This story is © Angela "LemurKat" Kingston-Smith (aka "Raynflower") and cannot be used for any means, profit or non-profit, barring reading of, without the written permission of the author.

The paintbrush scythed across the blank canvas - great scars of black and red and brown. There was not a thought in Aranaya's mind of where the picture was going - she was just unleashing the rage. SLASH. Of course she had no claim on Arron. There wasn't anything between them - they were just friends and co-workers. SLASH. So why then did it seer her to the heart to see him cuddling up to that winged lemur girl? SLASH. Damned pretty wee thing too. Not to mention his species too. SLASH. He had a right to choose whom he flirted with, after all and if he wanted to jump that scrawny girl's bones, so be it! SLASH. Never mind that Aranaya would be hurt, never mind that Aranaya would be upset. SLASH, STAB! The paper tore beneath the impact of her paintbrush and she threw it across the room, where it struck the wall, sliding down and leaving a black smear. Damn him! Was he blind?

No of course he wasn't. It was she that was blind. She had actually thought he fancied her. How insane was that? She flung herself onto the bed, the mattress pronging beneath her. Of course it pronged - she was fat and she knew it! Not like that lemur bimbo. No, she was sleek and lean and damned pretty - any male's fantasies.

Aranaya buried her head in her pillow as the sobbings and shakings took over. Damn him! How could he do this to her?

She sighed, tears streaming down her cheeks, and lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Well, so be it. It was not as though there were anything she could do about it. She'd had her chance with true love after all. And it had been the most terrifying and tragic experience of her life. She would never open herself to that sort of hurt again.

Never.

*

Kataryna fidgeted. She knew she had to do something but what? The easiest thing would be to go and talk with Arron. But would he believe her? He had asked for her help after all. She should go now too, even though it was the wee small hours of the morning. After all, it could be tomorrow that he was destined to die.

With a sigh she got off her bed, pulling on her trousers and tying on her shirt. It was rather awkward to dress oneself when one had wings - she had slashed the t-shirt apart, tying it together behind her. She wrapped the cloak about her shoulders and wings. Outside the night was cool and clear and crisp. Already insomniac birds were starting to sing their praise of the new day.

The walk to the party venue seemed to take so much longer when she was by herself. Every shadow threatened danger. Even her neighbours, who were normally awake late until the night, were quiet. It was four am - the dead zone. The wind rustled its way through the alley of trees, sending a cold chill down her spine. She was not afraid of shadows. She was NOT!

Okay, well maybe just a little.

As she approached Evergreen Apartments, it became clear that four am really was the dead zone. The fire still burned, glowing embers casting even grater shadows, but no longer was there any dancing or merriment. The bouncy music had been replaced by slow, dreamy strains and the few people gathered about the fire were either curled up in each other's warm embrace or talking quietly, seated in tight circles. She felt alien, out of place, as she picked her way about the fireplace, searching the shadows for Arron. She could not find him.

She did however find Titus, who had returned to the party after walking her home. He was purring, eyes closed, as the "jackalope" gave him a massage. Kat felt bad interrupting them, but the urgency in her mind inspired her to.

"Titus," she hissed, his eyes flicked open.

"Kat, babe? I thought you were all wrapped up snuggly in bed!"

"I came back," she said, "I need to talk to Arron."

Titus's brow creased. "You do move fast,' he said. The Jackalope Hare sniggered.

"No!" She snapped, a little TOO fast, "of course not!"

"What other reason would you have for paying him a visit at this early hour?"

"I saw something in the mirror," she replied.

The change in Titus was spectacular. He jumped to his feet, bowing hastily to his friend. "Sorry, I'll be back. You better come with me." He grabbed Kat by the arm and dragged her over into the shadows. "You asked the mirror about Arron?"

She nodded. "Yes, I found one of his hairs on my clothing and decided to try out the mirror."

"And it's bad?"

She nodded again. "Very bad."

"Then you should talk to him straight away then, shouldn't you?" He dragged her through the trees and towards the base of a spiral staircase, entwining around the tree. "Up there." He glanced back, "do you need my help kitty-Kat?"

"No," she gulped, "you go back to your friend - I'll be fine."

He squeezed her hand. "Take care my dear." He watched as she ascended the stairs, turning back halfway up to flash a smile his way.

What was she going to say? How could she explain? Well, she would have to try. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

After a long moment Arron answered, clad in nothing but black boxer shorts. He blushed somewhat noticeably as he realised whom was visiting at this late hour.

