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 warm embrace enfolded her and she lost herself to the touch and the music. It was almost as though the two of them had been set aside from reality and into a beautiful, magical world of their own. The music washed over them.

"…I wish for this night time to last for a life time…."

Daniel ran one hand down her cheek, nuzzling her face and flicking the tip of her nose with his tongue. "I love you," he whispered.

And then the blood began to flow, trickling down her wrists so that her arms became as bloody gloves. Her blood smeared all over Daniel's fur but he appeared not to notice, pressing his forehead against hers so that they gazed into one another's eyes.

And then she was falling, falling into those eyes through a spectrum of colours from which distorted faces leered and sneered. And then Daniel's hands were reaching out to her and he grasped her about the wrist. Together the two of them were consumed by the rainbow shadows.

Kataryna woke with a start to find she lay in her hammock. Her arms and legs were wrapped tightly in bandages. As soon as she opened her eyes, someone pressed something against her lips. Warm liquid trickled out and she spluttered in startlement, it trickling down her front.

"Don't waste it," said a voice that sounded as though it were muffled by water, "it's nettle tea. Best thing for a body weakened by blood loss."

"Is it?" Her words sounded too thick for her lips.

"And the second best thing is rest," Aranaya replied. "We were worried about you for a moment there." There was genuine concern in her voice. "Those roaches were certainly nasty."

The events of earlier sprung to mind in a confusing jumble. Tawny had said many hurtful things, most of which were irrelevant or past. But there were two in particular she remembered.

"My funeral was a year ago?"

"Your what?" Aranaya frowned.

"My funeral," Kataryna answered, quiet calmly, "I, um… died on the 28th Octover in the year of the Crippled Grasshopper. It's a long story."

"It's now the 3rd Novremver in the year of the Gibbering Hamster," Aranaya replied, keeping her composure, "the Grasshopper was a full turn of the seasons ago."

"I must have been dead longer then I thought." She wondered how this would have affected Daniel. The image in the mirror must have been a reflection of the past. Had he recovered from her suicide yet? Maybe taken another lover? She shuddered at the thought and tried to push it from her mind.

"Anyway, drink your nettle." She tilted the cup once more and this time Kataryna managed to drink down some of the bitter liquid.

"I need to know," Kataryna continued, "is there a concert or something on tonight? Only, Tawny spoke of it and I think she and her friends are going to be up to some sort of mischief."

"Titus was looking through the papers earlier, I'm sure he'll have sorted it out. Now girl, get some rest, you look like death warmed up."

For some reason, Kataryna found this comment extremely amusing and could not hold back the laughter. It burbled and bounced about in her head and left her feeling quite giddy. "Death warmed up," she gasped and slurred, "I'm dead you know."

"Then why are you still bleeding?" Aranaya commented wryly and left.

*

The lounge room looked like someone had tried to carpet it with newspaper. In one corner crouched Titus, sporting almost as many bandages as Kataryna and armed with a pair of scissors. He barely glanced up as Aranaya entered.

"How's our patient, Poppet?" He asked.

"Awake," Aranaya replied, seemingly unfazed by the pet name, "did she really die?"

"Of course, How do you think she got the wings?" He paused. "Only I wouldn't ask her too much about it if I were you - it's a bit of a touchy subject. Aha, I've found our sucker." He stabbed the scissors into the page. "Aeternity reunion concert, starts tonight at sunset. They're a Light Metal band," he added.

"Light Metal? They are religious?"

"Indeed, and just the sort of thing I'm sure Tawny and her lot would love to cause trouble with. Want to come and check it out with me?"

"I'm not really into that kind of music," she muttered.

"I'm not really into dying horribly," Titus replied, "but neither do I think most of the audience will be and well, I figure if we're going to do anything, we should try and stop it."

"If she actually had anything that malicious planned, why did she tell you?" Aranaya queried.

"From what I understand about Tawny, pain amuses her and she'd love us to be there to watch the excreta hit the fan, so to speak."

Aranaya did not look convinced. "Well then,' she said with a shrug, "I guess we go to the concert."

"I'll get the tickets," Titus replied, sounding gleefully excited.

*

"I want to come too," Kataryna declared, she struggled into a sitting position and felt her head flood with clouds. Aeternity had been one of her favourite bands, once, and she didn't want to let a chance to see them in concert slip by.

