I didn't bother to get up, I just remained slumped in the snow. I could feel Bachelor's head nodding against my side, I glanced back, and for the first time I saw the red current that was drowning my white shirt. I cannot describe how I was feeling, but it was not pain, it was more relief mixed in an almost drugged peacefulness. I might have felt content if I didn't know I wasn't supposed to feel like this. The sight of my blood caught my throat and jingled it with nausea, my eyes shot back and I had to get up so I reached for Bachelor. With my arms wrapped around his neck I was lifted to my feet. I dislodged the sword and walked to Bachelor, methodically placing my foot in his left stirrup and then with a push, swung my other leg over his body, lodging myself into the saddle. "Thanks for the help back there." I told him, looking down at the tainted snow. Finally, I thought, with littered goblin carcasses and spilt blood of green and red, even an unlettered, blind passer-by would now accept the revealed nature of the shallow snow as the bearer of death, for this time it could not cover its crimes under a white blanket of innocence.

With a slight kick we were in a hurry down the road again. It must have been getting colder as my face tried to hide below the wind, and for hope of warmth I had to wrap around my cape. I was rocking harshly with Bachelor's cantor and I could swear I heard him speak. What was he telling me? About the time he fought a dragon on the shore of some nameless land, and its fire, oh the fire he told me, caught his mane and he charged at the dragon with his flaming mane and all, managing to kick the startled dragon into the ocean. Throughout the entire story I kept saying, "What wonderful speaking abilities you have, Bachelor." I laughed at the virility of the story and because I knew Bachelor would not think to fight if his mane was burning. It was so cold now that I slumped into myself, shivering uncontrollably. I was going to pass out and so I drew my head back into the air to catch some of it. An instant of darkness overran me and I slide off of Bachelor grabbing the cantle of the saddle as I fell. Bachelor promptly halted and I hung there against his side, my eyes closed and my forehead dipping into his body.

My head was drifting when I heard, "Oh my, sir, you do not look well." There was no one there, or was there? It was so hard to tell if the figure that stood before me when I turned was in fact real or not at all. She could have easily been another trick of pain and winter combining and bantering my mind with such a lone, beautiful woman in a dark, velvet cloak. "And your injured", she continued, "what has happened to you?" It was impossible that she could be real I concluded, nothing below Heaven or dreams would carry such a voice. Sincere, soaring, plunging, and peaking, her completely casual words were vibrant and full of hypnotizing music. I did not discern the rest of her concerns for her calming breath was subduing me and I wondered what she could have thought of me; shivering, drenched in blood leaning against a loyal horse in the midst of a contemptuous winter on the road to Trillus filled with nobody. It did not matter I knew and I didn't care. I felt completely safe when trembling, I collapsed onto the snow.

The long ride allowed Azrael to contemplate his situation. The sword's nightmares lessened for no apparent reason. The nightmares came from the deaths that he had caused, a hundred fold for each life taken. Last night his nightmares seemed less strong, almost a tinge of happiness broke through. He had to think more about the occurrence.

The answer came to him and the third day. He realized that by healing people, he counteracted the taint caused by the sword. As disgusting as healing sounded, it was beautifully clear that redemption from hurting really was by healing. Azrael had barely learned healing during his teachings. Arinoth had never thought that mages should heal. Arinoth is a traitor you idiot, Azrael reprimanded himself. They were such good friends when he was stranded on Arcadia. Azrael realized how much he missed Earth. He hated leaving behind his beautiful country.

Arcadia had changed everything for him. No matter how he tried, Earth was forever closed to him. On Earth there was no magic hence no traveling through mystic means. If only these fools knew what real power was. His magic could never compete with the level of technology the United States had attained. Too bad Earth gave up magic for technology. Stop reminiscing, wishes never got you anywhere. Azrael kept on riding.

Balance was the key to surviving without suicide, and his duty was heavier then a mountain. Arinoth had to pay for his crimes, so do I. Trillus was just in front of him. Armed with the knowledge that will save him, he walked into the familiar town and went strait for the tavern.