"Sorry to disturb you," Kat muttered, keeping her eyes on his bespectacled face. "I remember what you said, and I kinda did some investigation. I found out something rather bad, that I feel you should know about as soon as possible."

"What are you?" There was no anger, just curiosity and a little despair.

Kataryna shrugged, "I do not know." She chuckled, "maybe I'm an angel, I certainly have the wings. But anyway, you don't have to believe any of that, you just have to believe what I'm about to tell you."

He stepped aside, beckoning her in, "I guess you'd better come in then." He took the chance to wrap a long coat about his shoulders, for which Kataryna was much relieved. She was nervous about talking to him as was, without talking to him half-naked. He escorted her into a lounge room that was rather more sparse then her own, and contained only a couple of threadbare armchairs and a bookcase. Arron might own Evergreen Apartments, but he didn't look rich. He motioned for her to take a seat, but she didn't feel comfortable enough to do so.

"Anyhow, you want to know what I saw?" She asked. "Well, it looked pretty bad." She gulped, "you and Aranaya were walking towards an apartment - it wasn't this one, so maybe it was hers? Anyhow, it was plain someone had broken in, she darted off to call the police or something, and you went in. And something attacked you."

Arron narrowed his eyes, his pink pupils gleamed in the dilute light. "And this is the truth? What happened after that? Did anything happen to Aranaya?"

Kat shook her head. "I, I don't know, what I saw was terribly violent - I couldn't watch it." She paced a few steps, and turned. "Arron, you must promise me that you will not enter the apartment! I don't know what happened to you - but I think it killed you."

"When?"

"I, I don't know. I'm new to this and I'm not even sure I used the mirror properly. Is there anyone that is..." she paused, "that might want to hurt you?"

"Me?" he shook his head, smiling wryly, "apart from a couple of rival authors maybe, but no. It's Aranaya I'm frightened for." He said nothing further and Kataryna was not willing to ask. But if upon hearing of his own prophecised death he still expressed concern for the Aye-aye girl, his feelings for her must truly run deep.

"Aren't you worried yourself?"

"No, I'm not. I don't believe in a predetermined destiny. Our actions shape our destiny. What you saw is something that may happen. But then again, a lot of things might happen. I shall take care and I am sure no harm may come to me. Can you describe the attacker?"

She frowned. "I only saw the quickest glimpse of him. He was black of fur and red of eye with sharp, flashing teeth."

"Was he a Lemur?" Arron pressed.

"I don't know, maybe... his muzzle had that shape."

"Dario," Arron whispered. "Oh Ary, what is he going to do to you?"

*

She saw it - she saw it all. The delicate shape of the young lemur lady making her way carefully up the stairs, no doubt egged on by that feline of loose morals, that stood at the bottom. Why did she have to move so fast? Why did she have to do it in her neighbourhood? She watched as Arron answered the door, the two of them having a quiet conversation - and then he invitd her in.

Aranaya felt as though her heart were torn apart at that very instance. All this time she had thought he had feelings for her. All this time she had been slowly trying to work up the courage to talk with him about them. She had told him everything - she had told him all about Dario.

She shuddered, despairing and tired. Clearly her confiding in him had not helped. She had opened her soul to him and he was probably right now running his hands through her silver fur. Their dark muzzles were probably joining in a passionate kiss... Aranaya jumped to her feet. She could not stay here - could not torture herself like this! She must get away from it all. Suddenly the close walls of her small flat seemed confining. She slammed open the door and marched outside.

There were still a few couples about the fire, but she ignored them. I was her fault really, she realised - her fault that she had allowed hope to enter her life. Her fault that she had believed that she might be able to be loved, and love, again. Around the back of the property she walked, beneath the residential trees and into the woodland behind. It was dark here - the light of the moon could not permeate the thick foliage. She stomped through the leaf litter, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Over the babbling brook she jumped and through the clearing where moonlight bathed the ground in golden hues. She could see almost perfectly in the darkness, it was when she felt most confident and alive. But now her vision was clouded with tears. Further she walked, rage and bitterness warring with despair and all-consuming sorrow. He had never loved her. He would never love her.

She was a fool to think it could have been any other way.