"You can't," Aranaya replied, "you're sick. Besides, the wings would give you away."

The Lemur girl sighed. She knew her Aye-aye friend was right, she knew she could barely stand, but that didn't change things. "Well can you at least get me a new book? I've finished this one."

*

How Titus got into the stadium, Aranaya would never know. He had drawn the security guard to one side and had a quiet conversation in hushed whispers, that eventually resulted in the two of them being admitted. Aranaya had to admire that.

The stadium was not a particularly big one, little more then an enclosed field, really. The outside wall had been shaped from naturally occurring birch trees, which were twisted into not only a nearly impenetrable wall, but also provided the spectators with handy perches. Tonight, however, the centre of focus was not the playing field, but a large stage that had been assembled at one end.

Currently the band was warming up and Aranaya cringed at the discordant cords. She hoped Aeternity were more melodic when they actually performed, but somehow doubted it. They appeared to have one magi-powered guitar, a harp, a piano and a drumkit. How would such a bizarre medley of instruments would sound together. At that thought, she had to jog to catch up with Titus, who was approaching the stage.

Huge speakers had been rigged up across the metal framework of the stage and from these hung a male of small proportions and enormous eyes. He was hanging upside down from his feet, a screwdriver in one hand, and squinting at some of the cabling as though it had insulted him. Even then, the two of them may not have noticed him, had he not been talking to himself in a low murmur.

"…First we put the screw in here to enable the capacitater, oh yes we do, then we wind this wire around here. Oopsy, dropped it," he plucked at the wire with his long fingers, "thenna we grab a hold of it once more…" Aranaya might have watched him for a while, both puzzled and amused by his behaviour, had at that point someone not hailed them.

"Titus!" A lean Lycaon jumped from the stage and strode towards them. He was quite handsome, Aranaya noted, if one went for the conceited look. This, she realised, must be Julius Lowe, vocalist and harpist of Aeternity. The rigours of age showed only slightly on his face - the hair of his temples was tipped with grey as were some of his whiskers, but he still seemed hale and hearty. In the true fashion of rock singers everywhere, he was wearing a much faded "Aeternity" shirt, tattered jeans and a leather jacket.

"Hey Jul," Titus greeted him with a clasping of hands that looked fit to degenerate into a hand wrestling, until the Feline slapped him on the back. "How's it hanging?"

Julian sniggered, "more then it used to,' he replied. Aranaya could only assume there was something smutty in that remark. "How ya been, lad? How's Leif? Still playing the harp?"

At the mention of the name, Titus's face seemed to crumple in on itself. "I don't know," he replied, "I doubt it somehow. Last time I was permitted," and there was real bitterness there, "to see him, he could barely string two words together.' He paused and shrugged, "head injury."

The Lycaon frontman didn't seem to know what to say to that, but his expression was that of someone who has well and truly put his foot in it. "I'm sorry," he muttered after a long pause. "You two were so perfect together."

"Tell me about it," Titus replied, and that seemed to be the end of that conversation. At that moment Titus seemed to remember Aranaya. His expression brightened a little, "anyhow Jul, I better introduce you to my lovely female companion" (Julius rose an eyebrow at that), "Aranaya D'Burten. She's an artist," he added.

The Lycaon frontman took her hand in his and brought it gently to his lips, pressing his muzzle against her knuckles. "Charmed I am, madam," he replied. Aranaya blushed furiously and scowled at Titus, who was trying not to laugh without a great deal of success. He gave a little bow and a flourish and stood upright again. "So what brings you fine folks to my concert so early?"

"We're checking out your security," Titus replied, "we have reason to suspect there may be foul play afoot tonight."

Julius stared at him askew, "but I've haven't seen a chicken," he commented, completely straight-faced.

"I'm not joking," Titus replied.

Julius frowned at him. "And who would dare cause mischief at such an event as this?" He queried.

"The Nocturne," Titus replied. There was a long, silent pause.

And then Julius spluttered with laughter. "The Nocturne my boy? You've been reading too many of those dark faerie tales!" He cast an accusing glance at Aranaya, as though she were somehow corrupting him. She resented the implication.

"Don't believe us then," she snapped in response, "you'll see."

"Morbid aren't we," he replied, she did not like his tone of voice.

Titus stepped in before the two of them could begin bickering. "Whether you believe it or not," he said, "it is true. The Nocturne are real and they are planning some sort of attack on your performance tonight."