The bar was the same as usual. There were no more elves and the bartender was as busy as usual. "Bartender, I would like some absinthe."

"Coming up Lord Azrael," the bartender said without a pause before he walked away.

The usual unsavory character were staring at his sword. Azrael never really liked the sword in the first place. It was a beautiful sword with a taint so horrible he could hardly keep from vomiting. The bartender came back in a few seconds with his green drink. "Bartender, I need some very important information. If you cooperate you will be richly rewarded, if not." Azrael pulled out a large bag. He emptied its contents and out came old Gill's head.

Everyone in the room gasped. "Now I don't want any trouble" the Bartender said meekly. "I recognize old Gill. I guess he had it coming. What do you want."

"Look bartender Perrin, there are some mages that came here. One was called Arinoth. Do you have any information regarding these mages."

"All I know is that the houses had them as guests and I heard they are each inviting any mage to visit them. I have no idea why. Does that answer your questions."

"Thank you," Azrael said sincerely. "Do you know a good inn I could go to. I trust in your fine judgment."

One man across the bar yelled out the name of an inn," The Graceful Swan is the most prestigious in town." The man beamed with pride.

Azrael nodded with contentment. He grabbed three fat gold coins and pressed them to the Bartender's hand. 'Thank you for your time."

Azrael stepped out of the bar and started toward the Graceful Inn, he managed to stop himself as he realized that he had no idea where the inn was. Out of the corner of his eye a dragon shadowed the moon. These are strange times, he thought to himself.

The dragon was still following him on the journey to the Graceful Swan. Azrael damned himself under his breath. "How could I be such a fool!," he yelled out. He didn't quite notice the people edging away from him. Dragons are creatures of magic, he thought to himself. My magic must be a beacon for miles around. Who knows how many Arinoth has bent under his will. Damn my foolishness, damn my incompetence, "Damn me!!!!!". He didn't quite realize that he yelled out loud either. The people walked as far from him as possible.

He looked upon the Graceful Swan with awe. It was one of the most beautiful buildings he had ever seen. Stained glass windows with various images of Swan reflected the light everywhere. The building was indeed grand.

He walked toward the door and knocked. It took the good inn master a few minutes to open the door. The snow was beginning to start up and even mages can't survive in the cold for long.

The inn master was man in his late forties. He dressed in rich colorful clothing, enough to rival a gleeman. The man had the stiff hawk nose that went fine with his stuck up attitude and his stiff nose made Azrael angry.

"What do you want," the innmaster said roughly.

Azrael never tolerated tight ass rich folk. He wasted no time with this man. Azrael grabbed the inn master by the scruff of his neck and flung him to the floor. "Look dog. I won't take your bloody attitude. Your kind sickens me, feeding off of the meek. Do you really feel strong?"

"Please sir, I meant no disrespect." the man stumbled out.

Azrael pulled out his sword and held its point to the man's neck. "No disrespect! I should kill you where you lay." Azrael felt like pushing the sword forward. In a second all would be over, but he regained his composure. He had almost lost it. "I'm sorry, I am just nervous."

"No apologies need good sir," the inn master said, with a hint of rage in his voice. "These are troublesome times which can raise anyone's cackles."

"Please, just show me to a room. I really feel bad about my temper." Azrael allowed himself to be lead to a room.

The room was very nice, and elegant. It was a room fit for a king. The curtains matched with the blue bed covers, and the candles give the room an indescribable brilliance.

"I'll send the maidens with a tub and warm water. Have a good night sir." The inn master said as he left.

It was time to think about the future. Azrael thought to himself. I almost lost it. God damn me I almost lost it. Why did I have to come upon this damned sword. He quietly began to weep.

"Join ussssssss," the voices cried. "You did this to ussssss, join ussss and feel pain."

"Damn you all!" cried Azrael, "I didn't know, god help me I didn't know."

Old Gill appeared. his disembodied head with the wound in his face appeared. Floating it moaned in inhuman pain. "You knew, you knew what this would do. You condemned us to eternal pain. You must suffer as we, for it is your fate."

