Blood: Flame and ice. The young girl sobbed silently in pain amongst the inferno that surrounded her. On her skin was a layer of hardening black liquid which cracked and bled as she shook, glinting a bright red colour before darkening again to cake her body further. She glanced around her at the nightmarish hell in which she was trapped.

“Why?” she whimpered “Why do I have to be here?”

Smoke began to drift down towards her, like the questing tentacles of a colossal sea leviathan towards its prey.

The dawn light moved quickly across the wide open fields. It crept up the form of the sleeping young man, illuminating his green robes and blue surplice. He shifted restlessly as the light woke him: shining cruelly onto his eyelids. Caius woke quickly from his rest, the light reminding him of his task. He forced his body to stand so that he could continue on with his mission. He took a pace forwards towards where his horse lay resting, when his legs buckled beneath him. Caius flailed his arms wildly trying to keep himself upright and steady. He only just managed to steady himself: his legs weak and painful. He stiffly made his way to the resting beast, trying to wake it gently.

“Come on. We only have a short way to go now.” He purred in encouragement.

The mare shook her long majestic head sending a ripple down her neck, before rising to her feet. Caius led her towards the standing stone. He muttered something as he placed his hand on its cold surface. A flow of wind began to surround the stone, increasing in velocity and intensity: until the man and the horse vanished in the maelstrom.

Harold was woken by a loud noise on his door. Someone was knocking frantically on the wood trying desperately to rouse him. He hauled his body upright and forced himself out of his bed. The pounding continued in bursts, each one calling to him to answer. Harold moved across the stone floor towards the doorway. He lifted the latch and opened the wood filled portal. Before him slumped against the doorway was the slightly bloodied form of a young woman. She looked up towards him, her face revealing itself beneath a pattern of strange marks.

“Help.” She croaked: her voice hoarse from shouting.

“Nicola? What has happened?”

She looked at him, pain visible in her eyes darkening in the light. She responded briefly. “Lucia.”

“What about Lucia? Did she cause these marks on you?”

Nicola looked at him in puzzlement before glancing at her arms.

“No she did not.” The girl responded, her breasts rising and falling at a slowly decreasing rate now, as if the man’s presence was calming and reassuring to her. She took three deep breaths with her eyes closed, calming herself further. “I need your help. I found this in my forehead when I woke up today.”

She offered Harold her hand, slowly uncurling it from the tight fist until it was almost outstretched. There lay a long red string attached to a thin delicate needle.

Harold’s blood ran cold at the sight of it.

Again he strode out across the walls and battlements of his city: waiting expectantly for the first of the white healers to arrive. As he progressed onwards the wind seemed to cut deeper into his flesh, as if the elements themselves were trying to assassinate him, to bring both his downfall and the downfall of the whole city. The Caeruleus plague was steadily spreading across the city like a vicious and malignant cancer. Marius Storm shivered as another blast seared through him, piercing his bones. Carefully he made his way towards the edge, leaning against the stone and wood parapet.

“Any word?”

“None: Lord Storm.” The blue ranked healer replied.

He sighed in resignation at the reply. “Ever since the messengers left I fear for the survival of the city.”

“They will return with white healers: that I can be sure on.”

“But how long will that be?”

The man smiled.

“The first should be here by tomorrow at the earliest.”

Below the two men: perched precariously on a hidden ledge, sat three young women.

“Did you hear what they said? The first one will arrive tomorrow.”

“I did: Mistress Adela will be pleased.” The second replied before turning to the third “Is that not right Xyn?”

Xaire and Xela looked at the space where Xyn had been sat, before following the drop downwards towards the foot of the bridge, where, just in sight, was the shape of a winged woman landing on the rooftop of one of the warehouse buildings below.

“She has.” Began Xela.

“Beaten us to it.” Finished Xaire.

In unison the two fell forwards, launching themselves off the ledge, before spreading their wings and trying to catch up with their sister whilst remaining unseen within the shadow of the bridge.

