Tamsin opened and closed her eyes blearily. She could barely see anything in the early morning light. It must have been just before sunrise. Everything in her room was still tinted with the blue of dawn.

Tamsin stretched and yawned, wrapping her arms around a stray pillow. What a strange and distressing dream I've just had, she thought. She could still see flashes in her mind, of grief and fear and blood. But it was early yet and her bed was comfortable. Perhaps if she fell back asleep she'd have a more pleasant dream.

There was a loud pounding at her bedroom door and Tamsin's blood ran cold.

She sat up cautiously, not wanting to believe in the familiar feeling of this moment. Perhaps she was dreaming still. Perhaps no one had knocked at all. Perhaps whoever it was would just go away.

But the pounding came again, louder this time.

"My lady!" came the muffled voice of the maid.

Tamsin pulled off the covers and shivered. Her nightgown didn't grant much protection against the early morning cold, although it was not only the cold that made her shiver.

Tamsin walked towards the door, regretting every step as she took it.

When she finally opened the door, her maid was there, tears in her eyes. "My lady, such dreadful news," she said. "The hunting party just returned. Lord Roger... your brother... He's dead, my lady, he's dead."

Tamsin fell to her knees.

So it was all true then. It had all really happened.

And it would happen again... unless...

"You said there had to be another way," came the voice of Iphrix, Goddess of War, in her ear. "Prove it."