Madigan Family/Hendrick Madigan/Hendrick and Alice

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The sun rose anew behind the clock-tower, glistening past it's edges as the hand struck seven. With the morning dew settling and the faint howl of roosters echoing in the distance, shop owners and nobles alike populated the streets, manning the vending stalls and beginning their daily routines. For just a mere town, Umbra was bustling with activity, a rather refreshing sight for Alice as she walked past the first stalls. She thought to herself how serene and happy the people seemed, how that contrasted to her travels in Aveston, and how it reflected to life back in Poryatu. Her drive to succeed in unity only grew further, as peace truly fostered a flourishing society in Umbra.

As she rounded one of the many corners of the town, Alice suddenly froze before a bakery, hit by the whiff of freshly baked bread and sweet apple pie. Walking in, she was greeted by even more scents, each tempting her nose to follow their trail, like steak and ribs do a pup.

"My Lady, you enjoy what you see?" the head Baker asked, his curiosity seeking the desperate approval from a noble woman. He was a middle aged man, plump from his eating habits, yet bathing in enthusiasm; his astute perception highlighting Alice's tastes.

"Why yes! Everything seems magnificent!" Alice responded, as a big smile of satisfaction took up most of her expression. Her eyes, meanwhile, darted across the various items, evaluating each one with careful precision.

"The strawberry pie, please!" she exclaimed, pointing at the extraordinary combination of flour and fruit.

"Of course, my Lady, t'will be ready to go in seconds!" he exclaimed as he shuffled over to the pie and, even in haste, delicately wrapped it before her; finishing it with a bow.

"You are as sweet as all the scents, and as kind as the sun, warming the day right when it begins," replied Alice with a gracious smile, setting a bag of coins before him. "Take this gold, and continue living with benevolence."

As she exited his bakery, the head baker's jaw slowly unwound, creating a gap between his upper and lower lips; taken in utter shock. At least ten gold pieces lay before him, shimmering in the morning glaze.

With strawberry pie in hand, Alice made her way slowly up the steps to Hendrick's manor. It was of moderate size, decorated with vines and priceless statues, as it overlooked the town of Umbra with both authority and pride. As Alice approached the main gates, she was greeted by the Manor's guards, undoubtedly recognizing her as expected.

"Please follow us, Lady Alice, as we escort you past the main gates." a soldier requested, his tone a happy yet professional one.

"Of course."

And with her word of approval, the iron bar gate before her suddenly began clicking, slowly rising as chain and lever worked tirelessly to lift its' heavy burden. Beyond it, a beautiful fountain was revealed, sitting in the middle of a square, decorated by tulips, daisies, and roses; making it seem more like paradise than anything else. The impression attempted to persuade Alice, beckoning her to remain for a few more moments, but she could not as she already ran late for her meeting.

"My Lord and High Magistrate will greet you here," stated the guard before the building entrance,"Please await patiently as I inform him of your arrival."

And with that, Alice simply bowed her head and smiled. _____________________ When he had come to Thar Gortauth, Hendrick Madigan had commissioned but three additions to the venerable manor that governed the township of Umbra: a small room in which to practice his faith, the beautification of the courtyard and gardens, and a solar the likes of which his father had constructed when Hendrick was but a whelp. Even now he could scare believe this room was real, with its large open window gazing out over the town, its floor of rosestone which grew warm in the sun, its aura of peace that seemed move the room into another time and place. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as the beams of light lulled him to a morning slumber.

"My lord?"

Hendrick's eyes remained shut as he felt the warmth of the day settle across him and when he spoke it was tinged with weary irritation.

"What is it Llywellyn? Can you not see I am...indisposed?". The servant bowed his head and glanced a his feet, nervous.

"O-Of course my lord, however, you did ask for me to tell you when the Lady Arundel was near...".

Hendrick could feel the morning calling him to sleep and waved a languid hand.

"So I did, what of it?".

"It is just... Well, she is, ah, at the gates and-"

Hendrick's eyes snapped open. "At the gates? Boy, are you a lackwit? My first knight since Sir Lucious took the oath and you warn me of her arrival when she is at the gates? Why not wait until she is seated for a meal and make a greater fool of me?".

The young lord rose irritably and cast one last look out at Umbra. "My clothes please, the vermillion doublet I should think - mother always said it suited me and, besides, these lands are bereft of any color, it seems. Send a man down to the gate to greet Lady Arundel and bring her here - we shall speak and dine overlooking the town".

As Llywellyn bustled off to fetch the finery, Hendrick pressed a hand to his brow. A wonderful morning indeed - to try and act the lord and seem a boy just fallen out of bed. ____ Llywellyn took the stairs two at a time as he rushed down towards the gates. Lord Hendrick had dismissed him, saying that he was perfectly capable of dressing himself and shutting the door in Llywellyn's face. Not for the first time, the servant was reminded that, for all of his canniness and love of politics, Lord Hendrick was scarcely older than he was and at times seemed even younger. Llywellyn shook his head. Honestly, he mused, falling asleep minutes after waking as a lady waited? My luck indeed.

Llylwellyn paused at the base of the stairs, straightened his tunic, strode across the main hall and out into the courtyard, blinking in the sunlight. He glanced about, until he sighted the young woman who could only be Lady Alice Arundel. For a moment, he felt acutely embarrassed to be winded from hurrying to find her and prayed that his face was not at all flushed. He took a deep breath and approached her, attempting to exude the calm necessary as a lord valet.

He bowed as he neared her, careful not to stare or appeared flustered.

"Lady Arundel, welcome to Umbra. My name is Llywellyn, attendant to his Lordship. If you would be so kind as to follow me to the solar?". ___________ Alice turned and smiled, ignoring Llywellyn's sweat and heavy breathing, as she quickly straightened her himation. Fancying liberty and beauty over tradition, Alice rarely dressed "to fashion", instead wearing the clothing of priestesses as she was a prophet in her own way. While it was void of color, being a mildly translucent white fabric, it accented her golden hair; put into locks and settled over her shoulders.

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Llywellyn!" she exclaimed, bowing her head in respect, "I would be more than willing to follow you." __________ The young servant felt relief suffuse his body and clear his mind. Such elegance and refinement! She will surely be good for the region. But then... He cast an eye over her uncolored, though beautiful, clothes and felt trepidation creeps its tendrils around his mind. Lord Hendrick was many things, but a colorless man he was not - in manner and dress. The hues and shades of the Summer Isles had followed him here and made him enough of an oddity, but now in the face of this pure simplicity...

He cast these thoughts from his mind and beckoned Alice.

"This way, if you would please" and he made his way through the open doors and towards the great staircase that led to the lofty solar.

As he walked he tried to imagine saying anything to the radiant noblewoman next to him, but remembered his place and stayed affably silent.

Hendrick cast a critical eye over his reflection and brushed his dark blonde hair out of his eyes. The vermillion of his doublet accented pleasantly off of the azure of his eyes and for a moment he remembered the colors and finery of his father's court far off in the islands of summer. But enough of that. He looked himself over one more time, made an attempt to look mature and lordly, and returned to his chair, discouraged. Often a messenger would read his words or a dignitary would arrive to meet him, expecting an older man from his letters, only to discover a youth a year out still from his twentieth. He sighed and reached for a goblet of wine, pleased to note that the kitchens had prepared slices of apples and pears, wedges of fine cheeses, and some of the excellent pastries that Umbra was known for. Not that he was hungry, but it gave the table an appealing array of color.

Llywellyn paused outside of the door to the solar, glanced at Alice and gestured to the door. "His Lordship awaits within". _____________ "Thank you kindly, Master Llywellyn"

After a brief grin of appreciation, Alice pushed lightly against the door, as to not demand attention but to softly meld into the room before her. Yet, with the blinding light and the breathtaking scene the solar offered, Alice let the door swing wide open without restraint, turned to stone in captivation.

"I-uh-my Lord!" greeted Alice with hesitation, breaking from her illusion while curtseying with nobility.

Before the still white moon stood the vibrant vermillion sun, their eyes meeting for the very first time. ____________ Hendrick slowed in the act of rising form his chair. In that moment, he felt incredibly, painfully young. Memories of youth and maidens came back of him: of playing save-the-princess with a nobleman's daughter as his father laughed and his uncle played the dragon. Of seeing a young viscountess presented at her first court and feeling his face redden when she smiled. Of singing up praises and poems to a maid looking down from her window and grinning when she would blush. None of those moments would prepare him in the slightest for meeting Lady Alice Arundel.

For a moment he stood there, words caught in his throat. The light of the sun at his back illuminated her, highlighting the softness of her smile and the unsullied kindness that filled her eyes. After having traded in threats and treaties, pleadings of peace, and deaths of friends, Hendrick realized he had forgotten what else this world could hold.

The young lord attempted to regain his composure and felt a smile spread across his face as he bowed.

"Lady Arundel, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. Welcome to Umbra and to my home. It is truly my honor that you have chosen to join me here in Thar Gortauth". ____________

Alice stared blankly at the door before her, cradling it's handle with her hand as she hesitated to open it. Why was she here? What was her reason again?

Her mind - puzzled and confused - traced its thoughts to concerns not usually tended too; her looks. With self-judging eyes, Alice's looked over her apparel with mixed emotions. The gown itself glowed faintly with a deep crimson tinge, symbolizing the blood spilled by her own hands, as gold ornate settled the carnage with a noble's touch. The silk, in an attempt to show the confinement of her own soul, covered the majority of her body, save her shoulders at which the torso and sleeves were connected by a few golden threads. Alice remembered Hendrick's extravagance and she hoped not to seem boastful of her conquests on the field, but rather remorseful and with regret.

Sighing deeply, Alice strummed the courage from within and pulled open the door lightly, peeking her head around the small gap that presented itself.

"My Lord Hendrick?"

If Hendrick heard her voice he made no move. It was the jest of the servants to say that nothing short of a war could rouse Hendrick Madigan and even the affair with Fissoa had barely tumbled him from bed. In truth, however, there was nothing sleepy about the High Magistrate now. Granted, his eyes were closed, his breathing steady, his body limp, but his mind was afire. Even in dream and dozing, Hendrick's flame burned. Often, the young lord would receive an important letter, fall into slumber, only to rise a few hours later with the perfect reply already formed in his head.

So the words of Alice Arundel failed to pierce his doze. His mind was consumed in dreams and musing - at the moment, he was wondering how best to rhyme "radiant" in a poem he was composing about his love and hours of work and love of rest had sealed him firmly into his midday lounging. It was always the opinion of Llywellyn that his master would be easy prey for any assassin - though perhaps Alice catching him off-guard would be worse.

Alice stepped softly into the room with curiosity, the figure in the chair muttered no reply, no sign that he acknowledged her presence.

"M'lord Hendrick?" she asked again.

Her voice rang hallow, the echos bouncing off the walls as they struck back with fear. Was he injured, or dead? With a sudden sense of urgency, she dashed round the chair and knelt before him, expecting the worse, only to find Hendrick laying there... daydreaming.

"You bafoon!" she cried out, as tears of joy surfaced in Alice's eyes; a few escaping with black trails of mascara, "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

She stood back up before him shaking her head to regain composure. Her hands quickly mopped up the remaining black paths on her cheeks then lowered to her sides. As she looked back down upon him, Alice was shocked to find the man still asleep, unmoved by her embarrassing performance.

"M'lord Hendrick, wake up!"

Slowly, like a cat irked to be shaken from slumber, Hendrick opened his steel-blue eyes - first dulled by the presence of dreams, then sharp as wakefulness suffused his mind. He blinked, trying to make sense of the scene before him, wondering if he was not still asleep and subject to strange visions. Alice stood before him, looking down at him with a mixture of relief and fear, black on her hands and around her eyes - eyes that seemed moist and worried. The young lord slowly stretched and sat up straight, Alice's urgent call ringing in his ears. Perhaps it was the unreal nature of the moment or the lingering confusion of dozing, but he felt strangely calm and even amused.

"Why, good afternoon, Dame Alice." he said with a smile "What ever is the matter, my lady?". His smile was momentarily replaced by a feline yawn, following by a boyish ruffling of his hair - appearing less a lord and more a youth fresh from bed.

"What is the matter?" she questioned with playful rage, "What is the matter?"

Alice turned her face away from Hendrick in faked-anger, pouting like the spoiled child who didn't get what she wanted. Her arms folded across her chest and her feet began tapping, as if she was expecting a well deserved apology.

"You were as still as a corpse, I had expected the worse!"

The young lord gave another yawn and raised his brows "What has this world come to, where a man cannot sleep peacefully in his own home? Forgive me that I do not wave and dance in my sleep, so as to give signs of life to those who come into my chambers unaware".

He eyed her display and smiled "But you are, of course, rightly cross with me, my lady. Forgive me. If I had known you were coming I would not have been so soundly asleep".

Hendrick ran a hand through his hair and his eyes over her body. "What can I do to apologize to you, Dame Alice?".

Alice caught the all to familiar look from Hendrick in the corner of her eye, masking her true impression with a brief smile before returning her full gaze to him. Since becoming a maiden, she was continuously challenged by the charms of men, young and old, as they sought her hand in marriage or her virginity in bed. Most were brash, full of confidence, and could barely think for themselves, captives of the cod between their legs. Others waltzed in with ersatz personalities, reciting poems from places they've never heard of, wearing clothes from realms they've never seen.

All of them failed to woo the Dame.

Yet, for reasons unexplained, Alice warmed to the idea of Hendrick's apparent affection. He was expressive on the exterior with his extravagant clothing and supreme solar, but Alice saw this as a ploy to hide the repulsiveness from within. But now, as he stared at her figure, these thoughts turned on themselves; the rose is truly beautiful, even with the thorns beneath.

"I ask not for gifts, M'lord Hendrick!" she snarled, "How would you apologize to a woman?"

Hendrick felt his smile grow and rose from his chair to stand taller than Alice. He was not a stranger to infatuation. His father had been fond of saying there was rather too much of his uncle in him for his own good. Halcyon, quiet and moderate, had loved but once - a woman that had not been Hendrick's mother - but Malachite, the man of laughs and tales, was taken by any smile or pleasant curve that caught his eye. Yes, Hendrick Madigan had been infatuated before. But only now did he love and, as with all first loves, he loved without caution.