The young man moved slowly into the desert sand, his feet sinking in the continually shifting sand. Behind him struggled the horse that had been with him since Rhaedr. His chest had begun to hurt as soon as he had stepped through the portal into this world. He strained his ears to listen, but there seemed to be nothing there, apart from the occasional sobbing of a woman that was carried every now and then.

“Where is she?” he wondered to himself as he ploughed onwards. The pain seemed to increase the more that Caius moved. To further he walked, the louder and more frequent came the sobs floating across the winds.

“So what exactly are you saying Nicola? You woke up and your mistress was lying here as we can now see is that it?”

“Yes, it is.” The woman replied.

“And you have not moved her or anything?”

“Apart from trying to wake her I have not moved her.”

Harold crouched down on his haunches to examine the unconscious woman lying in the cold stone space between the bed and the window. From the position of her body, it appeared that she had been sitting by her apprentice’s bed when she collapsed. Carefully he reached forwards and stroked her flesh, his fingers becoming plastered in a thick layer of sweat that had built up on her skin. She flinched unconsciously at his touch, marks seemingly appearing upon her pale skin.

“Did you see that?” he asked, pointing to the darkening blotch that had appeared on Lucia’s skin.

Nicola moved in closer to confirm his discovery.

“That was not there earlier.”

“I agree: it suddenly appeared when I touched her skin.”

“It did?”

Harold nodded in confirmation. “Observe Nicola.”

Carefully he ran his fingers up Lucia’s neck and over her cheek. In their wake her skin darkened to the colour of ash.

Nicola reached forwards and touched her mistresses’ legs, leaning on them to support her own weight in order to watch her tutor.

Harold looked at her with a slightly annoyed expression on his face.

“Be careful where you are leaning.” He warned.

Nicola looked at where her hands were positioned. Realising her error she sat upright, leaving similar marks to Harold, except they appeared to be paler in colour.

“Sorry about that.”

“It should not be me that you apologise to.”

Nicola nodded her head slowly in acknowledgement. “So what do we do?”

Harold looked at her directly in the eyes. “What do we do? Well I honestly do not know, but there might be someone who does.”

He gestured with his head to the dormant Lucia, her dark eyes vacant and open with shock.

Nicola looked at Harold quizzically as he rose to his feet and walked over to Lucia’s healing bag. He scanned the contents of the carefully stored roll of potions, liquids tablets and herbs. He removed something from one of the pockets and moved back towards the prone form of Lucia.

“Do you understand what we are about to do?”

Nicola shook her head in response.

“We are going to ask Lucia how to cure her from her current state by using these.” He proffered a red web of string attached to three needles. “However I suggest that we get her up onto the bed before we proceed any further.”

She rose carefully, watching as the tendrils moved ever closer towards her. She tried to run, to escape the smoke that pummelled towards her. But every path that she took was quickly blocked off by a burst of flames. She scrabbled away as the tentacles crashed past her into a corridor of the building. She kept her eyes upon the swirling maelstrom of her prison as it slowly moved further down, closer to where she desperately tried to hide herself. And then it began snowing. One flake landing silently amongst the flames: followed by another and another. Their presence signalled one thing: this torture was a long way from being over. As she looked on in fear and despair she knew that the cycle would never end as long as she stayed within this infinite death-trap. But somehow something felt different, as if something was far away as well as being close by.

The pair walked slowly along the bank of the lake close to the forest.

“Quite an impressive combination: Nicola.” Offered Harold

The woman looked around her surroundings, not quite sure what to make of it.

“So where is Lucia?”

Harold strained his eyes to look.

“I am not sure: but I think she could be up there.” He motioned towards a building ahead of them, perched on top of a hill just offset from both the lake edge and the forest was an impressive wood framed building: smothered with ice and snow yet billowing fire and flames from its windows.

“Now that looks worrying to me.”

