Yui-chan

Alaeha and Ayshela (oh ye of the mutually confusing names) , I think this is a great idea. Thanks so much for coming up with the list. I was a little bit confused by what you wanted, but I hope I've changed things to match what you were after. This way, Ayshela is 'in charge' of updating the links for Salinye and Rune's exercises, while Alaeha can update the links for her poetry challenges. Is that what you wanted? Sorry if I've messed anything up. I've copied the text out of the original (first, consolidated) post, so I'll still have it to restore if I've lost any data through my editing. Just let me (us) know if there's anything else you need. Yours, ~Yui

Thank you both. It's certainly interesting to be able to smell/see smoke whenever you go outside, and know the source is dozens and hundreds of miles away. I think a lot of people are holding their breath around here. Let's hope the winds die down and let this settle. Yours, ~Yui

Ozymandias sat across the desk from Yui, his hands steepled in front of him. "So, she admitted to having contact with the Baelin Seal? ... that could explain a lot." He frowned deeply, worry creasing his brow. "The timing's wrong to explain the dream, though. There must be more going on." The Huntress tilted her head, puzzled. "The dream? I haven't heard any-- Ozy!" She stepped forward, her eyes going wide as he grimaced, his hands going to his head. "What is it?" "... a distress call," the Loremaster gasped, shooting up from his seat. "The Hostel's under attack!" "Chikusho!" Yui cursed, her eyes darkening. "Tonight, of all nights? We need to find Salinye. Maybe we can clear the corruption before this goes any further!" Ozy hesitated, but nodded, hurrying after the young woman as she ran from the room. "If it's not her, she may well know what's going on, at least." The Huntress sprinted agilely through the Hostel's corridors, darting out of the way of the people scrambling back and forth in the chaos while Ozy kept close on her heels. The attack had begun in earnest, and an employee with sword in hand was screaming that the zombies had overrun the courtyard. Both of them fought the urge to go help with the body of the battle, but they didn't even need to look at each other to arrive at the same conclusion: if Baelin's magic was behind this attack, it would end it all to remove the corruption. Yui only hoped they could be in time to save Salinye as well. She drew two weapons from the folds of her cloak, one a simple diamond arrow-head and the other a long, thin dagger made of jet-black ivory. The Huntress was cursing herself for not bringing her bow along, but she knew there wasn't time to return to the stable and retrieve it from her horse's saddle. Behind her, Ozy drew his sword, a strange-looking blade of Egyptian design, and drew together a couple of his mental and physical shielding spells. His wards snapped into place with a static crackle just before they both shoved their way through the door to Salinye's chambers. "Salinye!" Yui skidded to a stop, taking in the sight of the elven sorceress curled in a ball on the floor near her chair, her head grasped in her hands, and her face a mask of pain and fear. Near the door, the young woman she'd called 'Lethia' lay crumpled on the floor, clearly either unconscious or dead. The two archmagi glanced at each other, and Ozy nodded Yui towards Lethia while he went to Salinye. The room was a surprise for both of them, not so much because of the condition of its two occupants but because of the pattern in the magic that their mage-senses could see flooding the room. It wasn't the Baelin demon's magic, despite its obvious necromantic source and the evil intent inherent in it, nor was it emanating from Salinye. Instead, she was the obvious focus of the waves of dark magic around them, and she fought a battle that neither of them could see. It took only a second for Yui to ensure that Lethia was not only alive, but not life-threateningly harmed. She chose to forego any healing cantrips in favor of spending her precious mana reserves on a spell that would hopefully be able to disrupt the necromancy around them. Leaving her weapons on the floor beside Lethia, the young woman straightened and began the intricate series of gestures that she had long ago designed, her voice a low murmur in the chaotic noise from the hallway outside. Ozymandias knelt beside a writhing Salinye and touched his fingers against her temple, gasping as he tasted the terrors in her mind. The attack was psychological, and he could feel it reverberating with things already inside her thoughts and memories, an effect that amplified its power tremendously. With a thought, he cast the web of his mental shielding around her, dampening the outside effects of the attacking spell. It took a surprising amount of power to protect her, and even with the spell repelled, he could sense that the damaging echoes within her had easily enough might to assault her for hours. If the dim light that was her own, individual consciousness was any indication, his elven friend would not last that long. She needed some more hands-on help. "I promise not to peek, Salinye," he muttered with a little, wry grin as he cast his consciousness into her mind. It was time to play the 'knight in shining armor', and in mirror to his thoughts, his astral self appeared on the dark, internal battle field in a bright-silver suit of plate mail and with a massive blade of pure, blue luminescence. With the might of a natural-born psion, he laid into the creatures around him. The battle would not last much longer. As Ozymandias dealt with the threat from within Salinye's mind, Yui dealt with the one from without, her hands dancing through the air in graceful and complex motions while her voice complemented them with something akin to a delicate melody. The effect was a spell of her own design, part stolen from the Verdant Serenity, designed to counteract detrimental spells, and part stolen from the Ascendant Holy Word, giving the Serenity a knife's edge against spells of Necromancy. With the pattern established, the waves of magic radiated out from her small form, scrambling and consuming the dark magic around them. As the enemy weave started to unravel, Yui could feel additional power flow into it, the struggles of the mage who had created it. She answered in kind, drawing from her already-minimal mana reserves to intensify her spell in one, large burst. With a bright flash of light, her Holy Serenity shattered the pattern of the attacking spell, and it failed, ending the attack with anti-climactic silence. Gasping for breath, Yui staggered back until she was leaning against the wall. She felt utterly drained and sank to the floor to rest for a moment, mumbling, "Well, that was unexpectedly difficult." Across the room, Ozymandias emerged victorious from the battle with the darkness within Salinye. He felt the pressure of the hostile spell against his shields cease and glanced up in time to watch his companion settle onto her seat on the floor. He answered her mumble with a slight frown and a concerned glance at Salinye. She lay in his arms, limp with exhaustion but finally, blessedly calm. "Yes. Yes, it was. And I think it's left us with an even bigger mystery than the one we started with, Yui."