And he had a reason to be cautious. At the age when most had hardly grasped the world, Hendrick Madigan had become so much: a lord, a councilor, a high priest, a man destined, it was said, to rule. And he would besmirch his name and threaten this marvelous future for the sake of loving his vassal. For underneath the bright vermillion, the easy smiles, the pontification, there was a side to Hendrick that none saw: a boy forced to become a man, a romantic who pined away at notions of love he had never experienced, a fragile bloom plucked away from his native land and cast into the unknown.

It was this face now, the face of the boy, that looked upon Alice, the lover surfacing temporarily from the veneer of the lustful. He reached out and lightly brushed her golden hair and smiled - not the smile of his uncle, but of his father. "I would offer her a kiss, my lady".

Alice, almost unaffected by Hendrick's words, put on a stone face; the Rose had bloomed before her begging to pollinate, but the bee wouldn't dare land. Without hesitation, the young maiden lifted her hand only inches from the man's face.

"Get on with it then." she demanded as if not enough.

Hendrick arched one dark eyebrow. Curious. Where was the blush and the smile? The coyness and the darting of the eyes? This was unusual in his experience. If he was fazed, Hendrick did his damndest not to let it show, instead he drew close to Alice, cupped her chin in one hand and looked down into her eyes. The steel-blue Madigan eyes flashed with a range of emotions: confusion, fear, annoyance, tenderness - all searing lighting-fast across the cobalt and dark of his eyes. He smiled.

"As my lady commands" and Hendrick Madigan leaned forward, breaking the sacred bonds of lord and vassal as their lips touched.

And for a moment she kissed back. The tenderness of his lips pressing against her's sent a rush of sensations throughout her body, sensations she'd never felt before. Alice craved more, wanted more, and would do unspeakable acts to get more, but an unexplained force stopped her. Fear, for her dignity and her heart, rapidly took over desire and evicted the lustful invader from her body

"N-No!" she shouted as she disconnected their bond, throwing herself away from him with a sudden push off his chest. "What do you take me for M'lord? Some wench?"

There were no tears, just red cheeks, a flared nose, and an angry Alice in anything but wonderland.

Hendrick took a surprised step backwards as the electric contact of their lips broke suddenly. For a moment, he felt as if he had left part of himself behind in that kiss and was not a half-man, a hallowed body without a soul. The shock of her push and her words staggered him and he placed a steadying hand on his chair. A moment of weakness, then, after a sensation the likes of which he had never experienced. All maid's lips tasted sweet, but none so much as Alice's. None shook him like hers, stunned his mind, and inflamed his body. Had she not felt it too?

"A-A wench?" he stammered "My lady, I think you anything but. I fear I have made a grave mistake". Uncharacteristic colour rose in Hendrick's cheeks and his legs felt weakened.

"I apologize, Dame Alice. I should not have done that. It was...unbefitting". The young lord bowed his head in shame and felt the gods laughing at him.

"No. T'is I who should apologize."

Her head breached downwards filled with regret. To Alice, love was only an emotion given to family and nature, an unconditional bond between the two as they both created and nurtured her. Yet, before her in defeat, Hendrick stood ready to offer her the unexplored - something so much more - and she shot him out of the sky.

"I-I just" she broke off, unsure of her words, "Is this something I want?"

Hendrick looked up, confused, and stepped forward. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and smiled.

"My lady, I cannot tell you that. That is something you must decide for yourself. I know that, for my part, it is. That I have loved you fiercely and dearly since I first met you, Alice Arundel. That every waking moment since you first walked through my days has been consumed with thoughts of you, with images of your eyes, your smile, your face. That my dreams have been nothing more than extensions of my days, full of longing and madness for you. I cannot eat, I cannot work, I cannot think. All I can do, my lady, is burn with love for you".

Hendrick belatedly bit his tongue after this outpouring, but it was too late. The words were out in the open, she knew how he felt and now he could only wait.

Alice placed her hands over his, holding them with pressure as she let out her own emotions.

"Love is a passionate word, m'lord, and includes many conditions. It is not envious, boastful, nor proud. It does not dishonor others, is not self-seeking, easily angered, not does it keep record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth; it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. But most of all, it is patient and it is kind."

Her head turned to the side, avoiding eye contact, as she continued, "I cannot love you simply because you love me, and you should not love me as you barely understand my virtues, my faults, my purities, and my corruptions. Walk with me, have tea with me, make me laugh while I caress you, and maybe then we shall live together in eternity's embrace."

With conviction, she returned her gaze to his, starring deep within his eyes, "The tulip must always wait till spring before blooming."

And with fragility, she lifted Hendrick's hands off her shoulders, lowering them down with hers only to separate moments later. She stepped towards the dome window of his solar and looked into the setting sun.

"But I cannot stop you from your desires. If it is simple binding marriage you seek, the decision is not my own; by tradition, my father would have to accept your request to marry, and it is him at whom you must speak with."

Hendrick was silent for a time and watched as Alice was framed by the soft orange of the setting sun, the last tendrils of light coiling around her. A sign perhaps? Already he could see the moon, faintly, in the sky as his sigil descended further and further into West. A loss, it seemed. He sighed and walked to join her at the window, standing by her side, staring straight ahead. "Love, my love at least, does not wait, my lady. Love is as powerful as a crashing wave and as gentle as a calm lake. It is as unrelenting as it is tender, destructive as it is healing. Love, most of all, cannot be held off by anything. I will walk with you, yes, and coax smiles from you, but know that there is not a moment where my love will fade or dull." The young lord eyed the last of the day and touched the missing finger on his right hand. Have faith. "Yes, I do not know your faults and your secrets, but they do not matter to me. For love is not based off of reading a summary of a person or spending a certain amount of time in their presence. It is when a soul burns brightly and fiercely for another soul for reasons that cannot be explained. Mayhaps this happened quickly on my part, but I can wait for as long as necessary for you to feel the same". He looked down at at her and bowed his head. "I will not ask for your hand from your father. I do not wish to marry until you are ready and I am a Pyrist besides - our marriages are not single binding contracts, but something more. So..." he lifted his cobalt eyes to fix her in his gaze "I will wait".

Confusion struck Alice as an unfamiliar word resonated throughout her mind. Pyrism...

"M'lord, what is Pyrism?"

Hendrick arched an eyebrow and raised his right hand for her to see. A normal hand, until you reached the last digit - the smallest finger sliced clean off. "It is my faith - Aetheris Pyrism. When I arrived in these lands from the Summer Isles I was lost and alone. His Holiness, the Prophet Torpius welcomed me and brought me into the fold. Every day I have worshiped the gods and the flame, walked under the banner of Nalucht the Sweet-Tongued, and when the time came I severed my finger and cast aside my sword as sacrifice for the priesthood - a sacrifice unlike any other in the order". He carefully avoided mentioning his status within the Church. After all, what kind of faith would have him as the High Priest?

He contemplated his maimed hand and spoke softly. "I wrote to him, you know, to His Holiness after I met you. I told him I loved you and that when I met you my flamma, my fire, burned brightly and fiercely. He counseled me to follow my flame and my heart and I have". His eyes left his hand and travelled to his face. "If I was to marry you, it would not be through asking your father or your house. I would ask you, and you alone, and we would undertake the ceremony of love and binding together. It is not a formality or a compunction in the faith, but a demonstration of the love one holds for another".

Alice reflected carefully, her eyes lost in the abyss of her mind as her memories flashed before her.

A man stands above hundreds of nobles, commanding their attention with divinity. His arms spread open to accept the droves of followers, a true prophet. They all look up to him in reverence, in understanding, as they kneel before him. "Pathfinder Koli" they say in unison, "We shall follow the path you lay before us."

"I had a religion once," she said as she snapped back to reality, "but it was destroyed by the greed of men."

She gave a quick glance to Hendrick's hand, tracing her vision then to his face. "How can yours' avoid the same fate?"

A change came over Hendrick. For a moment, he was not the gay and boisterous young lord, the fop who wore the colors of a distant land and wrote poems about beautiful maidens. His expression became at once serene and incredibly focused, his eyes seeming to darken and deepen, as his presence changed. Before her stood Hendrick Madigan of Aetheris Pyrism, not the Lord of Thar Gortauth, but the Blaze Guide who walked alongside the gods and spoke to the flame. He seemed to turn his head slightly, as if listening to whispered words, before he smiled at her.

"We will survive for I have faith. And because my brothers have faith. And because the gods have a plan for us all - for myself, for the Prophet. Even for you, Alice Arundel". And as he said it, he reached out his maimed right hand and gently cupped her cheek. His hand seemed to burn hotter than it should and for a moment, the phantom limb of a severed finger brushed her face.

Her entire body sizzled from within, suffused with heat as pleasure soared to unexplored heights. The entire experience overwhelmed her and fueled her with a passion she'd never experienced before. Her heart began to beat faster, driven only by the purest desires. She turned to him, and in the blink of an eye met her lips with his.

Her eyes shut in pure ecstasy, his soft tender lips liberated her from her shackled body as it flew her to the heavens. This was true beauty, love and lust infused into one, and Alice knew it.

As her lips touched his, Hendrick heard, faintly, the mocking laughter of his patron as the presence of Nalucht vanished and the fire of the gods faded - only to be replaced by a raging flame as he realized Alice was pressed to him, his lips meeting his. He wrapped his arms around her and shut his eyes, as if to experience the moment without the muddling sense of sight and remember only though touch, scent, and taste. The feeling of her back as he held her close, the smell of her hair as the evening breeze rustled her golden tresses, the taste of her lips as they locked with his. Hendrick was a man known for his verbosity, but in that moment, even if he could have spoken, the young lord was at a complete loss for words.

Her hands, which grabbed Hendrick's hair from behind tightly, pulled on it's reigns, forcing their lips apart as Hendrick's head pulled back.

"What is this fire I feel?" she asked with a voice of desire, "It feels-feels so good."

Hendrick opened his eyes and slowly released her. Gently, he took one of her hands from the back of his head and guided it to his chest. He closed his eyes once more and focused on the beating of his heart under her fingers - racing with excitement and unbounded emotion. "That is the fire within me - the ignitions of my inner flame at your touch. It burns for you and you alone". He pressed her hand harder to his chest, until he could feel his heartbeat traveling up her arm. He kept his eyes closed, wondering if her heart raced in the same manner for him.

Alice released her grasp of Hendrick's hair and lowered her hand to Hendrick's free one, placing it just above her left breast. Almost immediately, the infusion of warmth surged once more throughout her body, her heart responding with a thousand heartbeats.

"Is this m-my inner flame?"

She bit her lip in excitement, the feeling was almost to much.

Hendrick had almost opened his eyes in surprise when she had taken his hand, but he consigned his sight to darkness and concentrated on the rhythm of Alice's heart. The frantic beats, the warmth of her hand on his, the sensation of touching her in a way that was mere hours before impossible to imagine or even hope to manifest as reality. For a moment, he imagined their hearts beating as one and smiled, slowly opening his eyes to meet hers.

"It is and it burns as strongly as mine does for you. Ours are flames destined to burn together. I am yours, Alice Arundel, if you would have me".

"H-have me join Aetheris Pyrism so I may properly worship the flame - the one that glows forever within me - and I will be yours." she said, letting go of his hand and chest as she stepped away from him.

Suddenly, like a breath of fresh air, Alice felt the chains of her restrictions latch on to her again. She didn't want to kiss, touch, or embrace Hendrick anymore; her desires dissipated as quickly as they came. What was left of her was her curiosity for this flame, it's overwhelming strength and power over her.

"What is required of me to convert?"

Hendrick studied the change in her and felt the sudden absence of her skin on his. He was, honestly, perplexed. The young lord sighed and cast his mind to thoughts of the faith. "Conversion is a simple matter comparatively. I will guide you to the temple here in Thar Gortauth and light the holy flames and incense. You will open your mind to the gods and offer them your praise and your soul and bask in the light of the divine. A small sacrifice is necessary - though nothing like my finger - " Hendrick flashed a self-deprecating smile "but something of symbolic significance to be sure". He moved to stand at the window, almost tempted to touch her and he did, but he withdrew his hand at the last moment before continuing. "After you are more situated in the faith, the true tests come. I have recently been in the Silver City with the Commander of Pian en Luries who underwent trials and sacrifice like no other. It is not a path for all, but it was his rightful fate within the Church. You will find yours, I am sure". He turned to face her and studied Alice's face. "And after I have guided you thus, you will consent to join with me in the Lover's Ritual?".

Alice looked back at him with a sense of remorse, but masked her expression with a simple smile. "I will consent, you have my word." Her eyes emanated with regret, darting its focus to another object to avoid Hendrick's. All she could think of was the last ten minutes, her complete loss of restraint and her burning passion from within. Yet, instead of condemning these actions, Alice was curious. She wished to know what drove her to such extraordinary lengths, what forced her to act solely upon temptation. Do I love him? Was it his charm or was it a manifestation of my own despair? The Thoughts continued, itching away at her mind never to find an answer. She shook her head to rid of them and retraced her sight back on his face. "Let us not waste time!" she exclaimed, "To the church!"

Hendrick slowly nodded and offered her his arm. The temple of Thar Gortauth was once nothing more than a shack, a little hovel for the handful of faithful to worship. That was before the arrival of Hendrick Madigan and his fervor. Now, the temple was - if not grand - then respectable, a building of white stone and large windows, complete with the braziers and divining pools integral to their faith, and maintained by a faithful that encompassed three-quarters of the region. As they made their way to the temple the attendant faithful bowed low and murmured strange phases. As he walked, Hendrick shed the mantle of lord and assumed his place as Blaze Guide - a benevolent shepherd returning to his flock.

The inside of the temple was warm, a miniature summer day contained inside the white walls. The air was thick with a powerful and heavy incense, that made the heads of newer faithful swim. Hendrick guided her to a central hall, where two great braziers smoldered and a great fire burned. Hendrick turned to her as the doors to the temple closed. "Are you prepared?" he asked.

