Despite appearances, Azrael was still dueling with himself. The evil Azrael had disappeared, but then the Dream World never showed things as they truly were. No, the duel still went on, but it continued inside of him. He hadn't answered when Kallandra had asked why his enemy seemed almost identical to himself, but she knew the reason. Perhaps he wouldn't admit it, but she knew. Azrael claimed to have such power, but his own self threatened him, and his power couldn't save him. He used arrogance to cover his vulnerability because he didn't want anyone to know how much he was suffering. How long before the duel tore his soul apart? Kallandra thought he might die soon unless a victor emerged. But it would be just as bad, if not worse, if were the evil Azrael.

Although surprisingly unhurt aside from a few bruises after tumbling from the air, Kallandra was still stunned from the carnage that Azrael had just shown her. She shook her head a little as though to try to clear her mind, but the images wouldn't go away. She looked over at Azrael and saw him lying on the ground, confused and in pain as moaning souls appeared and began closing in around them, slowly and steadily. Their voices surrounded them, their tortuous words threatening to tear that world apart.

Kallandra glanced over at Azrael again and saw that he had fainted, from fear, surprise, pain, or maybe a combination of all three. The souls were still coming closer, and Kallandra had no protection against them. She tried to wish them out of existence, but she was frantic and couldn't get her mind to concentrate. Azrael was the only one who could help them. Not only that, but he was her only link to the waking world. She needed him, as much as she hated to admit it.

She ran to him, hoping to do something, she didn't know what. Kneeling down beside him, she tried shaking him awake, but he was out cold. The souls of the dead had formed a circle around the two of them, beginning to block out the light. Kallandra began to sob silently, realizing that it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. With that same certainty, she knew that the Dream World could be just as deadly as the waking world. They were both going to die.

She tried to shrink back as a soul reached out its arm toward her, but there was nowhere to retreat. Kallandra closed her eyes and tried to protect Azrael with her body as she waited for the end...and waited...and waited...she opened her eyes. To her amazement, the souls were gone. She glanced around, but they were nowhere to be seen. Their screams still echoed in her ears, but once again the sunlight shone down around them. Or as close to the sun as it could be in the world of dreams.

"Wha - what's going on?"

Kallandra looked down and saw that Azrael had opened his eyes. She was still partially laying across him, trying to protect him. She sat up quickly, an apology ready in her mouth, but to her surprise he just looked at her, almost smiling. He still seemed to be a little confused, and a smile was the last thing Kallandra expected to see.

She opened her mouth to speak, but immediately forgot what she was going to say. Azrael was still looking at her, his eyes piercing her soul. He was right, he did have power, but not in the way he thought. She was helpless under his gaze.

"The souls..." she began, trying to think clearly. Azrael's brow furrowed as thought he were trying to remember something. He shook his head and a dark look crossed his face.

"Do you think they will come back?" she asked softly, almost sorry she had to bring them back to where they were. He sat up slowly, and worry crossed her face for the pain that had been evident on his face. But somehow she knew the pain was gone now, although she did not know where that knowledge came from.

He looked at her again and said simply "I hope they never return." He seemed about to say something else, but he stood up instead, offering his hand to her. "I want to show you something." Kallandra was still a little frightened from all that had happened, but she no longer feared Azrael. Instead she feared for him. She nodded and the world dissolved around them.

The world seen through the eyes of Azrael Ashavan

The dream world shifted and molded itself into a grassy plain. In the distance where reddened mountains and the edge of a city. The sun was beginning to set in the west and the sky radiated a reddish purple hue.

"This is my home town, or at least when I left." Azrael said while walking toward the mountains. "I lived in this city for fifteen years. I went to school here and..."

"Oh my, it is enormous," Kallandra said while staring at the city. She looked at an airplane flying overhead. "What is that!"

"That my dear is an airplane," I laughed out. "Follow me, I will show you where I live."

I stared at the road and willed a car to appear. My house was fifteen miles away and I had no reason to go walking. I got in the car and beckoned Kallandra to join me.

"What is that thing?" she asked in wonder.

"This is a car. It transports me around, well it did on Earth." I got in and turned on the engine. I looked at Kallandra in time to see her startled face but she managed to regain her composure quickly. She sat in the car with great reluctance closed the door. "Don't be afraid. One warning though, Hang on."

The car zoomed off at one hundred and fifty seven miles an hour. The drive only took ten minutes. My house was how I had last seen it. Long and white with a large backyard. I looked at it for the first time and a century and a half, almost crying at the sight. "This is my home."

