Kallandra rode across the snowy plains on a road not traveled by many. The sliver of moon among the stars was a poor source of light, but her elven eyesight could distinctly make out small farmhouses with an occasional barn as she rode past. No light shone from the farmhouses, and Kallandra envied those sleeping peacefully inside, satisfied with the simple lifestyle they led.

She rode on through the night and shortly after midnight stopped near a grove of trees to let Whisper rest. An owl flew by overhead, hooting at some unseen specter. After dismounting, Kallandra rummaged through her pack to find a few dried carrots for her horse and some bread for herself.

"That's the last of them," she told Whisper softly as the horse contentedly munched on the carrots. "We'll eat better when we get to Trillus," Kallandra added, trying to comfort herself with her words as much as she was trying to comfort her horse with her tone. She wasn't sure exactly how long her coin would last, but she could always hunt for food should her money run out. Of course, she didn't want to spend any nights out in the snow if she didn't have to.

After a few minutes of nuzzling Whisper, the horse suddenly began to paw the ground nervously. Glancing at the trees, the elf knew immediately something wasn't right. The wind had gone deathly still and silence had descended upon the land around her. Kallandra looked behind her down the road she had just traveled and out along the road yet to come, but there was nothing in sight besides the endless stretches of snow.

Then out of the corner of her eye something in the trees that she had missed before caught her eye. Kallandra blinked and peered closer and saw that it was a tiny light. If it weren't the middle of winter she'd have said it was a Glow Bug. As it slowly came closer, flitting first this way and then that, Whisper looked as though she wanted to be anywhere but there, but the fear wasn't strong enough to make her leave her mistress.

The strange little light came closer, reminding Kallandra oddly of a story she had once read about a monster, much like a reptilian bear, that used Glow Bugs to hunt for its victims. While a person was admiring the Glow Bug the monster would sneak up from behind and bite the victim on the neck. It was the poison from the saliva that ultimately made the kill. As the light came closer and closer, filling her field of vision, a voice in the back of her mind was telling her that she should run or do something to get away, but her limbs didn't seem connected to her body. She half imagined she would feel sharp teeth in her neck at any moment, but instead felt the icy coolness of the snow under her head and glanced up to see the stars for only a second before darkness overtook everything.

"Come with us. Join Us, It is your destiny," screamed the voices in his nightmare. "You have forced us into eternal damnation. You shall suffer as we do. You, murderer. You will suffer, suffer, suffer in this hell!"

Azrael woke up with a start. The sword was once again giving him the nightmares that had accumulated over the last two hundred years. The sword that reminded him the effects of pride. Pride that led him to kill millions upon millions for a satisfaction unknown to him now. His pride which forced him to wander, always known as the Betrayer. At first it was a small price to pay, the nightmares, nut now things were different.

Azrael rolled out of his bed and toweled off the sweat that had accumulated throughout the night. He needed a warm bath but it was too late for that now. He put on his black clothes and buckled his sword to his waist. Is it worth redemption or damnation. He thought to himself while staring at the sword. It was time to eliminate all evidence of his presence. He grabbed his back and walked out.

The job of eliminating his presence was easy. He concentrated his will power on the wood and allowed his will to start a blaze. He would then increase the heat until the whole in burned down. It was a small price to pay to.

As soon as he was done he opened his gate. Its crimson light overpower the blaze that destroyed the inn. He could hear the people dying. Too bad. Redemption wouldn't come soon enough. He traveled.

Caymia had no recollection of time. It ticked away with each falling flake, with the appearance and disappearance of the stars, with the setting sun and rising moon. This night, the moon gleamed exceptionally, illuminating the blanket of snow on the ground. She shivered and wrapped the fur-lined cloak closer to her shivering body. She should have listened to Sela, but the mirror was far to important to ignore. It angered Caymia that she had recklessly lost the priceless gift. What if this Kallandra doesn't have it? She shook her head and hid herself deeper in the cloak.

With a gloved hand, Caymia gently rubbed Windchaser's head, scratching her behind the ears. "I know you're cold girl," she whispered, "We'll find an inn soon and then you can have all the oats you want." She supposed she could work for her lodging. She'd done it countless times, but it still bothered. The songs and tales she recounted where beautiful, but how could she prevent the premonitions. They appeared as quickly as they left, but by then it was too late. Don't think about it Caymia.

