The Seers Awakening

[Soren]

They were outside, safe, for now, but that would change. Soren took Sebilla by her hand and pulled her at his side again. He forced her to walk at his pace, passing by several corridors and guards who only bowed in his presence. They never questioned him and he had learned to ignore most of their guards. They entered a melancholy hallway, something that had not been visited for some time. The hallway led to a room that appeared locked.

Sebilla would be at his side, like the accessory she had always been- he adored her. He only wanted to protect her, but recently, dreams had plagued him of a different nature. He could see a strange thing building in his sister, but he couldn’t claim it.

Soren wanted that power for himself. He wanted to be able to control the essence of her being. If he had control over Sebilla, then he would have control over his brother. Sighing, he let his troubled thoughts rest. He gripped her wrist harder, letting a bruise form. “You will not speak of this with mother or Trydian…I know your relations with him.” He spoke of their closeness and the protective nature of his brother which outdid his by tenfold.

The room in which they would enter, had been lived in by Vylrath Xanathi. Inside, Soren would more than likely find personal items. He was hoping to find a set of armor and use it as his own. If luck was on his side, maybe a piece of weaponry would be in store as well.

He held onto his sister, his eyes focused on the task at hand. “You will aid me, dear mortal sister. Do you want to start a family war by disobeying your prince?” The door had grown with age, brittle and unreliable for holding its treasures. He forced the door to open with his strength, using his free hand. He whipped Sebilla inside, where she would see their father’s belongings.

“My brother is planning something. I realize that he is also your blood, but more-so mine. You are not a Vuri.” He paused, making sure that he held the fear in her. “I want you to use your powers to spy on my brother. I want to find out what he is planning behind our backs. He left dinner with an odd purpose about him…do this for me sister, and you can save your own skin.” Soren grinned after his words, admiring his father’s quarters. Some armor lay there, but it looked tattered and worn. He cursed, thoughtfully.

“Show me what our dear brother is up to…I know you have these powers. Mother spoke of them often.” He moved closer to her, trying to overpower her small form. He had learned of weakness, while others only tolerated it. “Obey, or regret your existence.”

Soren assumed that she could call upon her powers at the whim. The room lay adjacent to the temple, where his brother made his crude plans. He wanted to know what they held in store for them. Was he planning to take over? From the fear on Sebilla’s face, he could only guess. No one would bother them. He had placed a ward across the door. Mother would know what the words meant, but he wondered how quick his brother would be.

[Jen]

"Soren, stop. Soren!" Sebilla was half dragged through corridors she had never traversed and her hand felt tingly in her younger brother's grasp as he cut the circulation from her arm. "Soren, stop, that hurts!"

Her words of frustration were cut short as she was flung, not unlike a rag doll, into Vylrath's old quarters. Rubbing her wrist and favoring her shoulder, which had nearly been torn from its socket by Soren's persistence and quicker than mortal pace, Sebilla glanced around her. It seemed the life of a warrior, sparse but for the essentials -- ready to move when the need arose. There were artifacts of Vylrath's that hadn't seen the light of day in months, since he left this place to reforge Rivenfelde City with her grandmother.

"He was not my father. He was my grandfather. He is Trydian's father and yours, not mine." When Soren stepped closer, Sebilla eased her way back until she was pressed firmly against a wall. Soren could, if he wanted, concieveably kill her without meaning to. Her fear was evident as she stared at her brother with wide silver eyes, haunting in their clarity and fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I have some powers but I cannot see what I want to see or when I want to see it. I don't have control over my abilities Soren and the visions are hard to understand sometimes." Sebilla paled a little, remembering the gore of wars past and future. The visions of death and destruction were far more frequent as the visions went -- the last being a few months prior due to the savage death of Kahlan's oldest daughter by Vylrath's hands.

"Soren, I'm warning you -- stay back!" Sebilla picked up a large piece of wood that was lying near a pallet and weilded it like a weapon toward her brother. Her fear was great enough to cause her to worry about her own safety and so for good measure she reached out and pushed against Soren's chest.

It was as if fire itself lit beneath her hand and her mouth opened in a surprised little "O" as she felt a savage vision rip through her body, assualting her senses and her mind -- feeling as if she were in the midst of the vision itself.


There was a thick fog blanketing the shores of some coastal town. There was tension thick in the air as some monumental event was to take place. The water was lapping gently at her boots, beckoning her forward, enticing her to take a swim -- but she couldn't see a foot past her own extended hand.

