseconds, a giant SUV was going to slam down onto the road ahead, and the sedan's momentum and trajectory was going to make her little punt very pointless.

Instead, she powered up yet another kinetic blast, draining her reserves beyond the halfway point, this time putting a little English on it. She struck the SUV on what used to be its rear undercarriage, now its left side, throwing it into a spin that tossed it more or less into the sidewalk on the right. Meanwhile, her car plowed into oncoming traffic. So far so good.

Her mind was going as fast as the cars in downtown traffic wished they could go. As dense as they were, there was a path, theoretically, her sedan could follow to avoid a front-end collision. Her brain raced, clocked way beyond the factory spec, analyzing all the data before in real time, handling a long list of unknowns quite well. From a few experimental touches of the wheel and the brakes, she extrapolated the sedan's maneuverability profile, and her mind charted a course that her body had naught to do but to trust.

She did so, and wove through the traffic, accounting for every driver's panicked, random motions, the lurching quality of the rear-engine car, mounted on damaged, springy suspension, the clearly leaking steering fluid constantly increasing the resistance of the steering wheel, and the constantly-increasing drag of the many parts now hanging from the undercarriage, scraping along the asphalt, and surely leaving a nice trail of metal bits, gouge marks, and a shower of sparks just in case anyone missed the clues.

It lasted only a couple of seconds, but it was a doctoral thesis' worth of calculation, and her brain was beginning to rebel against the abuse. When she finally navigated back to the right side of the road, the relatively simply task of hurtling through traffic at triple the speed limit required only moderate misuse of her most underpaid organ.

As she sped away from the scene of the crime, gently coaxing the car back to good repair as much as she could without taking her concentration from the road, she spared a glance or two at the woman. She was curled into a ball, huddled into the corner of her leather bucket seat and the passenger door, clutching her ankles, and quietly sobbing. Her pants were soaked through.

"I know you've probably got a lot of questions," she said, her helmet undoubtedly twisting her soft tone into something alien and terrifying. "But they can wait until we're safe. I didn't come here to hurt you."

With her left hand, she removed the chromed helmet, letting her platinum blonde hair spill out, and finally spoiling the cloak once and for all. The woman was flabbergasted to see her, as she was.

"I came here to help you."

Okay, she probably wasn't flabbergasted at her appearance. Her eyes were on the road ahead, on the police barricade that Kara was mindless hurtling toward.

There wasn't time to stop the collision. There was time, however, to activate a force barrier, extending it around the woman. As the car came to almost a complete stop against the armored truck, it got a lot shorter, before its rear end gave up trying to compress the bubble and decided to flip upward, pulling the ruined mass of the front end with it. The car messily tumbled over the tank of a truck, and sailed through the air, bouncing and rolling as it hit the asphalt, the drag of the pavement ripping apart what it could manage to tear from the ball of crushed steel at its core.

It came to rest about a hundred feet from the barricade. A small army of policemen shimmed their way between and around the SWAT tank/trucks, forming an impromptu defensive line against the terrifying threat of a totaled sedan.

All was quiet for a minute or two. Ever cautious, the police sent a small team in only after it seemed their quarry was dead. The SWAT officers hugged the side of the street, keeping their shields between themselves and the wreck. They inched carefully toward it, ready for anything.

But not ready for anything. Not ready for Kara.

Her reserves dangerously low, but not expended, the bubble held. All was dark inside, as the car had completely wrapped itself around her. There was only one way out of this.

She pushed the barrier as hard as she could, with what little power she had. Light filtered through the cracks, as the expanding sphere forced twisted metal away from her and her charge, as hope seemed to snatch life from the jaws of death.

The car exploded in a shower of shrapnel, revealing Kara, a metal knight, aglow with the last remnants of her suit's power, and the crouching, innocent woman behind her.

"Fire!" they shouted, and a torrent of bullets rained toward her.

The suit was dry. Her armor was good, but not that good. And she was out of options. This was it.

She let the power of the energist go. The suit's lights dimmed, and the barrier fizzled, even as the bullets inched closer. Her mind may have been racing, but there was no way out of this to calculate. It was leaden death from every direction, for her and the candidate she had rescued.

But something was wrong. Even disconnected from her power source, she still felt the potential, somewhere deep within herself. Somehow, she felt as if she could still touch that power, still bend the rules of reality.

As the bullets encircled her, she simply held out her hand, calling their kinetic energy into it. They slowed, both in momentum and rotation, coming to rest like cars on the highway slowing for a wreck, and orderly compaction that was almost funny to watch.