A red faced demon appeared, suddenly and purposefully. "Listen to them Azrael. You brought this upon yourself. Join them or free me, either way you will be mine!!!!!"

"Never!!!!!!!!" Azrael cried. The dream was too real. He suffered for the deaths he caused. He suffered like no man ever suffered. It was the price for power and pride. His price for pride.

Azrael awoke from his dream the same as all the other times. His body was covered in sweat. His bed covers where thrown about the room, and his black sword stood next to the clothes drawer. The black sword, with the sapphire gem that contained the souls of all he has killed with it and the Slasher of Veils itself. The sword that was once a noble's sword that was tainted when the gem was placed in it.

Azrael put on his black clothing, the clothing of a being from hell. He was "the angel of death" according to his name 'Azrael'. Ashavan stands for pertained to justice. Is what I do really justice, he thought to himself. Damned if he knew who he was anymore. He only followed his duty. After Arinoth and his friends die I am free. Maybe then I can finally end it all. Don't worry slasher, you will have me soon enough.

Azrael always managed to wake one hour before dawn. He never had any dreams during the day, something to do with the curse. Azrael grabbed his cloak and his sword and buckled them on. He opened the door to his room and walked down the long hallway leading outside. He left two gold coins on the inn master's counter and walked outside.

He took a breath off fresh air and smiled. It was too peaceful outside, Azrael felt something was not right. Out of the corner of his eye a gigantic shadow flew towards him. It was the dragon who was chasing him. Only quick thinking saved him from dragon's fire. The large red flame barely missed him.

The Graceful Swan didn't leave unscathed though. The flame burned half of it down, leaving the other half burning to ashes. The dragon was after him, he was sure of it. another wild dodge sent him flying onto his shoulder. Azrael's anger began to rise.

The dragon was coming closer to striking him. Azrael could not allow the city to be burnt down. He had to fight back, he had to do what his name implied. He had to become the angel of death to protect these people.

Kallandra looked around at the place she knew was called Trillus. The lonely streets surrounded her, closing her in. The bright sun shining down on her provided no warmth, and the air was dead. She felt nothing. Nothing except emptiness. In the waking world the streets would be full of shopkeepers and beggars, horses prancing and children running about. Sounds would fill the air...merchants shouting out prices, horses whinnying, soldiers yelling and running after the occasional thief, buyers haggling....

Kallandra realized her eyes had closed, listening to the sounds she heard in her mind, and imagining the streets filled with people. When she opened them she nearly jumped in surprise. There in front of her, surrounding her, were people! People everywhere! Shock took over her and all she could do was stare.

"Where did they all come from?" she wondered, not realizing she had spoken aloud until a merchant nearby, lacking a customer at the moment, asked "Where did what come from?"

"The people," Kallandra said, her eyes still wide and noting everything that happened around her. The merchant looked at her warily and started yelling out the price of his apples once again without answering, probably thinking she had lost her mind. She moved a few paces to avoid being run over by a cart.

Thoughts began racing through her mind as she watched a little boy and girl run past in bare feet. The idea that she had caused all these people to appear seemed preposterous, yet she could think of no other reason for them to be there, when only a moment before the streets had stood empty. She realized that she had not the slightest idea what she was doing. She would have to learn the rules of this world, hopefully without making any mistakes.

She started strolling through the streets looking at the wonderful wares people were selling, amazed at the detail she had conjured. Kallandra passed by a merchant selling vegetables, and the carrots made her sigh. They reminded her of Whisper. Suddenly she realized she might never see her horse again. No, she had to keep hope. Wait a minute she thought. I can see Whisper again. Almost instantly the horse appeared in front of her, and she stroked her horse's nose. She felt around in her pocket and found a few coins that she was almost positive weren't there before. After looking over the carrots, she selected the ones she knew would be the sweetest and handed the coins to the merchant. She fed one to Whisper, then took a bite of one herself...and immediately spit it out. The food had no taste.

Kallandra groaned inwardly. I should have known something like this would happen. She looked around as if seeing everything for the first time. What am I doing? This is not helping. It was great being able to play with reality, or what appeared to be reality, but she didn't want to be stuck in the dream world forever. Sadly, she gave Whisper one last stroke before wishing the horse out of existence once more.