In awe, Alice watched the flame dance between the braziers. It flickered light throughout the temple's halls, lighting the path for all who wished to follow. Back in the north, the temples were shrines, small run down shacks that could fit a hundred at most. The priests would conduct their rituals with barely an inch of breathing room, but here in the Pyrist temple, space seemed essential to the faith.

"I-uhm-yes, I am prepared." she replied half-consciously, barely aware of her reply.

Hendrickgave her a fleeting smile - one without the gaiety and suggestion of his lordly self. It was the benevolent smile of the divine looking down on earth. "You will repeat after me then", he said and moved closed to the flames. He closed his eyes, raising his hands above the fire, and intoned in a voice quite unlike his own:

"I believe in the holy flames, which purify living and dead. I honor my ancestors, who give me courage and strength. I respect the spirits, who influence tides and seasons. I worship the Gods, who rule heaven and earth. I renounce the impurity, which corrupts mind and body. I reject the underlords, who consume flesh and soul. "

The fire warped and moved under his hands and for a moment his shadow on the wall changed - a cloaked being with many arms holding a book, a scepter, and a dagger. A presence filled the room, a larger glimpse of the spirit that had appeared in Hendrick's solar, the one he had called by that strange name: "Nalucht, the Sweet-Tongued".

Alice mimicked Hendrick's motions and raised her hands above the fire. The warm sensations curled up her arms and down her body, soothing her energy in a bath of embers. Smoke, which rose from the fire, added to thick incense, increasing its effect on Alice as it created a faint curtain of haze before her eyes.

"I believe in the holy flames, which purify living and dead. I honor my ancestors, who give me courage and strength. I respect the spirits, who influence tides and seasons. I worship the Gods, who rule heaven and earth. I renounce impurity, which corrupts mind and body. I reject the underlords, who consume flesh and soul."

Immediately, the smoke whirled and gathered around Alice, circling her in a storm of haze. With every breath the storm brewed stronger, sweeping across the halls with unimaginable strength. Ornaments flew freely across rooms, crashing against the floor and walls. Drapes surrendered their stitches - dragged by the vortex winds - as windows shattered in wake of the sheer force. Yet in the eye of the storm - where Alice stood- there was no chaos, just peace and serenity; quiet as the barren desert. Hendrick, who was right beside her, vanished and the brazier flame faded in the fog.

Alice stood dazed and confused, perceiving the havoc around her in utter-disbelief, only to be interrupted by the sudden whisper in the winds.

"Alice..."

           "Alice...."
                        "Alice..."

The whisper muttered, echoing from every direction, "I am Calanthe...."

A shadowed figure, twice Alice's height, appeared before her in the swirling gray storm. It approached gracefully, the smoke parting to provide an untarnished path - like servants clearing the carpet for their Queen. "....and you are my daughter." It reached Alice and stood before her with commanding authority. A woman, with silk golden tresses, calm and tranquil. Her face sculpted and designed flawlessly, eyes blue like the deepest depths of the ocean. A translucent dress dropped from shoulder to ankle, breasts voluminous and her figure slender. Her skin was rosy with an opaque pale accent, as if full of life yet restrained by reason. She looked down on the rather inferior vessel before her, smiling the smile of a thousand gods, radiant and true to even the most divine.

"I've awaited your arrival for countless ages, my daughter, and I am most pleased to finally meet you..."

Hendrick saw Alice vanish in the smoke as it claimed him as well. He shut his eyes tightly to block the sting of the ashes, only to hear the cacophony die down around him. He opened his eyes.

He was standing alone in a world of half-light - a grayness of ambiguity and secrecy surrounding him. He cast his eyes about the strange world, until he alighted on a familiar figure. He walked hooded and cloaked, a scepter in one gloved hand, a book in another, and, impossible, a dagger in a third. Though his face was covered and in permanent shadow, Hendrick knew him at once and dropped to one knee.

"Nalucht, Sweet-Tongued, I am honored by your presence" he intoned to the dark being. The reply did not so much issue from the figure, but from the world around him - a sardonic tone produced by the endless grey.

"Rise, Hendrick Madigan. You have no need to kneel here. You are as much part of this world as I am." As Hendrick rose, Nalucht drew closer.

"I have called you here, Hendrick Four-Fingered, for you have managed - with all the grace of your race - to stumble into the midst of a cycle that has existed long before your kind walked this prison-world." The voice paused to collect itself before continuing. " Long ago, there was a goddess, Calanthe..."

Alice, a stone statue in a god's courtyard, was at a loss of words. She felt trust, love, admiration, reverence, and worship for the presence before her. What froze her in place was her overwhelming confusion.

The smile receded to a friendly grin, reading the vessel's emotions. "It seems you were rushed here without understanding the flame, undoubtedly by that priest."

In a blinding flash, the towering presence crumbled to a height no taller than a human. She grabbed Alice's hands, and held them close to her own chest. "See into my heart, and understand all that I am, and all that I've become." A wave of black crimson splashed against Alice, bringing her to a dimension both real and distorted. Beside her, Calanthe hovered, watching her memories unfold.

A shadowed figure stood, concealed by his cloak, holding in one gloved hand a scepter, the second a book, and impossible in a third hand, a dagger. He shouted with a thousand thunders, pleading to the goddess before him - the same that stood beside Alice. "Calanthe, goddess of peace and unity, the most fair of all goddesses and most serene of her peers! Accept our bond as undeniable, our union supreme!"

"Nalucht, you are the shadow that creates strife, the whisper that fosters hate. No matter your intentions, your means are the very things I fight to eradicate!"

The human goddess turned to Alice and spoke, "He loved me, for reasons I do not understand, yet I would not have him. He is the god of deceit, the sweet-tongued they call him, and a creator of strife." Alice replied, muttering her very first words since speaking with Hendrick, "What happened then?" "He tricked me."

A second wave of black crimson crashed against Alice, trailing her to a realm similar to the last, but accented by a bright shine in the middle. There, in the center, a great god stood in shining armor, his face still covered by a hood, though white this time, and his three arms branching with the same items. Against him, Calanthe caressed him, her arms locked around him in worshiping affection.

"He emitted himself as something he was not, and I fell for his change of spirit. I-I believed he changed for me, and my love dominated my reason. We were unified, bonded in the equivalent of human matrimony." The goddess waved her hand, finished with the heartbreaking memory, and dismissed it, returning Alice to the eye of the storm.

"And since, after the creation of mortals and your world, it was dictated that any daughter of mine, destined for peace and unity above all things, will fall to the sweet-tongued sons of Nalucht through touch, sound, or smell." The revelation struck Alice in shock, her eyes widening as she began to understand. "That man's touch, one of the many senses, is the irresistible connection I speak of. It's flame cannot be extinguished, your desires impossible to deny, his charms impervious to your reason."

Nalucht waved a hand and a scene appeared: a woman, impossible in her beauty, otherworldly in her serenity, holy in her tranquility appeared. Her blond locks melted into her airy dress, which barely covered the rose of her skin and the swells of her curves. The woman was as peaceful, voluptuous, and eternal as the ocean itself. The being was in the company of other glorious entities: here a titan clad in shimmering armor, there a woman aside a lion, and in the darkest corner, apart from the rest - by choice or necessity - a darkened man of sweet words, clever tongues, and the solace of secrets.

"Calanthe, of the beautiful eyes and soft skin, of the way of peace and the divinity of calm. Unsurpassed amongst my kind in grace and temperament". The darkened man, Naluct, reached out in the vision with his three arms only to have the radiant goddess shy away and curse him, forcing him back into the shadows.

"She would not have me for I was all she was not. I did not strike the swords of war or murder the babes in their beds, but I inspired the hunger of the politician, I guided the knife of the assassins, I whispered my sweet nothings into thousands of ears." The voice faltered for a moment. "I repulsed her". The scene shifted, and now Nalucht tossed and turned, wracked by grief and anguish, torn apart by love and lust. Hendrick felt a deep pang in his heart, for had he not felt the same? Had he not felt so strongly that he lost himself to grief and even madness? He remembered all he had felt capable of doing, if just to see Alice smile and feel her touch.

His patron was no different. Though he wrote no poems or expounded on the nature of love, the Sweet-Tongued did what was his gift: he lied. He waved around himself glamours and tales, spun his stories like so many spider's webs out of the air, his silver tongue flashing with false deeds and imagined kindnesses. Here he stood, fashioned in the armor of a champion adorned in the purity of white and she came to him.

"What else could I do? She could not love me as I am, yet all gods are beholden to their nature. I could no more change myself than Korroth could cast aside his armor or Vlan his axe. So I clothed myself in false colors and donned a raiment of lies...". The voice became defensive "But do not think for a moment I was motivated by anything less than love. For that is the word: love. I would have offered her my whole soul and self...". In the vision, the armor cracked and faded and Calanthe pushed away the darkened Nalucht "...if she had but accepted me". The dark figure appeared beside Hendrick as the vision faded. "So we of the Sweet Tongue are cursed, Hendrick Madigan. We are cursed to always love the daughters of Calanthe, not matter how they loath us. And we will do anything for their love in return. It was my fate and yours". The figure here swept back his hood and Hendrick found himself looking at his perfect copy as a malevolent and broken smile crossed Nalucht's face.

Alice hesitated, a thousand questions swarmed her mind, each one itching to leave her tongue. "A-And what was your connection to him?" Calanthe dropped her head in defeat, locks bouncing over her face - a golden mask to hide her shame. "Vision. I saw him for what he was, then for what he was not. The illusion of the latter I could not resist, and he swayed me to his desires..." Alice watched the goddess with sympathy, as the same pain pierced her heart cleaner than the sharpest sword.

"I-I" "You promised him the lover's ritual." "And I-" "Refuse to turn on your word. Young Alice, you are my daughter," she said in a distant tone, her image fading before Alice, "Remain your own, no matter the outcome."

Hendrick stared at his doppleganger as the figure continued to grin at him. It took him a long time to find his tongue. It was said that when a man gazed on his copy that his life was running short. He had always dismissed such things as nonsense, but now the superstitions crept into his mind. "I did not deceive Alice", Hendrick said. "Not intentionally", his patron replied, grinning. "I am not you". "Not entirely". "I love Alice". "Completely". Hendrick let out a long sigh and hung his head. And here he thought this had been a genuine and true love, the kind born of seeing one's soulmate for the first time and knowing that she was the only one for you. More fool him, they were just players in a god's game, actors cast in roles long since designed. His maimed hand twitched. Hendrick Madigan was no man's fool. He listed his eyes to meet Nalucht's. "Can I escape this fate and break this cycle?" The god's smiled widened until it seemed his head would split in two. "Perhaps", he replied and the world began to disintegrate around Hendrick. Belatedly, the obvious question rose to Hendrick's mind and in the dissolving of the world, he called out: "Does Alice know all of this?" Nalucht chuckled and turned his back on his priest. "Partially" and with that, Hendrick was flung back towards reality.

He opened his eyes. He was standing as he had been in the Pyrist temple. The flames before him had died down and the coals in the braziers smoldered quietly. He was home, but was Alice?

The smoke circling Alice leaked through the floor, seeping through cracks unseen, as reality took over the twisted realm. Before her, the braziers reappeared and simmered a faint orange - the flame between them a fraction of its previous strength. Alice took in a breath of air as if she hadn't for hours. To her right, where Hendrick was before, stood a man much like him, yet changed by the unexplained.

"M'lord?" she questioned, fearing the worst.

Hendrick's eyes didn't leave the brazier before him, his eyes dulled by unwanted knowledge and advice unbidden. What was he to do now? How could he continue on his path with this knowledge? He slowly turned turned to Alice and tried to muster one os his usual grins, but faltered into a half-smile that seemed more of a grimace. He could see that she knew and that she had had her own visions, maybe met with that goddess, Calanthe. But did she hate him? Fear him? Maybe, worst of all, she pitied him - a curse worse than all the others. He sighed and met her eyes. "Welcome to Aetheris Pyrism, Lady Alice" he said and returned his gaze to the coals, pondering the dying heat and fire. The question, the one he could only ask her made its way to his lips. "What do we do now?".

Alice kept her eyes locked on him, they watched his mannerisms with detail. He was sad, downtrodden, undoubtedly revealed the same secrets.

"Hendrick." she pleaded, her eyes laced with concern, "Please, look at me."

Slowly, Hendrick lifted his eyes from the coaled and met hers. His cobalt eyes, usually so lively and flashing with silent laughter, were morose and dulled - like coins rubbed by too many fingers and tossed into beggars' bowls. "I am looking at you Alice, but I am not sure what I am supposed to see or how my eyes are supposed to behave". He noted the concern in her eyes, but it felt more like an insult. Did she see him now as that darkened figure who sulked under her mother-goddess' light? Did she think he was deceiving her, a liar who was after nothing but getting under her skirts? Surely she did not see him as the same man he had been this morning.

Henrdick's sorrow in the undertones of his voice struck the deepest depths of Alice's heart, sounding the drums of empathy in a dinned echo. Now more than ever, and without Hendrick's touch, Alice wanted to feel his embrace, kiss his tender lips, take away the very pain that resounded within her. Tears began forming on the ridge of her eyes, glazing over her deep sea irises. But before they could fall, Alice suddenly jumped into Hendrick's arms, the surge of flame colliding against her spirit as it took over her body. Her grip tightened as she pressed herself against him. Deep in the cloth of his attire, her head dug itself a snug position to settle in, rubbing against his chest like an adoring cat.

"Look at me as you always have." she muttered, muzzled by Hendrick's robes, "And I am yours."

Hours before Hendrick would have thought this action nothing short of a fantasy come true, a culmination of every daydream and idle longing. But now the feeling of her fingers gripping him tightly and the sensation of her face against his chest filled him with a piercing dread. Was her affection and desire merely motivated by this curse initiated by his patron's underhanded attempt at seduction? Was there any truth to her love,

But even as these thoughts twisted their tendrils around his mind, his flame and heart, oblivious, burned for Alice. He ached for her touch, longed to breathe in her scent, would have given his life for but one more meeting of their lips. He knew the truth behind their attraction and the design behind their meeting, but it did nothing to still the frantic rhythm of his heart.