"And I suppose you two are going to stop them?" He goaded, "a gay kitty and a…" he faltered here, but his eyes told everything his voice would not say.

"Firstly," Titus replied, "I am not gay, I am just open-minded and secondly, do not insult my companion." His voice was dangerously calm. "We could just abandon you to your fate, couldn't we just?"

"Oh don't do that," Julius seemed offended at the thought, "stay and enjoy the show. If nothing else, it's been a long time, Titus."

"A long time since what?" Titus mocked.

"A long time since last we enjoyed each other's company."

"But not so long since last we met," Titus added pointedly.

"No, not so long." Silence reigned for a while, both lost deep in thought, then Julius clapped his hands together. "You will stay," he said. It was not really a question.

"We will stay," Aranaya replied, wondering how she was going to cope. She was not a fan of Metal music - Light or not.

"Good then," Julius patted Titus on his back enthusiastically enough to make the Feline stumble. "I'll see you at the after party." Reaching into his pocket he drew out two collars, imprinted with "Aeternity" and slapped them both into Titus's hand. "Put these on and they'll let you backstage," he explained, glancing at Titus's throat. "Of course, you may have to take that pretty little blue number off."

Titus merely gave him a long, hard gaze, such as felines have perfected over the centuries, and strapped the collar on loosely above his current one so that it partly obscured it. The Lycaon laughed again, and then turned and pranced off, raising one hand in a farewell salute, he returned to the stage.

"That," Titus grinned at Aranaya, "was the biggest prat I have ever met."

Even Aranaya could not help but laugh at that one. "Still, we're in," she replied. "So time to look for anything suspicious?"

Titus nodded. "Although around here that could be quite a mission."

*

The black trees rose like huge monoliths, their lower halves devoid of foliage and coated in a sticky black substance. The air hung heavy with the rank aroma of rot and decay. In the midst of this forest Kataryna stood, staring up at the violet sky, obscured by twisted tree branches. She felt very lost, lost and alone.

There was a rustling in the branches above and she startled at a flash of delicate pink and powder blue, too fast for the eye to track. She crossed her arms against her chest, as though that would protect her from the elements.

The flash came again and she blinked and whirled around and then something dropped to the ground behind her. She turned again, to find a strange cat-like creature gazing up at her.

Lost in the woods, little girl, it said, although its words were not words and its eyes had no pupils. It darted around behind her again, a pink and blue blur.

"Not lost," she replied, turning once more to face it, "just a little… misplaced."

Lost, the creature cackled, zapping around her again and back again, all alone and far from home. You know not what dark paths you must tread, little girl. The trees shook and groaned and dark green leaves floated down, clinging to her hair and clothing.

"Very well then," she replied, "who are you and where am I?"

I am he who'll chase your shadows and torment your dreams, was the beast's enigmatic reply, and you are in the Land of the Lost, where good is gone and beauty rots.

"I'm dreaming," she replied, realisation suddenly hitting her, although how was it she could smell the rot? Dreams had no scent.

Dreaming? Life's a dream, little girl - life's a scream. And when you scream in your dream then nothing's ever as it seems. He continued to dart around her so that she could face him for no more then a second or three. His constant motion was starting to make her quite giddy. You didn't get giddy in dreams, did you just? She was beginning to feel frankly quite confused with his riddles and rhymes and the way he danced around the truth.

"What are you called?" She asked.

Some call me Grim, others call me Grimalkyn, I am he who never sleeps but in your dreams, I fly and leap. And with that he leapt away. With nothing more obvious to do, Kataryna followed him. It was not easy, yet not as difficult as she might have originally suspected. Every time she was just about to lose him altogether she'd catch a quick glimpse of blue or pink. It did not take a huge leap of cognition to determine that perhaps he was guiding her.

She had never heard of a Grimalkyn before, but his eyes seemed oddly familiar, the glowing blue, almond-shaped eyes. She had seen them before - but where? The trees clustered together further and dark tendrils hung from them, clutching at her, snaring her as she passed. Their touch chilled through her clothing and fur as she weaved her way between them. The footing became treacherous and the ground slipped and slid beneath her feet so that it took most of her concentration to stay upright. Several times she was sure the Grimalkin had escaped her view entirely, but just as she was about to give up in despair, he would appear again, a flicker of tail here, a glint of those piercing blue eyes there.