Kallandra just looked at it as if were a house, of no consequence. She was more interested at looking at my face. I felt kind of embarrassed but the truth came painfully. I could never again reach my home. I was exiled for eternity and my family was dead. The fire burned my soul and it begged to be lashed out. I fulfilled its wish and I screamed.

Fire engulfed everything but Kallandra. Her face was as impassive as ever. My house burned down and so did the neighbors houses. Within minutes the whole city was ablaze. The power of the dream world was effective in showing the conflagration of my soul. All that was left was a husk of a once proud city, and a once proud soul.

"This is what is left of me," I screamed as I collapsed onto the charred floor. "And this is just the beginning."

Kallandra walked over to me and lifted my chin. I saw sadness in her eyes and the reflection of a person to be pitied, I pitied myself. She stared into my eyes and drew her face close to mine until our lips touched. We kissed passionately and for a moment I was happy, but only for a moment. I pushed her away from me. I didn't want her to suffer as I did. She was to good for such horror in her life.

"I am sorry, but... I am sorry." I started to walk away.

"I am sorry, but... I am sorry." Azrael started to walk away, but Kallandra grabbed his hand.

"You are living in the past," she said to him softly. "The pain will never go away until you can let go of it."

Azrael pulled his hand away, "Don't you understand? This is who I am!" For a moment his features changed. His eyes and face grew darker and his mouth tightened into a sneer. "I cause pain, I *am* pain!" He turned away from her for a moment, and when he turned back the darkness had retreated from his face.

"That may be who you think you are." Kallandra reached down and grasped Azrael's hand once again. Turning it over, she began to trace the lines on his palm with one long finger, before she looked up at his face once again. "But you have shown me that world of yours for a reason. You long for that part of you to come forth once again. The part that yearns for love."

Again Azrael pulled his hand away. "Do you have any idea how many hundreds of people I have butchered?" He drew the long black sword that was darkness itself, and looked at it, turning it first one way and then the other. "With this!"

Kallandra shrunk back a little at the sight of the sword. That sword was death...no, it was worse than death. It was pure suffering.

Azrael continued, "My cruelty is immeasurable. Unlike all elves and many humans, I hold no regard for life. I live to see others suffer. That is all I have left."

After a moment's silence, Kallandra asked, "How long will you believe your lies?"

"They are not lies! It is the truth!" Still holding the sword, Azrael took a step toward her.

Kallandra started to step backwards, but then she looked into his eyes. There she thought she saw something within him that seemed almost hopeful. In a moment it was gone, and his eyes hardened once again, but Kallandra knew she had glimpsed something rare.

"If you don't tell someone, it will kill you," she said, her face painted with sadness. She stepped toward him, looking warily at the sword, and then pushed the arm holding the sword down until the tip almost touched the ground. She reached up and touched his cheek, whispering, "Please, tell me."

The world seen through Azrael's eyes.

Damn her questions, Damn her insight. Who does she think she is. I thought to myself. It was a wonder I hadn't killed her yet. I had this constant struggle trying to stop me from becoming evil but this was to much. She had no right to second guess me. With my sword I could show her suffering. I could show her how I am pain.

"Who do you think you are Kal." I said as I regained my composure. She had broken through once, but never again. "I will sheath my sword and I will help you in whatever you need. I am known to be kind to people sometimes but never again ask me who I am."

She let go of my arm in haste, maybe afraid of the rage I was showing. I was in the dream world for a reason and she wasn't it. It was Arinoth, for only he was more powerful then I. It was time to search him out.

"I realize that you are stuck here in this world because it is day and you haven't left yet." I smirked. "Guess what? If you want to stay here for eternity you can, if not. You can follow me while I defeat a traitorous bastard. The journey will be long and difficult but if I am to live I must go through with it. If you come you might live and escape or die, the choice is yours."

I didn't await for an answer, I just turned my back to her and I walked. I knew what I was looking for. I could feel the manipulation of the dream world taking place as I walked. what it would be next I didn't know but whatever it was it was getting closer.

After half an hour of walking The manifestation were upon us. They were gruesome monsters, like zombies with months of rot yet still living. Some were so horrid I can't begin to describe their appearance. They were true nightmares.

At first I tried to disperse their essence, but Arinoth was too strong for that. I was forced to use my sword. I pulled out the black blade and started cutting at my foes. They dispersed with ease but more were springing up where others fell. Arinoth was close.

I had to protect Kallandra for she had no defense against these beings, yet they drew closer and closer. They surrounded her and attacked. They surrounded me and attacked. I had to risk using magic. I had to face it's evil, and it came with a thought...