Thousands of bullets lined up against her, simply robbed of their energy, seeming to hover in place for a moment, then falling unceremoniously to the ground. The police soon stopped, their magazines empty. She let go her accelerated mind, and the bullets all seemed to fall at once.

She was as confused as they were, but neither wasted time. As the officers were reloading, she realized what she held in her hands...a huge amount of potential energy. She picked up the woman, cradling her gently. "Trust me," she whispered.

With a silent act of will, she turned the energy into momentum, shattering the asphalt beneath her and hurtling into the sky. There was no jerking motion, no whiplash, as their bodies accelerated thoroughly and uniformly, a perfect conversion of energy, unguided by nanotechnology or computers...just the power of her mind.

The leap took her a thousand feet into the air, and they landed, gently enough, on the roof of a skyscraper.

The woman, unable to contain her animal fear, squirmed free and scrabbled to safety.

"W...w...what are you?" she demanded, her sanity barely holding on.

Kara didn't know what to say. She honestly didn't know anymore.

"I am...citizen 1171627. I'm...Kara. I came to rescue you."

"From what?" the woman barely managed. But it was all she would say.

The ordinals uncloaked, their levi-pods hovering at the edge of the skyscraper. There were too many for her to even imagine facing, even with full power, even if such a thing weren't the highest treason.

"Citizen 1171627," they said in robotic unison, leveling their weapons. "You have gone off mission. You have betrayed the collective will of the Elders. You must be eliminated."

"This!" she shouted, ducking as stunning blasts of electricity hurtled toward her. She had less than a second; the next blast would disable her, and the next stop would be a cloning facility, where her essence would be transferred into a less rebellious Citizen 1171627. "Hang on."

"To what?"

"Reality."

And she unplugged. The city dissolved into binary jibberish. The pulses of energy hurtling toward her became code functions, returned void. The laws of physics and reality crumbled, leaving only a pure, white infinity, and then not even that. They both awakened into the real world.

And so did Kara.

Gasping for air, and slick with sweat, she shot out of bed, shouting words she didn't even know, which were drowned out by the panicked yowling of a cat, hurtled like shot from a catapult.

"Owww!!" cried the cat, clearly not in one of the usual cat dialects.

Kara took in the world around her. Stone walls, an ebony basin, overtuned moonlight reflecting off a mirror...the details added together, but it took her mind far too long to accept the plain reality of Keket's bedroom.

"That wasn't a lucid dream," she mused to herself, trying to hypnotize herself into memorizing what details she could before the whole thing faded into astral obscurity. It was hopeless...not because she wasn't the master of her own mind, but she had the mother of all distractions pawing at her.

"Hey!" whined Kekat, poking at her. "Scoot over! I don't want to be thrown away again!"

The strange lifeform stood before her, trying to maneuver into the bed proper. She stood less than five feet tall, but more voluptuous than any of Keket's girls. Her skin was golden brown, and her hair vividly purple, matching the purple flecks in her golden, feline eyes. Her facial features were fairly normal, if obnoxiously cute, save for her elongated but blunted canine teeth that seemed always to rest outside of her bottom lip.

She was, of course, nude as the cat she'd been five seconds ago, and not the least bit shy about it. But she was obviously cold, and it was plenty warm inside the supple sheets. Not knowing what else to do, Kara slid aside, and let the cat-girl slither into the bed.

"Mmm...soft cozy nice. Kekekek never lets me sleep in the best part of the bed." Despite having luxurious expanses to herself, she curled into a ball, mostly on Kara's ex-pillow.

"What part is that?" she asked, still slightly dazed, then yowled in pain as claws started digging into the flesh of her abdomen and breast. Kekat was kneading her.

"The warm part you just left," she purred, literally purring in kitty contentment. Kara managed to pull free without losing any skin, drawing a whine from Kekat, who immediately pursued her into the cooler, uncharted depths of the bed.

She wrapped her nimble self around Kara, this time, at least, without any claws. "Hey! You already took half the bed!"

"I want warm and you're warm and I like wwwwarrrrmm", she purred, undulating against her as if to maximize the amount of her body in contact with Kara's warmth.

She had to admit, it didn't feel that bad, having the lithe and supple cat-girl writhing against her back, her cool touch as soothing as her warmth must have been in kind. Her hands, claws mostly retracted, felt along the length of her arms her sides, and it felt good to be stimulated so.