The ground turned to mulch beneath her feet and she sunk up to her ankles with every step. She did not look down, but focused her eyes before her. Something told her that if she were to look down, she would regret it. The vines dangled about her, caressing her with every step. There was no way to navigate around them any more. A great weariness settled in her bones and her head seemed to be filled with feathers. She staggered, and almost tumbled backwards when the Grimalkyn's face materialised before her, the glowing blue eyes boring into her own.

We're here, he said.

"Where?" She wanted to say, but the words evaded her. She looked up, over the feline creature's head and saw a Door. It was unusual in that it was not anchored to anything, and whilst it was touching the ground (something for which she was rather grateful) there was nothing around it but a few stunted and deformed trees several feet away.

When you chase the rainbow? The Grimalkyn said, you meet your fate - so come on little girl, will you open the gate?

Kataryna stepped towards it. There was something familiar about it to, the slightly scraped paintwork, the small, shiny lock, the round knob. Yes, she had seen this door before.

She reached out, clasping the door handle, and turned it. Her expression of apprehension transformed to one of intense puzzlement as a broomstick toppled out, slowly, almost majestically, and she tumbled upon the carpeted floor. From her supine position, she gazed to meet two slowly fading blue eyes.

You must come for him. The voice was so faint, she could have imagined it.

He needs you.

And then nausea overwhelmed her and her head sunk to the ground.

*

"…And if you try that once again, I shall personally kick your tails from here to Windhavyn," the Wolverine bouncer growled. "Don't think that just because you're one of Julius's friends that gives you licence to incite trouble." He released his grip on the collars about both Titus and Aranaya's necks and pushed them forward in one motion, so that they were forced to stagger to keep their balance.

Titus returned the glare. "Well, don't say we didn't warn you."

The Wolverine grunted, shrugged and departed, leaving behind him the two companions to stare at each other in complete loss.

"Well, it appears that trying to send the punters away didn't help," Titus said after a moment.

"Maybe it was a red herring," Aranaya added. "We've talked to every one of the crew and none have seen Dario or Tawny or anything out of the ordinary. Nor will any of them take us seriously."

"I've lost count of the amount of times I've heard 'the show must go'," Titus sighed, "maybe they're right. But what to do now?"

"I would rather like to get out of here," Aranaya admitted, "but maybe we should do one final circuit, just in case either of them have snuck in behind us."

"'Plan, I'll meet you back at the gate shortly." And the two parted company once more.

The stadium was filling up fast and Aranaya could see neither hide nor hair of Tawny nor Dario. She was starting to feel more then a little shaky. The Aye-aye had never been particularly fond of crowds - or people really, and now they were surrounding her. Occasionally one of them would jostle past her. A Serval with a sweeping Mohawk, dyed in purple and pink glared at her, and she realised she'd been staring at him. Or was it a her? What had happened to the world when it was all but impossible to tell the difference in gender? Aranaya did not consider herself old, but around some of these young Furrae, she felt particularly archaic. Soon she would meet Titus by the gate again to report the findings and then she could make her escape. It was all in vain - Tawny had clearly sent them off on a wild goose chase.

The sun stained the horizon a bloody red, streaked with violet and gold and from the stage came the first strains of music.

Instantly, the mingling crowds quietened and all turned as one to stare at the darkened stage. Slowly one light flickered and came on, illuminating Julius in gentle, calm light as his fingers caressed his harp. It was a glorious harp, Aranaya noted, even though much of her view was obscured, carved from rich dark wood and inlaid with mirrored jewels that caught the light and sparkled with it. She had to admit, the music was lovely, not unlike the gentle dance of rain. A moment later the piano joined in, joining in harmony. Aranaya was quite startled that a rock band could actually sound so beautiful. Then Julius stood up and Aranaya found herself moving closer to the stage, towards the hoards.

He had changed his clothing, and now looked quite stunning in a silk white shirt with voluptuous sleeves and hanging open to reveal the patterned fur of his chest. He wore a glossy black, studded collar around his neck and grasped the microphone casually in one hand.

"Why, hello Eriwyn," he said, amidst great whoops, cheers and wolf-whistles (some things will never change). He bowed and strutted with a great deal of pomp. More younglings pushed in front of Aranaya and she was forced to stand on tiptoe to watch. Part of her knew that she should be patrolling the perimeter, seeking out danger or Titus, but there was something so charismatic, so compelling, about the frontman of Aeternity - even though he was not a young man anymore.