Bachelor was excited, the most excited a horse could be, the most excited horse in the world. It was probably marked by the sun, which for the first time in several days was overhead and clearly visible. It must have also been helped by the wonderful sleep he certainly had, which of course, out of principal, did not bode well with me for his sleep was an act of defiance, leaving me to lay on the cold ground and stare at the gloomy sky without even a single sound of steadfastness or ease to fill my ears, only an uneasy silence that no one should have to share the night with. But I let it pass for we were entering Trillus and there was no time for such trivial concerns. I would let nothing bother me today. I even managed to mostly forget the strange woman with the beautiful voice, whom found it easier to walk away, abandoning me at the step of an inn rather than to, at least, wait to see if I was received properly. But I suppose I never should have bothered her in the first place, though, to think of it, I never asked for any assistance, no matter I surmise, some would say she was my savior. I'd be better to forget it I quickly thought, all was over and I was well, these memories best not interrupt my thoughts again, because at last I am in Trillus. At last.

There were no limits here, the people seemed to move faster, they did not amble aimlessly across town as they did in Blunderstone Rookery. When I was a child I always dreamed of traveling to Trillus, and I saw, by watching the vendors and merchants, the children and animals, that no one in Trillus ever even thought of going anywhere else, they were content here giving no regard to the rest of the world. Everything happened in Trillus, every advancement and commendable idea seemed to come from Trillus. Incredible progress lined the streets as well as powerful blooming oak trees, along with crape myrtles and redbuds. I was glad to finally be in a place that no winter could stop. The people going about their business like the snow wasn't there, or if it was, then it didn't matter to them. And all of it, everything Trillus had to offer, I knew it was willing to share.

I told Bachelor that we would go to the finest place in town. I searched streets, turned down vendors selling all sorts of things, slid across allies and passed the town square until I saw a grand building with magnificent swans staring at me caught, timeless, in stained glass.

I forced open the doors and walked inside. A middle-aged, stocky man approached me and shook my hand. I heard my steps and his sound against the marble floor as I followed him inwards.

"Welcome to the Graceful Swan." How fitting a name I thought.

"I would like a room, the very best, the finest you have. And I would like my horse cared for as well." Pointing back behind the front doors. He nodded and turned to walk away. He returned with keys and a request to be followed up several flights of stairs. He unlocked two wooden doors, the room was spectacular and I insistently nodded that this would do fine.

"Wonderful." He remained stationary for a moment, extended and then promptly withdrew his hand, shut the doors behind him and left me to myself. The night was almost in front of me, just enough time for a warm water bath that I quickly ordered to be readied.

After I washed I was to dress exceptionally well for it was in rare intervals on my journey that I was housed in such a fine establishment as the Great Swan. It couldn't be just any ordinary rummage of clothing I knew, not some wool, canvas, and linen pulled on from an assortment of stained garments. I was fortunate to have Bethel's assistance at times, allowing me to satisfy my precarious fancy with such things as green and worn tunics, an early carmagnole, or even the elongated elf bloomers I had acquired, came to my senses, and properly scorched. She had purchased the choice and elegant scarlet shirt I held now at arm length as my body danced, mannering for the mirror. It would do just fine I remarked, just fine. I had to hold on to this pleasing moment for not only the scarce quality of my own unwavering attention but also for the appreciation that you are the most beautiful person in the room when you're in it alone. I savored the effect of slowly placing my left arm into the sleeve, perceiving the costly stitch and texture against my flesh, then turning my body and shirt slightly to insert my other arm, relishing it with the same pleasures. The shirt was close-fitting and waisted, the sleeves were not wide or padded, rather loose though supported, it was not laced or complicated with unsuited designs either, but slashed and marked using inconspicuous cuff and collar.

The pants were light and tailored to a formed but slack fit, their color of pure white. I fastened the clasp of my cape, which, arranged in folds, fell just below my ankles. The next duty I attended was the attachment of my valuable gold scabbard followed, as a king or dignitary, by the insertion of my sword from an extended posture to a solemn motion right into the sheath. I was ready then, I nodded through the mirror and then, I was off, out through the door with the determination not to let the night go to waste.

I rolled the ends of dried leaves filled with green tobacco and fruits, brought it to my lips, and bent to a candle to light the tip. It was rich, either slightly too dark or too strong, but nonetheless very satisfying and I soon had a collection of aroma and smoke around me. Shared with my drink I was almost through them both, which were of the famed Graceful Swan specialty, when I felt a chair bump against my table. I did not offer it much notice, or even look up, except that it did seem rather close and awkward when considering I was in the corner all alone. I only grasped the peculiarity of the moment when she began to speak, "You are very much talked about."

It took the passing of several moments before I realized the words were meant for me, I was caught quite off guard. I lifted my head and hurried a drink when I answered, "I suppose."