You know, Gyr, the editor (and owner) of the E-zine is really very open-minded and reasonable. I'll point out your logic to her and ask about the prices she's set. Her income for the project is twofold, from both subscriptions and advertising charges, but I'm really not sure what her expenses were that are driving this price. Her original plan was to sell the stories in a 'magazine' with issues containing the three stories of your choice in that case, she was going to charge $10 per month for three, which is why she chose the silly $3.33 per story. Anyway, I'll mention your thoughts to her. Being a writer, I never really payed attention... Thanks, ~Yui Edit: To answer your question, authors get a very healthy 70% of the subscription costs.

Hello, There's a new E-zine coming out soon that I think is an especially nice idea. Given the many literary fans around here, I wanted to point it out. Keep It Coming is a serial-fiction E-zine, published bi-weekly (that's the twice-a-week definition of the word). Every Tuesday and Friday, you'll get an email containing a new chapter of each story you're subscribing to. That's about four to six pages per week, average, and the 'zine offers a wide range of genres. I won't claim impartiality in this, since I'm one of the authors contributing to the 'zine, but I wouldn't be involved if I didn't think it was a neat idea. Check it out! Maybe you can submit something and become an alternate author yourself. Thanks, ~Yui

The shadows in the corner of the room were liquid, dancing in the flickering light of the candles. The threshold was low enough that the Paths could still use the darkness, but the flow of variation made the non-place in which she waited uncomfortable and ticklish. It was as if she stood in turbulent waters, feeling the ebb and flow of pressure changes all along her body. If Yui-chan hadn't been so preoccupied, she might well have found it a fascinating effect. But for now, her thoughts were firmly fixed on the tableau before her, the massive ballroom crowded with people and filled with beautiful decorations and melodic music. It was a gorgeous event, already; friends and new acquaintances milled about, chatting and sharing and laughing, a majority of their faces plastered with brilliant smiles. On the spacious dance floor, a dozen couples whirled about to a waltz, their motions and gay dress combining to turn that area into a riotous swirl of colors and sparkles and light. Salinye and Gyrfalcon smiled brightly at each other as they moved with a grace inherent in all things elven, leading her thoughts towards no small amount of speculation. Nearby, Daryl danced with a lovely woman she didn't recognize, and her eyes followed the figure curiously. Wrenwind and Regel glided around each other, the latter looking a tad embarrassed and quite well-smitten as he gazed at his partner. Over by the bar, Lady Celes was crouched down, stroking her beloved cat while, nearer to the door, she could see Orlan and an angelic-winged woman as well as Ayshela and Tamaranis, both couples meandering slowly towards the dance floor. Even Elladan, Peredhil's son, seemed to be making his way happily enough with a predictably-naked Tzimfemme on his arm. There were many others she recognized of course, some by name and face only, some who were so familiar that they might as well have been kin. The young woman in the shadows sighed. It would be fun. She knew in her head that it would be, but her spirit still quailed enough to keep her from stepping through the Path and into the ballroom. It wasn't shyness or nerves that halted her. It was more complicated than that, probably far more irrational, and she couldn't ... pin it down. The crowd made her nervous, the crush of people intimidating. It felt like to walk into it would be to step into the maw of the beast and be swallowed, eaten up and hidden away. The word 'claustrophobic' came to mind, but Yui did not fear tight spaces when the walls were wood or stone. She was only afraid when the walls were warm bodies and watching faces. Among the throng, she always felt like the outsider, whether it was true or not, and though she suspected that she would settle into place among so many friends and respected peers, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. She didn't want to be disappointed in herself. Temae Yui scoffed at herself, smoothing her hands nervously down the smooth fabric of her cloak. She felt like a child, but she couldn't help but wish that Aegon had been able to come with her. On his arm, she had an anchor in the crowd, a place to return to when the crush threatened to swallow her. He was always that kind of influence on her, the solidifying presence that kept her from fading like a shade in daylight. She sighed unhappily and wondered what kind of flaw inside would leave her, a strong and capable woman, wringing her hands on the periphery of such a simple event. It was exceedingly silly - utterly, ridiculously, foolishly so. And yet, for a while longer at least, it kept her hidden on the Path outside the reality of the ballroom, gnawing at her lip in worry and feeling like an utter coward.

Peredhil! What have I told you, young man? Go. Sit. In. The. Corner. Yui can't resist carrying the joke around with her as she torments the Polite Ancient's every step. She gives him a big grin to make up for her stern tone. Congratulations, Annael! Your item was wonderful, and it shows your dedication to the Pen that you've done all this. No matter your title, please continue to grace us with your poems, stories and characters for as long as you possibly can. The young lady offers Annael a bright smile and a small, wrapped box in which rests a new quill, this one of carved wood inlaid with thin strands of silver instead of an animal's keratin. She turned away, hoping that the gift would prove a sufficient replacement for the Quill she had lost through her advancement.