And then he broke into song. His voice was low and filled with emotion. Tears sprang to Aranaya's eyes and she blinked them away in embarrassment. The crowd had coagulated into a mass before her, all but blocking him from view and without making a conscious decision she began to edge her way past them and towards the stage. And then someone tapped her on the shoulder and a low voice hissed in her ear:

"Don't forget what we're here for, Poppet."

She turned to find Titus standing right beside her. Annoyance flared in her - he had interrupted the music. An instant later the wave passed and she wondered what had come over her.

"Don't let yourself be drawn in," Titus added, "he's good at that." He glanced around at the crowds, and Aranaya followed his gaze. The audience stood as a whole, a mass of zombies whose entire dedication was towards the stage and the Lycaon that played his harp before them. The mass swayed in perfect timing with the music, as if they had ceased to be individuals and congealed into one large and bizarre being.

"How?"

"Lyrical magick combined with charisma," Titus replied, "'tis a grand selling point. It also explains how, as old and arrogant as he is, he still manages to pull the babes. So watch out, Poppet, I don't think he'd try anything with you, but I can't be sure."

Aranaya frowned, vaguely offended at the comment. Sure she might not be that young and pretty, but it did hurt to be told it so bluntly.

"Don't look at me like that Poppet, I'm just saying he wouldn't try messing with you because you're my friend. Nothing else. Don't get all sensitive on me."

"Oh. Well I'd like to think I could resist his charms, magickally enhanced or not."

"And you probably could, but this isn't helping us avert disaster is it?" He paused. "I daren't split up in case his song draws you in again. I can resist it - I've had experience in such things," (he did not elaborate), "but you my dear, appear to be susceptible to it."

"And what about them?"

"I very much doubt they'd be open enough to be susceptible to anything."

"So how can I block it?"

"It's hard," he explained, "but you have to sort of put it to the back of your mind so it is nothing more then background noise. Do not be tempted to focus your attention on it for even a fraction of a second - or it'll drag you in again." He stopped, mid sentence and stared at something. For a moment Aranaya thought he'd let his concentration slip, but then followed his gaze and saw the unmistakable shape of Dario, lurking amongst the tree-benches. Her heart grew cold and hard at the sight of him and vague nausea welled in her. She could not bear to look at him for long and turned her face away.

"Well, he's here," she said in a low and dangerous voice. "I wonder where she is?"

"Me too," Titus replied. He was glancing about restlessly.

"So what do we do now?" Aranaya asked the question, dreading the answer. She realised that whilst she did not want Dario to live, she didn't want to be the one that killed him. There had been too much between them.

"We watch him," Titus replied, "see if he behaves suspiciously."

Aranaya shivered, she did not like this turn of affairs. It was impossible to look upon him without remembering the man he had once been - the man she had loved and pledged her vows for. Her fingers darted involuntarily to her right bicep, where once she had worn his wedding band. After his betrayal and incarceration, she had burned it.

On the stage, Julius had begun speaking again, and his melodic tones called to her, threatening to drag her concentration away from the urgency of the current situation. It occurred to her, albeit fleetingly, that with such mesmerising talents, the audience were extremely vulnerable to attack. No wonder the Nocturne had targeted them.

"Rather more then a few years have passed since last we played here," Julius was saying, "and around us the world has changed. But some things will never change and one of those is Elysia, the Light, She who implores us to harness life and live it to the fullest. So that is what I would have all of you doing here tonight, reach out and take your life and never let anyone steal your dreams." He paused and then shrieked, "Follow your heart and your dreams will come true!¹" And then the guitar began and he broke into song once more. Aranaya managed to snap free of his entrancement before it had her fully in its grasp. Religion in music was something she was not quite sure if she approved of - especially in this sort of situation. It rather reeked of brain-washing, even if Elysia was a fairly non-demanding Goddess. She could never forget that moment when Dario had declared that she had lain with Valiklaw and was thus a tainted whore, and that her son, their son, was demonic spawn. There was nothing harmless in that sort of worship. So how had it come to be that Dario was allied with the Nocturne, the tools of Valiklaw? It made little sense that she could see.