Sebilla felt her self sigh and rest her hands on her lower back, relieving some terrible ache as she stared into the endless purgatory of fog that stretched far inland. Her own breathing was echoed within the miasma as she walked along the rocky shores, careful to take her steps steadily. Her eyes focused as the fog began to part and in its place her brother, her twin, came to embrace her with all of his warmth and love.

"You are not safe alone on the shore. You are vulnerable here." His voice was pleading as his mismatched eyes sought her own. He was older -- more mature -- as if he might have seen a battle or two. His eyes spoke of sorrow and fortune -- as if he had the very thing he wanted within his grasp but didn't quite know how to keep it.

"I am safe no where, brother. You know this. I am still a mortal." Sebilla felt the cold clenching fear of mortality sneaking up on her. She was her brother's age - but continued to age despite his great youth. She could fell herself in her prime, though. She was not old.

"You have others to worry about now. Think not of yourself but of your people and..." Sebilla felt her hand rush to her belly, which was flat still.

"How did you know?"


The vision faded, and Sebilla felt her knees turn to water as she pulled her hand away from Soren. He couldn't see her vision, but the shock of seeing a potential future for herself was enough to leave her gaping, open mouthed, at her brother. Her eyes refused to focus and she felt the familiar bile rise in her throat -- not from disgust, but the sickening distortion of time and clarity.

Somehow Sebilla managed to keep her stomach from heaving its contents on Soren's feet, but she scrambled sideways -- attempting to make a break for the door to safety. She had more reason to fear Soren now -- he was a trigger for a vision, the first living creature to do such a thing -- and Sebilla wanted nothing more to do with him until she had time to collect her thoughts.

[Soren]

Soren watched her shatter the ward, before she had even touched it with her hands. He cursed, pulling her close to him with the essence of his shadow. The fear in her thickened, which only fueled his desire to have her at his side. It was the need to have that free essence, which drove him to his sudden madness. Without warning, his control over his essence broke, giving her the chance to flee again. She fell to the side, fearing his very presence. He hadn’t wanted it to be this way, but this was the fate of the last mortal.

He smirked at his father’s belongings, not having any use for any of the aging junk. Something glinted, caught against some strain of sunlight filtering through. When he investigated closer, it was a mere ring, but it fit his finger perfectly. “I shouldn’t leave empty handed…as for you…” Soren stepped closer to Sebilla, her fear intoxicating his senses. He placed a palm in front of her face, attempting to draw the energy into his being. His concentration deepened, his desire clouded with a dark imminent force. Was this their true power? He decided to encase it with all of his strength available. If she was as weak as he thought, then she would collapse into submission. If she collapsed, Sebilla would become controlled by his power.

Soren didn’t think of the risk that Trydian would witness this, or hear his sister. He only understood that she possessed a power greater than his. The veil of shadow continued to envelop the two beings in the circle of calling.
By the end of the trance- unless she broke away- Sebilla would be Vuri. Her mortal soul would be fed into Soren.

[Iskander]

Trydian let the crown drip from his fingers as his stomach wrenched. He felt dizzy and sick, though the feelings lasted only a moment. He knew what it meant. Sebilla was in danger. Rage boiled up in him, and he fought to maintain his control. Without speaking he took the shortsword from one of his guards and stepped back. He vanished through one shadow, and emerged from another. He stepped out into Vylrath's former chambers, standing behind Soren. He took in the situation with a glance, and he struck.

He had sworn an oath to protect his sister, but that oath wasn't important. He would have protected her without it. The bond of blood was strong enough between the two that Trydian had sensed her danger, and it was very likely that she would sense his anger and his presence. It had always seemed to him as though they were one person split between two bodies. He had inherited their aggression, ambition while Sebilla had inherited their mortality, gentleness, and perhaps even their inherent goodness. Anything that endangered her was a threat to him as well.

So Trydian struck at his brother with the sword he had been given. It wasn't just a physical blow, though, for Trydian's voice rang out in the too-crowded room. Sebilla would recognize the beginning of a spell, although she wouldn't know what he cast. It was unlikely that Soren, having never witnessed his brother casting a spell, would recognize the danger he was in. Of course, being stabbed in the back should be warning enough to the wayward prince.

[Vylrath]

Vylrath felt the disturbance of his family- something he dreaded. He could see the vision of his son, one whom he hadn’t physically met, attempt to spoil their success. His son had been awash with greed and influenced by the natural power inside of his spirit.