Elsewhere, far away from the Hostel... Yui-chan sat in the foyer, a pile of papers scattered across the writing board on her lap and her worn quill in hand. Although the writing utensil moved with a steady motion, it was far from either ink or page as its soft-feathered tip brushed absently back and forth across her cheek, driven by the nervous motion of one fair hand. The woman's eyes were dark as she stared out the window, brow furrowed, ignoring the work in front of her in favor of reflections on this morning's meeting with Salinye and her mysterious moment of fright. It worried the mages more than she could put to words, given how close her friend had been to the protective wood of the Baelin Seal. She frowned, recalling the elven sorceress' frightened look and pale skin as she'd sat on the floor of the Warding Room. Had she truly been that surprised by whatever she'd been researching, or did ... it... even now hold Salinye in thrall? Yui couldn't shake the feeling that the elf's blue eyes had revealed her words as a lie when she'd claimed that it was just the reading she'd been so shocked at, and so she worried. She knew the terrible legends surrounding the malevolent magic locked in that armoire, just as she knew that to touch it was to risk being consumed by it. Had Salinye ignored her warning and touched the chest? Was she, even now, possessed by the evil? The thought sent shivers down the little human's spine, and her frown deepened. She had to make certain. Yui stood so suddenly that the writing board and papers on her lap spilled to the stone floor with a terrible clatter. In only a few seconds, Nakarei was at her side, his eyes wide with alarm. "Yui-sama? Is everyth-" "I must leave at once, Nakarei," she interrupted him with uncharacteristic haste and a wave of the hand. "Everything is fine, here, but I need to go check on a friend." "I... hai, Yui-sama. Shall I fetch your cloak?" he asked, bowing humbly despite his urge to ask more. It was not rare for his lady to leave at an hour as late as this, but seldom did she seem so rushed. The young woman nodded, but added, "Have the stable saddle me a horse, though. I'm only going to Walk the Shadows part of the way there. I don't want to startle my friend, only to make sure that she's safe. Tell Meiji to ready Onikage; he doesn't usually get skittish when I take him through the darkness." Like the humble servant he usually wasn't, Nakarei nodded and bowed, keeping his silence as he hurried off into the depths of the manor. Yui turned and hurried to her room to change out of her day-dress and into something more serviceable. Now that her mind was made up, she felt as if time were of the essence, and she found herself running down the hallway and out into the courtyard. With faithful diligence, Nakarei stood there holding her cloak while the stablemaster gentled the gelding standing impatiently beside him. The young lady of the manor smiled at the two men, pleased as always with their kind service. "Thank you, gentlemen. I should return shortly. If Aegon gets back from his journey to the outlands yet tonight, tell him that I have gone to visit Salinye," she instructed simply, swinging her leg over the saddle. "Wakarimasita. I'll see to it." Nakarei handed her cloak to her, stepping back as she swung it over her shoulders and clasped the black metal at her throat. "You will be careful, will you not?" He looked worried, so she smiled reassuringly and leaned down to pat his shoulder. "I'll be very careful, Nakarei. Arigatoo. Both of you," she added, glancing at Meiji, before she nudged the horse with her knees, moving with him as he leapt into an eager canter. As the two servants watched, their mistress and her mount hurried straight for the rear wall and disappeared into the massive shadow that turned the grey stone black. Ten minutes later, Yui-chan guided Onikage carefully around a fallen log in the middle of the road, her eyes scanning the horizon for the Hostel that she knew should be coming into view very soon. In her mind's eye, a terrible image of the beautiful building in flames refused to be banished by all the positive thinking she could muster, and her frown was deep as she wondered at the implications. It wasn't like the Huntress, despite her shadow ties, to be cynical or alarmist, but the fine hairs on the back of her neck were sending frissions of alarm down her spine. The night felt wrong. Beneath her, Onikage faltered, blowing through his mouth nervously. As Yui glanced at the ground around them, he skittered sideways and tossed his head, fighting her control of the reigns. "Shhhh... it's okay, boy..." she mumbled, patting his neck in an attempt to reassure him. The darkness made it hard to see the ground, but here and there, she could see a hint of motion, as if one or many small, dark shapes were moving around them. Alarmed, Yui-chan gestured with one hand, mumbling a quick cantrip under her breath. The moment her magelight sprang into brilliant existence over her hand, she dropped it with a startled shriek. As the woman watched in shock, it fell onto the matted backs of a handful of mangled rats and dissipated like a cloud in the wind. Yui shuddered, fighting now as much to keep herself under control as to keep the horse calm; she wasn't the type to fear rats and mice, but these monstrosities were enough to chill her blood. These were not simple rats, but undead abominations, some half-chewn and gangrenous and all repulsive to the extreme. She wasn't interested in more light after that, her heart sinking into her stomach with dread. Were they a sign that Salinye had, indeed, been possessed by the dark magic? It suddenly seemed more a probability than an inane worry, and the Huntress' mouth went dry at the thought. Letting her firming hand on the reigns go slack, she kicked the horse into a gallop. There was no reason to hold back, and no more time to spare. The hostel staff gave her wary, wide-eyed looks as she came galloping into the courtyard, a black-cloaked woman on a great, huffing black horse. For her part, worry overcame courtesy, and Yui-chan leapt from the horse with barely a backward glance at the dutiful stable boy who stepped up to take his reigns. She strode immediately for the front desk, where a young woman stood watching her with alarmed eyes. "Where is Salinye? I must see her. Immediately," she said, power and command ringing through her voice. The poor lass quailed before those intense, green eyes, stuttering, "S-she... has retired for the evening. She's not to b—" "You will disturb her. There is no time to be courteous. Take me to her, now, or I will find her for myself," the magess threatened with a frown, slapping her hand on the desk. "She will see me. It's important." Thoroughly intimidated, the Salinye's employee could do little more than nod and shakily step out from behind the desk. "This way, my... lady," she mumbled hesitantly, slanting a glance at another servant who'd just entered through a side door. "I'll take you to the mistress." Yui-chan did not miss the look that passed between them as the servant led the way deeper into the Hostel, and she tensed, her senses alert for any treachery. Yes, the night was most definitely very wrong...

It's gotten so long, so quickly! >_Yui grins but then starts scrambling around, cursing that she doesn't have more time to read everyone's posts. And to top it all off, her dress is still at the cleaner's.

Yui-chan stumbles through a rather noisy shadow and into a hallway brimming with smiling members and raucous conversation. It takes a full five minutes of blinking and staring and trying to wake up from another sleepless night before she realizes that she has no idea what's going on. Luckily, Appy chose that moment to wander by, and the Huntress politely intercepted her. "What? You didn't hear?" Appy blinked, grinning brightly. "Wyvern's been named a Bard! ... and we all danced down the hall. It was great!" As Yui digested that bit of information, she thanked Appy and apologized for holding her up. And then she stood there for a while longer, an island of static black amidst a rolling sea of celebrating Pennites. "Wyvern's a Bard," she mumbled, and the light finally came on. "OH! Wyvern's a Bard?! Marvellous!" So saying the Huntress skimmed her way through the crowd to where a red-scaled head rose above the others. "Wyvern! You're a Bard!" She exclaimed, popping out from the wall of well-wishers to tackle the almost-dragon with exceptional enthusiasm. "Congratulations!"

