The woman screamed in shock as she sat bolt upright from where she lay: her cold, bruised body dripping with sweat. She tried to steady her breathing: a dry burning sensation filled her throat. Something fell from her forehead, bouncing off her nose, falling between her breasts before landing on the bed sheets.

Lucia tried to wipe away the sweat that plastered her face: she felt cold, with stiff, aching muscles.

“When was the last time I was like this?” she whispered to herself.

There was a sweet scent on the air: a dangerous aroma, that made her feel infinitely hungry. She needed to hunt: and prey was so tantalisingly close. Lucia looked towards the unconscious man that leant on her bed just feet away: the scent of his blood was so alluring. She silently moved her body out of the frame of the bed, positioning herself behind her victim. He moved slightly as consciousness returned to his body. Lucia manoeuvred herself into his shadow: the morning sun creating a halo around her head as she closed in.

The pulsing veins and muscles in the man’s neck looked exceedingly appetising, as she lowered her fangs towards his skin. The sweet and salty scent of his sweat and blood pulsed past her nose.

A moan from across her bed made Lucia pause: there was someone else here.

She raised her eyes and her head until she was looking directly and deeply into the young woman’s eyes. There seemed to be something familiar about her: particularly with the pair of red-blue mottled marble eyes, which looked pleadingly at Lucia beneath a obsidian horned brow.

“Mistress.” The young woman breathed.

Lucia continued to stare at her: a strange feeling of tranquillity overcoming her.

“Nicola?” she tried with a feeble burned voice, before blacking out onto her bed.

“Mistress!” Nicola screamed, forcing her body up and over the bed to where Lucia and Harold lay slumped.

Harold blinked his eyes as he emerged from the catatonic stuporous trance inflicted upon those entering the other place. He tried to register the activity that was occurring around him and why there was a young woman bounding across the bed before him.

Nicola desperately grabbed Lucia, dragging her back onto the bed, trying her best not to harm her mistress. Lucia remained unresponsive to her apprentice’s touch for a while.

“What is wrong?” Harold asked, unsure of the events that had occurred.

“My Mistress: she tried to drink from you.”

“That I am not entirely surprised about.”

Nicola looked at him.

“Well, I have heard rumours about white healers and the fact that they are not entirely human. I did not know for sure until I met Lucia.”

“Then you know we must help her, or she might kill.”

“As you almost did.”

“Yes.”

Harold quickly looked around the room: searching for something.

“How did you know I almost killed someone?”

“I think I had best tell you later.” He replied, lifting a slim knife above his head: checking it before approaching Lucia.

Nicola looked on in concerned awe: not entirely sure as to what Harold was doing.

He gripped the blade tightly in one hand, whilst holding the shaft in the other.

“Try to keep her mouth open.” He ordered with a calm gentleness in his voice.

Nicola obeyed gently tipping her mistress’s head and opening her mouth: yet there seemed to be something strange in how Harold was speaking. She shrugged it off as Harold lowered his hands and tightened his grip on the metal: causing blood to flow from his palm as the blade was removed. He squeezed harder once the blood was flowing and offered it into the woman’s open mouth.

And the first drop fell into her mouth.

He stood again on the ramparts of the city: watching the sun begin to rise over the horizon. His chest seemed to irritate him slightly, could it be? No, it might not be: he was the Lord of Rhaeadr, he should not show any sign of weakness to those he ruled over.

“My lord?” Ventured a soft female voice behind him.

Before him stood a woman he did not recognise; dressed from head to foot in a fur-lined dress: the hood of a cloak obscuring most of her visage.

“Yes, what is it you wish to speak to me about?” Marius replied.

“Not much my lord.” The woman replied, moving close to Marius Storm, sliding a slim and elegant gloved hand up his armoured chest. “I just thought you might wish to meet someone to help warm your bed.”

He looked beneath the rim of the woman’s hood, as her face rose to meet his eyes.

“Yet the city is in crisis: do you expect me to forget that?”

“No my lord: I wish you to hope.” The beauty replied, her expression turning mournful as she averted her gaze, “I do not wish you to forget the problems that plague the city: but I have had word that you, lack an heir.”

That was a painful truth that Marius wished not to disclose: his wife had died several years ago, whilst his sons were taken from him in a series of conflicts requested by the King. By now, it was probably too late for him to sire an heir considering his age.

“If you wish my lord, then I can provide that which you desire.”

“That could be taken as a dangerous offer.”

“Yet my offer is given willingly my lord.”

Marius Storm continued to scrutinise the beauty before him, unsure of whether she held an ulterior motive to approaching him: many lords before him had fallen to the well placed blade of an assassin or even a spiteful spouse wishing to acquire more power for themselves. Yet there was always that chance: no matter what relationship started or fallen into, that would always be a risk. Yet the offer of a chance; a new start with the possibility of an heir: that was too good to pass up.

“So my lord: what is your decision?”

“I accept your offer dear lady. May I enquire as to your name?” he responded, extending a hand out to her.

She smiled demurely as she accepted it

“My name… is Amelia, Amelia Shide.”