Windchaser slowly trotted down the narrow path, shaking slightly against the bitter wind. Caymia hoped they'd find shelter soon. She glanced up at the sky, expecting to see bulging clouds, but instead she saw the moon in a clearing, and flying near it was an object that made her gasp. A white dragon.

Azrael needed information about the rogue mages. That was his duty. To preserve the sanctity by eliminating all those who would hurt the people. But that means I have to die myself. Have I not killed enough to send me to hell ten times over. At least I'm not as bad as Hitler or Stalin. He thought to himself. He realized that these people haven't heard of the mass murderers his home world had bred. HE was a murderer himself, ruthless and uncaring. And I am going to pay with my life.

Azrael walked into the bar up ahead of him. He needed information on these mages and all he heard were whispers. People were afraid to speak up against mages, with good reason. Even He felt fear when facing the mages. He didn't fear them, most were to stupid and didn't recognize his sword. No, Azrael feared the one that would stab Him in the back. Mages where paranoid as he was himself. If they found out about his actions they would unite and try to kill him. The thought was only too pleasing.

"Bartender, whatever ale you've got." Azrael said while flicking the man a gold mark. He stared around the room, looking for any threat that could end his mission. It seemed most feared his sword.

"Here you go sir, the finest ale in the city." said the bartender. He had a nervous look about him that seemed strangely familiar.

"Thank you my good man," Azrael said with a wolfish grin. "May I ask thee your name."

"My name is Gill, my lord." His face flashed nervously. He looked as if he was hiding something.

"Just call me Azrael," he said as he chuckled. "I need some information. I am willing to pay handsomely."

"What kind of information do you need my lord," the bartender replied as his hands started to shake. "I have all sorts of information."

"You seem a little nervous. Is there any reason you should be shaking your pants off," Azrael said as he chuckled. "I am looking for some mages, they have probably been here for a while. You can recognize them by their insanity."

Azrael looked at the man with contempt. Bah, they probably got to him already. Why can't they just give up and die. That would allow me to leave this wretched world. He thought to himself. He would have to get info the hard way. "Give me the information I want and I'll be sure to give you enough gold to retire."

The man's eyes brightened noticeable. "They said that they were going to Trillus."

"God damn it I was already in Trillus you fat tub of pig's lard," Azrael yelled at the bartender. "I ought to kill you now."

Azrael turned away, his anger clouding his mind. He was debating whether he should slay the man or just continue on with the search. He almost didn't hear the bartender whisper orders to his bodyguards. He almost didn't notice the three big men following him out the door.

He ran outside and pulled out his sword. Three to one odds were hardly comforting to an ordinary swordsman. Then again, Azrael was no ordinary swordsman. He allowed the three to spread out but not to circle him. They each had short swords that could easily cut him down without a hitch.. He waited for an opening and launched his first attack. Azrael went after the biggest since he was slower. The man never really had a chance. Azrael's sword pierced the man through the neck and a quick twist ended the man's life in a second.

The other two would not be so careless now that their numbers had dwindled. He allowed himself a moments rest during their shock to allow the sword to do it's work. He felt the dead man's soul screaming in agony as it swirled into the beautiful blue gem and into a hell worse then hell. It seemed that the others could hear the wailing for they retreated a few steps.

He attacked. His speed was blinding. The short man managed to repel one attack but the newt one took him across the ear. Blood and brain splattered everywhere as chips of bone sprinkled across his face. The exhilaration was ecstasy. The third man was debating whether he should attack or leave. The man chose to run.

Azrael could not allow the man to get away. He imagined a large round ball of pure white fire in front of the man. The rest was breath taking. The man collided with the ball and exploded in a fine mist of blood. It was so exaggerated Azrael couldn't even feel the soul of the other man entering the sword. He continued with his search.

"Lord Azrael I apologize for the actions of these men," The mayor said as he backed away from the bloody mess. "We don't have many strangers and we have fallen among bad times. I really do apologize."