She glanced across at him again and saw that another had joined him. A short, gangly fellow with huge eyes and a nervous twitch. There was something oddly familiar about him…

"Titus," she hissed, "that's the guy that was fiddling with the wiring. I thought he was one of the stage crew, but now I think of it - he wasn't about when we were doing our interviews."

Titus's ears flattened, "it was? Oh…" His forehead creased, "if they've set up something in the wiring - who can tell what's going to happen?" He began to push through the crowd, elbowing Furrae right and left. It was enough to break most of them from their trances, especially when he started shouting at them to "leave, leave now!"

He didn't even make it to the stage before the Wolverine caught him, huge hand closing about his twin collars and half-throttling him as he was lifted from the ground.

"That's enough from you," he growled, man-handling him towards the exit. He paused as he reached Aranaya. "So, lady, you wanna leave too?"

Aranaya did want to leave - desperately. The crowds made her feel trapped and vulnerable and the close presence of her psychotic ex-mate had her hackles on end, but Titus's eyes implored her to stay - to stay and try and set things right. She had not the foggiest idea what to do. Titus had been aiming for the stage, that much was plain, but she had neither the confidence nor charisma to get up there and warn the crowds. But what was she to do? She could hardly sit there on the outskirts like Dario and his bug-eyed friend and merely watch the proceedings. "No," she replied, "I think I'll stay. See you later, Titus."

The Wolverine grunted and then proceeded on his way, dragging the skinny Feline with him.

For a moment Aranaya entertained the thought of contacting Kataryna and getting her here - it would be hard for these Elysia-worshippers to ignore an angel, but the thought was quickly dismissed. Kataryna was hardly in fit shape to deal with such an event. No, she was well and truly on her own.

Which meant she somehow had to get up there and onto the stage to warn everyone. At least the vicious Wolverine bouncer was currently occupied, although he was hardly alone in his occupation.

"Excuse me … sorry," she muttered at every step of the long slow process to the front as she weaved her way between musky Mustelid youths and flailing Felines. Most paid her no heed, but she caught a few accidental elbows, foot tramplings and a couple of nasty looks. It did not take long to realise that the best way to move through the crowd was via a process of osmosis - every so often the crowd would surge in one direction and she could move in to fill the place left behind.

It still took her the entire song to even begin to near the stage, and it was there that Julius's charm caught hold of her once more.

The song had faded to silence (leaving an echoing vibration in her sensitive ears) and now Julius had abandoned his harp and approached the edge of the stage. He crouched down, looking as close to the collective eye of the audience as he feasibly could.

"Sometimes," he said, "a person comes into someone's life, even fleetingly, but leaves an impression that none can change." He sighed, and Aranaya could almost see tears glistening in his eyes, although it was probably the stark lighting. It would certainly make her eyes water. "This song is for a lovely lady whom I was lucky enough to make the acquaintance of many years ago," and for a moment his eyes scoured the audience, as though somehow she might be there, identifiable amongst the hoards. His gaze swept by Aranaya, their eyes catching for a fleeting second and there was so much bittersweet emotion in those violet eyes that the Aye-aye almost swooned. She knew it was the effect of his magick, but that did not change the turmoil within her. It was easy to see why women would come to him. Could such a talent be as much a curse as a blessing? At that thought, Julius, clearly disappointed at not finding his lovely lady in the audience, stood up and said, his voice cracking with emotion, "this song is for her, wherever she is now," and stalked back to his harp. Crouching over it, he began to strum notes as beautiful and vulnerable as love itself.

"…Christie," he wailed, "how my heart bleeds out to you…"

Aranaya snorted. It was probably all an act to engage the audience's empathy. She was near the front now. The time was now or never. She put her hands on the stage and eased herself up.

The bouncer, lurking unnoticed in the shadows, pounced before she'd even got both feet up.

"I have to speak," she begged him, "it's a matter of life and death," but he was not buying such reasoning - or possibly even listening and merely pushed her off the stage with the casual ease of a professional.

She teetered on the edge for a moment, and then fell into the arms of the audience. Visions of her lying in an infirmary bed, encased in plaster flashed through her mind, but were quickly replaced as the punters reached up and caught her, passing her from one to another. Large, rough hands contacted with bits that she'd rather people did not touch, at least not in public, but it was an impersonal contact, as though she were little more then a basket. It was an odd feeling, being entirely at the mercy of these mesmerized fans, being fondled and grabbed at every instant, and it was one that she enjoyed. It came with great relief when she was set down on the outskirts.