He encircled Alice and pressed her to him, his embrace speaking of fear, desire, and hope against hope. He shut his eyes and buried his face in her hair. "I will never look at you in any other ways. I will always be yours, Alice Arundel ".

Though Hendrick couldn't see it, Alice smiled radiantly in her cave of robes. Her head rolled backwards until their noses touched. She giggled, blushing in the meanwhile at the seemingly romantic moment. Nothing was left of her former self, the flame completely overtaking her body, occupying the fleshy vessel. She licked her lips, preparing them for Hendrick.

"Kiss me, my lord! Kiss me and let us complete the lover's ritual!" she begged, raw desire pulling her reigns.

But what did the Alice behind bars feel? Empathy, desperation, and hopelessness. She threw herself at Hendrick because he was the only person in all of Dwilight that could understand, neglecting completely the very curse that inflicted these emotions. Now, in Hendrick's arms, she was a thrall once more, a servant of his bidding.

Hendrick nearly pushed away this...creature that now clung to him, lacking all of the reserve and calm that he had been so taken with on their first meeting. His hands raised to cup her face, although the purpose of the right different from the left. His maimed right hand wanted nothing more than to guide her face to his and seal their love with a kiss in full view of the damnable gods to see, the four fingers tenderly touching her cheek with a lover's caress. His left, however, wanted to make the journey to her soft and slender neck and crush the life from her, to end this curse as swiftly and surely as possible, to leave the body of Alice Arundel on the floor of this holy place and free her spirit from thralldom.

But, like his patron, a third hand held Hendrick back - a third limb, invisible, forged of iron will and a lifelong devotion to reason above all else. While his right wanted to seize Alice and bed her there on the warm floor of the temple and the left twitched with barely restrained violence, the third hand held sway and silenced the argument of its fellows. This hand seemed to brush Alice's lips and still the deluge of passionate words. In the silence, Hendrick spoke and as he did, his voice was returned to its old timber and tone - rolling and rich, with the hint of mockery that played across each syllable.

"My sweet, hold. We will have time for kisses and much more after the completion of the ritual. Save your lips until then, my dearest, when we join in the Lover's Ritual" and Hendrick, at last, smiled - a grin masquerading as an expression love and affection. In truth, Hendrick Madigan smiled for he had devised a plan. God of wit and cunning he may be, but Nalucht was just that: a god, a strange being so limited in their actions and thoughts. True cunning came from the race of man, and Hendrick Madigan was cunning indeed.

Alice purred with excitement, kissing a trail from chin to gown as a consolation prize. The true Alice, a prisoner, shook her cage from behind her eyes, outraged at her vessel's actions. What am I doing? I am nothing more than a brothel's deformed swine, throwing myself around a swamp of men without the slightest hint of dignity!

"Of course, my lord, whatever you wish!"

Her arms released the vice around Hendrick's back, rising to his hands that cupped her face. She peeled them away delicately, running them down her neck and over her breasts before separating herself from him. But after two steps backwards, she suddenly crashed to the ground, her energy drained and absent from her body.

"D-do not mind me," she laughed at herself, smiling up at Hendrick "I only just returned!"

Inwardly, Hendrick burned with pity, scorn, and revulsion - though the sensation of his hands on her chest send flashes of lust through his body - though he hid it all behind his clever mask of a smile. He straightened his robes and briefly considered reached out to help her to her feet, but the thought of awakening more of the curse by means of his touch gave him pause. Even worse, as he considered her actions, her slavish touch, her prone sprawl on the floor, he was disgusted to find that, while he did not love this part of her, he craved it, lusted after this harlot she had become.

"No worries, my dear. Come, rise and walk with me. We can complete the ritual in a few days, if it pleases you. I must merely make a few preparations and then we shall be bound together for all time". Hendrick's smile twitched imperceptibly. Or rather, I will be bound to the Alice I love. I will not be slave to some god's curse.

The defeated dame slowly tried rising, making it halfway before falling to her knees. She gasped for air desperately, void of any strength. "M-My l-lord." she begged, grasping the ledge above her in a last ditch effort to stand, "Please!" She quivered but kept her feet beneath her, slithering up the white cobblestone to standing position. As if her trials weren't over, she twisted her neck away from Hendrick, kissing the white walls she clung to. "Your- your smile hurts..." she pleaded painfully, "Desist lying to me, I beg of you!"

One must be cruel to be kind. Hendrick repeated this maxim of his patron to himself and drew comfort from it. The pitiable creature before him needed his kindness, but to do so, he must maintain, as it were, this cruel smile. He carefully removed a pair of calfskin gloves from his doublet and slipped them on, before rushing to Alice's side, looking for all the world like a worried lover. Hendrick Madigan was not a strong man, but he lifted Alice as easily as a child, taking care not to let any bare patch of skin brush against her and thankful that he was clouded in the scent of incense to hide his own musk. No need to set her off once more.

"Hush, my sweet, you are speaking nonsense. The day has been a long one and strenuous and you are imagining things. How could I ever lie to you or hurt you?" He prayed his soothing tone and presence would dull her suspicions. He would need three days to prepare the Lover's Ritual - or what she believed to be the Lover's Ritual - and he would need her sedate.

"Come, let us return to my manse" and he carried her from the temple.

Llywellyn had never been so confused and conflicted in all his years serving his tumultuous and curious master. The halls had been mostly empty when Hendrick had returned from the Church, Alice in his arms, and a kind of steel in his eyes his valet had never witnessed. The High Magistrate had ordered the manse sealed and dispatched guards to secure Lady Alice's estate - as well as dismissing most of the servants. He bade Llywellyn to make up a room for Lady Alice - one that had, as Hendrick had been keen to insist, a thick door and a stout lock.

Now, Llywellyn stood on the other side of that very door, his ear pressed against the wood, struggling to ascertain the sate Alice was in. His Lordship had sequestered himself in his solar, looking grave and worn and had ordered that, under no circumstances, was Alice Arundel to be released into the manse. But here I am, thought Llywellyn, holding the key in my hands.

He cleared his throat and knocked on the solid door. "Lady Alice? Are you well?" he asked. After all, what harm could it do? She was, after all, just a young girl.

Alice bustled under her warm silk bedsheets, perturbed by the voice that had just awoken her. She groaned and rolled to her side, trying to keep her eyes closed to no avail. When she opened them, she realized quickly that her bed at home wasn't red, nor were the curtains a peach tint. There was two to many adorning ropes hanging from the bed, and no screen at which to dress behind. No giant mirror, no expensive rug, no closet full of dresses, and no makeup!

She turned to the door and stared it down, as if it was the one talking to her, and questioned it's rather familiar voice, "Master Llywellyn, you seem to have transformed into a lovely oak door! Where am I, and where are you for that matter?"

Despite himself, Llywellyn smiled and felt relieved. Surely there was nothing wrong. He couldn't imagine why his Lord would confine Alice so, unless he had finally lost his mind and abducted her. "On the other side, of the lovely oak door, my lady. As for yourself, you are in one of the guest chambers at the Lord's manse. I wish I could tell you why, but Lord Hendrick has neglected to inform me and keeps his own company in his solar". Llywellyn consulted the key, suddenly struck by a thought. The valet was a Pyrist, as was most of Thar Gortauth, and when Hendrick had returned it had not been with the expression of a lord, but with the countenance of the Blaze Guide. Perhaps... "Are you, ah, well, Lady Alice?" he called out, turing the key over and over in his hands.

Hunger growled from within Alice's stomach, appealing the thought of food and drink. After the day's procession, she was exhausted, her limbs rusted over like an overused portcullis, unwilling to move another inch. "I am quite famished, Master Llywellyn. Though I would naturally gather my own meal, I fear I cannot move more than two steps before falling!" she cried out, giggling at the thought of even trying. "Would you be so kind to render me this service?"

Llywellyn let out a sigh of relief and called out his assent, before hurrying to the kitchens and collecting a simple, but delicious meal of fragrant smoked meat, a cup of the stew that had slowly cooked all day, and a wedge of soft white bread. By the time he returned to the room and unlocked the door, his mind was at ease. She was undoubtably the same Alice, nothing was amiss and he had been a fool to think to. He opened the heavy oak door and stepped inside, tactfully averting his eyes from the bed lest she was indecent, and placed the food on a table in the center of her chambers.

"I had the cooks prepare something for you my lady. I apologize at the simplicity, but Lord Hendrick bade most of the servant to return to quarters". He bit his lip for a moment before being bold enough to ask the question on his mind.

"If I may...Ah, that is, what is the occasion for milady's visit?"

Alice's face lit up with joy as the food settled before her eyes. No time was wasted to dig in, devouring the piece of bread in such a barbaric way the sewer mutts would be impressed. She peeked up at Llywellyn, still looking away from her, and raised an eyebrow in curiosity, probing him in playful chastisement, "Am I that unattractive, Master Llywellyn, that you desist even looking at me? Or have I the face of Najch'Akuy, so plagued and diseased that I was hidden here in this bedchamber?"

Llywellyn started and blushed, keeping his eyes carefully riveted to a portrait on the wall.

"Ah, o-of course not, my lady, you are as, ah, attractive as always. It is merely that it would be indecent to watch you while you are fresh from bed and eating so enthusiastically". His face reddened further as he finished, "Particularly when you, ah, are wearing such v-vestments".

Indeed, it seems Hendrick had a kindness and tenderness that exceeded his common sense, for her clothes that she was worn to the temple - now covered in ash and smelling powerfully of incense, lay folded by her bed, while Alice herself was dressed in a light dress, an airy confection of the finest silk and embroidery that managed to look at once the picture of innocence and yet speak of powerful temptation.

"Vestments?" she pondered to herself, noticing her robes neatly placed at the end of the bed. Her fingers pinched the silk under her neck, rubbing clockwise to analyze it's fabric. "It seems you are on to something, dear Master Llywellyn." Her vision mimicked his and traced it to the portrait. Framed inside it was Hendrick's picture, a man so authoritative by the brushes of paint he could be her father. Alice shivered to the thought. "Well suit yourself. If you would rather stare at him then me, I will not be needing your services any longer."

Llywellyn started and turned to look at her "No m-my lady I would much rather look - ah, that is to say, not that I would desire to look at - well, not that his lordship is not...". The nervous valet's voice faded as color either drained from or suffused his face. He was totally helpless in the face of this beautiful woman, so far above him she might as well be a goddess. He took a deep breath.

"Is there anything else I may do before I take my leave, my lady?"

Alice giggled in her own amusement, "I am being difficult, forgive me. Should you see his lordship later this evening, would you please inform him I seek audience? He should find me in an agreeable state to do so, the flame no longer controls my heart."

Llywellyn looked conflicted and stared down at his feet. "The thing is, my lady, ah, his lordship gave instructions that you were not to leave quarters and has asked for solitude in his solar. He even ordered me to lock your chamber...". The valet seemed deeply ill at ease.

"I fear I have already disobeyed my lord's orders, but I cannot take you to him. But," Llywellyn looked up at her with a small smile "I can leave your door ajar". _________

Hendrick stretched out on the divan in his solar, completely drained and confused by the day's events. What had begun as a confession of love and a singularly meaningful kiss ended with knowledge of an unwanted gods' legacy and a love he was forced to confine. He let out a long breath and closed his eyes. At least she was under lock and key and that the harlot she transformed into could not enter his chambers. -- "I see, his lordship is much more afraid than I am - or prudent." Alice said, looking up at Llywellyn who hadn't a clue of what she was speaking of. "Open the window and tie one of these ropes to it!" she directed, yanking on one of the silk ropes hanging from the bed, "Lock the door after I leave and bring the food with you."

"Do you understand?" -- Llywellyn looked minutes away from total panic and seemed weak in the knees. "My lady, I cannot let you simply...abscond out of the window! What if you fall or injure yourself? I cannot possibly...". The young valet steadied himself against the wall and pressed a hand to his head.

"My lady, if I guide you to Lord Hendrick and ensure that he speaks with you, will you abandon this madness? I am willing to disobey his lordship for you if it keep you from leaping out this window".

As he said the word, Llywellyn crossed the room and tested the window, only to find that a stronger lock had been placed on the hinge and that below, on the ground, two guards were visible by the lights of their torches. Llywellyn swallowed nervously. He had underestimated His Lordship. The commonfolk liked to jest that Lord Hendrick Madigan thought of everything, but the joke had become a strange reality before Llywellyn's eyes. -- Alice shook her head, watching the ever absorbed Llywellyn peek out the window. "I dare say you have a twisted vision of me! I was going to walk out the door with you, not abscond through the window!"

There was something about Master Llywellyn that always brought out the fun in Alice. He was gentle, amiable, human, and had a sense of humor - though frequently unintended. He was obviously in love with her, like the other one, but would never dare to admit it. He was shy, professional, and seemed to always remember his place in the world. Alice would poke fun at him merely for his reactions, as they seemed to drown out the sorrows of her life. It was then that she realized she knew nothing more about him: where he came from, his blood and house, his friends and loved ones, his hobbies, what he enjoyed doing on his free time. She was ashamed. -- The guards below had their swords drawn and in the distance, at the land designated for Alice's estate, Llywellyn could just make out moving torches as more Madigan men patrolled. He tore his eyes away from the armed men and hurriedly pulled the drapes. "As always, Lady Alice, you are a step ahead of me. It is all I can do to keep up with you. But I fear it is beyond our power to even open the window, but fear not, I have an idea".

Llywellyn swiftly crossed to the bed and thrust pillows under the covers, his careful and precise fingers making it appear as if she was merely submerged in her covers. He blew out the candles near the bed and gestured for her to follow. All of his actions bore an air of practicality and patience that Llylwellyn's usual nervousness around her belayed. Llywellyn's father had been the valet and steward to Lord Halcyon, Hendrick's father, and all of Llywellyn's movements and sensibilities displayed pointed to his servingman pedigree.