She was quite deep into the woods now and she paused, listening to the sounds of the night and feeling them fill her senses - a slight rustling of a nirtrik going about its nocturnal wanderings, the quiet trill of a nightingale. Then, something else caught her senses. A smell - woodsmoke, perhaps? Was someone camping in the woods or had the smoke-scent just drifted across from the party? Aranaya was not particularly curious, but it was something to do to take her mind off Arron's disloyalty. But how could it be disloyalty if there had never been anything between them? Moving swiftly and silently, she picked her way towards the smoky aroma. Her nostrils flared, imbiding the scent of roasted meat. Someone was definitely camping here. She dropped to a crouch, peering through the trees. Yes, it was plainly a campsite, screened from the path by trees and some strategically placed logs - if it were not for the woodsmoke smell, she would not have noticed it at all. Had a vagrant taken up residence in the woods? Such things were not uncommon.

She moved closer as her eyes assured her that the campsite was indeed vacated. The fire still glowed faintly, and with a shudder Aranaya realised that whomever had been there could not have left long before. There was a sleeping bag and a couple of well-battered pillows, and something that struck terror in her heart.

Two months ago, Aranaya had featured in a newspaper article about local artists. There had been a picture of her in the article (Arron had urged her that it would be good for business). And that picture now lay, pinned crudely and framed, upon the pillow.

Her throat caught. There was only one Furson she could think of who would own such a keepsake. The one Furson she least wanted to ever see again. How had he found her?

And how long had he been living here, in her backyard?

Throat tightening with fear, she backed up slowly, unwilling to turn her back to the scene. Where was he?

Where was he?!

Her foot touched the path and she turned, preparing to make her hasty escape into the darkness. And as she turned, it was to find herself staring at a pair of red eyes, glinting with ill-concealed insanity.

"Hello Aranaya," Dario hissed. "Welcome home."

*

"Understand that I was told this in the utmost confidence, and the only reason I am telling you is because I believe you to be the key. You must not repeat my words to anyone - especially not that cheeky Feline friend of yours." Arron paced around the room, restless.

Kataryna nodded. Of course she could be trusted. Who would she tell?

"Dario," he continued, "was Aranaya's husband. He was, is, a sick, sick man. I don't know exactly how it happened, but something pushed him over the edge and into insanity." He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped, "he become convinced that Aranaya had," another gulp, Kat could see this was very hard for the albino, "had relations with a demon."

She started at this. If she were an angel, then surely there could be demons too, but... how dark and deep was this tale, this history? There were no words to be said, so she simply nodded.

Her reaction did not seem to deter Arron. "It grows worse. They had a son, his name was Raoul."

"Was?"

He nodded. "Dario believed Raoul was the result of these ... relations with the demon ... that he was evil." He paused for the longest time. "And so he killed him."

"What?" Kataryna started, "how, how could something like that happen? Why wasn't he put away?"

Arron shrugged, "I am not at liberty to discuss such things," he said. "As it was, I betray Aranaya by telling you even these facts. But I need to help her and for that I feel I need your help."

"So, this Dario is pursuing her? Why is he not locked up?" The complexities were too much for Kataryna to get her head around - no longer did the world seem safe if insane and murderous criminals could walk free.

"He was. In a maximum security Asylum. Somehow, about two months ago, he escaped. Nobody knows how - or at least nobody admits to knowing how. But he is free - and if what you saw was true, he is going to come after her. Perhaps he is already here." That thought sent a flutter of panic through his body. "Aranaya!" He shouted, grabbing his coat tight around his shoulders and fleeing from the house in such haste that he almost tumbled down the stairway. Kataryna had no choice but to run after him.

Two months, Kataryna thought, a long time when one is living with fear at their tail - a long time to learn to adapt, to perhaps believe that you are invulnerable and will not be found. When had the vision been set to happen? Today? Tomorrow? A week? A month? There was no way of knowing. If only she had better knowledge of the mirror's workings!

She relaxed as they reached Aranaya's door, well obscured by leafy branches. It was familiar, yes, the same door she had seen in the mirror. But it was firmly shut. Arron fumbled with the handle, reassuring himself that it was locked, and then knocked loudly. "Aranaya!"

They both waited in the darkness, ears craning for sounds of motion. Nothing - nothing but the faint murmurings from those still partying, and the faint strains of atmospheric music. It was as quiet as a grave inside the house.

A grave...

"Aranaya!" Arron was becoming almost frantic now, thumping on the door. Still no answer. After he had made enough racket to awaken the dead - and certainly to still the voices around the campsite, his body visibly sagged. "Either she's not here," he said, "or she's ignoring me. I hope I have not offended her somehow."