He decided to do something about it. Vylrath excused himself from Armand, not caring if the bastard was against the idea- his families pride was on the line.

His body lacked most substance, so it would appear as a vapor. He used a physical item that had once been attached to him- his wedding ring to Isabella Xanathi. Ripping through the trinket, he let his powers scourge the innocence of Soren. (He had let his anger settle for too long and this felt like it was enough revenge on his death.)

The arm of Soren would become blackened, enraged with an unearthly mark. Pain would be felt, as a reminder, that even in death, this was still Vylrath’s domain. From the mark, scars would appear in jagged ugly reminders. They would burn with a redness that would never cease. The tips on Sorens fingers would be marked with blackness, as his hand would be cursed also.

This would be the mark of the cursed Vuri- someone who willingly betrayed their people. Vylrath filled the heads of his offspring with a warning:

This is not the end of me, but the beginning. Your brother will learn that I hold power even in death. He is now marked as a traitor to his blood. Do not fall into the same fate. I have not met this being, but he will not cast our magick or hold our blades. He will die from the pain if he attempts. It will not be healed by any magick in this world. Do not be so foolish as to think that you are greater, or great consequences will plague this family…

The dark substance faded into Soren’s arm, twisting and warping up to his shoulder. The sulfar apparent in the air. Soren would not be able to move, for some time, too paralyzed from the intense pain of the curse.
Vylrath’s ring fell to the ground. It still held a bit of Soren’s flesh from the mark. Vylrath’s voice could be heard by all in the room:

Only the true heir may possess such a thing…

He felt his power draining, his time in this realm weakening him. He returned to Armand with a displeased look across his face. Words could not describe the tension crawling across his body.

[Jen]

Sebilla screamed, as mortal women often did in the presence of unforgiving immortal men. Her eyes were wide with fear until she heard Trydian's voice, his rage, his fear that she was being harmed. She hadn't meant to call him, in fact it was more or less a feeling that they both shared -- for they had shared a womb. They were twins, they were inseparable even at the worst of times.

This definately could be considered one of the worst times.

Sebilla fell to the floor at Soren's feet as she felt his power over her wane, flex, and attempt to tear from her the very thing that everyone had tried to protect. She scrambled, heedless of any obstacle in her path, toward the furthest corner she could find that could separate her from Soren. In her flight she sent the ring with his flesh skidding across the floor, her own safety far too prevalent on her mind than some priceless old trinket.

Her fear was evident, her frail human heart hammered relentlessly against her ribs as she crouched in the corner -- attempting to make herself less of a target. Tears were pouring down her cheeks, her usually well kept appearance in total shambles. Her black hair was wild from being flung around like a rag doll. Her cheek was bruised from Soren's heedless attempts to make her obey. There would be no telling just how damaged her body was until she was safe. For now, though, she felt no pain. There was only fear.

When Soren began to discolor, Sebilla looked for Trydian -- hearing his chanting and not really understanding it, not really even caring. She called to him from where she was hiding, wanting him to come and comfort her -- knowing that he would know the extent of her pains without ever having to look for them. She began to sob like a broken young woman, feeling the pain tight in her chest -- at best a few of her ribs were bruised from Soren's tight grasp and his disregard for her frailty when compared with his strength.

"Trydian..."

[Soren]

Soren fell to the ground, crippled by the pain. His arm writhed with a new life of its own. He watched the dark veins take over his arm and taint his very being. His eyes were clouded momentarily, but he could hear the voice of Vylrath. He knew he had done wrong, but he hadn’t expected this sort of punishment. His breathless voice ordered Sebilla to fetch the Queen Mother and see if the guests couldn’t help his wounds.

“…Fetch…..the….Queen…the guests…” Soren’s concentration was interrupted by another onslaught of pain. It wrecked his body so that he could no longer function normally. His body looked scorched, the stab wound opening up another wave of pain.

Something dark, the substance of black ink, rose from his stab wound. It etched across his back like a claw mark. The punishment was near completion, when he felt the ring fall to the floor, with some of his flesh attached.
He had been shocked that his brother would stab him, but not completely taken aback. His thoughts could no longer find themselves, he soon blacked out from the pain. His arm still throbbed with the tainted mark left by Vylrath.