"I will see that the door is locked and your way is clear. The solar is on the top floor, as you well know, and His Lordship is in the habit of leaving the door ajar to capture the breeze". -- Alice hesitated before leaving the bed, reaching her arm out to Llywellyn hoping he'd stop for her. "And what becomes of you, Master Llywellyn?" All that was left on her face was worry, sincere distress for his well being. He broke his word to check on her, condemned loyalty for compassion, and sealed his fate the second he did so. The sudden flash of Hendrick's masked smile appeared in Alice's mind, the last thing she remembered, fueling an even greater worry. There was nothing left in him that could be trusted, restrained - not even the gods could keep him in chains. -- Llywellyn stopped and let her fingers touch his arm. He gave a small smile and gently took her hand in his. "My lady, fear not for me. Lord Hendrick is a lenient master and I am not as fragile as I seem. I thank you for your kindness". The young man paused for a moment and looked down at her hand.

"In the lost lands of Lasanar, my father, Pent, saved the great lord Halcyon from a score of assassins, two rebellions, and a mortal enemy. I cannot share those achievements, but I can save Hendrick from himself, with your help".

He gently released her hand and withdrew the key from his pocket, handing it to her. "I will go ahead and make sure there are no guards along your path. In a few minutes, blow out the rest of the candles, make sure the bed appears inhabited, and lock the door behind you". He bowed to her and flashed a last smile before making for the door.

As he made sure the way was free of guards, it dawned on him it was the perfect heroic moment to steal a kiss from Alice. But Llywellyn smiled and went on his way. Who was he to stand in the way of love? -- 56, 57, 58, 59, 60. Alice shuffled out of bed, two minutes left before she had to vacate. The bed already contained her doppelganger, all she had to do was set it up and flatten some sheets. She dashed around the end and realized the unfinished stew, now cold, sat idly on the side-table. She grabbed it, formulating an idea as she executed her final sweep of the room. Before she walked out the royal oak doors, she gave a final fleeting look at the portrait. See you soon, she teased.

The hallways were easily discernible from her previous visit, making it simple for Alice to weave through them. Climbing the stairs. on the other hand, proved difficult - her pair of wet noodles for legs barely stood. But before long, the solar entrance, open wide as Llywellyn predicted, was in sight at the end of the hall. Alice rested against one of the many columns that decorated the corridor, taking a free moments to catch her breath.

She let go of the column and crept silently towards the open door. Upon reaching it, she peered around it's edge to check the lord's whereabouts. A man, who shared his features, laid virtually motionless in the chair - dead center of the room. Most healers would declare him dead: breaths infrequent, movements none, pulse almost undetectable, and nearly unresponsive to all outside stimuli. A fortress of sleep, Alice though to herself.

Her pace returned to normal as she traveled across the solar, confident Hendrick would keep to his coma. She set the algid stew on the table beside him, stirring it slightly to stop the oils inside from sinking. "Oh how disappointing!" she thought out-loud, "The stew seems to be to cold!" Alice took the bowl disappointingly and lifted it above Hendrick's head, mimicking a priest holding incense above his faithful. "May the gods bless you this day, young Hendrick!" And without second thought, the bowl flipped completely at her will, it's brown soup-like contents crashing down on Hendrick like a mighty waterfall. The bits and pieces of meat decorated his robes fabulously, leaving streaks of brown grease from their landing trajectories. Most complementing! Alice observed, amused to no end by what she'd done. If a stranger were to seemingly walk in, he would probably accuse Alice of projecting vomit all over the innocent lord.

"Would you care to wake up now, m'lord? You might miss the sunset!" -- Does this...please my lord? Alice asked as she slinked over to his divans, bunching the fabric of her dress to tighten the silk at her breasts. Indeed it does, though it isn't at all proper, he stammered, trying not to look at the way the fabric hugged her hips and framed her thighs. Oh dear, have I been...bad, my lord Hendrick? ​She asked coquettishly, pouting with ruby red lips. Yes, and you will have to - A cascade of liquid and matter jolted Hendrick from what promised to be an exceptional dream, as the wonderful images of a scantily clad Alice Arundel faded, only to be replace by...a real life, scantily clad Alice Arundel, although this one was less sultry and pouty, and appeared to have upended a bowl of stew over him. He stared at her for a moment, his expression a mixture of confusion and abject rage. His eyes traveled down to his sumptuous sleeping robes, to the meat and grease that ruined the beautiful brightness of the material and seeped onto his skin. He was not, as it were, overly concerned by the destruction of robes - he was a rich man and could afford more - no, what enraged him was the fact that she even dared to do so. He was a lord - and not any lord, but her lord - not to mention the High Magistrate, Ambassador, and Blaze Guide beside. And she had the gall to insult him with these childlike antics.

Hendrick rose swiftly from the sleeping couch, born by suppressed rage and wounded pride, and pressed Alice to the wall, his four-fingered holy hand firmly at her throat - not choking her, but encompassing the pale, slender neck. His anger surprised even him and when he spoke he was shocked at the steel of his tone. "How dare you. Bad enough you act the harlot, but now the peevish child - is nothing below the House of Arundel?". As sleep deserted him and his mind sharpened, he noted the meaning behind her presence, causing the hand at her neck to twitch. "And how, may I ask, did you leave your quarters?" -- The flame of seduction burst through Alice stronger than it ever had, this time fluxed by the fuel of hate and outrage. In fact, the energy was so powerful, her irises transposed an apricot shade. Now, she was a thrall of ecstasy, relishing in the violence as some sort of twisted sexual fantasy. She dodged his questions, ignoring them almost completely, and focused only on her recently discovered prank. "My lord! You seem angry! I think you are still famished from your earlier meal!" She bit her lip with so much agitation - so much excitement from being caught - that she pierced through it, bleeding a steady stream of red. "I can help you solve that... complication."

Alice, or what should be considered the old Alice, prepared for an argument, planned it out even. She ran the entire fight over and over, weaving through the mistakes of her previous simulations only to forge a better case. She expected some chastisement, maybe shouting, but nothing so violent as this. Her over-confidence was her downfall, and yet again, she was Hendrick's custodian. -- The sons of Nalucht are clever and blessed with wit and wisdom, but no amount of wisdom can cure a fatal degree of pride. For all of his lackadasiy and whimsy, Hendrick Madigan was a proud man - a dangerously proud man, imbued with the kind of hubris that could transform even a sleep young lord into a wrathful beast, a normally docile family hound that one day rips out its owner's throat.

"I 'seem angry', do I?" he said in the horribly calm voice of one moments from extraordinary violence, as his grip tightened ever so slightly around her soft neck. "You think you jest with me, do you? You think to make mockery of me? Would that make you happy, Alice, to see me in a fool's motley?". Truly, he had locked her up to prevent her from ravishing him in his sleep or perhaps driving a knife into his chest to escape their divine fate, but never had he thought that she would play her prank and make sport of him.

He grit his teeth, his lips pulling back into a snarl, exposing the prominent canine teeth that had only ever flashed in a smile. He leaned closer to her, pressing her against the wall as if he meant to transpose her through it, until they were nose to nose - his eyes, wrathful and furious, fixed on hers. "And how do you propose to..."solve this complication"?" he hissed through tightly pressed teeth, as the four fingers fidgeted around her throat. -- Alice couldn't eschew her gaze from his. The lethality of his intimidation seeped through his eyes, his anger materialized into a beast worlds apart from Hendrick. Fear, the most natural and potent of emotions, burgeoned and cast a nightmarish shadow over her heart. Like a sudden downpour over a burning house, her fire stifled in the wake of panic. No more was she indoctrinated; there was no fun, no excitement, no lasciviousness. Her body responded with a series of convulsions, squirming in Hendrick's grip as a last ditch effort to escape.

"My l-lord, you are h-hurting me!"" she squealed, her words broken by the tightening grip and trepidations, "Please, l-let go!" -- At the sound of her voice, her plaintive pleadings so different from the flighty and fey creature she had been moments before, the anger drained from Hendrick's face and he released her immediately. It seems that the wildfire within her knew fear - something he could use. He took a step away from her.

"Forgive me, Lady Alice. I lost myself for a moment - though, evidently you did likewise". Hendrick reached up and plucked a piece of meat from his dark blond hair, sighing as he did so, for he could feel the strew coagulating in the fine stands and down his neck. A mess indeed, he thought, and not only thanks to the stew. -- Alice fixed her light garments, which shifted in all the commotion, loosening its grip on her hips as she twisted it to comfortable position. When she returned her gaze to Hendrick, her eyes were full of contempt, antipathy, judging the very thing before her like an animal more than anything else. "I refuse to forgive you, young lord! Explain to me why I was 'locked' in one of your bedchambers!" -- It was only through supreme effort that Hendrick kept his eyes on Alice's face, rather than allowing them to drift over her barely covered form. The moonlight made the dress nearly transparent, and his eyes desired to betray his iron will.

He turned his back to save himself the trouble and crossed to a wardrobe, pulling off his soiled tunic and sleeping robe, revealing the pale, striking thinness of his torso and the beautifully clear articulation of his shoulders and neck. As he rummaged for a clean tunic, he called out to her.

"You truly do not know? My lady, after what happened in the temple and with what we knew, I was sealing you in that room for your protection and mine. Your...flame ignites when I touch you or you catch wind of me and I...I did not want to take advantage of your condition, nor see you in such a ...state". -- She gawked at his moonlit back for several moments before answering, beguiled by the reveal of his skin. Truly, every time they met, Hendrick would don himself in a multitude of colors ranging from apricot to salmon. To finally see his pale underbelly, so to speak, brought Alice's curiosity satisfaction. She predicted under all that magnificence, there would be emptiness - and she was right.

"That does not justify house arrest! Why not have me leave to my own estate, or told to stay a certain distance from you? Instead, you brought stew upon yourself!" she howled at him, continuing her earlier tone.

This was the argument she prepared for. -- Hendrick grabbed a tunic and a cloth from the wardrobe and crossed to his nightstand, avoiding looking at her as he walked and ignoring the volume of her voice. He doused the cloth in a basin of water and toweled the stew from his hair, his teeth working at his lip as he composed his answer.

Finally he turned to face Alice, forgetting his tunic and his present condition. In the moonlight stood a very different Hendrick Madigan than any before had seen. His dark blonde hair was messy and boyishly tousled from his cleaning and threatened to fall in front of his eyes as other curls brushed his narrow shoulders. His body, bare of his rich clothes, was thinner than any rumor, all of his ribs visibile under the night light - the narrow, sinewy lines of his torso spoke more to a champion racing hound than a lord. In short, stripped of his exotic doublets and splendid robes, Hendrick Madigan looked what he had always hated: young and vulnerable.

He met her eyes evenly and spoke in a tone quite unlike his usual flowing, laughing voice. "If I had let you go home, in the state you had been, it would have ruined your reputation and family. You could not walk Alice, nor speak, nor think clearly. I carried you here from the temple to my door and to your room. I...I did not want you to be dishonored. I did not want others to see you in such a state". His eyes looked terribly sad for a moment and Hendrick Madigan seemed younger than ever. "I did not want the Alice I love to be replaced by the thing you had become".

His words, like his chest, were utterly unadorned and naked - stripped of the finery of his flowery words and mocking jibes. At that moment, he stood before her, the armor of his personhood stripped away. -- Alice peeked at the body's details only momentarily, giving quick broken up glances to consume the entire image. With every detail, her previous judgements collapsed on themselves, only to be replaced by a kind admiration for the distinct form in front of her. It was slender, frail even, with white skin and dark golden hair more radiant than the common moon daisy. He was unique, a flower seemingly delicate yet so beautiful.

She turned only to sit in the chair behind her, crossing her legs and arching her back forward towards him. She propelled from herself a commanding authority, pressing her tone against him with condescension. "I have will, my lord, and I would wish it be respected - not caged up. And what of concomitant circumstances? Should I fall ill you would never know. Surge in pain, possessed by Daimons, you would be all the more oblivious! That is not proper conduct, from a lord or a lover!" -- Hendrick seemed to forget his present state and advanced on her slowly, moonlight slipping over narrow limbs and circumscribing a route over his thin chest. The boy - for it was hard to think of him as a lord - bore a grave expression. "In pain I would tend to you, in possession I would seek to free your soul, in illness I would stay by your side - all these things I would do for love and they would be the right things to do. How can you expect me to do differently now when a curse inhabits your body?".

He came to rest before her and placed his hands on the arm rests of the chair and leaning forward, until their breath mingled and the scent of his body - of summer flowers, and autumn apples, and that rarest of pleasures called honey - radiated off of him.

"I respect your will and I respect you. But the woman who clung to me, who pressed herself to me in slavish heat, who writhed on the floor of the temple, she was not you. Hate me if you must, despise my decision, but I did what I had to in order to protect you - something I will never hesitate to do".

It would be easy to discount this as boasting. Even before he had maimed his right hand, Hendrick's body was not that of a warrior and his fingers were suited to writing, not curling a fist. But the conviction in his eyes suggested otherwise and the sureness of his voice spoke truly: that he would go to any lengths to protect her, even if it meant damning himself. -- A firm crack echoed throughout all four corners of the solar. Before Alice, only inches away, was a firm red hand print along the face of a boy. A boy who figured he'd pour all the excuses from his slithering tongue and blame his follies on the girl he loved. She was furious, visibly angry at the instant flush of her cheeks.

"Inhabits my body? Am I 'cursed' with disease? If I remember correctly, it is your touch that sours my flame, not some possessive plague!"

Her outrage expressed itself in a sudden push, creating a screech between the chair's legs and the same skin under it, sliding the chair at least a foot backwards. Alice, well aware of her environment, gracefully stepped out of the chair before it could flip over. She jabbed into Hendrick's air like he did to her only moments ago, but there was no mingled scent: no summer flowers, autumn apples, no rare pleasure of honey. Instead, the sting of spring spice and the common gloom of winter's emptiness radiated between them

"If you wish to protect me, lock yourself in a room next time!" --

Hendrick's hand brushed his cheek, confirming the result of her anger and the sudden pain he experienced. A thousand angry retorts danced across his tongue. He had not asked for this, anymore than she had. And he had tried his best to help. In all of the history of the faith, there was no such case as this and for all his earthly powers and divine wisdom, there was no knowledge he possessed that could combat the curse. And in his guilt and uselessness, his anger dissipated.