Kataryna put her hand on his thin, pale shoulder. Even beneath the cloak he was bony. "I'm sure you can't have done that. Maybe she's asleep?"

He chuckled without humour. "Noone sleeps that deeply, especially not someone who is haunted by their psychotic ex-husband. Aranaya is a creature of the night. Perhaps she went for a walk?"

Kat frowned, "when she knows her husband is on the loose? She'd have to be fairly foolish to go wandering in the dark with a psychopath like him after her."

"She is not foolish," Arron growled, then sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "She is more comfortable at night then during the day. And she has forced herself through great tragedy and sorrow. I would ask you not to speak cruelly of her."

Kat felt abashed. "My apologies, I spoke out of turn. But you're the landlord - surely you have a key?"

The albino's expression would have been comical, had it not been for the atmosphere. He hit his forehead with the heel of his hands. "Of course, stupid," he muttered, and fossicked in his pocket, unearthing a large bunch of various door-opening implements. "I keep them in case of emergencies," he replied, as though feeling he had to excuse himself. "But I've never used hers before. That would be like invading her privacy." He fumbled through the bundle, eventually unearthing one that looked no different from the others, and unlocked the door.

Expectantly the two of them entered the dark premises. All seemed calm, all seemed ordinary. Aranaya's flat was a simple studio apartment, with attached kitchen and bathroom, multi-levelled. Before the window sat an easel, and the canvas stretched across it made Kataryna stop and stare.

It was a mess - great rents marred the surface, and the paint appeared to have been thrown on in a frenzy. If this was Aranaya's talent in art, it had a certain, very, abstract feel.

Arron, on the other paw, expressed an entirely different reaction. He froze, staring at it, his jaw dropping and his face contorting into a combination of fear and despair.

"Aranaya," he whispered, "what is it? What has happened?" He turned wild pink eyes to Kataryna. "Come," he shouted, grief rendering his voice asunder, "we must find her. Lords only knows what has happened to her."

And seizing Kataryna by the arm, he practically dragged her from the house.

*

"Dario." Her lips formed the words but her mouth was too dry to speak them.

"Ah yes," he stepped closer and she could see him now. Still the same old Dario, but not. His mane, once worn long had been cropped short during his incarceration and now stuck out in erratic spikes. His eyes, which had once gleamed with love and hope now gleamed with sadism and bitterness. "Have you come to plead forgiveness, Aranaya? To throw yourself at my feet and beg that I help you back to the light?" he chuckled, but it was completely devoid of humour. "I failed to purge the demon from your body, my love" (and he spoke the word with nothing but disdain) "you are tainted, befouled. There can be no forgiveness for one who fornicates with the devil."

Aranaya tok a step backwards. Perhaps if she were swift she could leap into the trees and be away. She was still agile, still fit. But there was something mesmerizing in those eyes... He steped around her and behind her, his hand closed firm about her wrist, the other entwining her waist. She could feel him push up against her, his heat seering her even through her clothing. It burned with horrors she had long afore banished. "You killed my son," she growled. "Our son. It is you that have been tainted."

He spun her around violently so that she could not fail but stare into those alien red eyes. She blanched at the lack of compassion she saw there. He would give her no mercy. He could not be swayed. He believed with a passion that went beyond anything she had ever known. You could not fight belief like that.

With a start she realised she'd have to kill him. Could she do it?

He had killed Raoul - murdered her son.

Of course she could.

His body pressed against her, and terrifyingly she could feel his arousal. She cringed away, but he held her firm, there was nowhere to go. His grip was as strong as iron - over their six years of marriage he had sculptured his body into a machine - powerful and muscular.

"Ah, Aranaya," he sighed, and she could see lust in his eyes now, creeping in around the wrath. "I have missed your warmth, since you took your demon-lover."

"There never was another," she said very quietly. "Raoul was your son - why couldn't you see that?" Tears streamed down her face and she felt very helpless and very lost.

He picked her up as though she weighed little more then a feather - even though she would never consider herself light. She struggled, kicking and clawing with the strength of one who has but two options - escape or face a fate worse then death. Somehow she managed to stab her special, elongated middle finger into his lower eyelid. He yowled, staggering a little and she managed to scramble free - and run.