#13 Valuable Fear "Gefros Zhe Baringod, if you don't get back in that bed this instant, you'll be in more trouble than you've ever seen before," came the growl from the bottom of the stairs, startling the little figure huddled by the railing at the top. Before his father could start his thundering advance up the steps, he hopped up and darted off to his room, jumping into bed and pulling the covers over his head. He wasn't quite young enough any more to hope that he could fool his sire with the trick, but he closed his eyes and hoped that this would prove to be the first time. After a few tense moments of listening to heavy foosteps down the hall, he lay there in silence, acutely aware of the weight of the much-larger body standing by his bed. There was no sense in trying to hide any more, so Gefros slowly peeped out from under the covers, blinking up at his father's crossed arms and stern frown. "Daddy!" He feigned innocence, smiling with that dimpled grin that always got him his way with Mother. His father, however, just glowered. Apparently, it was a one-parent effect. "Gefros, what were you doing out of bed? Don't you know it's bad luck to get up once your parents have tucked you in?" his father grumbled, coming closer to begin rearranging the covers the child had mussed in his mad dash from the stairs. "Bad luck?" Gefros mimicked, snuggling more comfortably into his little bed. "Why's it bad luck, daddy?" "Because the covers protect you from the boogey man, little nugget. That's why." The bed squeaked as his father's sizeable bulk settled on the edge, and Gefros couldn't help but slide over into the new 'mattress valley' surrounding where his father now sat. "If you get out of bed, you're not protected from him any more, and he might pop out of the shadows and grab you, stealing you way from me and your mother." The child squeaked, snuggling closer against his sire. "I don't wanna get stealed away, daddy." Patting his son's head, the elder softened a bit. "I dare say you don't, nugget. He takes the little kids he steals and locks them up in little cages where he can poke and prod and examine them from inside to outside. He uses lots of needles and shots. You don't like shots, do you, Gefros?" "N...no, daddy," Gefros stammered, peering at his father with wide, grey eyes. "Does that mean you don't want to go with the boogey man?" his father pressed, leaning closer. "No, daddy. I wanna stay with you and mommy!" the little one whimpered, wrapping his arms around his father's sizeable waist. "Good, then," the older of the two responded, "you won't risk getting out of bed after I've tucked you in, again, will you?" "No, daddy. I'll be careful!" Gefros nodded to emphasize his intention, still clinging to his father. "You're sure he can't get me in bed, right, daddy?" "I'm sure, nugget. You just stay under your covers and get some rest, and that mean old boogey man won't be able to touch you." He smoothed the hair back on the top of his son's head, smirking down in appreciation of his own handywork. Though Gefros was frightened, he was also not going to be loitering at the top of the stairs next time he couldn't sleep. A little fear could be good for a child. Gefros' father stood, then, and leaned down to give his son a comforting hug and a kiss on the forehead. He smoothed the covers and tucked them in snugly before muttering, "Goodnight, son. Sweet dreams." "G'night, daddy. 'An I'm glad the mean ol' boogey man didn' get me. Humans are scary! I'll be good next time. I promise!" Gefros insisted, raising one red-furred paw as a pledge. "That's my monster," his father smiled, his sharp, jagged teeth flashing. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped out the light, being very careful that his long claws didn't scratch the wallpaper, again. After all, if Esmerelda had to repair that section one more time, she might very well bite his head off. Literally. She'd been known to do that.

That structure is fascinating. I can't comment on the poem as a whole, because I seem to have poem-lexia or something. I can't catch the rhythm correctly. (A common problem for me, I'm afraid, and nothing to do with your writing. ) I can say, however, that I love the lines you've chosen to repeat. The structure and word usage make for as much flow as the Bay that is the topic. Great job. Yours, ~Yui

Heh. I missed this the first time around, so thanks for resurrecting it, Ayshela. Congrats to Alaeha for a fun little poem! ... and I like pens, myself. Fountain pens... ooooo.... ~Yui

Happy Peredhil-day!