Then she realized something wasn't quite right. "Hey...are you...what are you doing back there?"

The cat-girl was grinding her...nether regions against Kara's backside, in a perhaps more than friendly manner. Kara rolled, throwing Kekat off, much to her whiny chagrin. Not so easily defeated, she pounced Kara, pressing her unnecessarily large breasts against Kara's own, and putting her cute, and disturbingly aroused face right in front of hers.

"Kitty wants to play," she purred.

"But I-" Kara couldn't finish, as the cat-girl began licking and nibbling at her neck, stimulating her in ways she'd never known before, sending shivers down her spine, and to the clusters of sensitive nerves closest to her reproductive organs. The weirdness of anatomy was no match for the powerful, primal sensations coursing through Kara, as her mind emptied all logical thought to make room for the analysis of these new and wonderful feelings.

Kekat descended, taking a firm nipple in her mouth, tonguing it gingerly while expertly keeping her sharp fangs away--but not completely away--from it. Kara was overwhelmed, her overtuned senses malfunctioning with too much input, and she couldn't speak or move a muscle, much less protest, or try to escape. Her body convulsed involuntarily, wracked by waves of pleasure, from mere moments of contact.

"Hayaa," mused the cat-girl, almost recoiling in surprise from the reaction. "This gonna be FUN."

Firelight flickered, and the sound of teacups tapping gently against saucers was all the sound that could be heard. A sip here or there penetrated the silence, but not mortally. It remained palpable.

"I can teach you," Keket said at last, gazing at Ani across the lip of her teacup. The witch didn't meet her gaze, and seemed almost to shrink away protectively.

"You have taught me," she replied, still looking away, "you've taught me so much. And I will always appreciate that. But lately..." Ani rose from the table, stepping from the light of the kitchen hearth, into the shadows beneath the looming portrait of her once Mistress.

"Lately I've been going places I'm afraid of...touching a part of the Goddess I'm not ready for." She paced slowly, almost as if looking for something. "I have to learn to understand Her darker nature."

Keket inclined an eyebrow, her face betraying only a hint of the disappointment she felt. "I know a thing or two about Her darker nature, Ani."

Ani whirled, facing her, glints of golden fire reflecting in her eyes. "I know you do, but you...you have so many better things to do."

Keket set her teacup down gently, but meaningfully. It annoyed her to be patronized, or matronized, as perhaps the case might be. She caught Ani's eyes from the top of her own, and the witchling shied away. She was going to say something, but the moment was cut short with the arrival of the hunter.

Talrendis came into the kitchen, having sent himself off to go find something or other. Apparently, he had. He ended his stride toward the table with a bow.

"It is good to see you again, your eminence, despite Ani's best intentions."

"Hey!" Ani wrinkled her nose at him, but he continued unabated, present Keket with something slinky and furry.

"Madam, your coat fell during our flight. I thought you might wish it returned."

Keket smiled and nodded, accepting it with grace and no need to elaborate.

Ani would have none of it, however, and summoned her indignance, wreathed as she was in the image of the Masked One. "Let's see how you like it when someone barges into your house carrying your dead best friend!"

Talrendis demured, not wanting to make a great issue of it. "I know, I know. I'm just glad everything is sorted out now."

Ani was on the warpath. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe flying around naked on a cold night would be a bad idea?" She stopped short of pointing an accusing finger at him, for fear it might turn him into a puddle of ooze.

"Madam, she was not naked, she-" he protested, but wasn't going to be able to finish.

"She's not invincible, you big meanie!" Ani snapped, tossing a tea cozy at his face, in lieu of something involving a finger, an eye, or a word that could end up separating parts of him from other parts of him. He dodged it reflexively.

"My lady, I merely protest that-"

"Now now, everyone," came Keket's voice, soft and gentle, yet possessed somehow of undeniable power. All was suddenly silent, save for her own words. "All's well that ends well. And thanks are in order; after all, it was I who stepped so brazenly into death's hands, and you delivered me, Ani."

Ani dropped her gaze sheepishly. "Well, it was kinda...really Tal who figured out how-"

"I'll hear none of it, madam, for it was I who so foolishly exposed her to grave danger. On my life, my lady, I beg forgiveness," he heralded, taking a knee before the Reverend Mother.

"Oh, noble knight, all is forgiven. Really, I ought to be more careful with the royal person. Still, your knowledge of survival techniques was most useful, if unorthodox. I wonder if it is useful in curing other ailments," she mused, winking at Ani, who blushed and fled to the pantry to find more tea cozies.