[Iskander]

Trydian released the short blade once it sank into his traitorous brother's flesh. He had no more use for the weapon; it was clear that his brother wasn't going to be fighting back. He had aimed to avoid any of Soren's vital organs, so he wasn't worried about his brother dying right away, at least not from the sword wound. He didn't know what else was afflicting Soren, and he didn't much care. It wasn't harming him, or Sebilla, and Soren himself wouldn't be doing either of those anymore either.

He bowed loosely to Vylrath and muttered a thanks before leaping across the floor to Sebilla. He channeled the energy he'd gathered into a gate within the shadow, and pulled her through it with him. He didn't bother waiting for a response from her, or Vylrath, or Soren to what he'd just done. He took her away from the room as quickly as he could, and brought her to the temple's inner sanctum, where he had left his guards. The shadows closed behind him and Trydian snapped toward one of his men, "Send the others to detain my former brother. He's in the old chambers, my father's old room. Use the rifles. If he tries to come toward you, shoot him. If my father is still there, then avoid him." The guard bowed and raced out of the room, leaving Trydian almost alone with his sister.

"Soren won't be needing you to retrieve mother. He'll be brought to her... In chains." Trydian ran his eyes over Sebilla and, after suppressing a desire to return and finish Soren off, asked, "Are you alright? I can bring you to mother before he gets there, if you need healing. If you're alright, there is something I need to do before Soren is brought to her."

[Jen]

"I will be okay I think." Sebilla wiped her shaking hands across her tear stained face before resting her head on her brother's chest. He had grown taller than herself by a ways so it was easier. The pain in her cheek, from being slapped by Soren, was eased by her brother's racing heartbeat. She was bruised all over from being flung into stone walls and there was a nagging pain in her chest that flared when she took a deep breath. She tried to think of something, anything, to ease her rapid frantic breathing so that her ribs would get some sort of relief.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know he was going to...to..." Sebilla shook her hands in frustration at herself, making small fists with her petite hands, and pressing them against her mouth to force herself to stop crying. She felt her legs turn to water as relief at being away from Soren and away from that horrible room washed over her. She sagged against Trydian and clutched at his shirt, trying not to let herself fall to the unforgiving ground again.

"Do what you must. I can wait for Mother's help. Just please, don't leave me." Her big silver eyes, framed by her scared but beautiful face sought Trydian. He had always been her savior, and he had proved himself in her darkest time of need.

The vision she had seen flared up in her mind and she blushed brightly, remembering the intimate knowledge they had shared in a potential future of hers. Trydian might know something was going on in his sister's mind, but he would be too busy to question it just now most likely -- giving her the time she needed to compose herself and tell him about it later.

[Soren]

His darkness was not without realization. Images of Vylrath still haunted him, a father he had never known, to only curse his very being. Agonizing painful moments passed, before he finally awoke in a deep madness. He called out for Caela, but to find guards aiming their weapons in his direction. “I am your Prince! Fetch the Queen Mother!” He ordered, but they did not move. Dark figures continued to swarm his aching head. Soren called out into the hallway, convinced that someone would hear him. He realized that Trydian had abandoned him and had taken Sebilla- which was probably for the better. In his state, he would have easily taken Sebilla’s essence. He knew that he was being taught a lesson, but he didn’t want to admit his own fault, that maybe his brother had been in the right. Soren felt pitiful, laying in his own pool of blood, his own guards listening to a half-breed of a brother.

[Iskander]

Trydian carefully set Sebilla in a chair and stepped back from her. "I won't leave." He turned to the table that had been brought into the sanctuary and lifted a bowl. He turned back to Sebilla and held the bowl out to her, "Here, mix these together." Inside the bowl was a fine black dust, a pestle, and a vial of water. When mixed together the dust and water created a thick black mixture. "It's a dye, be careful not to get any on your hands or clothes. I doubt it will come out easily."

"Get the armour ready," he spoke over his shoulder to the remaining guard, who bowed from the neck and turned to prepare a set of armour. Trydian turned away from Sebilla and began removing the armour and clothing he was already wearing. Each piece of metal was set carefully on the floor. Clothes were folded and also set aside, until he stood in his undergarments. He lifted a knife that had been left on the table, and brought it up to his hair. He gathered it all in one hand, and hacked away until his silver hair fell just past his ears. He dropped the knife back onto the table and brushed his shoulders clear of stray locks of hair.