"Gyrfalcon!" The Avian smiled as she spoke his name, her feet carrying her towards him of their own accord for a few steps before her logical mind caught up with her, reminding her that he may very well not be glad to see her. Still a few yards away, she slowed to a halt, watching him uncertainly. The half-elf stepped from the shadows, a bloodied hand holding his right arm tight against his side, and met her gaze. "Kaleyra," he intoned, his voice neither cold nor warm, but only... tired. In his eyes, pain, grief, rage and doubt warred with the relief he felt at finding the warm-hearted scholar alive and well, and he stood just as uncertainly as she - too wary of her recent actions to approach but too trusting of his belief in her character to consider her an enemy. After a heartbeat's pause, his trust was borne out as he watched the winged woman's sky-blue eyes travel the length of him, darkening with worry. He looked a sight, half-dried blood darkening his hand and arm, his hair plastered to his forehead with perspiration. The colored light streaming down from the stained-glass dome above them did nothing to hide the pallor of his skin or the sharp lines of strain around his eyes. Without another doubt, Kaleyra closed the distance between them, stricken by the many kinds of hurt she could see in the man she had come to consider a friend. "You are injured. Here, let me –" "No," he interrupted, gently brushing her hand away as she reached towards him, "There's no time for that. The leader of the church-burners, Jagon, is ahead of me. I can't let him reach the Pool." "You cannot do anything effective to dissuade him if you are passed out on the floor from loss of blood," she responded, her eyes and hands firm. In a deft motion, she ripped a wide swath of fabric from the bottom of her faded tunic and gently lifted Gyrfalcon's left hand away from his wound to bind it. "Give me ten seconds, and I will buy you an hour..." Her words were a mumble as she concentrated on her ministrations. Left with little choice against her moment of stubbornness and her impeccable logic, the half-elf watched the top of her blonde head as she bent close to him, his thoughts swirling chaotically. So much had happened. So much was ahead of them, and in the midst of it all, he was left with a lot of troubling memories and unanswered questions. The proud warrior resisted the irrational urge to pull his companion closer in a proper hug, to steal a moment of comfort from a friend. "Kaleyra?" he muttered, frowning. "Hm?" She didn't pause in her care, carefully working the torn ends of the cloth into a secure knot. "Why did you leave?" The worry and... maybe hurt? ... in his voice made her hands freeze in the act of snugging the knot, but he couldn't see her eyes to determine exactly what she was thinking. He could only watch her shoulders sag and her wings droop as the strong woman he'd glimpsed retreat back into the meek scholar. "I ... I ..." She struggled with herself, both in finding the words and in forcing them past her lips and, more, her worries. Would he understand, or would he hate her as Myth had predicted? In the end, she took the coward's route and raised her head to glance down the hallway behind him. "Where are Timothy and Elena?" It was the right question to ask, and Gyrfalcon stiffened, then slumped as he winced at the situation he'd tried to set behind him for the moment. "They... stayed at the entrance to the Temple, fighting the zombies to give me time to get in here and stop the others." Kaleyra stared at him, horror in her eyes. She could still see Gyrfalcon and Timothy slashing away at a seemingly endless horde of rotting undead, and the memory chilled her. "Are they..." She didn't want to finish the sentence, didn't want to think of brave Timothy or even Elena lying dead in the jungle outside. But Gyrfalcon could offer little more than a commiserative look and a quietly muttered, "I... don't know, Kaleyra. I hope not, but..." He, too, didn't want to finish his sentence, to voice how hopeless the odds looked when he left. Instead, he tilted his head towards the ladder disappearing down the center of the room. "Come on. We've got a rogue monk to stop." Blinking back the moisture in her eyes, the winged scholar simply nodded, burying fears that matched his. As Gyrfalcon moved to step around her, another thought occurred to him, and his brow furrowed. "Where's Myth?" he asked, scanning the chamber around them. "Myth? Oh, she's right th-" The scholar's mouth snapped shut the moment she turned, finding the room filled with nothing but colored light and shadows. Myth was gone. Kaleyra blinked, surprised that the assassin would have left them. "She must have gone down after Jagon." "Hvechlagh!" Gyr cursed, the dwarvish rolling like a thunderstorm off his tongue. He broke into a run towards the ladder. "Hurry, Kaleyra. I don't trust her down there alone." The scholar tucked her wings and hurried after him, but her brow furrowed in confusion. She held her tongue until they'd both reached the bottom of the ladder and were staring along the length of a wide, round tunnel beneath the chamber's floor. Faint illumination flickered from widely-spaced torches burning off in the distance. "I still don't comprehend why everyone is in such an excessive rush. There is nothing in the texts to suggest that there is any limit as to the number of individuals who can use the Pool to gain enlightenment, after all, so why do we care whether others get there first?" The half-elf stopped in his tracks, turning in the dark to regard his shadowed companion with a puzzle frown. It was probably the first time she'd displayed anything akin to an unintelligent thought. "You've seen what Jagon and his cohorts are willing to do. Whatever they want the Pool for, it can't be good, and we can't trust them to achieve their goals. And Myth...? I don't know what she wants the Pool for, but more, I want to save her life. Did you even tell her what the Pool really does?" Kaleyra blinked at him, her head tilted in a manner that reminded him very much of the hawk she resembled. "Well... no. I failed to mention the lies Elena told us, if that is your meaning." She shrugged, walking past him down the tunnel so that he couldn't see her eyes cloud with remaining doubt. "There is no need to propagate su-" "They're not lies, Kaleyra," he frowned, hurrying to catch up with her. His strong hand latched onto her upper arm, firmly but gently drawing her to a stop. She turned to look up at him, confusion mingling with surprise in her eyes. "You can't really believe that." "Of course I do!" the scholar shot back, her chin raising stubbornly. "There is absolutely no logical reason to believe the half-desperate guardian of this island over a millennium and more of documentation and study. None!" She weakly tried to pull away from the ranger's grip, but he held firm. In her eyes was a world of doubt and fear barely masked by an anger fueled mostly by desperation. He recalled the story she'd told long ago in Father Derick's study, the moments of quiet contemplation he'd seen in her over the past few weeks, and suddenly it all clicked into place. She couldn't believe Elena because she couldn't believe that this quest would fail. He'd never realized how utterly the search for the Pool consumed her, defined her, and how much pressure she'd put herself under to succeed. She believed that without the Pool her race would die, and she would be at fault. Whether Elena was right or not, Kaleyra would never allow herself to believe in anything but the fragile hope of success. Gyrfalcon shook his head, suddenly understanding so much more about the young woman before him. "Logic doesn't really rule this world, Kal," he said, softening both his tone and his expression. "An immortal lifetime has taught me that one lesson above all others. It's also taught me that there's always another solution, another path that'll take you where you need to go. You can find another way to save your people; you don't have to risk throwing your life away on the Pool of Eternal Reflection." The avian's eyes filled as she stared up at him, but she shook her head, blinking back the tears. "I cannot do anything else, Gyrfalcon. My people, my city, will not persist long enough for me to find a new quest. They are too close to extinction as it stands." Again, she tried to pull her arm from his grip, and again he held tight, not letting her go. "I will have my answers from the Pool, and when I survive, I will prove Elena's fears wrong." The ranger gazed at her, willing her to see the folly of it all, to change her mind, but all he saw was a woman enveloped in a wall of stubborn intent and dedication. If she reached the Pool, she would throw her life away on her misguided hopes, and nothing he said would dissuade her. There was only one way to keep the scholar alive, and though she would hate it, he decided that he would rather live with her hatred than watch her die for nothing like Reyn, Y'tren, and all of the innocents who'd burned with the church. Steeling himself, he reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a length of rope. Kaleyra watched, puzzled but still held tight. When he slipped his grip down from her shoulder to her wrist, she gasped, yanking futilely against the steel of his swordsman's muscles. "W-what are you doing?!" She followed the rope with wide eyes as he brought it close to her captured arm. "I'm preventing you from committing suicide," he intoned, his eyes never straying from the rope so that she couldn't see the sorrow in them as he started to wind it around her wrist. "I'm sorry." he whispered, almost inaudibly. "You cannot stop me! You'll destroy my entire race!" The winged woman struggled in earnest now, her powerful wings flapping in an attempt to help her pull free. When Gyrfalcon stepped closer to hold her more tightly, he received a sharp rap to the forehead with a feathered cudgel for his troubles. He stepped back, wincing as spots danced before his eyes, but his training let him hold on to his quarry despite the surprise. He cursed himself for underestimating the strength of her wings, but he knew how best to incapacitate a bird. With a quick thrust of his free hand against her chest, the half-elf shoved Kaleyra against the smooth stone of the tunnel, leaning his body against hers to pin her wings between her back and the wall. Now she was truly overpowered, her weak arms no competition for his weight or his strength. After a few moments, it was clear even to her, and she stilled, breathing hard against the dusty leather of his armored shoulder. "Please, don't do this," Kaleyra pleaded. He could feel her shaking, but he didn't dare pull away or look down to see what she was thinking; his head was still ringing from the last blow she'd dealt him. He also wasn't sure his resolve could survive what he suspected he'd see in those expressive eyes of hers. Instead, he simply paused, giving her a moment to calm herself. "I'm sorry," he whispered again as he pulled her hands together between them, "When this is over, I'll help you save your people some other way. I promise." The scholar drooped against him for a minute, letting her forehead rest against his collarbone. It was a strange moment, really, with the two of them so close physically but at such odds emotionally, and the irony of it all was not lost on either of them. Kaleyra sighed before she lifted her head again, meeting her friend's eyes in the darkness. "It is a kind offer, Gyrfalcon, but I will not need it." The soft words were followed by a sensation like no other he'd felt before, and the half-elf staggered backwards under the pressure of another set of thoughts behind his eyes. There was no chance to react, no time to do more than wonder what was happening to him, before a clinging weight dropped over his mind like a heavy blanket and sucked him down into darkness. Kaleyra darted forward and caught the half-elf before he could hit the hard tunnel floor, staggering under the dead weight of his body until she managed to prop him gently against the wall of the tunnel. For a moment, she knelt on the ground beside him and looked him over, worried sick that she had not been gentle enough, that her psionic attack might have truly hurt him, but a quick brush of her mind against his reassured her that he was simply unconscious, safely on the edge of a dream. She hoped it was a pleasant one. Her smile was weak and as watery as the tears that welled in her eyes. "I am sorry that I could not let you succeed," she whispered, lifting a hand to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead. She let her gaze linger after her hand had dropped once more to her side, watching Gyrfalcon's peaceful face and wishing that she could have seen him so carefree more often during their quest. Perhaps, after ... Kaleyra halted the thought before it could fully form and leaned down to press her lips gently to his cheek. "May your gods protect you." The words were a breath against his ear before she stood and turned away from him, her heart heavy. There was no time for regret. She had a duty to perform... Kaleyra d'Avie broke into a run as she left her unconscious companion behind her and very carefully focused her mind on one thought: For better or worse, soon the quest would be over.