"I am not a lord," Azrael said with clenched teeth. "I need some information about some people who passed by. Your bartender, Gill was it? Anyway, Gill seemed that the topic was sufficient to have me murdered. I will get my vengeance but anyone who opposes me will pay with their life."

"You have no right to threaten us. I am the mayor, I say what goes and who deserves punishment."

"You will be the first. Do you have any idea what these people will do to you if they are not eliminated. They are mages like me but their insanity knows no bounds. They will come back and kill you all and you won't be able to defend yourselves. Just look at the mess I made." Azrael said.

He had attracted quite a crowd. People were flocking from all over the town to see Lord Azrael the mage. It was a small town and people with his wealth rarely visited. He wasn't a lord though and he surely didn't want to hurt these people but it was their choice.

A little boy tugged at Azrael's black cape begging for attention. Azrael looked down and spoke. "What is it boy."

The boy replied in a man's voice. "Good day Azrael how was the journey."

"Arinoth, damn you what did you do to the boy."

"I simply did what my your training would have taught you if you didn't betray us." the voice said without emotion.

"Damn you Arinoth, you all did it to me. You all betrayed me and I will kill you for it. I don't need the mages training. Do you remember the slasher of veils. I hope you do because he is mine now and I will kill you with him."

The boy seemed visibly shaken For the first time the voice actually had the hint of fear. "You found the Slasher, no matter. You will remember the taint that he causes. My colleagues will be avenged and you will die. No one alters the magic and gets away with it," the voice began to laugh.

The people watching were horrified. One woman came running toward the boy. Azrael could only assume it was the boy's mother. Without even looking at him, she picked up the child and ran toward her home. She wasn't prepared for the outcome.

The boy stopped chuckling and began to expand. Suddenly he erupted in a nauseating display of blood as the surrounding area was engulfed in flames. It was a trap meant for me. Azrael thought to himself. It was to late for the woman, she was already dead.

Azrael walked toward the remaining wounded. He healed them as best he could but he couldn't take his mind off of the boy. Arinoth must pay.

I am Locke Randfield. I am here and my journey begins. There is not much to clarify about myself before I start my tale but if you must know I am close to six-foot tall, with tangled brown hair and glassy green eyes. Interested in more unnecessary facts? I come from the region known as Blunderstone Rookery, born not into any heir, estate, or claim. These trivial things I speak of are of no importance: the quality of my childhood, my adventures in the summer, the education and training I received, and the momentary and lost love I have enjoyed are of no matter. My opinion on the subject is that I am neither the accumulation of the blood from my family line or of the circumstances in which I have lived, these as does history, have no bearing on the present. All that matters is that I am here now.

I am also a human being and as needless as that comment appears it is not out of the ordinary when one lives in a world of elves, fairies, spirits, and dragons. Yet I will not disappoint you with my nature; I am not to be pitied or manipulated for I am a hero of accord and will, and I shall stir your respect, your preference, and your admiration. But if you ask, to satisfy the petty, there are sections and times when I will sprint a glimpse of magical potential by hurling a card or two into the air or burst a slice of wood into flames. Since I cannot do these things with any regularity, consistency, or with a maiden viewing though, they too are of no related mark.

What then am I seeking on my journey? Nothing really, and I understand we must all have some course of action we are recklessly riding to and I do. I view myself as an ardent soul searching as all the romantics before me have sought: for adventure, friendship, love, happiness, and fame. To remove expectations and untrue perceptions I state that I am not a wanderer or a childish pleasure-seeker. I have my convictions, dreams, and desires and though not adamantly stated I still have a purpose. Perhaps it is that I yearn for acceptance and a spot to remain when my story is through that I do not want the title of a nomadic, sentimental idealist confused and looking for a home.

Are we ready? There is not anything more I can remember by way of introductions before I begin. Oh yes, one more wearisome and tedious reality I must explore before we are ready to leave: the details of my appearance. To my dislike my face is of a delicate fair shade that dries and fluxes with the weather and the features upon it seem to betray my age of nineteen. My wardrobe is of subtle and gracious magnificence. To my delight I wear a black and lengthy cape and an elegant white shirt all outfitted with sections of red and gold armor. My weapon is a light sword dressed with a glistening blade and strike that has safeguarded me securely thus far for I have yet to be killed. I carry around my belt a black velvet pouch that keeps two dull rocks. For this is the most insignificant of details for the cloth case and stones have no mystical properties, but somehow I hold them in my regard. No more? I agree.