Trydian gestured to the guard who brought forward a long strip of fabric, which was wrapped around Trydian's waist. A second white garment was placed around his shoulders and on his torso. He looked over his shoulder at Sebilla to check her progress, "Let me know when you're done." He nodded again to the guard who began to fasten gold and white armour to his body. Trydian doubted the armour would be finished before Sebilla completed making the dye. That was one of the last things he needed before his coronation.

He didn't know if Caela was aware of his plans, but there wasn't much she could do to stop him. He had brought men and women to Xexoria, men and women who would be loyal to him. He had brought soldiers and farmers, carpenters and smiths, stonemasons and even mages. Xexoria would rise again because of him, and he would be its King. His name would be burned into history.

[Vylrath]

Arrogance....

Pain...acceptance....

That was the language this creature spoke. He did not speak in literal words.

Emotions fed the black creature. It had a working mind, but did not possess the ability to share these emotions with the creatures before him. It stalked Trydian, feeding off of his fueling ambition. The creature knew that it had once belonged to Vylrath Xanathi, but he was no longer part of that man's spirit. He needed a new host, someone with just as much ambition as Vylrath Xanathi- why shouldn't his son be the perfect match?

The black substance had appeared, almost instantly when they had disturbed Xanathi's room. Had he been the thing wrapping around Soren's arm? No, but he had witnessed the strange occurence.

The pathetic creature, that lay dying on the floor, did not interest him. He wanted to know how heartless and reckless Trydian could be, to leave a fellow kin in their own bloody mess. Maybe this man possessed a soulless heart, but he couldn't believe that. He had been drawn to the essence surrounding Trydian. The man had to have some quality, that the other beings in this realm lacked.

He didn't speak, but continued to walk in Trydian's shadow. He used it as a veil, shrouding his existence momentarily. He needed to get closer, but he also feared Sebilla would see his movements. They were slow, sluggish, and if she caught sight of him, she would see a hunched essence in the shadow of Trydian.

He couldn't speak, but he could still call out to Trydian. Trydian might feel dazed for a moment, caught in his own emotion. He had bested his brother and had shown him his place. He had saved his sister from a definite fate- why not relish in the moment of triumph? Yes, he fed all of these visions to Trydian, not letting him understand that these were illusions.

The girl would be a problem, with her ability to see his kind. However, he would have to work around that problem. He growled, something guttural, that would echo in the mind of Trydian. When the man was least expecting it, he would fall into his body and attempt to control his spirit.

Trydian would feel himself losing against a greater force, something he should have been prepared for, but caught unawares. He would see the face of his father and know that this thing had once been that Hell. Sebilla would witness the struggle, the dark essence surrounding Trydian's body like jagged shadow.

Chaos...

It would be the last emotion shared with Trydian. The struggle for Trydian's soul would be finalized, by chaotic desires and ambition. He shared images that had not yet been acted upon. Images of the Chaos Sword briefly haunted him. After all, if he was going to keep this Host, he needed to keep him interested.

He could see through Trydian's eyes and the fear in Sebilla. He would act on Trydian's natural reactions. It would be up to Trydian to use his power to its fullest potential. With his power, Trydian could create the greatest history.

[Jen]

Sebilla worked the ink with shaking hands, at first. Then as the shock of her attack began to wear off her movements became more rigid and refined. This was a job that Sebilla had been given on countless occassions. Their mother was as much an ex queen as she was an experimental scientist of sorts. Vylrath had given her a gift, finally, after years of torment. Being a Vuri meant a lot to Caela and she enjoyed trying to help people as much as she enjoyed making new plants.

There was still a sharp ache in Sebilla's side that just wouldn't go away. She breathed somewhat shallow to alieviate the pain, and as she mixed the bowl of ink, the rhythm helped soothe her aching soul. It was one thing to have your body beaten, but to nearly have one's soul torn from their very body, their very existence? Once everything wound to an end, Sebilla would be exhausted both physically and mentally. Even now, she believed to see some phantom creature lurking in the shadows, leering at her -- sizing her up as a potential threat.

"Here, Brother." Sebilla offered her brother the ink she'd mixed. He was a fine young man with his life steadily ahead of him. He would make a great king and a powerful leader. His body showed the marks of his harsh past, but he was none the worse for wear. He looked regal and exquisitely handsome. His body was...well. Sebilla blushed furiously and averted her gaze to the floor, turning her head sharply away. It just wasn't right of her to desire her own brother in such a fashion. She couldn't help her thoughts, though. She attributed her deep caring for her brother to his quick rescue and care for her own safety. She hoped, at least, that he wouldn't see her desire. Ah, but being human it was so hard to hide emotion.