Aleaha, Oh, I definitely see your point about it being written in a non-conversational way. This one is more stream-of-thought than anything one might actually say aloud, like it was ripped right out of my brain, or perhaps shoved out by the rest of the words clamoring around in there. I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it more, but perhaps the next one will be more coherent. Ayshela, Heh. I can see that you get it, and I'm glad. Or maybe I should apologize that you understand how the words can be. Obsessions and compulsions are wrapped up in this somewhere, I think, and the drive to write can be so insistant that it's stressful, I find. Anyway, enough of my rambles. I'm glad you enjoyed it! Yours to both, ~Yui

Ah, how I've missed having some of your writing to enjoy, darkelf. This is just excellent in all the ways Peredhil mentioned plus a few. You certainly succeeded at taking the story and making it poetic, hightening each emotion and using imagery to support it all. I really love the allusions to the 'cane' as an indicator of what he's doing to his soul/humanity/self-image by succumbing to his selfishness. I can just picture the wood weakening! I think I could go on and on ad infinitum (to infinity), but maybe I should just stop here and say: 1) I absolutely loved it. In fact, it gave me goosebumps. 2) I agree with Peredhil that your writing is definitely a pleasure that I've missed and would like to see much more of. 3) Beyond the technicalities, I'm really glad to have some perspective on the character of Anitalya's Sire. You've made this a really teasing revelation into the man, and I'll bet that was just what you were after. Thanks much, Pointear. I'll look forward to the next anything with your name on it. Yours, ~Yui

Thank you for the responses, everyone. I had a lot of fun with that piece (and am glad to get the darn imagery out of my head after about a week), so I'm very glad that you enjoyed it. Special thanks to you, Wyvern, for pointing that little flaw out to me. I completely agree with you that it's weak, and I could have found a better way to write it. I'll take it as a learning experience and beg your forgiveness for letting it sneak in there. Yours, ~Yui

Far away from the halls of the Pen, at the door of a respectable manor, a rather uptight servant in a robe and striped nightcap blinked down his nose at the cloaked figure on the front doorstep, his brow raised in haughty disbelief. "Am I to understand, sir, that you want me to wake my lord in the middle of the night to announce a party of people that aren't even here yet?!" "Yes." The shadowed visitor grinned slightly, waving his hand to shoo the man away. "Go wake the big guy, poor some booze down his throat, and get something presentable on him. Oh, and you might want to tell someone to put up the breakables. I'm sure they'll be here any second, now." Clearly confused, the man craned his head out the door, squinting as he peered down the carriageway to a road so straight and flat that any conveyance within two hours should have stood out as clear as day against the bright, moonlit sky. He saw nothing. "Um, I... It's three in the morning. It's not... I mean... That is, are you -" "Now, Mr. Tuttles," the visitor interrupted, his blue eyes sharpening as his patience grew thin. His voice rang with command, and the startled butler jumped at the sound. "I'm positive that Brute won't mind once he's awake," he continued, gentling his voice and flashing a reassuring smile. "O-of course, Milord Aegon! If you will wait in the foyer..." the flustered man ushered his unannounced visitor into a modest-but-tasteful greeting room and bowed as he rushed up the stairs towards the lord's chamber. If his steps were a little less than steady, it was only because he remembered the last time he'd had to waken Lord Brute in the middle of the night. The Master knew curse words that could curl the hair on one's back, after all. Literally. While Tuttles feared for his coiffure, Aegon helped himself to a snifter of Brute's best Firebrand and sank into a well-cushioned chair. His reflection in the window was little more than a cheshire smile as he sipped his drink and waited for the fun to begin. ______________________ Yui stood beside Peredhil and Wyvern in the Cabaret room, smiling softly as a gaily-dressed, gift-toting crowd of friends milled around, waiting for the big moment. She leaned over to the Ancient Elder, anticipation brightening her eyes, "He's going to be so surprised..." "I'm sure he will, Yui," he laughed, wondering at how young like a giddy schoolgirl the Huntress was acting tonight. "Of course, he'll also be tired and probably a little grumpy." The little lady smirked, waving away his comment with a dismissive hand. "Bah. I'm quite certain that a mug of that toxic mix from the Decanter will turn any yawns into grins. Neh, Wyvie?" "...zzZZZZ..." Yui and Peredhil turned to blink at the miniature dragon standing beside them, apparently staring out across the room. They both realized at the same moment and turned back to each other with a pair of knowing smiles. The friends both intoned, "... painted his eyelids, again," and dissolved into a fit of laughter that had half of the room turning to look. Wyvern startled awake at the noise, shouting, "I wasn't there! You can't prove it!" and the rest of the room joined in the mirth. For his part, the almost-dragon did a good job of looking nonplussed while his scales darkened about four shades. Gyrfalcon and Gwaihir wandered over to the trio, grins bright on their faces, and Gyr gestured to the room around them. "I think that's everyone. Are you guys ready?" Peredhil raised his eyes and scanned the room, meeting the gazes of Orlan and Tzimfemme. The signal was given. He then turned to the little human beside him and nodded. "It's your show, Yui." She grinned and nodded, turning her head towards the one side of the room left deep in shadow. There was barely a sign of what she did, but when she waved her hand, Gyrfalcon and Gwai both stepped forward fearlessly. When they had gone, the flood tide began, and the entire Pen traveled through Shadow Paths in the dark of the night to bring their surprise birthday party to one very sleepy Brute. (Happy Birthday, big guy! Here's all our best wishes.)