A shadow darkened the streets for a moment and Kallandra looked up in surprise. There in the sky was a magnificent creature with great wings and large scales...a dragon! The dream world was by far the most amazing experience she had ever had. She was sure she hadn't been thinking about a dragon, but where did it come from then? A thought crossed her mind. If she was here in the dream world, what would prevent others from coming there as well? She had traveled here before she became trapped, many times, she was sure of it.

As Kallandra watched, the dragon wheeled in the sky before plunging straight down toward the city. It breathed fiercely and an inn erupted in flame. She ran toward the inn, strangely unafraid, and for a moment saw a man dodge behind a cart as the dragon breathed fire once more. When he got up and she saw his face, Kallandra gasped. It was the man in black, the man from the inn. She blinked, and suddenly there were two of him. Momentarily confused, Kallandra and the dragon watched as the two identical men in black began dueling with each other.

Sparks flew as each thrust was parried, but soon the dragon grew bored and prepared to engulf both men in flame. Something tugged at Kallandra's mind, and she knew she didn't want the dragon to kill this man. She feared the man and what she knew he was capable of, but something told her he didn't deserve to die. Instinct took over, and when the fire came pouring out of the dragon's mouth, Kallandra simply imagined it out of existence. The fire disappeared.

The dragon turned its enormous head to gaze straight into her eyes, knowing all, seeing all. For a moment Kallandra feared that perhaps she would die in the dream world, if such a thing were possible. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but instead the dragon turned and flew into the sky, its massive wings beating the air. She stared after it, bewildered, but by now surprise had almost become mundane, and she turned to look at the dueling men. They didn't seem to take notice of her, intent on killing each other, and Kallandra pondered what to do next.

It mattered not how much time she stared at the dragon's tooth, it wouldn't disappear. She closed her slender fingers over the smooth, cool surface just in case she was dreaming. Caymia didn't know what to think. The dragon's gift was more than she deserved. She didn't want the responsibility! She wasn't worthy enough to be in charge of such an important quest! Why did he want her to be the guardian of the dragons. Did it know all the pain she had caused with her tales? A tear slid down her face, her fingers turning white as she gripped the tooth harder, not wanting to see the enchanted gift, failing to acknowledge the sharp prick as the pointy tooth dug into her palm.

Falling to her knees, Caymia cried out in anguish and fear. Her stomach churned and she bent over, her face grazing against the frozen ground as her tears fell, freezing before they could puddle at her feet. Oh God, what was wrong with her? She shivered as she searched for an explanation she knew all to well. It made her want to disappear forever. She had almost succeeded, hadn't she? Caymia never dreamed about returning to Trillus. She had left her home to escape the stares, the accusations of a crime she didn't commit, but nonetheless, a crime she felt she could have prevented which only added to her guilt. She blamed herself. And now the pain had returned to haunt her. The dragon wanted her to return to her home. To face her demons. No! To stop the prophets, the servants of the mage Arinoth. Chills ran up her spine as she thought of his name because she knew she could put a face with that name. She knew he had the scar, the mark that labeled him as her foster father's murderer, but she couldn't prove it. Trillus loved him. That's why they protected him, and blamed Caymia because she refused to join his circle.

Majik. She dreaded the word as much as she dreaded her return to Trillus. She had the gift in her. Caymia knew she could make majik, but she cringed at the thought of having to use it. It burned her soul the day her father died, leaving her as empty as a corpse. Arinoth knew she had the power. He had watched her sing that night, smiling and laughing at the tales she spun, the same tales she thought were only innocent. Arinoth had told her differently, whispering in her ear that she had a gift. He said he could make her powerful. Every man, woman, and child would kneel before her if she joined him. Why had she refused? Arinoth took advantage of her stories, purposely used one to make it look like she could have prevented her father's death. How Caymia wished that were true, but it wasn't. Her stories had spoken the truth, and Arinoth knew when he listened to them that Caymia would refuse his offer. He only fulfilled his destiny.