A liquid splattered gently around her mouth: one or two drops just managing to shade her lips a beautiful dark red. She gently broke the seal of her mouth, sliding her tongue across, trying to taste the liquid vitae that slowly tempted her more and more. She opened her mouth to allow a drop to be consumed; then opened her eyes.

Lucia choked, coughed and gaged as the strong stream of blood was forced down her throat. She could feel the gentle pair of hands let go of her mouth as she sat bolt upright in a short draining coughing fit.

“Mistress?”

Lucia looked up weakly to her apprentice.

“I am here Nicola.” She replied, before glancing over to where Harold stood, “what has occurred?”

Harold sighed before speaking “According to Nicola, you collapsed beside her. You had these in your hands.”

Lucia examined the threads putting them down with a sigh. “Something strange was happening with Nicola so I investigated what was happening, next thing I know- I was trapped where you found me.”

The two were silent for a moment taking in what Lucia said. The silence was broken by Nicola.

“There was a woman in my dream. She had blue shards puncturing her wrists. She said that her main shard was near.”

Lucia looked up at Nicola. “Shards in her wrists?”

Nicola was about to answer when there was a hammering on the door to their cell.

The three riders progressed slowly along the morning horizon. The lead rider wearing the green robes of an apprentice healer, with the blue-grey sulprice of their master’s rank. The third was also an apprentice, although from the decoration of her white sulprice it was evident that her apprenticeship was nearing its end. Between the two rode the red robed white healer, his hood was pulled tight over his face to protect against the elements. They slowed as they reached the standing stone, before vanishing through the tear in reality.

The two figures collapsed into the already crowded cell, the three looked up at the intruders as they fell through.

“This Apprentice needs help: It looks like the Careleus plague.” May Solan shouted, barely taking into account the situation of the room.

Harold looked up to Lucia with a concerned expression on his face. Lucia nodded in partial agreement to what he seemed to suggest.

“We will treat him miss Solan. Just lay him down on the floor. Nicola; please could you remove the mortar from my bag, along with a vial: we will need to gain one of the ingredients from miss Solan.”

Nicola nodded nervously in confirmation, removing the required items from Lucia’s bag and laying them out before herself.

Lucia turned to Harold “Harold, we will need to take some blood from both you and miss Solan, would you be kind enough to collect it for us.”

“I presume this is for… “ he began before Lucia cut him short.

“It is, now get on with it! This has to be treated as an advanced case.”

Harold was taken aback by Lucia’s desperate tone, yet proceeded as requested whilst she crawled her way weakly forwards towards the edge of the bed. She breathed heavily, her sight blurring as she reached over to examine the patient.

“I don’t think I can do all of this this time. Nicola, follow my instructions and we may be able to have some success.” She panted in a feverish exhaustion.

“Yes mistress.” Nicola responded, “What do I need to do?”

“Remove the pestle and mortar first and we shall go from there.”

Caius woke slowly to the feeling of burning sand upon his face. He struggled to remember where he was and how he had reached there. He rolled himself over onto his side trying to prop himself up onto his arm, only to find that he could hardly feel anything below the elbow on his left arm. He risked opening one eye to look at what was wrong with his arm. H looked to see that his entire flesh had been eviscerated by sharp azure crystals, which continued to grow and pierce this flesh as they progressed up his arm. He sat bolt upright at the sight of the crystals.

“Now gently tip his head back and allow him to drink the fluid on his own. He may already be under, but it will be the beginning of the main process.” Lucia explained wearily, guiding Nicola on what to do.

“Yes Mistress.” Nicola replied obediently, executing the orders that her mistress gave her as carefully as she could.

His parched throat ached in the desert sun as his skin was slowly shredded by the relentless blasting of the sandstorm. He briefly thought he noticed liquid upon his lips and flowing gently and mercifully down his throat.

“Do you need some help there?” Asked a male voice behind him.

Caius looked up towards the top of the Dune to see a smartly dressed man with no skin looking at him offering a hand to him.

“I think I am fine.” He replied, forcing himself up and beginning to move forwards across the landscape ahead of him.

“Are you sure? The skinless gentleman began, “The storm does not look like it is going to be abating any time soon.”

Caius smiled grimly to himself as he continued to force himself up and onwards into the wind. “I think I will take my chances.”

“Are you sure about that?” the man asked flatly, “You do not know what awaits you in the storm.”

Caius ignored him, instead forcing himself onwards through the shredding wind, focusing on each step as he marched onwards into the storm.

Lucia sighed with tiredness as she began to eat the bowl of stew that had been brought to her by May. She looked at the still body of Caius watching it change every now and then. Nicola sat close by him observing the changes as well.

“I think it may be time to wake her up now.”

He woke upon the sands, head on the lap of a feminine figure, her face a picture of beauty against the clear blue sky, no sign of the storm that was there before. He breathed in heavily relaxing from the storm passing.

“You don’t know how much I am glad to see you.” He sighed, looking at the woman before him.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“You know, I have known you for nearly two years, yet I am not sure if I know your name.”

She smiled mournfully before answering. “You already know it my friend.”

“I do?”

“Yes, as I am you. I am a spirit shard.” The girl replied. She paused before continuing, her voice echoing with another. “It is time to wake up now, Gaia.”