She ran as she had never run before. Tree branches scraped her legs and grasped at her hair and fur. Leaves crackled beneath her feet. Her breath rasped and her heart pounded - she was not as fit as she should be and not as fit as she would rather like to be right now. She stumbled, her foot slotting neatly beneath a fallen branch, near invisible in her hasty flight. There was precious little time to catch her balance, and she fell into the leaf mulch - heart pounding loud enough to wake the dead.

Pain speared through her ankle, now twisted nastily. Tears of pain dampened her eyes, banishing the tears of fear. She must get up - she must run. Sanctuary lay outside the woods.

She could hear him now, hear the branches crackling beneath him, the swish of his tail slicing through the air. He was coming through the trees! He was coming through the trees to get her! Her hands clawed impotently in the leaf mulch, struggling to pull her aloft. For a moment she drew herself into a half-crouch and then he crashed into her. She fell again, the weight of Dario pushing her into the ground.

"Bitch," he growled. His hands fumbled at her clothing and she knew he was going to rape her, just knew it. He would do it and he wouldn't care - because she was not a furson anymore - she had been tainted by the demons and he could do anything to her, anything at all, and expect no retribution. Her hand stretched in front of her, grasped a handful of leaf litter and she flung it in his face. He jerked a little, reflexively, allowing her half a chance to struggle out. It was not enough. A moment later one hand crashed onto her shoulder and the other onto the back of her head, pushing it into the leaf mulch. Her face plunged deep into the mulch, filling her mouth and nose with foetid leaf litter. She choked, but could not get oxygen.

Then she heard it - footsteps a distance away, and sounding very distant indeed, two voices calling her name. Arron... She struggled, but every breath filled her lungs with leaf mould instead of oxygen. Dario say very still and tense upon her, his muscles clamped tightly about her waist. He pushed her deeper into the leaf mould, in the hope of muffling her completely.

"Aranaya! Where are you? Was that an edge of despair she caught in his voice? No longer was she distressed of his disloyalty - now only one thought was on her mind.

Survival.

Mastering the last of her strength, she forced her head back. She had not hte oxygen to scream, but she managed to make a noise - a mere murmur of a whisper. It was enough.

Dario's entire body jerked, "I see the demon freak has not abandoned you," he growled, close to her ear. "How valiant." And then he rolled off her and was swallowed by darkness.

For a moment she lay there, unable to believe her narrow escape. After a time she managed to crawl into a crouch, in time to see Arron and the winged lemur - Kataryna, that was her name, wasn't it? enter view. It was then she saw, the dark shadow dropping behind them. She was too late to shout a warning, too late to do anything but watch in terror...

Dario dropped from the trees behind the skinny albino, swinging a branch as though it were a club. Arron crumpled like a broken doll, blood blossoming on his temple.

And then the strangest thing happened. The Lemur's wings began to glow, and she rose them, spreading them lightly. Dario fell back, stumbling on the logs that littered the ground. And then really did turn and flee.

Neither of the two girls stood to watch him leave, instead both of them dropped to their knees at Arron's side. He lay sprawled in the leaf-mould, so pale and fragile. Blood trickled down his head, staining his white fur a vivid scarlet and pooling in the leaf litter. He did not stir.

Kataryna's eyes met Aranaya's, and the Aye-aye was startled to notice that they glowed a golden-white. "Get help!" She screeched. Aranaya hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to leave him - why couldn't she stay there and the man-thief fetch help?

"I can't," she whispered, feeling very pitiful and very small. "My ankle..." Pain spasmed through her leg.

The Lemur did not question, simply nodded, running her long dark fingers across Arron's body one last time. This time she was sure she did not imagine a brief, flickering white glow.

"Be careful," Kataryna whispered, "he may come back."

Aranaya nodded mutely. How had everything gone so bad, so fast?

Kataryna ran. The tree branches clawed at her face and roots snagged beneath her feet, but still she ran as the breath seared in her throat. If only she could fly! She could be there so much faster. Her hands still tingled faintly and she wondered what had happened when she had touched Arron. Would he be alright? What had she done? She had changed fate, clearly, but how? And was it for the better?

She was running so fast and so oblivious to anything but the panic in her heart that she did not see Titus until she almost fell over him.

"Steady babe," he yowled, leaping out of her way. "What's got your tail in a twist?"

"Dario ... woods ..." she panted, the words struggling with her breath. "Arron ... hurt... need help!"