She shook her head and stood slowly, her legs wobbling with the added strength. Caymia clung to Windchaser as she sought for the strength she feared she had lost for good. She felt Windy's hot breath against her cool skin, the warmth bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

"Windy," she whispered, "Sweet Windchaser, will you follow me back home?"

Windchaser only neighed, but Caymia perceived it as a silent affirmation. She mounted the horse and heard a scream. At first Caymia thought it was the dragon, but the noise sounded human. She took the reigns and directed Windchaser back up the path until the arrived at a clearing. Goblin bodies lay on the ground, blood spilling from open wounds even though the monsters were dead. Then she caught site of another horse, a hooded rider slouched in his seat. She stared until she saw him slide off the horse. Caymia tied Windy to the trunk of a tree and ran over to the man's side. She saw jagged claw marks tearing across his back, and she just barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground. He muttered something, but she told him to be quiet.

"You need help," she said and helped him back onto his horse. He could barely move. Caymia grabbed Windy's and the stranger's horse reigns, and led them both down the path. Caymia only wished they could find shelter before it was too late.

The battle as seen through Azrael Ashavan's eyes.

The battle against the dragon might as well been a losing one. What good could a victory be when the people I try to save die in the process. I could use my magic, but then I might also hurt more then help.

The dragon drew a mighty breath and hurled enormous flames at me. I jumped out of the way, barely in time. With every pass, the dragon destroyed more and more of the city. It was magic or death and I didn't like the options.

I began to concentrate. When using magic, I usually concentrated on what I wanted. It worked wonders and the more magic one used, the stronger he or she got, to a certain extant. It was harder then it sounded when I first tried because one had to concentrate on making the magic work. To make a lightning bolt I had to create the clouds and to create the clouds I had to imagine water evaporating. It was hard at first but now complexities become easier.

I imagined the air around the dragon igniting and white hot fire. The blaze would normally fry anything alive and it was the only surefire way of stopping the dragon. It didn't work. I was rewarded instead with a headache and a sense of emptiness. Out of the corner of my eye, a sword flashed.

I brought up my sword and intercepted the blade a hair's breadth from my face. Suddenly, I was on the defensive. My opponent was fighting with blazing speed and uncanny ability. Only luck kept his sword from touching my skin. We began to dance.

A blade dance if you will. I intercepted his blade while launching attacks of my own. It was as if I knew where he was going to attack and at what time. The problem was, he was doing the same to me. His sword seemed familiar, almost too familiar... It hit me. I looked at my opponent and saw me instead. I was fighting a mirror of myself, but he was darker. This copy was truly evil. His brown hair was like mine but darker. His blue green eyes where as mine but deeper and gloomy. His black clothes were blacker is in the absence of light.

The dragon was still attacking me/us but nothing was getting through. I was in the battle of my life and my soul against an enemy who knew me better then anyone.

The fight lasted forever. No one was winning and suddenly the elf appeared. We both stared at her. Anger contorted the clone's face, he seemed ready to kill her too. I took the chance and with a sweeping movement I decapitated the evil Azrael. Dirty tactics but I didn't want that Azrael loose in the world.

The dragon seemed to disappear, as well as the headless Azrael. I took a moments rest, buckled my sword and walked toward the elf.

The elf seemed to flinch at the sight of my sword, any intelligent creature would, too bad humans aren't intelligent. She was beautiful, very beautiful.

"Hello. My name is Azrael Ashavan. I would like to thank...

After the dragon flew away Kallandra watched the two men fight themselves for a few moments before stepping into plain sight, still unsure of what to do. Oddly enough, her mere presence stopped the duel briefly as they both stared at her. Her pointed ears weren't covered, perhaps they had never seen an elf before. It was too late now to worry about hiding her identity. She could see now that one of the men was darker than the other, and anger and hatred made him ugly. Now his anger turned toward her, and once more Kallandra wondered if she could be killed in the world of dreams.