I promise that my tale is about to begin but it is itching my mind that I give emphasis to the agreement that must be made. My adventures are relayed through my glassy green eyes and I obviously understand that I am some exceptional being. I am connected to the heroic spirit of all that lives even though every action I have taken has been determined by my own, inner heroic values. Promise to enter then my struggle beside me, search with me the answers, the profound truths, the grotesque creatures, the beautiful people, and we will find together, the fundamental, the universal, the timeless, and the immaculate nobility of my own precious, human soul.

I stood there shivering beside my horse, a magnificent, grand, sleek stallion that was parallel to me in appearance. Strong and proud with a robust frame he was a warrior horse with graceful and determined movements as he slowly came to a stop at my side. His original name was Barkis Jelkirk but I began to refer to him as Bachelor James upon my acquirement. Though my horse is only ten years into his life I understand he has the recorded history of an ancient mare having belonged to an assortment of kings, scribes, and elves. On the day of my sixteenth birthday I wandered into the royal fields of Blunderstone Rookery and when he saw me sneak under the boundary posts and rush by the stationed guards unnoticed, he trotted to me. I had never seen such a horse I remember saying and slowly touching his mane he dipped his head and when he stomped his feet I closed my eyes and slowly leaned my forehead into his side. I knew he was mine. I mounted and I rode away, Bachelor James and I are a company, it's been Bachelor James and Locke Randfield ever since.

"Ready to ride into town Bachelor?" I asked as I hit the side of my strong horse and then pointing towards the city. I do not remember the name of the town but names are of no significance I assured myself. I climbed atop Bachelor James and he, sensing the near end of the expedition for the day, began to walk ahead not requiring the command I gave as I firmly tightened my legs against his underside.

With the timed and strict movements of my horse's stride I began to play out the occurrences I were sure would take place. Bethel, not having seen me in several months, would welcome me into her home. Presented with an awkward knowing and a strange but unexplainable feeling that I would pay a visit she would have prepared my favorite stew and have a bed made up for me. I would kiss her cheek and thank her, relinquish my clothes to be cleaned and readied, and would wash finally in some warm water.

Bachelor knew almost instinctively where in this old and desolate town her home was located and began to slow as we approached. Bethel had quite an extraordinary house for this part, it was not those dank, small, inadequate shacks I had grown accustomed to throughout my journey, made of wood and thatched with straw. She was well to do and affluent with such an establishment, it consisted of stone, had numerous rooms, and no pigs or livestock fouled the interior. In a swift motion I dismounted and approached the door. Much to my surprise a man I had never seen opened the door, "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Where is Bethel?" I rebutted and when I tried to push myself through the door he stretched his arm outward to prevent me. I assume Bethel not far away heard the commotion and it caused her to come running to the door.

"Locke!" She screamed in disbelief and, moving the mysterious man aside, grabbed my shirt and dragged me through the entrance. With all the objection she could produce in her voice she questioned why I was there, and at such a hour. I told her of my journey, that it had brought me here, only for a night I promised, and that I would leave if she did not want me to stay. Bethel was a large, outspoken, homely woman with a contradictory set of strong opinions but she was kind and she was decent. I knew she would let me stay, I thought, as she threw up her hands and then huskily concurred by kissing and embracing me. When she bent to pick up some articles scattered across the floor and slowly turned to be followed I smirked to myself, for I knew that not even when a child, could Bethel ever refuse me.

I did not want to sleep but after some argument I convinced myself that there was nothing more I could do at this moment and that a little rest might do some good. When I awoke in a sweat to the forever-lively sunlight I realized I was a substantial fold more worn now than when I agreed to repose last night.

I propped up and tip toed hurriedly to the main room, as the cobblestone floor was extremely cold and unfeeling. I stood still and watched Bethel, who was humming and mixing the contents of two bowls into a larger one. She was almost beautiful, well at least peaceful I thought, with the light shining on her hair, happily purring a tune, content with her world. I couldn't see what she was making as her jolly arms swaying back and forth managed to eclipse all of the ingredients. But no matter how plentiful, she was not enough to stifle the aroma of my especially liked stew of Jalrig and Dartle.