Titus was swift enough to catch the urgency, even if he had been consuming alcohol. "Terry!" He yowled, "Oliver! We need help!" The Jackalope and Ocelot padded over. "Now babe," he said, "catch your breath and tell us what's going on."

* * *

Every sound in the darkness brought with it fears. Aranaya crouched next to Arron, reassuring herself that he still breathed, that his heart still bet strong in his thin chest. She took her jacket off, bunching it beneath his head, staring at his face in the dark. Blood trickled down the side of his face where the branch had grazed the skin. Beneath his pale fur his head was starting to swell. His eyes were closed - but for the blood he could merely be asleep.

"Arron," she whispered, caressing his pale cheek with one hand. She dared not raise her voice - what if Dario was out there, had waited for Kataryna to leave? Why was he scared of the winged lemur anyway? It wasn't as if she was an angel or something.

Was it?

She shuddered, glancing about the clearing once more, but nothing stirred in the darkness and the gloom, nothing moved. "Arron," she whispered, "you can't die. You can't! Please, wake up." There was urgency there and the urgency brought with it tears. She swiped them away angrily, afraid to give herself into despair. Kataryna would be back, and they would carry Arron to safety. He was only unconscious, surely he would awaken.

Surely he hadn't slipped into a coma?

She could not allow herself to think like that, she could not! He had to live - had to.... Hr shoulders shook as a sob escaped. "Please," she begged, but he made no sign of movement, no twitching of the eyes. "Please wake up," she whispered, "please, I love you." The words, words she had not admitted to him, not even to herself, slipped out as though this were a trite romantic movie. The tears sprung to her eyes the moment she spoke them. She was a fool, a stupid romantic fool, if she thought the uttering of three words, three meaningless (or were they?) words could awaken someone from a coma. And indeed, Arron showed no reaction, there was nothing but the gentle rise and fall of his stomach to even show he still lived.

And was that a footfall? Or the sound of some nocturnal animal going about its wanderings?

She crouched lower, protecting Arron's fallen form with her body, bitterly aware how vulnerable she was out here, with a dangerous psychopath roaming the woods. "Don't worry," she whispered to Arron, "they'll come and help us soon."

But would they be soon enough?

It felt like an eternity, but in truth only a short while had passed, when she heard a sound that was definitely footsteps. Not Dario though, she reassured herself, no, it couldn't be Dario - Dario travelled from tree to tree, silently. This was something else.

Help?

Her body tensed. If it was Dario - or something worse, what could she do about it? Abandon Arron to his fate? No, she could never do that! She loved him.. didn't she? No, Aranaya did not trust love. Admired, respected, treasured, but not love. Never love. Out there in the woods was someone she had once believed she loved.

And now the mere thought of him sent shivers down her spine.

"Aranaya?" A voice called through the darkness. Kataryna? "It's dark - where are you?"

"Here," she called back, kissing Arron gently on the muzzle. It might be the only chance she'd ever get to do it, after all. "You'll be fine," she whispered to him.

"I see her!" Another voice called, a male voice, and a moment later she made out the shape of four figures in the darkness - Kataryna, with her wings, was the most imposing, behind her came Titus, Oliver (everyone knew Oliver) and a hare she didn't recognise. In an instance they were beside her and Oliver was helping her to her feet (nearly having to drag her away from Arron) whilst the others lifted Arron onto what appeared to be a detached door.

"You'll be alright," Oliver muttered, patting her shoulder with too much familiarity. "We'll see you safe."

Aranaya somehow doubted that.

The strange procession made their way thorugh the forest. Aranaya quickly managed to rein in her sobbing, regaining some sort of composure. It would not do to make a scene. After what felt like an eternity, they left the forest behind them, coming back upon Evergreen Terraces.

"Which apartment is his?" Terry asked, "we should put him on his bed and call for the doctor, right?"

Titus shook his head. "No," he said, "we're taking him to my place."

Aranaya stared at him, bewilderment on her face. "Why? You want to risk hurting him further by taking him all that way?" Her resentment was plain.

"We have to," Titus said, in a firm voice that invited no argument. "I'm afraid it has begun."

"What has begun?" Kataryna spoke up for the first time, there was a slight urgency, a slight edge of panic, to her voice.

Titus smiled, but it was a small, sad smile. "The beginning of the end."

"Care to elaborate?" Aranaya rose an eyebrow. She was fed up with this feline and his opinion. She wanted nothing more then to lie Arron on his bed, cover him with blankets and wait until he woke up.