Author's Dedication: Credit for this story most definitely goes to my good friend, Thinas, who inspired me with his enthusiasm for a certain popular paper RPG and his masterful GMing as we sat around a cooler of luke-warm Coke products in a dusty tent. Thanks again, spidsore, both for the hours of entertainment and for putting up with what my Muse did to your story. _________________________________________________________ The Embrace Ten minutes ago, I feared this man. I know I did. He had something to do with my nightmares, with the presence in the shadows that chilled my blood, with pain and oblivion. He brought with him all the things that terrified me. But now there is no fear, and a small part of me is left to wonder where it's gone. The rest is content simply to gaze across the table at him. He looks so friendly, so warm. I watch his eyes, and they pull at me, promising sanctuary within their midnight depths. I watch his lips, and they beckon me from behind the words slipping out from between them. I want to go to him. A part of me shrieks at that, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is this moment, this man - ("A stranger! An enemy!" the little voice screams.) - this warmth and contentment that wraps my mind in a comforting fog. All that I need to know is floating within his black eyes. There, I can see how kind he is, how trustworthy, how much he cares for me. Was there ever fear? No, of course not. There's nothing to fear. I am safe, so completely protected... He finishes his story with a smile that crinkles the skin at the corner of his eyes. The expression is so sweet, softening some of the sharp lines on his handsome face and filling the void within his eyes until they sparkle like a star-filled sky. He's so beautiful. I wish he would touch me. I wish I could touch him. The thought is a trigger, and in a blink the table between us is gone and his hand is on mine, soft and cool against my skin. The eyes that hold me are closer, big enough to lose myself in for all eternity, yet far too distant for the longing that fills me. His breath is soft against my cheek as he speaks. I can barely drag myself away from the sensation long enough to comprehend his words. He wants something from me. He needs it, a gift that I can give him in exchange for a gift that he can give me. I don't even listen to what that might be; I don't care. In this moment, I will gladly give him all that I have and more, but though a part of me wants to tell him that, I merely nod. It's the barest of motions, and yet I struggle against myself to do that much. That little part of me is screaming again... I know my assent is the answer he wants, and I expect a smile, anticipating another glimpse of heaven through his pleasure. Instead, there is a fleeting cloud that obscures the galaxy in his gaze. It turns me cold, and I moan softly at the loss of the bliss he gives me. This is wrong. There is something... something I must not ... The thought dies at the touch of his fingertips to my lips. They're soft and warm, bringing back all of the comfort and chasing away the doubts. There's nothing to fear. I am safe... He whispers something soothing as he leans in, letting those fingers slip gently across my cheek, and I can feel myself finally falling into the inky depths of his eyes. For a moment, I struggle to stay free of him, instinct and the little voice at the back of my mind conspiring to deny me the peace to be had there, but then his hands are on my shoulders and their cold strength has chased away all hints of resistance. I am his, and he wants this of me. He needs it. In return, he will save me and protect me from the demons that haunt me. I want that more than anything in the world. I need it... My eyes slip closed, but I can still see the infinite depths of his. The stars there flare when his soft lips caress the corner of my jaw. I can hear him whisper in my ear, but the words are slow to register through the haze of his presence. I tilt my head, offering the sensitive flesh of my neck to his kiss. "I will..." His breath is cold against my skin, his grip tight on my shoulders. "... give you..." His body is so near mine that I can feel the weight of him through the hair's breadth that separates us. I shake in anticipation. "... eternity." No. Oh, God, no! His power over me shatters in an instant, the peace crushed as the familiar nightmare crashes down on my mind. The chains are too strong, and I am too weak. Though I struggled once, now I can do no more than watch as blood streams from my slit wrists to flow along the channels on the altar. The fear is a knife in my gut, and I know the lie for what it is. I know my true feelings behind those he has forced on me, and I also know that my freedom has come too late as I feel the pressure of his pointed canines against my neck, the moment that the skin gives way as they cut through to the artery beneath. I stiffen, spasmodically gripping the black leather of his jacket, and his arms tighten around me, trapping my hands between our bodies. I want to fight his Embrace. I want to escape, but lethargy and pleasure floods my body, robbing me of my strength as he robs me of my blood. My blood. Running along the pattern in the stone, tracing the symbols of the spell that will blast my immortal soul to ash. Rushing through my body to meet his lips, feeding the hunger that will soon kill me. My blood. Empowering the silent, hooded figures who ring my marble deathbed. Warming the cold, dead body of the man holding me. My blood. Flowing away. Leaving me so very, very cold. I can feel myself going limp, feel the pressure of his arms as if from a thousand miles away. The empty darkness encroaches on my mind, and I am only too glad to let myself slide down toward it, let it smother the fear that chokes me. But Fate's claws are sunk deep into my soul, and as my heart stills in my breast, I am aware of the chilling certainty that this end is only a beginning, that the net I have fought to slip free from for a decade has just drawn tight. The reign of my nightmare awaits me on the other side of the Embrace, and as I slip into unconsciousness and death, I seek the only escape that I know from the torture I have foreseen: I pray to a God that has never loved me. I beg Him to let me never again open my eyes. All my heart is in the prayer, but I am answered by only silence and an oblivion that will prove to be all too short...