She did not have long to consider the possibility, for in the instant it took the evil man to let himself be distracted for a moment, the other man in black swept his black sword in a wide arc, severing the dark man's head at the neck. Kallandra could only watch as the evil man disappeared and the other man recovered, afraid that he might be wounded and at the same time afraid that he might live.

Nothing seemed real to her anymore. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, but somehow she managed to maintain an outward calm and expressionless face, although inside she wanted to scream. It was difficult to hold onto that calm appearance when the surviving man began to walk toward her. Kallandra glanced at his sword and could feel pain and sadness ebbing from it. Blacker than night, it seemed to swallow the very sunlight itself.

"Hello. My name is Azrael Ashavan," he said, the sound of his voice breaking the silence that had befallen the streets. Everyone had long since fled from the flames of the dragon. "I would like to thank you for distracting my, ah, enemy."

Kallandra only managed to look at the man who called himself Azrael for a few moments, as he looked back at her expectantly, before wondering aloud softly, "Are you real or just another illusion?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," replied Azrael. After a moment's pause he asked, "What is your name?"

"Kallandra. Kallandra Alfar," she said simply. All other words she struggled to find escaped her grasp. She looked into Azrael's eyes and attempted to peer into his soul. The pain there threatened to overwhelm her, and she was forced to withdrew almost immediately. This man was as dangerous, if not more dangerous, as she had originally sensed when she first saw him walk into that inn, what seemed like eons ago, but that wasn't all she could tell about him. He needed something...freedom perhaps...or something else he couldn't find within himself.

"This is the Dream World. If you are real, then how did you get here?" Kallandra asked. "I have only met one other here who was not a creation of this world. Did I create you or am I just a part of your dream now?"

"I have only met one other here who was not a creation of this world. Did I create you or am I just a part of your dream now?" asked the elf known as Kallandra.

"What kind of talk is that. Why would I create an elf I saw at an inn once? I can assure you that I am as real as I can be." He retorted. Azrael turned his back and looked at the ruined city. "You know Kal, I would never have realized that this was the dream world. I haven't been here in ages. One hundred and fifty years I think."

Kallandra's eyes widened in amazement. Never had she heard of a human living over a hundred years. "So how have you managed to live this long?"

Azrael turned and stared at her. She seemed to flinch and his glare. "Blame the sword. It keeps me alive, at a cost. Accompany me Kal and I will show you who I am."

"Why do you want to show me, you just met me."

"I have to tell someone. My story is begging to be told and what better then the dream world as a vehicle to show it. You see, if I don't tell someone, I will go insane."

"What if I don't want to go with you."

"It doesn't seem as you have a choice Kal. You are stuck here, I can read it in your eyes. Think of it as a learning experience. I can teach you how to manipulate this world in ways you can't imagine. I might even teach you magic. Now what do you say about that."

Kallandra looked at him funny. She nodded to him her ascent and sighed. Azrael wished he knew what she was thinking. The best thing in learning magic was to teach concentration.

"The good thing about the dream world is the ability to conjure people or things up, like this," a man appeared out of thin air. "I can use my magic to bind him, heal him and so forth. The first thing you must learn is how to manipulate this world. Conjuring up horses is one thing, bending this world to your will is another. The first thing you must learn is that conjuring is easy if you base on need. I 'needed' this man to show you, now you try..."

Kallandra stared at the man in front of her. Unlike almost everything she had seen so far in the dream world, this man was certainly real. She would never create a man as arrogant as this Azrael appeared to be. She couldn't believe his audacity at thinking he could call her by a nickname. He hardly even knew her! He obviously had great confidence in his abilities and wasn't afraid to show it.

Yet there was nothing like a little anger to overtake fear. She was unsure about what exactly he was offering, since he had managed to be as vague as possible. But she wasn't blind to opportunity. Kallandra was willing to try just about anything to get back into the waking world, and she knew she had to learn more about the dream world to do so. Despite his arrogance, she knew this man could help her.

Kallandra finally nodded and then sighed, hoping she wasn't making a mistake. But Azrael was right, she had no choice.

Then he started rambling about the dream world and manipulation and need. Obviously he didn't realize it was her who had stopped the dragon's flames, not to mention traveling to Trillus and filling the city with people. True, it had been difficult and required much concentration, but she was sure she could do it again.