When she finally returned, she set the table with another tea set, and brought out more biscuits. Keket watched, amused, as she went through the troublesome motions of such a homely task, never thinking to simply snap her fingers and have it done the easy way.

There was silence for a time, save the sounds of Talrendis eagerly enjoying the hot tea and fresh cookies, having been starved and parched since Velprintalar.

"You're right, Ani. You need a master. You need what I can't give you."

Ani looked up, confused, but relieved at the same time. "What?"

The priestess just smirked knowingly.

Keket would hear no argument. There would be a feast, and everyone would wish Ani well on her journey. To make matters even worse, she would brook no assistance from her in the kitchen, banishing her to the playroom with the men.

Raithen, Logan, and Talrendis were commiserating, languishing on too-small chairs while little children played loudly all around them. Outside, it was cold, wet, and dreary, a sign of things to come, and the children were, to their dismay, imprisoned within the warm halls of the orphanage.

When Ani came in, she was set upon by dozens of them, flocking to her like moths to a flame, tugging at her black dress, her staff, even trying to snatch her hat from its lofty height above them. Logan smiled to see her overcome by their felicity, as she began to animate the stuffed animals and distract the children with shiny magicks.

For his part, Talrendis just endured, biding the time with the help of a flask he'd wisely stowed away. He offered some to Raithen, who was just staring idly out the window, watching rain patter off wet leaves and playground equipment.

"I said, you want any?" he repeated, nudging him. Raithen snapped out of his reverie, and shook his head without a word.

"More for me then." Talrendis raised his flask to no one in particular and enjoyed the rest.

The irritatingly soothing voice of Logan pierced the haze Raithen had clouded around himself. "You don't seem yourself, brother. Rough night?"

Raithen met his blue-eyed stare, betraying no emotion. "No," he breathed, almost without sound. "Not at all."

Logan's consternation was apparent, but he didn't pursue the issue. Instead, he rose and helped Ani with the arduous task of entertaining two dozen young children. Little Durgan, it seemed, had tried to outdo her with magic of his own, and had set several stuffed bears on fire.

Talrendis explained, heedless of Raithen's indifference, or perhaps because of it, all that had transpired in Velprintalar. The elf didn't even bother nodding, giving no sign of comprehension.

"So I told him I'd become a Monkey Sergeant and train orangutans to fight the Red Wizards," Talrendis finished, calling him out.

"That sounds challenging," Raithen returned. "Being the eyes and ears of the Regent-King will take most of your time, I suspect, and I'm fairly certain the Empress will suspect you when she sees the apes."

Talrendis choked out a laugh, then a chuckle, then a braying guffaw, helped along by the firewine. "I can never tell when you're being serious," he managed between laughs, and drank down some more.

"Won't the Empress find it easy to identify you," Ani questioned, "having already caught you spying on her once before?" She was sitting now, having her hair braided by three little girls.

"I'm not going to be that kind of spy," he explained. "I'm an agent. An outrider. I'll be keeping an eye on the backcountry, on all the far-flung places she's likely to hide any nefarious deeds. I'll also be interfacing with the Wychlaran, helping them expel the remaining Thayan agents in their lands, and assuring them that the Regent-King is still on their side."

"You'll be awfully bored. She's not the monster you think she is," Ani said with narrowed eyes.

"Ha! So naive. She'd be a fool not to be. In a country of monsters, it takes the biggest monster to rule." He threw back the flask, but found its contents had suddenly been replaced with fetid goat's milk. Talrendis choked and gagged, shaken from his buzz. As he shot to his feet, spitting and coughing, knocking over the undersized chair he'd been lounging in, scared children fled in every direction.

"Thrice be d-" he began to curse, then was somehow cut off by a simple glare from Raithen.

"Careful, friend. Words have power. And even monsters have hearts." He was already standing, positioned just so, without a hint of hostility to his stance, yet seeming for all the world like karma personified. "Let us enjoy this day. Her Eminence has prepared a feast in our honor. This is a glorious day," he crooned, his soothing voice sharing nothing in common with his placid and solemn expression.

"I'll just go and wash up," Talrendis grunted, trying to keep his face from contorting under the terrible stench. He removed himself, and Ani stood just as he did so.

"I must gather some cleaning supplies. He's made quite a mess." She gathered her skirts and bustled off.