"The men, they have no idea who you are. No one has ever seen you in here, and since choosing to sit in the corner , good sir, to them all alone seems arrogantly suspicious. Several of them say that if you were older they would kill you plainly, as all the reason needed. But the woman of the bar adore you, they cannot cease their staring. Their dancing, drinking, and conversing has all been interrupted and held in stay by your presence. The men are terribly mad and the woman utterly transfixed and all over your sharp and eager figure is certain, an inescapable image directing everyone's thoughts. They say you are the son of a noble family, perhaps an heir to a throne, a son of wealth and destiny."

I was not looking at her, I bowed my head and became childishly fascinated by the smoke I was puffing upwards past me, swarming into countless images and then into nothing at all. I shook my head and heard her speak again:

"Sir, I mean no disrespect. I hope I did not offend you by coming over, that is not my intent at all-"

"I do not mind."

She smiled and I told her that my name was Locke and I asked for hers, she declined to tell me and informed me that names were not important. I shook my head and laughed, I offered her a taste of my drink and she let me in on even more of her character, "I dare not." Really I thought.

She took her seat across me, and I could see that was she was beautiful but nothing in this darkness could I see besides that. I did notice an amulet attached to a skein of beige coarse wool around her neck. This acknowledgment was a terrible mistake though, and it began to bother me, that is was conspicuously out of place against her naked chest and red dress. I wanted to suggest that she change the strand and wear it beneath her clothes, or better, to not carry it at all for surely it was worn for some silly superstition. This had to be true, all things of such are for that reason, to somehow magically hamper, as if it were cleaning something split, then it would be the same with these amulets to agues and fevers and scarlatina.

She played with it in her hands, polishing it with her thumb and then was once again ready to speak. She began to tell me about the heritage of this amulet, and that the skein around her neck, suspending the amulet, was of seven continuous strands representing the constituent composites of life, each strand symbolizing a side of the amulet, each strand bent slightly and each bent a different amount. The amulet's power, she continued, is not of homeopathic or imitative magic, that it was infinitely more powerful than those, and also far less restrictive, but did vary with the giver. The lure, capacity, and strength did not conform to any rules really, an adroit or fool could both use it as the same, and it could be given as easily and as often without spoil or failure. But one thing remains certain she attested, was that not a thing was immune to it, and that everyone had it, one way or another. It cannot be defined at all, its processes are unknown she said, the easiest and clearest way to understand it was to judge the simplest affects, the appreciated sensations that it registered. And that if it was used on someone, and that if everything was done proper by the giver, then the object responds and gives back what was received, no matter what, in whatever way it can.

She wasn't very specific, but I didn't actually care a thing about her amulet. The alcohol was numbing me all over, I sucked in the smoke and blew it straight-ahead, I wanted to watch it swarm her face. She waved her hands to scatter what was already rapidly fading, my chin rested against my elbows on the table and I gave her an impish smile.

"You are very beautiful. Yet you seem," she said, "you seem so miserable and so alone. How can that be"

"I am not lonely." I responded, as if it were extremely obvious that my solitude was chosen.

She was beginning to say something, but I had a rush of words at my mouth, the alcohol having laid down the normal urgency of maintaining the proper behavior of a gentleman, "Everything in my life I have chosen, I had to, yes I chose. I must be wrong, then, this is all wrong, but it is mine to bear, to live with, and not yours. Yes, all wrong. Do I deserve to be left alone? Certainly, because I don't care, one way or another, I really don't. I am better than everyone. With all I have to offer, with all I could give, oh, if only people desired me. But people do not desire me, they hate me, my dignity, my pride, my confidence. But I abhor those people, and I am finished with them. Ah, but there is goodness, there has to be somewhere, and then I can go there, and find those I can find myself in, those most like me, who are not caught and pettily concerned with what will never happen or with that that always does, who do not live from only sunrise to sunset and want something more, something that is better, cleaner, pleasing and right. And if there aren't, if I can't find a place with those that I enjoy, those who would not have me think that their company is only for my need, who enjoy me, then I choose to be alone. Because that is the paltry contradiction, it is only that we think we need people that we suffer, and so, I'd rather be alone and forget everyone. I am not lonely." I had finished two glasses of wine and the smile left her face.

Her eyes grown wide, she was shaking her head, she kissed my hand and then my wrist, "I desire you. Let me show you that I desire you. I would like…to show you tonight how much I desire you."

The room was very crowded, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and she got up from the table. She gestured to be followed, placed my hand behind her shoulder, and led me up the stairs. And even in my drunken state I knew I would not be alone, and even if for only a little while, I would step into the night with someone beside me.