Azrael made a man appear beside them, saying more about need, and then asked Kallandra to try. I'll show him need, Kallandra thought, imagining a woman standing next to the man Azrael had created, and after a few moments a woman was indeed standing there. By the slight bit of surprise on his face he hadn't expected her to succeed right away. Before he could say anything Kallandra said, "Before we go any farther I would like to make one thing clear. My name is Kallandra, not Kal, and I expect you to remember that."

Azrael muttered something that sounded like, "What am I doing," but when she asked what he had said, he just said "Nevermind."

Light, how she wished she knew what he intended and why he was doing this. What were his motivations?

Aloud she said, "May I ask you just one question?" At his nod she continued, "Why did your enemy look almost exactly like you?" and waited for his reply.

I opened my eyes. All I could notice was the heavy air, everything else was concealed showing only slightly by the distorted blurs they left behind. All of it made me sigh, wonderful I thought, I am dead. Oh well. It quickly passed, this apathetic relief and comfort of being deceased, when the room focused and the hovering faces became visible.

"Glorious, you're finally awake." Who was this speaking? She removed the cloth that warmed my forehead and handed it to a girl at her side. I tried to sit upright but she gently held me down. "Oh no, we mustn't do that. You have been ordered to rest young one. You came to us as a horrible mess. Remarkably we received you in time. Well, if we didn't stop your bleeding and calm your fever you would have died. As it is you have been senseless for three days. Now do you need anything, Anna--"

I quickly lost the content of her words to humming dribble as I fell back into unconsciousness.

I am sorry. I have to go. I was laid across my horse. I will take you to an inn, there is one not far. They will take care of you. Her hands were against my face. You are badly wounded. She was touching my back. An invisible energy flowed from her. Up above. There they will house and attend you. I wish I could stay, but I have an obligation to service. She kissed my forehead. It is not a choice, I must leave, my duty and fate require it. Left strapped to the saddle of my horse with an echo from a knock she struck upon the door.

My eyes opened again. There was no one in the room this time. I propped up and came to my feet. I was not dressed in my proper clothes, instead, some stock numbered cotton outfit lined with buttons down the front that was much too big. Standing I acknowledged my strength, I felt completely recovered, and if I did not recall vividly my fight I would have guessed that I was not ever wounded. I unbuttoned the garment and stretched my head around, trying to gauge by sight the injury. To my amazement there was nothing there. Not a scar, not anything, if there had ever been a wound it was now completely healed. The cotton garment continued to hang from my waist as I began to look around the room for those that would be more appropriate. I found my clothes cleaned and folded in a covered trunk.

I was out the window in seconds, springing to the roof and high-toeing along the exterior wall. Nimbly running across and towards the rear end of the establishment, I agreed, the logical plot for a stable. Bachelor James saw me immediately, still dressed with saddle and halter, still carrying my sword and attire, he trotted excitedly to the center of the arena. I leaped from the wall, my cape extended violently behind, elegance be damned, it was reckless as fire, sweeping and surrounding me when I landed.

I was alive again. I wanted the whole earth and all of it tonight. I saluted the puzzled attendants as Bachelor and I sped out. Ah, such conceit Locke. That's what it is, and the world doesn't stand a chance.

It was well into the night, and very close to Trillus, it seemed I could almost see it, but Bachelor stopped and would not continue. What was it he was doing? Bachelor swayed his head and crossed his feet to change our direction, in a futile effort I tried to correct him, but we were now moving sideways. I would have none of this, distractions and obstacles had prevailed already time enough. Without knowledge of species or habit, his actions relayed heavily, along with the general affect of the atmosphere and a slight summation of my own demeanor, a strong penchant, inferring his desire to sleep. He wanted to sleep! My frustration quickly turned to anger.