And all was silent. Raithen didn't move. Time had to part for him as it tried to go on.

"You'll at least wait, then?" Logan asked. He didn't move his gaze from the dreary overcast sky outside. Raithen nodded, just so.

"But not morning. I cannot stay. Every time I lie with her, I take away from her. She becomes more real. Less...divine." Raithen approached the window, his thousand-yard stare taking him far away, to the west.

"My gods, man. Can you think so low of yourself? The woman loves you!" His words were calm, and barely more than whispered, but they stung like the lashes of a scourge. Raithen's composure faltered, slightly, his jaw trembling.

"That's precisely the problem!" he seethed, his breathing intensifying. "I weaken her. She is meant for more than this. She is a Queen! A prophetess! A..." he stopped himself before saying the word.

"And is not a Goddess entitled to her will?" Logan countered. Raithen had turned, but wouldn't meet his gaze. Doubtless, he could feel it burning into his cheek.

"That night," he breathed, the tension gone from his voice, replaced with something like sorrow, something like regret, something deeper than guilt. "She couldn't do what must be done. She was too...attached. Too close. A million lives in the balance, and she would not have let me go, had it been up to her."

Logan said nothing, not for lack of retorts.

"And no. Not all's well that end's well. Now we don't know if the Shadow Lords live or die. We don't know if we've inadvertently doomed our world. The Empress lives on, uncensured by such an easy victory, and old rivalries will flare up again."

"And some day, when we're fat and lazy and content, our enemies will return. And you would leave now, not to oppose such a fate, but to usher it in with gift and song?" Logan, too, was standing now, facing Raithen directly. Potential wavered in the balance between them; the utter stillness and silence could have broken mountains.

"She will face them. She has seen it. She must guide her people. And I must not stand in her way."

The glaring continued, until Logan ultimately relented, showing signs of weariness, of his true sadness.

"Surely you've felt it too," Raithen offered, his own strength fading from his words. "The ebb of fate has departed from this place. Our destinies were once intertwined; now they diverge. Who am I to say otherwise?"

Logan chuckled at him, a feeble attempt to mask his sorrow. "You sound like me, for gods' sake. Where'd you learn all that flowery language?"

Raithen grinned wryly. "The girls love it."

Logan could only shake his head. "I wouldn't know."

And it was time to eat.

The feast was truly magnificent. A hundred children dined like kings, while the grownups had their own ceremonies to attend to. Ani had announced--at Keket's insistence--that she was heading off to Eltabbar to be apprenticed to the Empress. Everyone had a good laugh, giving her wry warnings about court politics, commenting on the perceived difficulty of sweeping out the entirety of Citadel Thay, and all around dousing their sorrows in laughter and wine.

They dined for hours, long after the children were wrangled off the bed. The great feasting hall was dark, but for their candlelit corner of it. Rain pattered against the windows. Autumn cold seeped in through the stone floor. The roaring hearth was dying down, and all things, it seemed, with it.

Tears were shed, goodbyes were had all around. Ani departed, with a wry comment about never truly leaving Keket's house, as she started her journey by flue. Kara excused herself for some reason, to go feed the cat, of all excuses. Raynar offered to move the party to a more festive location, but Keket demured, feigning fatigue. The remaining gentlemen rose to give her leave.

Keket's bedroom was locked, oddly enough, and she didn't wish to wake the children, so she walked through the tunnels to the Birds of Paradise. As she ascended the ramp, slipped through the secret door, and arrived at the entrance to the main foyer, she paused, just out of sight of the front door.

The sounds of the evening's revelry were muted, and the scent of joyous herbs burning had no power over her mind. Time seemed to slow, and all things came into focus. She could feel fate, itself, like a river, bringer of life and death.

A chill wind wafted in from the front door. It brushed her just so, as her silhouette edged into view of the traveler on her doorstep. The warm air around her began to rush out into the hungry cold, and with it, so many possibilities, so many nights warmed by companionship. On that cold wind, her heart flew into the dark night.

She had a chance. She could say something. She could plead to him. She could try to cut through his pain, his confusion; she could soothe away his doubts, and prove the worthiness of their love.

But she hesitated.

And the moment was gone. The door slid closed, to sounds of relief from the girls in the parlor. A growled whine came from the old huntress standing guard. And the threads of fate that had come to her on that late summer morning, that had wound about her and swept her away, just slipped out the same door they'd come in.

She knelt down, her weak grip upon the stone wall the only thing keeping her from falling, and wept. Alone.