Unnoticed I strolled into the room and I saw her morning spread across the counter with cabbage, boiling water, spices, and Jalrig and Dartle. I hastily raised my eyebrows and lowered my head, an expression asking her knowingly if this was all for me. I felt a kind of distinguished satisfaction even if it was mere stew. With a strained face she told me to take my seat pouring the hearty strains into a bowl.

"Where might you be off to?" She asked, removing my fantastic desire by placing the soup down. I did not respond until that bowl was empty, as I swallowed I tried to answer, "Trillus."

"Trillus!" She exclaimed in question as she continued, "Why are you going there? What can be in Trillus?"

"One can find happiness in Trillus." I replied.

I saw that the soup had stopped coming and so I looked up to see a flustered face beginning to speak, "Do you know what's in Trillus? A town of vagrants and tramps, of witchcraft and majik, of dangerous and unforgiving people. Trillus is the devil's plot, a town of bane and vice. Not to mention this bitter winter we're having, it's just too cold to ride that far."

"Bethel" I said as I got up, "care with your words, you are a mother of four."

"Five." She corrected.

"You don't need these worries." I grabbed her waist and guided her back to counter and helped her begin to collect the bowls. Such choice placeware she owned, and these ornaments, goods of fine silver so seductive that when she wasn't looking, with an arm around her, I carefully collected several articles and easily concealed them in my pocket.

"You're still a boy Locke." She insisted.

I placed my thieving hand upon her shoulder and turned her about and aloud remarked, "It is fine weather." I moved to kiss her cheek and said, "I'll be well. There is no need for burden or care. Don't you know I can't die, not me Bethel," I smiled, "I am too valuable."

"I know." She gave a weak smile and grabbed my chin and gave my face a kiss. "Now you be careful." I placed the rest of my cleaned clothes on and I put my fingers to my lips when I walked out the door. Bachelor James was prepared and waiting, he approached me and in a familiar gesture with closed eyes I leaned my forehead into his side and then climbed into my saddle. "To Trillus."

I absolutely abhor the frigid weather of the winter. Everything turned lifeless and barren under a blanket of snow. How deceiving is the beauty of the groves covered in snowfall, for underneath all that white purity life is stifled, freezing and cold, unable to reach the surface. And what animals remain present in this horrid time? Definitely not the precious birds or swans, even the respected bear becomes inactive during winter, but the dragon remains. The dragon always remains.

As we approached the boundary of the town I looked back and almost sighed. I searched my hand throughout my pocket until I found those things that I had taken from Bethel. I stared at each one and upon examination I imagined that the wooden ladle I had snatched was she. With a short peak as a handle it expanded to an overblown center, I moved it within my hand and pictured it dancing around, humming a joyful song as it waddled. I closed my hand and drew back the reigns of Bachelor James.

I saw some children and called them to me. I wiped my nose as it was extremely cold and I wondered why children were this far removed from the interior of the city. I eyed their clothing as they approached; they were dressed very well with bundled fur and fleece and leather gloves. I began to ponder what things I might have seized if they were not children.

In the one hand I still held the wooden ladle and with the other I proceeded to hand out the remaining goods. I was a peddler hawking his merchandise to a group of school children. I offered every piece of silver and ware amongst a bewildered look of faces and comments. I did not stay to see if they knew that these things might be of value or even if they cared. I did not stay to see if they regarded me as a frostbitten crazy rambler or even if they discarded my gifts into the deceptive snow.

I gently kicked Bachelor for he knew that I wanted him to run. Faster and faster we went as I began to sway to the motions that had almost become a natural rhythm between a horse and rider. My thoughts drifted and I thought of Bethel, I thought of Trillus, I thought of the school children, I thought of my own childhood: "You're no better then the rest of us Locke." I heard the elders of Blunderstone repeat again and again.