I dismounted and stood before him. "You want to sleep?" I grabbed his face firmly. "You want to sleep?" I asked louder, almost screaming. "You tiresome and indolent horse. I am outraged that you desire to sleep." I slapped his face. "You are unloyal. Unloyal. And you're weak. You're unloyal and weak. Fine, I am going to let you sleep." I slapped his face again. "Is that what you want?" I reached between his jaw and pinched, "Is that what you want, to give in, to surrender to yourself? To sleep before you finish, and just like that, without even doubting or fighting, just to give up." I slapped his face once more, and then again. His feet began to prance and he moved his head away from me. " Let the moment have its way with you. Embrace and love your weakness you useless mare. To pass without protest, if that is your inclination, let it be so. Dip your shoulders and close your eyes, fall over or remain standing, or however the hell you sleep do it. You are unscrupulous, not once to do you fight your own feebleness, you surrender completely and utterly by seeking to repose at the first sign of exhaustion. Unforgivable! You fail and fail and fail."

"Sleep. Do this though, and you will not see me when you wake. I will not sleep. And then, see if you can live like that you despicable thing." I was almost spitting in his face. "Without food and without me. How long?" I gave him one last look and then threw his reins at him. And turned to walk away. I did not get far before I turned back around, I was not through. "No, I am not like you. I will not betray you like you betray me. I am not like you." I was pointing at him. "Sleep!" I began to kick his sides, ordering him again and again. "Sleep!" My eyes were like fire as I stared at him, the only light one could see on such a night and my heavy breathing the only sound. "I'll sit and I'll wait until you wake. But I will not sleep. I should leave you to your grave you horrible, cruel mindless animal. You exist as all unscrupulous and petty things do, by the whim of your fears and weaknesses guided by the fleeting, damnable and fledging confines of the moment. I see that you have no words, so sleep, sleep in failure and acceptance. But I will not, because I am not like you! Both day and night are mine to fearlessly conquer. In torment I sleep because I hear in that grave the music and stories from the adventures missed, I understand the value of the unreturnable moments lost, and I long for the fantastic and unimaginable journeys of excitement and celebration of being awake through the night that sleep shuts me out from. I am not like you and I will not sleep and I will drive my heart through my body if its damnable weakness attempts to contain me."

I sat against the floor and crossed my legs. I began to grab pebbles beneath the snow and watched them twirl through the air. I brought one of the gray stones to eye level, it had a stillness that seemed it would never move, and I dropped it into my velvet pouch without even a single reason or consideration. I can imagine my face, my eyes squinted and lip curled, so full of hate as I continued to throw the stones. That was not the case, as luck would have it, a tormented delusion controlled me, a dreadful indifference that had superiority to whatever conduct was outwardly pretended. Bachelor, surely sleeping now, suddenly looked to me as he did when I first found him.

Goodnight my weak one.

"So, you can manipulate the dream world." Azrael turned his back on her in anger. I am not the only person who can manipulate dreams, he thought to himself. It didn't help his anger any. His temper began to magnify and rage marked his face. "I'll show you power!"

He wrapped her up in air and lifted her off of the ground. He created an entire village of people and in an instant he burned it to the ground. Children were screaming in terror as one by one they blew up in a mess of blood and bone. Mothers, sisters, brothers, and fathers were all dying, trying to escape the whirlwind of death. Even Azrael flinched at the massacre. Kallandra tried to turn away.

"Stop it! Stop it!, it isn't real!" she cried out. "Please, stop!"

"Stop, why should I." he said with a grin as he turned to face her. "This is power, I am power. All shall bend knee to me Azrael Ashav- What is wrong with me. I am not like this."

He fell to the ground, barely holding himself from the ground with one arm. The carnage in front of him disappeared. a strange pain was digging into his head and his control over magic failed. Kallandra came tumbling down but managed to make bed before she hit ground.

"What is going on," Azrael whispered, his voice with an edge caused by pain. "I can feel them."

All around Azrael and Kallandra formed the souls of the dead. hundreds of them chanting, moaning, screaming. "You did this to us Azrael, and you will die." over and over and over again. The moved painstakingly slow. but the grew bigger and darker and bloodthirsty. Azrael fainted. Kallandra ran to Azrael, reluctantly but he was her only chance against these monsters.