"Yes, it is my touch that sparks the curse", he said slowly, keeping an even eye on the face he loved, mere inches away from his. "And it is my patron that ignited the origins of this affair. But I cannot blame him for I can relate to him. How..." he reached out slowly, until his long, clever fingers were a hair's width away from her cheek. "How could I resist touching you? How could I hold back, even if it is my skin that brings out the lustful side of you? Even now, with full knowledge of what it would bring, I wish I could touch your cheek, stroke your hair, taste your lips...".

The boy's hand remained where it was, but his eyes faltered and looked away as Hendrick Madigan did something he had never done before. "I...I was wrong in my actions, and unchivalrous beside. I apologize, my lady". -- Alice quickly surrendered her anger, turning round to hide from Hendrick. She felt hopeless, discovering a curse of gods only to find herself victim of their entanglement. Yet, the man who shared the same curse, who could barely control himself in her presence, she couldn't bare to face. He too was at their mercy, but he could forgive them - taking full blame in spite of knowing otherwise. My lord is strong... She thought to herself, and I am not.

In the distance, over the grassy hills, the orange sun began inching its way above the horizon. It's warmth caressed Alice's cheek much like Hendrick's touch, reminding her of the promise she made him earlier. She began to cry tears of sorrow - deep sorrow at the injustices of the world.

"I apologize a-as well, my lord. It must not be easy for you, and I should not blame you..." -- Hendrick watched as her shoulders shook and her voice became muffled by tears. How cruel the gods were to allow this. How full of folly were their worshipers to commune with the divine. And how idiotic of him to ever blame Alice in any way. In trying to save the woman he loved, he nearly lost her - and not from the doing of the gods, but his own callous and pragmatic actions.

He walked over to his divan and lifted the quilt from it, stretching it out between his arms. He silently walked behind Alice and draped it over her, ensuring that no bare skin remained uncovered before wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. Even through the fabric he could feel her warmth and the slender strength of her body. He closed his eyes and spoke softly:

"There now. We have both made our amends. Now we shall work together to solve this. I will conquer this curse or die in the attempt for nothing shall keep my lips from yours or your heart from mine".

---

Once, the sealed repositories of the temple of Grodno had been the definitive source of the esoteric and pseudographica of Aetheris Pyrism. That is until Hendrick Madigan rose from a simple knight and follower to a Lord and High Priest. Now Thar Gortauth's temple boasted the most rare and comprehensive documents of the faith, carefully collected and stored by the pious young lord. He had ensconced himself for several days in the dust-filled world of the library, covering himself in the darkness of the temple and the scent of old paper. He had carried texts back to his manse and poured over them in his solar, making no distinction between the rising of the sun, the rose-tinted beauty of sunset, and the ink of the night.

At last, on the third day, Hendrick pushed his chair back form his desk and rose. He had found a way. He would bring Alice to the Lover's Ritual and complete the rite, his presence drawing out the curse. When she had fully gone over to the spell, he would take her to the ceremonial pool where the couple was to consummate their love and there he would spring his trap. Banishing curses and undertaking rituals was new to him, but Hendrick Madigan had never been short on confidence.

He paused to reflect for a moment, imagining what it would be like to enter the heated water with Alice in her rightful mind and feel her skin on his. He bit his lip and clenched his fists, feeling his nailed sink into his flesh. He had avoided seeing Alice of late and had reenforced his already iron will. He must not give in to the calls of his flesh or the seductions of the siren that dwelt within his ladylove. He must be strong to ensure she recovers. -- Most mornings in Umbra brought with it bustling activity, trade, fresh food and catch from the morning. Stalls would litter the marketplace with dozens of patrons around each one. Anything attached to string - crab, salmon, shark, pork, beef, spices, garlic, onions - would be haggled, battered, or bought for before the sun reached local noon. But as Alice walked into the diamond plaza, not one stall was set up - only a few wandering souls made their way through. Commonly in Thar Gortauth - a rural county - mid-spring was time for farming. Thousands would leave the shelter of their sprawling towns and find work at the nobles' estates. They would hoe for the next ten days until the summer rain poured upon them.

But as the hot air rose, an invisible visitor greeted Alice's nostrils. The fresh scent of baked bread created a warm fuzz within her, forming a hunger she couldn't quell. Immediately, she dashed. Through the entrance to the Urban district. Right at the colored banners that dressed the homes on the corner. Fifty steps south from the old elk that commanded the square. Turn right and you've arrived.

Before her, the baker's shop. The smell was tenfold its potency and almost irresistible. She entered prudently, hoping she wasn't breaking in on a closed day. On the counter, tall-standing baguettes radiated the entire room - the source of that wonderful smell.

"May I help you?" The voice startled her, not because it was unexpected, but because it's tone was different than the one she remembered. Female, young, higher pitch then Alice's voice but slightly more coarse. Her frail figure appeared behind the baguettes and revealed a teenage girl in her fourteen-fifteens. She had brunette pigtails that decorated her shoulders, while she wore a maroon tunic and white baker's uniform that was much to big for her. Alice raised an eyebrow in interest, curious at her presence.

"My father passed two days ago. My mother is sick with the same thing, and I run the shop for her while she sleeps!" Tragedy struck Alice harder than the biggest hammer, tears forming on the ridge of her eyes. This peasant girl, not even an adult, working for her mother - for survival. And even as tragedy beset her, she kept up a fake positive attitude so she could continue selling. Her soul sparkled with its apparent strength, a flame burning bright.

"May I know your name? I am Lady Alice Arundel, dame of this region. If you wish, I could see to helping your mother." The child's eyes lit up in hope. Every peasant knew a noble's rank, no matter his or her age, for respect meant another day of living, and perhaps another day of pay. "Emily! And yes, she would like that very much!"

The child turned and disappeared behind a swinging door in haste, waving her hand at the stunned noble in front of the counter...... -- Hendrick walked slowly to the massive window of his solar. It was a most modern construction: appearing as one enormous pane of the clearest glass, it was in fact two pieces that seamlessly met in the center and that, thanks to the clear gears and pulleys hidden in the walls and behind curtains, could be retracted. Hendrick flung the two switches and the window ponderously became a massive opening overlooking his town.

The scents of spring - of the flowers of hid magnificent garden, of the freshly tilled earth in the fields of his land, of sunlight after winter - flooded his solar and the young lord stepped as close to the edge as possible.

Off in the distance he could see Alice's estate, surrounded by fields where his people worked. His eyes followed the long road leading to Umbra, to his dusky town, where the alabaster walls never closed and the poets congregated in taverns and teahouses until the sun rose once more. When he had arrived, there had been nothing. A few thousand terrified peasants, no infrastructure, no peace. Twice they had ousted the government, driving them from his land. His betters had advised him to give up, but Hendrick Madigan had worked and toiled until the region was as populated as possible, until it could provide grain for much of the realm, until his people were content and safe. In truth, the reason now nine-tenths of the realm was Pyrist had less to do with their adherence to the faith as it did their reverence of their lord.

Llywellyn stood silently a the door to the solar, watching his lord, transfixed. For a moment, as the wind blew back his cloak and the young lord gazed at the town, Hendrick appeared, at first, to Llywellyn as his master's father - the noble Halcyon. But then, as if in a dream, the valet saw a crown on his lord's brow and saw him as an older man - though the same fire burned in his eyes. The valet shook for a moment with his premonition. His lord had come to these lands a boy and was now a man, but would before ere long be so much more. -- The cobblestone road up to Hendrick's manse seemed much longer than Alice remembered it. Seconds were minutes, minutes hours, and every step more tedious than the last. This gave Alice time to reflect on the last few days and what was to follow them: she was cursed, a servant of the gods' emotions, and thrall upon touch. These thoughts she revisited a thousand times already. "But what was next?" she mumbled to herself, "Marriage? The lover's ritual? Holy matrimony?" For the first time since Hendrick's hand suffocated her, fear settled deep inside Alice. His anger, obsession, and instability could only lead to further abuse, even if he loved her.

Alice shook her head to curtain the fears, abruptly landing back in reality. Before her, already, was the portcullis opened and awaiting her entry. She stepped through it quickly and into the garden, noticing the numerous flowers in spring bloom. Immediately, she remembered Emily's mother and thought of remedies, gathering several of them inconspicuously.

At the end of the hallway, the door to Hendrick's solar was, once again, wide open. Alice, at the top of the staircase, thought of entering but hesitated in taking another step towards it. She had questions, curious as to when the lover's ritual would be performed, or if Hendrick was feeling better. But she remembered that Hendrick was in the room, and confronting him would be reliving a nightmare. She exasperated in hopelessness, frozen and immobile with indecision.

Halcyon Jazuma had trained his sons in the arts of politics and diplomacy. He had also forewarned them of the dangerous of the field and sought to prepare them for the life of the lord. A strange creak of wood, a hush of cloth, a silence too deliberate and conspicuous - all these Hendrick could hear and recognize by the time he was knighted. But so far, he had yet to use this trick to catch an assassin, instead catching his guest unaware and creating rumors of his supernatural powers.

He heard Alice's light footsteps stop in his hallway, sensed the stillness of her indecision, felt the turmoil in the air. He reset the window and crossed the room as the great glass panes returned to their rightful place. He carefully cleared his desk, hiding the notes he had made and obscuring the texts he had been reading before seating himself. He silently counted to ten and in a cheerful voice called out: "Do come in Lady Alice. I shan't bite, I promise you". -- "Oh-of course m'lord." she obligingly called back to him. She broke free from her frozen catacomb and walked steadily for the open door. Meeting her there was Llywellyn, idly standing there transfixed on the man before him. Alice traced his vision, meeting the same man, but not yet so. The man she saw was frail, weak, but incredibly tactful; a tongue of silver. His soul, however, was darker than Nalucht's robes, fostering something hidden that grew stronger everyday. Her heart murmured, fear capturing her like an undefended keep. It nestled, made itself comfortable, and proceeded to shout it's glory from the towers.

"I-I am here m'lord." she muttered. -- Hendrick nodded to his manservant who bowed his head and closed the door. The lord gestured to a vacant chair and motioned Alice to sit. As he beheld her, something squirmed inside his soul - a feeling unlike the usual love and adulation that rushed through him every time he saw her, but an indistinct terror, a mystifying darkness.

"So I can see Lady Alice, lest some phantasm takes your place before me". He flashed a smiled, to show his jest - for all the good it did. The tension in the room was undeniable, but Hendrick hoped that once the ritual had been completed all would be well once more.

He paused for a moment before broaching the subject of her being here. Better ease her into speaking normally once more, he reasoned, than jumping directly to business. Let us attempt small talk.

"So, my lady, how do you find Umbra and Thar Gortauth in the time of the harvest? Quite a different place, I would imagine. The bounty we produce here will feed the capitol and our Kingdom for months and the surplus will serve our friends in Pian en Luries and Solaria". -- "Yes, m'lord, quite different." Alice said, answering her lord's gesture as she sunk in the chair's cushion, "Hard to believe such a lively town could become so empty."

Her thoughts struck her. She was diligent once, vivacious, blossoming from her youth. And when it all seemed perfect like the setting sun on a warm afternoon; it simply disappeared. She was Umbra, and just like the town, she was void. But her heart would not recover after spring harvest, and that reality plucked back the strings of sorrow within her, producing an awful tune that screeched in violent anger. There was no returning to the past, no ascension to mirth. She would spend the rest of her life incarcerated in the prison of her own agony.

"Are you feeling well?" she asked submissively. -- Hendrick noted her brief silence. How different she was now than the girl who had caught him unaware with pies and small smiles and softness - who had fractured the manicolored light of his realm with her radiance and purity. So much ill had befallen her and it was all due to his and his damnable notions of love. Hendrick clenched his fist slightly. He was more resolved than ever to break the curse on her, the Gods be damned.

When she spoke, he smiled and bowed his head. "I am well enough, thank you. I have been keeping to my books and studies, writing correspondances to the Solarians, and, more importantly, preparing the Lovers Ritual". He raised his eyes and flashed one of his old grins at her, hoping that she would not sense anything amiss. "I am sure it will be a memorable evening and one that will hold a place in our hearts until the end of our days".

Aye, he thought, and if all goes well I will be able to break this curse and truly be with the woman I love.

-- "When will the ritual be ready?" Alice asked in fainted interest, returning Hendrick's smile with a masked one of her own.

She was a mouse caught by a trap, yet still alive by some cursed miracle. When she tried squirming for dear life, neglecting the dangers to her own life in desperation, the grip around her neck only tightened itself more. Now, even with the cheese inches from her grasp, she lied still. Before the inevitable, she was accepting; nothing but a dead soul and a living body before the cruel injustice of the world.

Hendrick's gaze didn't waver as he replied. "This evening, if it suits you. Being Blaze Guide, the faith tends to work around my schedule". He studied her for a reaction.

He had gone over the notes and writings countless time and had laid out his theories and guessworks. The plan was concrete and feasible - well, as feasible as such things went. He would take Alice to the temple and seal the doors. The ritual would go forward in usual style, the reading of some texts, the exchanging of vows of love, and so on. Hendrick would take care to touch her as often as possible, to lure out the cursed Alice that dwelt inside her. One Alice lost herself to the slavish thrall, Hendrick would lure her to the heated pool and into the water. Then the trap would be sprung. He would restrain her in the waters and recite the words of prayer and banishing. The incense and etchings would be prepared and his patron would be at his side. Hendrick felt his heart soar. He could do this. He could end the curse. A Madigan could do whatever he set his mind to - even if that was defying the Gods and breaking a millennia-old curse. -- "Blaze Guide? Truly a divine position, m'lord."

Alice ran the words through with no passion, no emotion, no value. They poured from her tongue and carried no weight. She was so detached, that the fact Hendrick hid this from her in the first place made the slightest difference to her.

"Then I will see you at the temple, m'lord."

She rose from the chair and avoided eye contact with Hendrick, spinning away from him and towards the door. -- Hendrick, for a moment, considered stopping her. He pictured himself rising from his chair, striding across the room, taking her arm, and spinning her towards his embrace. What bound him to his chair was the thought of what would happen once his fingers took her arm, once his skin touched hers. He shuddered slightly and gripped the arms of his chair.