How priceless and innocent we are as children, but also so weak and impressionable ultimately as capable of as much cruelty as our aged. I am amazed that my valiancy survived such an assault, from insults to anger to violence to mockery from those entrusted with my care. These are the most vivid memories I recall when considering my moral upbringing. But it was not I who was wrong. My spirit is not broken I reminded myself as I kicked Bachelor again, it might have bled when it was intensely searching and fragile but it never surrendered. I roared through the forest kicking up the snow and ground beneath it.

"Damn you idiots. How could you not remember where the mages left to. They just blew up a boy in front of your eyes." Azrael yelled at them.

"For all we know, it could have been you," yelled one of the villagers.

"Yeah," cried out another one. "You are the only mage."

"Don't you people get it, I healed you. These mages are ruthless, and evil. They take pleasure in killing and do nothing more then to cause suffering." His anger was about to let loose. He couldn't take their incessant insecurities and their inability's to make sense of their present predicament. "You people are hopeless."

He walked away from the boos and jeers. They had no idea what they were up against and his anger was threatening to break loose. He was almost as bad as the wizards were except the insanity caused by the corrupted arcadian magic drove them to be evil. Azrael was evil by choice. I am not evil.

Azrael could not afford to stay in town any longer. The people were too restless and the mages where already on to him. Arinoth was probably setting a trap and he was too tired to think. Azrael decided that tomorrow would be the best time to go after Arinoth, but the bartender had to pay. He walked toward the Bar/Inn and was not surprised to see it closed. The bartender was probably hidden in some closet begging to his god for mercy. Too bad for him Azrael didn't believe in mercy. With a mental push door flew off of its hinges and crashed against some empty tables. Azrael searched the place until finally he found the traitorous Gill.

"Why hello Gill, surprised to see me." Azrael said with his fiercest grin. "Are you ready."

"Lord Azrael, I can explain." said Gill.

"Don't explain ANYTHING," snapped Azrael. "You tried to have me killed. There is no why you can explain that."

Poor Gill had no time to react. Azrael's sword flew toward gill's head faster then he could blink. Azrael couldn't even feel the resistance as the sword perforated Gill's skull. Gill could feel the sword passing through, but not the pain. The pain he felt as he was sucked into the same sword that killed two of his men. Azrael writhed in ecstasy as Gill's wails penetrated into him. The euphoria would pass and the nightmares would kick in anew. At the moment he enjoyed the pleasure.

Azrael left town the next morning. People hadn't heard of Gill's death, and Azrael's nightmare had woken him early. He was of to Trillus again. Trillus was a strange town and it was big. Maybe Gill was speaking the truth. He wouldn't think of it any longer. Trillus was a good three day journey. He could always gate to Trillus but he needed to be closer with nature. He felt alive.

He supposed he should go to Trillus. Merchants from all over the world bargained at the city's center. Lamir had heard tales of men wealthy and powerful who had lost their entire fortunes in search of one precious thing. Whether what they were sold was genuine was a different story. The merchants had everything at their disposal, and if Lamir wanted to be rich, well, he'd have to do a little bargaining of his own. He patted the pack, smiling to himself as he recognized the familiar shape of the mirror. I should check just in case. He grasped the ornate handle, admiring the gold-lined figurine decorating the mirror. His reflection stared back at him, the ruffled light brown hair and brown eyes, the hooked nose attached to a square face and jaw. Lamir smiled and beamed at his teeth that remained intact. Only twenty-two, but he could still boast at his health. His eyes continued to stare at the glossy surface, gazing so much that he failed to notice the change in reflection. His face disappeared only to reveal a long snout, white as fresh fallen snow and eyes so blue that they burned as if they were red hot coals. He stared into the face of a dragon.

Caymia blinked as the dragon swept gracefully across the moonlit sky, admiring the mythical beast. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. A part of her wanted to scream out loud just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. But what if it heard her cries? She gazed at the mighty beast so far away, yet she sensed it, felt it breath with life. Caymia urged Windchaser into a gallop, afraid that she would lose sight of something she would never see again.