Nearly a month later, Yui-chan sat in the library of the Pen, quietly sipping tea from her favorite seat beneath the stained-glass window and enjoying the first truly quiet moment she'd had since the day before her birthday. The past few weeks tumbled and tossed in a corner of her mind, a thousand new things to learn, new faces, new places, and new experiences dancing a mad jig in an attempt to capture her attention. For now, though, she was firmly ignoring the chaos of the move to reflect on the touching party her friends had thrown her what seemed like a lifetime ago. If only I'd had more time to stay and enjoy the day with them... she lamented, reaching up to gently brush the smooth nubs of the black pearls decorating her ears. It was an old regret, though, and she'd become good at burying it beneath the enjoyment of the time she could gather with her good friends. She drew up the memory of all the smiles in the room, all the hugs and wishes and warm hearts and good friends, both old and new, and the beauty of it all eased the tension in her shoulders. The charcoals and dagger she'd received had helped her survive the four weeks she'd been away from the haven of the Pen by defending her from both the rough places of her new home and the rough handling from her stifled Muse, but it was the love of her friends and the love she felt for them that had buoyed her in the uncertain and worryful moments of every day away. For that and so much more, she treasured every soul in those hallowed halls, taking joy in all of their quirks and strengths and weaknesses, in the smallest details of their lives. Temae Yui smiled with her heart in her eyes as she opened the Paths through the Shadows, twisting them in subtle ways to amplify the anonymous sounds of the Pennites as they moved through their day. Boots on the marble floor of the Conservatory. The echo of a guitar being strummed in the east wing. The ring of metal on metal as friends practiced in the sparring theater. A burst of uproarous laughter from the Cabaret Room. A grumble of impatience from the Recruiter's Office. The whisper of a quill as it scratched its way across a piece of parchment. The electric sizzle of a cantrip taking form. The sweet song of the birds in the Courtyard. Together they formed a symphony of inexpressible depth, a song of such subtle overtones and thunderous rhythms that it would take a lifetime to decipher and an eternity to truly appreciate. There was no better balm for a weary soul, and the Huntress lounged back in her seat to simply listen and absorb and cherish all that was around her. After a moment of silence, she opened her mouth to add her breathy whisper back into the score. "I thank you, dear friends, from the bottom of my unworthy heart. You will never know all that you do for me."

Hi, everyone! I've been away for so long. Far too long! If not for my writing notebooks, the words would have long since staged a hostile takeover of my brain. Here's one copied out from a handwritten page in the blue book (the one with a footprint in it *glare at Aegon*), a quick dump that saved me from my own painfully-insistant Muse. Yours, ~Yui #12 Why not Write? Why not write? Why not throw thought to page and let it splash into puddles of words? Why not release festering feelings through trails of cobalt ink and pray to gods of literacy that the scrawled forms will carry them away? Because it's dangerous. Because words are items of power and vulnerability. Because thoughts are weapons once given form. Because feelings are chinks in otherwise-impenetrable armor. Because your words could well destroy you. My words could well destroy me. Ah, but they will destroy me whether I write them or not. Either they rot inside me, poisoning my heart and mind and soul, or they escape into forms and lines and structures, giving the worlds the means to slay me. They are my obsession and my comfort, my salvation and my demise. They are my purpose. The words are my meaning. So, why not write? Why not exchange peace for vulnerability? Why not spend myself on the page and leave the world with a glimpse into an imperfect life, a flawed soul? Why not be the kind of star that destroys itself, one that is short-lived but so bright that it inspires the hearts of all who see it? Why not write? It's the best part of you to give...

Celes has Gyr on her mind? It seems to happen a lot... ... Celes, is there something you and Gyr want to tell us about? ~Yui

From Japanese: Fu'un (doom) Sadame, Shukumei (destiny) Shi (death) Hametsu (ruin) Judai (fateful) Norowa or Wareteiru or Retieru (all shortened versions of norowareteiru, doomed/cursed) Ikenie (sacrificial offering) Gisei (sacrificial victim) There are more we could find, I'm sure. I think Norowa and Ikenie are my personal favorites, but that's just me. Good luck, Gwai! Yours, ~Yui

#11 A Moment in Time The rain hovers in place beneath leaden skies, glaring with malice down at the grimy concrete and steel of the city. It strives to corrode the abomination of cold streets, to free the land for the plants and animals once more. They understood the balance, unlike the man-demons. They never sundered the circle with their will. The city stretches into gray heights, blessing the very rain that curses it, awaiting the next refreshing drop and the sweet release of another particle of dirt. The filth weighs so heavily upon its walls and streets, a disease that clings and sickens the once-proud construct. It peers out from a thousand smeared windows and wonders why the men who built it have come to hate it so. The insect peeks its head out from the maze within the city's walls, its jointed antennae held high with frantic agitation. The burn of the chemical in its belly is nothing compared to the inferno of blind, frustrated rage that claims its tiny brain. Damn those monsters and their cruel tricks! Damn their murderous, demented crusade against its kind and its way of life! Their huge feet crush so many; their traps imprison and starve thousands more; and today the tainted food it had unknowingly brought back to its hungry family would kill them all. The dying cockroach doesn't know why humanity hates its kind, but it most definitely hates humanity back. The little cat stares at the emerging insect, her big eyes luminescent under the sickly-green glare of the streetlight. Barely more than a kitten, she has already earned several scars and sniffed at the limp bodies of each of her siblings. If she is lucky, the roach will be tonight's dinner. If not, then she will go hungry again, for the rain has chased most of the vermin off the streets, and she has never had any other way to find food. She is not as lucky as the other cats she has seen through the lit city windows, the ones who stare out at her with innocent eyes and fat bellies, their fur all soft and clean. She is chased and kicked instead of pampered and loved, and all she can do is fight to survive in the unyielding streets and wonder why she has no human of her own. The man glances at the scrawny kitten out of the corner of his eye, paused mid-motion in the act of darting across the trash-littered street. Although he sees the mangy, starved waif, his mind does not register her presence any more than it does the ruddy carapace of the cockroach peeking out of the crack beside her. All he knows are his own thoughts, and they linger in anticipation of the empty pleasure awaiting him in his heavy right pocket. Tonight's trip will be a welcome distraction from another bad day at work and another fight with his live-in girlfriend. He thinks he's unhappy because he's not rich enough, not powerful enough. He thinks he needs a better place to live than his roach-infested, third-floor hole-in-the-wall, but all he can bring himself to do about it is to curse his decrepit building and set out a few traps. He hates his life; he hates his city; and he definitely hates the rain. End