In truth, Hendrick's desire to bind this other side of Alice was not solely motivated by love for the dame or fear of the Other that dwelt in her mind - Hendrick also feared and loathed himself. Firstly, because he could see, clearly, the lengths he would go to to keep the curse in check - and that had inspired a change in his mind. It was as if a veil called Honor and Decency had been lifted from the world and now he could see so many more possibilities, free from the stifling constraints of duty, valor, loyalty. Since this affair began, slowly the doors of thought and mind he had sealed by repeating hollow words like "nobility" and "honorable" to himself had begun to open - and it scared him at how unafraid he was to follow those paths.

But also, Hendrick Madigan loathed himself for another reason, one shame and propriety kept him from speaking aloud to anyone. For when the wanton came out in Alice and the harlot pressed herself to him, Hendrick wanted her. Madly, passionately, a sick desire would spread over him for the slavering, loose, un-Alice. Some nights he did not dream about his true ladylove, but of her other half, the curse that would come to him garbed in naught but a smile and madness. When he would wake from those dreams, the lord would contemplate throwing himself form his solar or driving steel through his mid -section. Anything rather than feel lust for that creature.

So Hendrick Madigan let her go.

The temple of Thar Gortauth had recently transformed from the modest place of worship it had been to the grand edifice it now was. It was reckoned, by scribes and priests, that every man, woman, and child in Thar Gortauth held the Pyrist faith - the holiest region in the holies Kingdom, governed by the Lord most touched by the divine. It was said Hendrick Madigan, who had come to the region a foreign youth and won the land through tenacity and repeated failure, was prayed to and worshiped almost as a God, as all revered the Blaze Guide who saw visions in the flames and walked the path of the heavens.

A wiser man might have seen the hubris in this, but Hendrick felt only the support of his people and his confidence in the powers on high - especially as he prepared the temple for the ritual and the trap. The great main hall would be filled with suitable dignitaries and notables from the region, there to pay homage to their lord and his lady love. The great flames would burn around the hall and the incense would slowly fill the air. When their words and promises were sealed with a kiss, Hendrick would kiss Alice, a signal for both the faithful to flee the hall and for the priests to move into action as the curse would blossom.

He glanced down the splendid hall towards the shadowed rooms concealed in the back. In one, the pool of heated water had been prepared. In a normal ritual, the lovers were left to consumate their new bond in privacy and under the protection of the faith. Now, glyphs and writings covered the floor around the pool, great braziers positioned carefully, and a cunning trap laid.

Now all they needed was the prey.

Hendrick strode to the doors of his temple as the faithful slowly entered, bowing to the lord of sun and light. He certainly looked the part, the young lord clad in the vermillions and crimsons of his land and faith, his personal sigil - the stag rampant on the red sun - emblazoned his doublet and majestic cape - as well as the uniforms of the Madigan soldiers ostensibly stationed for security.

Hendrick smiled to himself and stared out at the empty Umbra. Come, he thought, let us ends this here and now. -- News of the noble lover's ritual spread across the fields of Thar Gortauth like wildfire, from the westernmost plains to the eastern sea. Word echoed in village streets as heralds hailed the event as if some sort of realm-wide celebration was about to occur. The inns and taverns shook with a plethora of incomprehensible screams and chants dedicated to the two lovers; songs were sung, dances made, and many pints of ale consumed in their names. The same chants were muttered by the Pyrist faithful, dedicating their sermons and prayers to their holy Blaze Guide. It was if Thar Gortauth suddenly took fever, sick with the overwhelming joy from such a rare event.

No soul would dare miss it.

What used to be a large market plaza now seemed like a miniscule platform for five thousand peasants - the other five-thousand or so occupying every road, alley, walkway, balcony, or roof. Not a shard of Umbra could be spotted beneath the twenty thousand feet that occupied it. Space was no luxury either. Yet even with all the constraints, vanity was expressed through any and all means possible. Jesters and contortionists performed their inhuman tricks on what little surface they could occupy; torch breathers, jugglers, and even a sword swallower made their appearances as well. But as the celebrations reached a maximum - the crowd cheering in a frenzy of mirth and celebration - all fell silent to the shout of four words.

"Lady Alice has arrived!"

Ten thousand heads turned simultaneously towards the southern tip of the market place.

"Lady Alice has arrived." "Lady Alice has arrived!" "Lady Alice has arrived."

              "Lady Alice has arrived?"            "I think so."           
                           "Lady Alice has arrived!"                     "Lady Alice has arrived!"

And there she was, one girl apart from the ten thousand other men and women before her. -- Hendrick watched her move through the masses of his people and, unexpectedly, felt his heart race. He was still, despite this curse and Alice's loathing of him, irrevocably in love with her, still in awe of the young woman who had caught him so off guard that day in his solar. And now she looked more beautiful and radiant than ever, more pure and vestal than nay human had the right to be. Truly the embodiment of Calanthe was upon her. As his thought this, a whisper came unbidden to his ear. "Do not falter, Hendrick Four-Fingered. Not now". The Sweet Tongued was correct of course. He had come this far, sacrificed this much. He could not turn back.

The lord raised his arms and the crowds fell silent before the Blaze Guide. Like a great wave, the crowds fell to their knees - even the elderly knelt, the old, the young, the infirm, even the soldiers that guarded the ceremony, until Alice and Hendrick were the only left standing.

"People of Thar Gortauth, Pyrists, Friends. I am honored that you grace me with your presence and favor on this, the day of my binding to the Lady Alice". Hendrick's voice had been trained through countless hours of preaching, and the normally wry, haughty tones of the lord had become the earnest calls of a priest.

"I beg you, keep us in your prayers and thoughts and to take this as a day to remember your own love and happiness".

As the crowd cheered, Hendrick's arms and gaze lowered, until he met eyes with Alice. He knew his face betrayed nothing, but even if she knew of the trap, it was too late. Far too late for any of us, he thought and extended his hand out towards her, his old smile on his face as he damned them both. -- The fervent cheers and exuberant cries from the crowd seemed to go on perpetually, never to wain or dwindle. Merely spotting Alice inspired the weakest of men to stand up and shout in joy. Rapidly, a large circle of peasants formed in the middle plaza, gathering around the lady. The fifteen soldiers tasked with guarding the dame could barely hold them back.

Even in the middle of all the bodies, her gown could be spotted within seconds. Caressing tightly to her body was a shining white himation, weaved from the finest silks in Luria. Adorning the silk was thousands of miniscule crystal diamonds, reflecting the brightest lights in every and all directions. The only color came from her magnificent golden tresses which were immaculately curled and let down over her shoulders. To make a statue of her would be an insult; the stone much to gray and bland for her radiance.

This was done, of course, to fool the minor nobility and lower classes. The first time she met Hendrick, she was disgusted at the sight of his bright salmon robe; a colorful curtain to hide the void inside him. Now Alice was empty and without color - the coward behind the curtains of her gown.

After a dozen minutes of weaving in and out of the crowd, Alice found herself before the temple steps. Her eyes traced their path to the top and found her cursed fate - a man clad in vermillion and crimson.

-- Hendrick watched her move through the masses of his people and, unexpectedly, felt his heart race. He was still, despite this curse and Alice's loathing of him, irrevocably in love with her, still in awe of the young woman who had caught him so off guard that day in his solar. And now she looked more beautiful and radiant than ever, more pure and vestal than nay human had the right to be. Truly the embodiment of Calanthe was upon her. As his thought this, a whisper came unbidden to his ear. "Do not falter, Hendrick Four-Fingered. Not now". The Sweet Tongued was correct of course. He had come this far, sacrificed this much. He could not turn back.

The lord raised his arms and the crowds fell silent before the Blaze Guide. Like a great wave, the crowds fell to their knees - even the elderly knelt, the old, the young, the infirm, even the soldiers that guarded the ceremony, until Alice and Hendrick were the only left standing.

"People of Thar Gortauth, Pyrists, Friends. I am honored that you grace me with your presence and favor on this, the day of my binding to the Lady Alice". Hendrick's voice had been trained through countless hours of preaching, and the normally wry, haughty tones of the lord had become the earnest calls of a priest. -- "I beg you, keep us in your prayers and thoughts and to take this as a day to remember your own love and happiness".

As the crowd cheered, Hendrick's arms and gaze lowered, until he met eyes with Alice. He knew his face betrayed nothing, but even if she knew of the trap, it was too late. Far too late for any of us, he thought and extended his hand out towards her, his old smile on his face as he damned them both.

Alice hesitated to take the first step. Her calm acceptance was rapidly replaced by fear for the man above her. His hand was no beacon of amity, but burdening chains of a twisted destiny. Yet, the thousands of eyes behind her pushed her forward, each step taken solely for their pleasure. When Alice reached his level, she gave him a quick glance of uncertainty, darting her vision quickly back down to his hand. Did he forget about the curse? No, he couldn't have, but why would he offer his hand with so many witnesses?

To shake the unpleasant moment, Alice twirled round to face the crowd. They fell silent immediately, expecting some form of address from their dame. Alice had recently been refining her oratory skills in Shinnen, exercising for her one remaining ambition; becoming the voice of Calanthe. She was no master, no preacher nor priestess as of yet, but her skills would prove sufficient.

"Let the flame shine bright between all those you love, your bond unbreakable should despair afflict you. Be stalwart, defend those close, and you will never fail."

The crowd cheered, reeling their loved ones in their arms as if inspired to never leave them. Some embraced and even kissed each other in the wave of emotions. Though Alice would never feel that bond, bestowing it upon others granted some sort of collateral satisfaction. She turned back to Hendrick, and smiled one of her old smiles.

"Shall we proceed m'lord?" -- Hendrick arched an eyebrow and his smile shrunk almost imperceptibly. "We shall indeed, my lady". He took her arm and guided her slowly into the great temple, feeling the presence of Nalucht sweep in after him. The young lord glanced out at the undulations of the crowd and turned to the Protector of the Faith the guarded the door. Hendrick studied him for a moment. The guard was a Madigan man, no doubt - one of the House that had followed him here on his father's orders, who served him on his fathers orders, but who killed on his command alone. Hendrick's eyes drifted to the blade at the Protector's side and the hand that gripped the pommel. Time to begin. "Seal the temple," Hendrick ordered the man as he gently drew Alice forward, to the prepared ceremony in the great hall.

The priests, novices, and select faithful stood in ordered rows and columns, facing the raised dais flanked by flames. The missing presences should have been obvious to Alice: No Torpius the Holy who had uplifted Hendrick Madigan, no Lucious Pemdragon who had first bent knee to the Lord of Thar Gortauth, no King Bipel Coldchest who had given her bond-mate his power, no friends or family of any sort. Only the faithful. With each step, the pair was drawn closer into Hendrick's snare and as they mounted the dais and had the white robes of purity set around their shoulders', the air seemed to tighten around him.

The usual Pyrist motions were made - small sacrifice, certain words, contemplation of the flame - though they were not led by the kindly old priest who tended the great temple, but by his young, stone-faced acolyte, likewise a Madigan man who guided the ceremony with a firm and determined air. Together they recited the credo of their faith and the promises to the gods and soon Hendrick faced Alice.

"My lady..." he began and for a moment the mask he wore slipped. There was sorrow on his face, true sadness, coupled with deep fear and regret. But above all, Hendrick Madigan's countenance bore the indelible mark of a man still in love.

"The Gods, in their kindness, brought you into my life. The benevolence of the divine saw you walk through my door and with a single look steal away my heart. And now the gods watch as in this holy place I offer to you my entire being - my heart, mind, and soul - that we may be forever united in the bonds of love". He extended his hand to her, the four-fingered right, the holy handed that always burned hotter than it should. "Do you accept this offering?" -- Alice wasn't educated on the religious practices of Aetheris Pyrism; at least those that involved love and marriage. She felt for a religion that frequently exhibited lavish behavior, gregarious priests, and fervid festivities, that this ceremony was a little cold and impromptu. Nevertheless, she lacked the understanding to criticize or dictate otherwise.

"My Lord Hendrick, from the time your vermillion robes graced my eyes I was struck by your commanding presence. Your wise exuberance collided with your youthful expressions, and I, the onlooker, could not stop gazing into your magnificence. Calanthe be my witness, I submit my entire being unto you - my body, my heart, my soul - that we may forever be one, tied by the bonds of love. I accept your offer, hoping you accept my own."

Her fingers met with his, and the curse fired up immediately. The overwhelming sensation jolted up the length of her arm and throughout her entire body, unlocking her demon's cage in complete pandemonium. She closed her eyes, only to reopen them as a new being, capturing Hendrick in the lover's embrace as she met her lips with his. -- Hendrick allowed himself a moment of joy and exultation as their lips met - before his stronger nature retook control and advanced his plan. As instructed, at the moment of the kiss, the faithful streamed out of the room and the non-Madigan members of the clergy followed him, until only Summer Isles men remained in the sealed temple.

Hendrick drew back and looked into his bondmate's eyes. There was no doubt that his beloved Alice was done and the lustful thrall had taken her place. He could not deny the own pumping of his blood and the heat that seared his skin, but the iron will of his mind superseded the passion of the flesh. He heard the words of his patron, formed among the heavy incense of the room: What do you do now, Hendrick Four-Fingered? Do you keep this loving cursed-girl? Or do you risk it all, gamble against the gods to restore the woman you love?

Hendrick squeezed Alice's hand and, with a smile, guided her towards the back of the temple, where in a darkened room, a heated pool of water awaited for the recently bonded to consummate their love under the eyes of the gods. Had the braziers burned high and the flames cast their light, Alice might have seen the writing covering the floor, the Madigan men hidden behind pillars, or even the great book that perched on a stand in the corner of the room. But in the half-light, only the steaming pool and Hendrick Madigan were visible. It was far too late to turn back now, he thought and gestured to the pool. -- Alice smiled vivaciously, licking her lips in ecstasy. She grabbed Hendrick's hands and brought them to her shoulders. From there, she slowly undressed herself with his palms, sliding the cloth off the hinges of her shoulders until the entire ensemble dropped to the floor.

She let go of his hands and walked her fingers up his chest.