Sebilla sank back against the chair Trydian set her in, resting her hands on her forehead and sighing deeply, wincing at the ache in her chest. It was then that she saw the shadow again and frowned. Her brother might see her gaze and her frown as she focused on his shadow in particular.

"Something is amiss, Trydian." Was all she would be able to say before whatever it was would merge with him.

[Iskander]

Trydian paused and turned to Sebilla to take the dye. He set it aside on the table and murmured a thanks to her before turning back to his guard. The man continued setting the armour, until the last plate was firmly held in place. He stepped back to give a look over his work, to make sure the young King was properly dressed, and that was when Sebilla attempted to warn her brother. The spirit fell into Trydian, became Trydian, and the battle began.

At first, Trydian fought. It was an instinct. The Vuri had tried to turn him into one of them; they had tried to make him weak and soft and stupid, just like his brother. But they had never managed to subjugate his true spirit. That true spirit had a fighting instinct beyond any of the others on the island, and it fought against this new intrusion. The battle lasted just a moment before Trydian recognized the essence, and then everything changed. His spirit didn't stop fighting, but it turned itself on another part of his being. His Demonic essence had turned aside to let Vylrath's spirit access, while at the same time rejecting the Vuri spirit that had been forced into him. The two Demonic essences would mix within him and become stronger, strong enough to purge the Vuri taint.

There was nothing that Sebilla or his guard could do. The battle itself lasted only a handful of rapid heartbeats, and then it was finished. Those first few moments were when Trydian was engulfed in the shadow, but that ended quickly. The shadows dispersed in a gust of wind, and Trydian's voice rose up over the maelstrom. He gave himself over to the song, and to the new power that coursed through his veins. His words would be indecipherable to all in the room, perhaps even himself, but they held power. A vortex of energy wrapped itself around him as Trydian took hold of his new power.

He wasn't sure what spell to cast, but he need not have worried. The song carried him without thought through the weavings of mana and intent. The power settled over his shoulders like a mantle, and he accepted the enchantment. The song slowly died, and the vortex of power surrounding him faded away. Trydian was left standing, his arms outstretched and his head tilted back.

He lowered his hands to his sides and turned toward Sebilla. His lips were twisted into what could have been a grin, but just as easily a sneer, "Everything is fine, sister. Nothing is amiss at all." His voice was still his own, but there was, perhaps, a slight echo of his father's voice just a moment out of sync with his own words. "We mustn't keep mother, or our guests, waiting. Please, help me with this final step." He lifted the bowl of dye toward her. He might have just gotten his power returned to him, but he still had trouble colouring his own hair.

[Jen]

Something was definately amiss. Sebilla looked into her brother's eyes and there was that look, that smile that wasn't much of a smile at all, it all spoke of the time before Vylrath's transformation. The time before Vylrath had given her brother the power of the Vuri and had dismantled his demonic heritage.

Sebilla sighed, catching her breath as she pulled herself to her feet. She was bone weary, but in a family of demons and strange immortal creatures that rarely tired -- it was simply a show of extreme weakness. She was human, she didn't give a rat's ass what anyone thought right now. Immortals be damned with their thoughts of superiority. Sebilla had done more work with her human hands than most immortals had done in centuries.

"Kneel, please. I can't raise my hands very high." Sebilla wasn't controlling, or demanding. It was a simple request, dually important since her side ached like fire since being manhandled. Once Trydian was kneeling then she would apply the dye to his hair, making his hair match hers in an uncanny sort of way. "I need water to rinse the excess."

Sebilla worked her fingers through her brother's hair. She was far too young to have resigned herself to fate, but humanity was a fickle thing. Once Trydian's silver hair was completely covered, Sebilla would wiggle a finger for a pail of water to be placed in front of her brother. "You will have to help wash it out. I cannot do it alone."

Sebilla pressed one arm firmly against her ribs as she used the other to help Trydian rinse the excess dye from his hair. His hair would be a thick dark black while her own was hinted with a strange blue hue. Hers fell in large curlse while his would fall straight. He was V ylrath's son, there was no doubt. She was his granddaughter, of that there was no doubt -- her silver eyes took in her brother's wet appearance and she moved aside -- once again resigned. She loved her brother, but she doubted that he loved anything but power now, including herself.

"I agree. I need to see mother soon. I need her to check my ribs."