“It is the same here: as I mentioned to your mistress, I dislike being here. I rarely enter my own world let alone anyone else’s.”

Nicola looked at Harold, not quite sure what to make of his words.

“Anyway: we had best get going.” Harold suggested, setting off towards the ice entombed inferno.

Nicola paused: the sight of the death-trap before them seemed off putting.

“I must save Mistress Lucia.” She muttered to herself before heading after Harold.

The hill top stone glowed briefly, before a figure stumbled out from its aura, followed by a horse. It was clear something was wrong with him as he weakly took steps forwards. He struggled to mount his horse before looking out towards the town before him.

Five miles away lay the town of Permulcere: a stronghold for the healers, as well as somewhere that the likelihood of encountering a white healer increased.

“Come on girl.” Coaxed Caius: “Nearly there.”

The horse snorted noisily before trotting onwards towards the town.

Whatever it was: it was coming nearer.

That was what Lucia could sense, although whether it would reach her or not: she did not know.

The fire roared around her as the snowflakes chilled her flesh, the strange paradox of this nightmarish world.

Yet there seemed to be something; voices on the wind: both male and female.

“Go away!” she shouted as the sounds neared.

“Mistress!” Shouted one voice.

Lucia looked up towards its location as the fire flared towards it.

Nicola yelped as a burning beam collapsed behind her.

“This is why I do not like being in places like this.” Muttered Harold darkly.

Nicola ignored him, instead attempting to locate Lucia.

“Mistress!” she shouted again, before dodging an onslaught of fire.

Harold systematically checked rooms for any sign of light: only to be met with a living furnace.

“Mistress!” she shouted again.

A spear of ice pummelled down through the floors, separating the two searchers.

“Nicola! Are you there?” Harold called from the other side of the expanding wall of ice.

“I am here.”

“I am currently trapped, so I doubt I will be able to assist you any further. Make sure you reach your mistress so that we can leave here.”

“I will try.”

A voice seemed to drift through the flames.

“Go away.”

“Did you hear that?” the girl asked.

“I did: I suggest that you hurry and find your mistress before things get any worse.”

“Go away.” the voice breathed.

Nicola tried her best to clear her head before stepping back down the corridor. It was already clear to her that there seemed to be no real sense to this burning house. Walls would shift without notice, whilst paths would be blocked by ice or flame.

“Go away.”

What was that? A courtyard or clearing? Nicola back tracked a step as the building creaked around her. She looked upwards as the wood ceiling blackened and groaned as if it was about to collapse.

“Go away.”

Nicola stepped over the threshold into the snow covered courtyard. And everything stopped.

Before her, curled up in the centre of the courtyard was a woman, not just any woman: it was Lucia.

“Go away.” she murmured grumpily.

“Mistress?”

Nicola gently approached the cowering woman, reaching forwards to touch her.

“Go away.”

“Mistress?”

“Go away.”

Nicola carefully wrapped her arms around her mistress.

“Mistress: I love you and need your guidance.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?

“I guess not.” Was all Lucia could reply as the world slowly turned to grey.

May Solan sat at the desk situated in the entrance hall of the Chapterhouse: the day had yet to begin, although there had been signs of movement within the grounds: particularly to do with the white healer. She began to shift through her papers and books in preparation for the day: that was until she was interrupted.

The hand slammed with a heavy weakness upon the desktop.

“Help me.” The male apprentice groaned before her, collapsing into a heap beside her desk.

“Master!”

The man opened one eye from his straw bed, looking at his apprentice.

“What is it?” he asked, with a neutral yet disgruntled tone.

“There is a messenger to see you sir.” Charlotte replied.

Marius Vitirius looked at the young girl before him: his apprentice had too much energy.

“Is there?”

“Yes Master!”

“Fine then! I will speak with them.” he groaned: slowly forcing hid body up into activity.

He shielded his eyes as he entered the morning light, catching sight of the messenger.

“I wonder if my sister has received a messenger yet?” The white healer murmured to himself.