They sped down the winding path, jumping over fallen branches and snow covered rocks. All the while keeping the dragon in view until it landed in a forest clearing. Caymia held her breath. Fear suddenly washed over her limbs, temporarily paralyzing her as she gasped at the creature's magnificence. Its wings were folded on its back, covering the sapphire stripe racing down its back to a massive tale. It's chest heaved, every muscle bulging and contracting each time it breathed. It saw her, saw the young woman with the raven curls and green eyes. She saw its burning blue eyes, the intelligence and wisdom reflected back at her. Such a beautiful beast and she could sense it calling to her. Whispering her name in her mind. Caymia moved. Her hand reached out to touch....

The dragon reared back its head and snarled. Its wings spread out before her, extending out above the trees. She felt the ground shake beneath her feet, heard Windchaser scream as the dragon took flight. This was it. Caymia knew that the dragon would kill her. Its body loomed above her like a giant cloud enshrouding its resting place. She closed her eyes, but stood tall. Death could not scare her. She had seen to much in her life to care. She welcomed it with an open and willing soul, but her executioner left then, sparing her life. She opened her eyes and saw the moonlight as it shined on her, illuminating a chain at her neck. It hadn't been there before. She clasped it in her hands and glanced at the jewel attached to the golden chain. It was a dragon tooth outlined in gold. At the very top gleamed the glossy surface of a tiny mirror and in it she saw the dragon. She had been chosen to help it, and Caymia had no choice but to accept the task set before her. She needed the dragon mirror more than ever.

Portil reveled in his new found freedom. After wandering for years, finally he had found a suitable host. He was almost bursting with joy, but he knew he couldn't allow himself time for happiness. He reached up to feel his face, and his hands grazed his new ears as his fingers curled around the tips. True, a human body would have made his task easier, since blending in would have been incredibly easy, but elves had their advantages. He would have preferred a male body, but he wasn't about to start complaining. It would just make his experience that much more interesting.

He could feel the being at the edges of his mind, the being whose soul had been stolen away. It did take a little more strength than it had for anyone else before to hold her back, but his mind was much stronger than hers. She wouldn't last long, none of them did. He laughed inside as he felt her soul crying.

Kallandra stared at the pure white blanket of snow, virgin and untouched. But it wasn't supposed to be that way. She couldn't even leave footprints in this world. If it weren't for her thought and emotions, it would have been difficult to convince even herself of her own existence. Despair threatened to overwhelm her as she kept gazing at the whiteness around her, but she reached out to that hope in the back of her mind that there was a way out and held on with all her will.

The Dream World. Never before had it seemed so real, so much like the physical world. Yet it taunted her with its vividness, played with her mind as though daring her to believe it was reality. She would not be fooled again. Kallandra knew how to distinguish between the Dream World and the physical world now. Actually, she had known all along, but she had been blind to what was directly in front of her. Why did I never think of caution against anything besides humans? she thought bitterly. The irony that she was now stuck in the very place she had sought to learn more about mocked her.

Was there a way out? Kallandra didn't know, but she could feel something holding her there. Normally it would have been easy for her to wake up. She had had enough practice escaping from nightmares to learn that. But this was worse than any nightmare, however real those had seemed. A wall stood between her and the path to the waking world, and she would bet that the cruel wall had a name. It wasn't an accident that she was trapped here. Hold on to that anger, she told herself, you might need it later.

Now she just had to figure out how to go about fighting back, but first she needed information. Did the Dream World mirror the waking world in more places than this snow covered plain? There was only one way to find out. She closed her eyes, or what seemed to be her eyes, and pictured in her mind that cobbled street she had seen in her dreams. Trillus. She was almost afraid to open her eyes for fear those snowy plains would haunt her vision still. Finally she opened them and almost gasped aloud with relief. In front of her was the street, exactly as she had pictured it. Now, where was Othenin? And would he be able to help her?

Bachelor James suddenly stopped. I suppose he thought that it was about time for him to eat because he began to mow his head searching for something tasteful and green amongst the milky snow. "What ought thee be looking for?" I gave a chuckle and he responded with a defiant snort. I believe Bachelor really didn't plan on continuing until he had at least an oat or two. He demonstrated his assertiveness by raising his head, looking to his left and then right cocking his head forward proudly when I raised my legs and playfully knocked, asking him to proceed. He would not move and I gave a wearied laugh, "Nope?" I looked through a pack that hung from the side of the saddle, frustrated that my horse was in charge, I withdrew a few strands of hay.

