"I do not doubt that, but it is what your presence may foster that worries me," Dolanna explained. "The Tower knows of your past betrayal. You will not find open arms among them."

"I, I don't belong there anymore," she said in a small voice. "I can't go back to what I was."

"I have little doubt that the Keeper will blame you for her losing Tarrin," Dolanna pressed.

"Then she'd be right," Jula flared. "It was my fault. I already admitted to that. Everything that happened to Tarrin is my fault. Does that make you feel better? Are you happy now?"

"Cub!" Triana snapped, in a tone that no living being would dare disobey.

Allia turned to look, and saw Jula looking at the deck, keeping her eyes averted from Triana's withering glare.

"You forget yourself, little girl," Triana said to her in a hot tone. "Now sit there and be silent. If I hear a word from you until I give you leave to speak, you'll be swimming to Suld. Do you understand me?"

Triana did not make idle threats. If Jula disobeyed, Triana would literally throw her over the rail. The changeling Were-cat probably understood that intimately by now, having suffered many humiliating punishments from her demanding mentor, so she simply nodded emphatically while keeping her eyes on the deck. Jula knew to "show throat" to Triana, as Tarrin would put it. For that matter, everyone on the ship did.

"I don't worry very much about them, it's that army that worries me," Triana told the small Sorceress. "From what you told me, whoever's left probably can't stir up trouble. But a Dal army is another matter. Are you sure that Suld can hold?"

"The katzh-dashi will defend the city if it becomes threatened, Triana," Dolanna said respectfully. "That is a power that cannot be easily dismissed. No army could breach the walls when the katzh-dashi do not wish it to be so."

"I'm glad you're confident about it," Triana grunted.

"In this matter, I am," she replied. "Even if they could somehow breach the city, no army could get onto the Tower grounds. The katzh-dashi would seal the grounds, and no force the Dals could bring to bear could penetrate it. The Tower will persevere, as will any within it."

"I don't much like the idea of being held prisoner in the Tower, so let's hope your friends can hold the walls," Triana snorted.

"I have every confidence in them."

"Good. Now, let's move onto something much more important. Lunch."

Allia let her attention drift away, fingering the amulet around her neck. It was an alien symbol, the holy symbol of the Goddess of the Sorcerers. It felt strange to her to know that another god watched over her, staked a claim on her, but it was the truth. She and Keritanima and Tarrin all were owned by two goddesses, by virtue of the amulets about their necks and the brands on their shoulders. But she and Keritanima were outside the hands of the Holy Mother, where Tarrin now rested within her protective embrace.

At least she hoped it was so. The Holy Mother was a strict and sometimes harsh goddess, seeking to improve her people through strife and hardship, nurturing them with a strong hand and making them proud and strong for their survival. She had little doubt that the Holy Mother was testing her brother, seeking to place hardship in his path, assessing him in her own way to see if he was deserving of her love and protection. In the eyes of the Holy Mother, the children had to first prove themselves before she granted them her gifts.

This worried her. Tarrin's physical ability was beyond reproach, but his character was not. She loved him, and always would, but she was not so blind as to not understand him. He was not the same young man who had received the brands so long ago. His trials and tribulations had changed him, had shut him away from the world, had made him very much the object of fear some made him to be. He was different now. Harder, colder, more ruthless, maybe even a little evil, and those were traits of which the Holy Mother would not approve. She would not grant him her gifts until he proved himself to her, and that meant that she would not accept him until he faced that part of himself, and conquered it.

Tarrin faced a trial of fire in the lands of the Holy Mother, a trial he would not understand, an ordeal he would not realize was being thrust upon him. The ways of the Holy Mother were subtle, even insidious, and she would come after him in every way she could to try to break him, to force him to struggle on, to make him grow and become better. Not until he proved to her that he was deserving of her respect would she relent, and he would not be deserving of her respect until he faced and conquered the monster within.

Allia looked out over the ocean, an ocean she no longer feared, silently praying to both the Holy Mother and the Goddess of the Sorcerers that her dear brother be safe and well, that they watch over him and help him to be what they wished him to be. But for her, no matter who he was or what he became, he would always be her brother, and come what may, she would always love him.

To: Title EoF

"Face what you have become," the words rushed over him, through him, strking him in the soul, forcing him to face the wrong he had done in his life.

"No, not again," Tarrin raged within the confines of the dream, raging against the thousands of eyeless shades placed there to torment him. "Not again! I will not fear a dream! You can't harm me, shadow!" he snapped at the face that had become burned into his memory, the pretty young girl with the chalky skin and black pits where her eyes had once been. The dream would not stop, it would not leave him in peace, it was the same thing over and over, night after night, day after day, whenever he went to sleep. Not again! Not again!

"We are yours," she said in that haunting voice, reaching out for him.

He started awake before those killing hands could reach him, gasping for air and sitting straight up, claws out and ready to repel the attack. Then he flopped back down on the leather floor of the tent, laid over sand, breathing heavily. It wouldn't leave him alone! Night after night, day after day, any time he closed his eyes and went to sleep, the dream came to him. It haunted him, infused him even while awake, had begun to consume him. The eyeless face was burned behind his eyes now, haunting him both in dreams and awake, giving him no peace.

He had to get out, to walk around. He left the tent Sarraya had made that evening and walked out into the frigid night air, breath misting before him as the sweat on his body threatened to freeze before it evaporated. The cold air was better than a slap in the face, causing his mind to sharpen from its bleary haze and focus on reality. Fifteen days now. Fifteen days without any real sleep, fifteen days of repetitive torture from the beautiful face with no eyes. He rubbed his face with his large paw, feeling the rough/smooth pad of his palm slide along his cheek, felt the clawtips digging into his scalp just below his ears. Fifteen days without good sleep. He felt so tired, so unfocused, but there was very little he could do. Sleep always ended in the dream. Attempts to meditate, as Allia taught him, ended just as quickly because of the face that stared back at him from the darkness of his mind.

Why? Why now? Why did the dreams have to come now? He needed to seek out this new way to use Sorcery, but the plague of the dream would not allow him to concentrate, would not give him the peace he needed to search himself for the answer. It was always there, always, never giving him peace, never leaving him alone, a constant burning gaze of accusation that made him shudder away from it. It had been making him edgier and edgier since the battle with the little kajat, fraying his nerves, making him even more short tempered. And in his position, being even more testy was not a good thing.