"Your turn, m'lord." -- Hendrick leaned closed and took her shoulders in his hands. He placed his lips by her ears and felt her hot breath on his neck. For a moment, he considered slipping out of his exquisite clothes and joining her in the pool, feeling their bodies become one as the ritual was completed. How easy it would be to give in to the lust, to the hunger. But Hendrick Madigan was never a man for the easy way out. He sighed, letting his breath travel over her ear as he whispered.

"I am sorry".

And he pushed her into the pool.

Madigan priests began chanting the credo of their faith as incense filled the room. The braziers burned higher and the sacred flames roared to light. Even the marking on the floor seemed to glow with a heat of their own, as Hendrick clutched the great book in one hand while holding Alice in the water with the other.

Hendrick summoned all of his strength and began speaking the words he had practiced in secret, preparing for this moment for weeks. He spoke in the ancient Pyrist tongue, words of flame and ash that burned his mouth as he uttered them.

"O Gods who art in the heavens! O lords of the Celestial Seas! O guardians of our fate and rulers of our souls. O Katrina the Wise, O Korroth the Stalwart, O Vlan the Mighty, O Charkh the Cruel, O Nemordiabel the Loyal, O Nasia the Just, O Tyka the Wild, O Waren Noble, O Pathroq the Terrible, O Calanthe the Beautiful, O Nalucht the Clever - O Gods, lend me strength and let me break this curse! Let it be ended!".

For a moment, Hendrick felt all of the myriad and masterful powers of the divine surge through his body, the collected heavens at his command. He had succeeded, he believed in that moment, in defying the curse and the will of the gods - that he, Hendrick Madigan, had outdone them all.

The words of Nalucht sounded at his ear. "You brilliant, brash, shortsighted fool". And the incense closed around Hendrick and Alice.

When the young lord opened his eyes, he expected to see his patron before him, but instead, a beautiful woman - as bountiful and calm as the endless sea - confronted him. He knew who she was. "Calanthe".

The towering Goddess stood before Hendrick. Her golden locks were now a dark chestnut, cast by the shadows that surrounded her. The almost invisible gown now reflected a deep black and her skin was bronzed instead of pale. Her eyes were crimson red, sullied by the blood of the divine. She looked down at him with an expression of grimace and sorrow.

She spoke, her voice was deep and wrathful, echoing throughout the abyss. "Hendrick four-fingered, servant of the shadows. You have soured the apple of my tree, the daughter of my womb! Young Alice was to be my herald, the harbinger of good in a world plagued by evil! Now, in your own selfish pursuit, you have slaughtered her soul and promised the world an excruciating demise."

In a blinding flash, she transformed to a woman his size, and continued her speech, "But with the will of Nalucht there is still hope."

Without a second the react, the goddess leaned in and melded her lips with Hendrick's. At first, it seemed like a passionate kiss, until pain consumed Hendrick. He was frozen in place, locked in a cage, as he felt his very soul being pulled from his being. Calanthe then pulled back, stepping back slowly into the shadows.

"Half you humanity to repair her own." echoed the voice from the surrounding shadows, "That is the price to pay."

The incense fell as quickly as it appeared.

Physical pain was the first and least of it, the lips of the goddess sending waves of fire and thunder across his frame. But in comparison to what followed, it was a trifle. The pain coalesced in his head, in his mind, and Hendrick closed his eyes to try and blot out the cascades of agony.

Honor. Duty. Loyalty. Justice. Friendship.

Hendrick felt those words and other flash in his mind only to suddenly wither and die. All notions of honorable service, of loyalty to another human being, of noble self-sacrifice were gone, driven from his mind like frightened animals before an all-powerful hunter. For a moment, he saw two copies of himself, standing face to face. Then one smiled with too many teeth and with too little joy and throttled the other. Hendrick tried to scream as part of him died. He wanted to tell someone to remember him as he had been, as a good man, an honorable man who had served his king and country to the utmost. But the words turned to ash on his tongue. The last thought of the whole Hendrick Madigan was relief that his father would not see the death of his soul. And then there was only gray.

He tried to call out for his patron. Instead of Nalucht appearing, he heard the voice in his head. No fears, Hendrick Four-Fingered. You need never call for me. I will always be with you. For there is no you and me now. There is only us. There is only the shadow. There is no right or wrong, no good or evil - there is only opportunity. Do you understand? The desire to reject the god was gone. His words made perfect sense. Hendrick looked around the gray. In truth, it was no merely shadow. No, look close enough and see the manifold crystalline filaments of opportunity. How long had those petty words of honor and loyalty bound his ambition? How much clearer the world was once you shed your humanity! Hendrick understood. Good.

When he awoke, he was slumped on the corner of the pool. As his eyes tried to focus, he saw the bodies of his acolytes - all struck down by some invisible hand. Or maybe his own. The energy for the ritual must have come from somewhere. The ritual! he tried to fully open his eyes and lift his head, but there was no strength left in his body. Hendrick drew breath into his ragged form and called with all the power left in him: "Alice!"

"M'lord?"

Alice stepped out from behind one of the pillars, a little dazed and still completely naked. But something was different about her, something unexplained yet so evident. What could be extracted immediately was her change in posture, her smiling lips, and enlightening aura. She gracefully tip toed to her gown and slipped into it quickly.

"Calanthe payed me visit, m'lord, in the middle of the ritual!" she exclaimed with excitement, "I do not remember much, but I recall her words. She said 'in love you will rejoice, and in promise I will deliver. Your happiness returned, a small remnant of the past that remains."

Alice was so overcome with bliss that she ignored the multitude of corpses surrounding her, focused solely on Hendrick. She raised her hand to the left side of her neck and touched a patch of skin much darker than the rest; a birthmark of sorts."The curse is only a fragment of what is was. I feel my chains have been lifted, my soul my own, and life as colorful as it once used to be." She knelt to his level and offered her hand to him. "Please, let me help you."

Hendrick did not feel the joy and elation he would have expected. Indeed, he only felt the absence of those emotions. He wanted to laugh and cry and celebrate the return - no, the ascension of Alice, but there was nothing there. When he took the hand of his beloved and rose to his feet, he knew he still loved her, as deeply and truly as ever, but those sentiments were not alone. They were joined by unfamiliar company of rage and cruelty.

I gave of half of myself for you, raged his mind. I sacrificed for you and what does that bring me? Some former trollop with a sweet face? I am cast into shadow and darkness so that she may better cast the light. She must pay.

The venom in his mind surprised him, but not nearly as much as what he did next.

As he rose, his hand - four-fingered and holy - snaked out and pressed on the mark of the curse. As his fingers met the blemish, Hendrick felt fire consume his body and strength flow into his limbs. The curse was still there, still affected him...except now it was his to control.

As was Alice.

Alice screamed vehemently. Her former self, empowered by Calanthe's gift, fought against the thrall that was Hendrick's servant for overall dominance. She began pushing off Hendrick, attempting to sever his controlling bond over her. But as Hendrick kept his grip, the curse overtook Alice, locking her in the prison of her own mind. As the thrall assumed control, it relaxed its muscles, closed its eyes, and let out a breath of relief and victory. After several breaths, its head titled up, its eyes opened, looking into Hendrick's with complete reverence.

"What is your desire, m'lord?"

Hendrick's eyes blazed - not with their usual fire of devotion or ernest oration, but with the madness of power and the lust for control. A shiver of satisfaction rolled down his spine as the lord moved his hand from merely pressing on the mark to cupping his thrall's neck.

"Much, much better. I prefer this deference from you, my dear Alice. Although..." Hendrick studied her with his mad azure eyes, "You aren't really alice, are you dearest? No, you shall require a new name, won't you? How about...Dany? I had a dog named Dany once and that is what you are, isn't is?"

Past his eyes, past the pools of terrible blue, part of Hendrick still raged, weakening every moment. Who was he? Who had he become? This was not him, no more than it was Alice. He struggled in his prison, but slowly his efforts ceased and the grey covered everything once more.

Dany smiled, happy she could serve her master. "Yes, m'lord, I am your dog!"

The hand around her neck only fueled her ecstasy. She wanted to be punished, taught a lesson if she required one. At Hendrick's mercy, she would let him love her, use her, hurt her, kill her. A tool to be used for any and all means, never to fail or miss its target.

"What does my master desire?"

A little more of Hendrick Madigan died and the hallowed shell smiled. Things, in his estimation, could not have gone better. To think, he had wanted to banish this thrall! What a waste of a perfectly good plaything.

"What do I desire? Why, you of course". Hendrick gently kissed Dany's forehead and let his hand linger on her neck. "My dear, let us return home. We have a ritual to consumate and a marriage to discuss".

He laughed and the holy four finger tightened at her neck, steering her towards the front of the temple. He could tell that the two of them would have so much fun in days ahead.

Hendrick had settled into his new life rather comfortably. The running and formation of an Empire was challenging and diverting, a true test of his abilities and talents. Moving from strength to strength made for an interesting and enjoyable life indeed - though it never seemed enough. With each title and honor, Hendrick craved the next rung up the ladder. No sooner was he made he Vesperian representative than he desire to be Imperial Chancellor. Just as the King had made overtures on Dukedoms did he suddenly desire the Crown more fiercely than ever. But there was a hollowness to his ambition, a grey that settled over the world more and more ever day. If he stopped to think on it, madness crept in and so the young lord attempted to keep himself occupied. And then he needed a respite from matters of state, well... A grin slowly spread over his face and he grasped the new bell on his desk, giving it a cheerful ring.

Llywellyn hated the bell. He, truth be told, hated the new man his master had become. It was not a happy state of mind for a devoted servant, but he could not refrain. While his master was just as charming, if not more so, to dignitaries, visitors, important personages, a darkness had spread over him, a strange directionless cruelty. Gone was loyalty and honor, replaced by a constant scheming - an unceasing hunger. And no where was this new cruelty more focused then at the Lady Alice. Hence the bell. When it sounded, Llywellyn was to fetch the Lady Alice and see her to the solar.

Of late, since the Lover's Rite, the Dame had been almost confined to the walls of the manse, under guard and key. The men guarding her were invariably the Madigan-Pyrist zealots his master had become increasingly trusting of: silent, dangerous men that heeded Hendrick like a hound does its master. Two such men flanked the door to Alice's chambers, blades at their side and violence in their stance. But even their menace paled before Hendrick's own madness. Sometimes Llywellyn had approached the solar after Hendrick had called for Alice. He had heard the pleading, the begging, then felt a indescribable change in the air. Then came the laughter, the breathing, the moans - even sometimes the cries of pain. The valet shuddered. There was no denying that evil held sway in this manse.

Llywellyn did his best to ignore the guards and hesitantly knocked at the door. "L-Lady Alice?" he stammered out. "Are you decent? His Lordship has r-rung the bell".

---

[The remainder has been lost, but we will do our best to summarize]

Llywellyn, having decided to aid Alice, helps her escape her room, only to be caught by Hendrick and his guards. By way of punishment, Hendrick orders that Llywellyn's left arm be servered. However, midway through the punishment, Hendrick comes to his senses and stops his men, leaving Llywellyn with a crippled arm. The reign of terror continues, Alice gradually becoming more subservient and Hendrick more secure in his madness.

This tenuous situation is disrupted by Hendrick's rebellion in Luria Vesperi. After the rebellion failed and all his schemes and plans came to light, Hendrick fled to Solaria with Alice in tow. However, the Prophet Torpius held an inquest into Hendrick and his Zealots of the Flame, stripping Hendrick of his titles and ranks for his crimes against men and gods.

Thus reduced, Hendrick languished in his new quarters, while Alice escaped into the ranks of Solarian nobility, rising from strength to strength in both the kingdom and the Faith. Finally, after Alice's pleading, Torpius himself made the journey to confront and banish the evil from Hendrick. Meeting Hendrick in a temple in Solaria, the madness within Hendrick first sought to beguile and disuade Torpius, though the Prophet saw through it. Imprisoning Hendrick in the lowest reaches of the temple, Torpius drew out the evil and challenged it directly, persevering through manifold perverse promises of power, love, and wisdom, before casting the curse from Hendrick.

Though the curse itself was gone, the madness would linger, Hendrick merely becoming better at controlling himself and appearing as a normal man. The madness would later run rampant through the Madigan bloodline.

Following his return to respectable noble society, Hendrick and Alice resumed their normal courtship and were once more engaged to be wed, an affair held off by the D'Haran war. After the two finally wed, their first child, Caedemon was born shortly after - a year before Alice would be Crowned as Queen of Luria Nova.

---

Hendrick Madigan was far from the picture of dignity and poise as he raced through the halls of the convent. The Stag had shed his cloak and gloves as he ran, ignoring calls after him and the looks of servants and priestesses, hearing only the beating of his heart. For, whatever else he was, Hendrick was about to become that most terrifying thing: a father.

He was stopped outside the birthing room by a matron, who took in the sight before her with an exhausted disdain and a cautious air. The normally composed lord was in disarray, dark blonde hair flying wildly around his face, azure eyes wide and frantic, silver tongue suddenly leaden. "Now now, my lord, the birth is yet to finish".

"Yes, yes, but, ah, my wife, that is..."

"Most men prefer to wait until the child is delivered, my lord".

Hendrick managed to draw himself up to his full height and put some of the iron back in his voice.

"I am not most men. And I will be here with my wife". There was little argument after that.

Hendrick had been present for the birth of his younger sister, his father telling him that to watch life come into this world was something a person should see, but this was different. He entered during the final push and could have sworn he was experiencing a religious epiphany. All of the midwives and nuns faded away, until just Alice remained. Her light locks were matted with sweat, her face red and contorted with exertion, her screams tearing from her throat - and yet, she had never seemed more beautiful and alive. Alice, in that moment, was a goddess unto herself, creating a life. The creation of life was not, he realized, a light and airy process, but a painful, intensive process of body and soul. It was incredible.

And then, a new sound broke the air, a high, little cry and there he was. Hendrick felt the world change around him as they cleaned his child and handed him the babe. As Hendrick looked down at his new progeny, the entire universe expanded around him. Until then, his entire mind had been focused on itself, but now there was another, something that he valued more than the entire world. His child.

He slowly walked to Alice's bedside and looked at his exhausted wife, reaching out to take her hand with one of his.

"A son." His voice caught. "We...we have a son".