Slowly he chewed and he would not move on until he had finished. I shook my head, clumsily played with my fingers, and patiently waited. I scanned the area hoping no one could see that a shining, arrogant beast had established dominance over me, giving the appearance of a subservient passenger feebly holding on until the husky mare deemed it ready to advance. Though this hassle was quite demeaning Bachelor seemed to somehow achieve in improving my spirits. I dirtied his mane and smiled when he began to trot, which sounded and marked against the snow declaring that he had domineered the whole earth. Bachelor understood me as fanciful as that sounds and he believed in me, you might say that he saw me as I wanted to be seen. I felt safe with Bachelor and he conveyed, with his jovial prance, that he would not rather be any place than here on this freezing unforgiving winter day carrying me into Trillus with little food.

The road was becoming more monotonous and repetitive as we rode deeper. Houses and people had disappeared completely for more than an hour and I almost remarked that the undefiled row between frozen trees was beautiful, but I caught myself. And then Bachelor James came to a second, abrupt stop. "No more Bachelor," I told him, "we have to preserve your food."

But there was something different this time, Bachelor's ears had perked and turned slightly, his feet constantly moving below creating a definable nervousness within the apprehensive stillness of the lane. I did not know what startled Bachelor, though an impersonal but knowable panic struck me.

"Run, Run Go." I told him as my legs begged against his sides. A hard kick and then another one harder. A timeless second past and I did not breathe until Bachelor took off, streaking down the endless, snowy path. I would have closed my eyes, that were now filled with water, if I was not helpless, left to stare at the formless, passing snow. I was also helpless when I clearly viewed a far away suspended strand that I knew was there all along, a tightened rope extended across the path racing towards me. And I was helpless when Bachelor ended his gallop, instantly stopping before the rope, hurling me forward, spinning through the air. I had completely turned around when I struck the earth with a distinctive thud.

My vision was clouded and I did not think the grotesque faces that had surrounded me were real. I was brought out of my visionary state by the sudden acceptance of the detail of their qualities: snout reptilian heads directed into domed scaly foreheads just above distinctive brows hiding slit concave eyes. There were four of them and the largest one, the one closet to me, sensing conquest revealed through his mouth the sharp, shining teeth that lined it.

I clumsily struggled to my feet presented with more despair when I reached for my sword and could not produce it. I could see it though, firmly concealed in a leather sheath connected to my saddle several meters away where Bachelor stood. The four goblins did not wait and stormed forward, tearing me apart I am positive if I had not stumbled below them when they leapt.

I crawled through the snow and lunged for my sword. I turned and came to my feet swinging my sword wildly signifying my restored state of assurance. "Now" I must have said when I split the rope, then shaking and directing my sword toward the short, unaffected beasts. It was my turn to attack and I rushed wildly at them. My blade pierced the side of that one and the underbelly of the next. I danced around a quick backhand and stabbed the calf of another. In an exaltation of blows I parted an arm, vaulted, landed across the center of a wounded goblin, up reached his leg and we collapsed to the floor. The goblin could not move under the weight of my knees, I felt my heart pound when I extended my arms and delivered my edge, puncturing his chest.

Before I even had time to remove my sword from the goblin corpse I was unexpectedly struck by the largest one and my body overwhelmed crashed awkwardly upon my left shoulder. Then he was above me and grabbed my face and smashed it into the snow. The icy ground sent a swarm of terrifying sensations through my body. I could not imagine that they were to be followed by another, even more concentrated and larger wave of agony, when he bore his claws into my back. I clenched my teeth and gave a wailing cry, my body shuddered from the inescapable sting of pain that flooded and submerged every part of me. I would have surrendered to despair and let the large goblin rip apart my flesh in blocks and chunks if I had not decided the moment before that I was not going to die, no not today. Not when I haven't even reached Trillus, not when I haven't tasted happiness, and not like this. Not now, not yet. With all the strength I could find I rolled over and shook him from my back. I reached for my sword, drew my hand back and then swiftly released it, sending the sword forward, guided into the upper portion of goblin's domed forehead.