The feline shook his head. "Not here, not now - the time will come for answers later. There is danger all around us here. At my place we will be safe." And with that he turned his attention away from all of them, and began along the sidewalk.

The early rays of dawn streaked the horizon in dull gold, and the early morning avian symphonies surrounded them. Usually a time for rejoicing in the birth of a new day, now Aranaya found it hard to rejoice in anything. Arron was not stirring, that blasted feline was talking in riddles, and memories of Dario haunted her. And here they were, taking Arron into the den belonging to that Lemur hussy. As they passed number 42, Aranaya's hackles rose. She recognised that house for what it was - it was well-known in reputation and preserved in song.

"You do know you live next to a house of ill repute?" She ventured.

Titus shrugged. "They're moderately quiet and they don't have wild parties," he said, "I can't object."

Aranaya shrugged in turn, her attention turning back to Arron. What if he never woke up? What if when he did, he was changed, damaged? No - she must not think like that.

She must not.

"How exactly is your place safer then his?" She asked, as they picked their way through the unruly garden. Terry stumbled, jerking the stretcher, and Arron groaned, making her forget everything for a moment. She placed one hand on his shoulder.

"Arron?"

His eyes did not open, but his lips moved. "Darkness comes crashing down," he mouthed, his voice little more then a whisper. "The tide will carry us all away."

"Arron?" She ran her hand up his cheek, but he was lost back within himself.

"Quickly," Titus urged. "The Nocturne are coming."

"What is the Nocturne and what the Hades is going on?" Aranaya was growing increasingly frustrated.

"This is not the time," Titus replied, the door swinging open at his touch. "My house is warded, no evil can ever penetrate it nor destroy it. We'll be safe there."

Aranaya chanced a glance over her shoulder and into the shadows. Was that a glimpse of black fur she caught? Darting behind the brothel next door? She shuddered and hastened inside, as Terry carried Arron upstairs, cradled in his arms like a baby.

They placed the albino Lemur on Kataryna's bed, but Aranaya deigned not to complain. She sensed things were out of her paws now. She perched beside him, running her hand across his cheek. After speaking outside, he now showed no signs whatsoever of regaining consciousness. She cast her gaze around the bedroom. It was, to put things lightly, luxurious. The carpet was thick, the bed a massive four-poster affair from a long lost era. So different from her living quarters. The thing that caught her attention the most, however, was the enormous carved wooden cabinet against one wall. There was something almost ominous about it and the way the carvings stared out at her. She could not sleep in the same room as that monstrosity - it was like some sort of slumbering predator, just awaiting its chance to strike.

"So Titus," she said, "you promised us some answers."

"Would anyone like a cup of something?" Titus offered, ignoring her rather rudely. "Tea, coffee? Hot chocolate?"

Aranaya growled. "I want answers. My friend is lying here comatose and you want to make hot drinks?"

Titus dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "I find everything is much better with a hot drink in your stomach," he said, " and believe me, you'll thank me for it later." He glanced at Terry and Oliver, both standing there looking confused and bewildered. "You two are not a part of this by design," he said, "if you wish to go home now, he won't hurt you. The time is not right for that."

The Hare and the Ocelot exchanged a long glance. "We want to stay," they decided. "We want to know what the hell is going on."

"That's nice," Titus said, "but some things are not for you to know - go home, and be thankful in your ignorance." He paused, watching their reaction, or lack there of. "Go!" He waved his hands, "go home." An edge of urgency crept into his usually calm demeanour.

"Ok, okay," Oliver muttered, "you don't need to tell me thrice." He cast a very dirty look at the Feline. "Come on Terry, let's leave these sad saps to their business."

Terry's farewell gaze was filled with disappointment and an edge of betrayal. Titus broke the gaze first, staring at his hands.

"Believe me,' he muttered, more to convince himself then anything. "You'll thank me later. You'll thank me later..." He closed the door tightly behind them.

"You have heard of the Nocturne?" He asked, turning to face the bed.

At this Kataryna had to confess her ignorance. "I don't think so," she said.

"I have," Aranaya sounded shaky. She had not moved from beside Arron, one hand tracing his pale face. There was so much emotion, so much compassion there, and so much more. Kataryna wondered why nothing had ever come from it - they both cared so much for one another - why could neither have seen it? After a moment, Aranaya continued, "they are the Servants of Darkness as spoken in the great Volumes of Amvaleis. What do they have to do with anything?"

"They are indeed the Servants of Darkness," Titus explained, his usually cheerful face drawn into a frown. "Evil corrupts their very core."

"But they are myth!" Aranaya exclaimed.

"They are myth no longer, the foul spawn of Valiklaw once more walk the earth."

Both females gasped as he uttered the name - Valiklawe, the dark demon that had struck the blight upon their world. The dark demon who called the Deadlands his home. His name was feared - but he was not really real.

Was he? She shuddered. Anubis had been real, very real. And if Anubis were real, then why not the others? "But if forces of Darkness roam the earth, why do not forces of the Light also?"

Titus caught her gaze in his and fire burned in his eyes even as her mind pieced things together. Her gaze dropped to the floor and her slight shoulders shook as she fought for composure. He needed no words to tell her what she knew in her heart.

"Why us?" The words came out as a quiver. "How can we possibly act out the will of Elysia?"

Titus could only shake his head and turn away. "I do not know how such things are decided," he said, "I only know that they are. I am the Keeper - for years I have kept the Door safe and the secret close. For years I have waited." He sighed. "I hoped the day would never come."

Aranaya had been sitting very quietly, but now she spoke, "and what part do I play in this? What part does Arron?" There was an edge of hysteria to her voice, "how dare they use us as their tools!"

"I cannot answer that," Titus admitted, "I know only whom I was told to seek - the Seven. And you two number amongst them."

"What of Arron? Does this make him nothing? Someone that can be damaged and cast aside?" The fury was rising in her, she looked almost ready to lash out at the Feline.

"He is not one of the Seven," Titus explained, "but his role is of no little import. He is the Scribe."

"Scribe?" Kataryna was more curious then distressed. After all, she had died and been resurrected. After that being told demons roamed the mortal realms and you were amongst those that had to stop them, seemed almost expected.

"The one who records the proceedings for the knowledge of the future - so that generations to come will know how to prevent such tragedy coming again." He grinned wryly, "if, of course, there is a future."

"So he can't die then?" Faint hope was creeping into the Aye-aye's tone. She seemed little interested in this talk of the Nocturne - her interests lay purely in the direction of her injured friend.

Titus's shoulders slumped. "That I do not know," he replied. "Fate does not decree what happens next, we must define destiny. Dario is of the Nocturne, the silent killer. There will be others, and there is worse to come."

"He wasn't always like that," Aranaya whispered, "once he was the most gentle, most kind and strong and caring husband one could ever dream of."

"And then Valiklawe sank his talons into him, corrupting him with the poison within. Dario was chosen, just as you were Aranaya, to fulfil the Prophecy."

"Prophecy?" Aranaya stared at the Feline. Her eyes burned with the despair of learning that everything she did, everything that happened, was pre-ordained. It brought with it great waves of helplessness. Kataryna could sympathise - ever since she had found herself lying in the woodlands on a bed of leaves, she had felt as though her life were nought a fairground ride.

Titus met the Aye-aye's gaze without faltering. "Yes," he said, "that from the greatest darkness the most powerful light would be born."

Aranaya's eyes glistened in the faint lamplight. "Raoul," she whispered, "poor sweet Raoul... Was that why he had to die?" She sobbed onto Arron's chest, her grief freeing her of any inhibitations she may have had at behaving thusly in company.

Titus slid onto the bed beside her, placing his paw on her shoulder. She shrugged it away and turned on him, ears flattening in her rage.

"So what are we then? What was Raoul? Playthings - that's all we are! Pawns in some game that we cannot fathom. It's not fair - it's not fair that he had to die because for some gods-only known reason he was some saviour. Some martyr. Well, I'm not going to play their game - I'm not! They killed my son. And Elysia can fall to the Nocturne for all I care!"

The tree seemed to shudder with her words, and Kataryna fell against the wall in panic. She could sympathise with the Aye-aye, Aranaya had lost everything - all that Kataryna had lost had been her own stupid fault, her love had been something she had been willing to sacrifice for escape. She could not help but smile inside at the irony of that one! This might be a second chance for her - but it was hardly such for the artist.

Titus too drew back, glancing helplessly at Kataryna. He beckoned her, coaxing her from the room.

Together they withdrew, leaving Aranaya to cope with her grief the way she was used to it - alone. Save, of course, for the prone form of Arron, still lying unconscious on the bed.