And immediately she felt a hand clasp her on the shoulder in a rather powerful grip.

"Why, fancy meeting you here." She turned to find herself gazing into the wild, scarlet eyes of her ex-lover. "We just can't keep meeting like this," he continued, "it cannot be good for your health."

Behind him stood the bug-eyed Furrae. "You're not gonna kill'er are ya?" He gibbered in his soft voice, "not here, ya're make sucha mess and ruin my lovely fireworks, you will."

"Be quiet Gidget," Dario snapped, "we have an old score to settle, don't we, my love." And no word could hold quite as much venom. "Was it good?" He continued, "did you enjoy lying with him? Did you enjoy pleasuring the demon?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Aranaya snapped. If only she had some sort of weapon, but wait, she did… Titus had urged her to bring with her a knife and a can of ranskray, normally used to deter fierce non-sentients, but rather effective against Furrae as well. One hand happened to hang near her waist and she began edging her fingers towards her pocket.

The flash of the knife came so quick and Dario moved so fast, that the next thing she knew, he had her pinned to his chest, his knife pressed against her throat. Again. She was getting rather sick, in more ways then one, of such occurrences. Gidget was becoming almost frantic.

"Is almost time," he urged, "we go now, watch pretty lights from far, far away. Stay here and we're gonna get all stabbed up with bitsa bone. Nasty, nasty business. Might hurt a bit," he added, "bring her with ya, we play later, yes? I gotta new toy I gotta try out, see whatta it does on a real sentient subject. If you really lucky," he added, earnestly, "I let you play with it little bit, ya? Since ya caught her an' all that."

"Shut up you little freak," Dario growled and the knife jabbed rather insistently against Aranaya's throat. "How long have we got?"

"'Bout ten seconds." The little creature replied, and bolted.

He would kill her before those seconds had passed, Aranaya knew. The moment his grip changed from a holding to a killing, she reacted, stomping, wriggling and finishing up with a kick to the groin. The knife nicked her, slashing across her shoulder in a scarlet trickle. She bolted. Dario recovered swiftly, and gave pursuit, just as the speaker exploded.

There was a massive flare of white and the silver of discharged magick, followed closely by an ear-shattering noise that could only be described as BOOM! Silver flares rained down on the audience, the wave of force bowling them from their feet and into a seething pile of humanity.

Aranaya too was thrown to the ground and sparks sizzled and nestled into her pelt. Those who struggled free from the mass screamed and trampled one another in an effort to reach the exit. Shoulder throbbing from the knife wound and the impact, Aranaya began crawling for the nearest wall. To aim for the gate was sure suicide, for panic ran rampant. Reaching the rather debateable sanctuary of the branch-benches, Aranaya dragged herself into their shadows and undertook a brief inspection of the damage she had withstood. Her shoulder bled freely and something had gouged her cheek - shrapnel from an exploding speaker, perhaps? She shuddered, glancing from her shelter across the disarray. Chaos reigned. For a fleeting moment she saw Dario standing there, the crowd flowing around him. A nasty gash had slashed his face and the flowing blood formed a hideous half-mask but he seemed oblivious to it, his eyes scrying the hoards, seeking her amongst the many, panicked Furrae. Then Gidget ran up to him and said something before scurrying away. Dario completed his all-encompassing glare and then stalked after the little bug-eyed Furrae.

With a relieved sigh, Aranaya ventured from her hiding place. Whilst the idea of climbing the wall and getting away from here appealed to her, she could hardly abandon these poor souls after they had come with the intent of saving them. And they had failed - too ignorant to see the true cunning behind the plan.

But there was one thing that bothered her even more then that.

Why hadn't Tawny been here?

She picked her way towards the centre of the blast, where flames were licking, exuding thick, toxic grey clouds. Many of those Furrae that were able to do so had fled, but others crouched by their wounded comrades and glanced up at her as she passed by, their eyes imploring her to help them. She blinked back the tears but could not discourage the thought that it was somehow her fault the tragedy had happened. If only she had tried harder to stop it, if only…

Too many "if only's" - nothing changed the past. Nothing could bring Raoul back and nothing could stop this disaster from happening.

The closer she got to the speaker, the more horrific the damage. Many Furrs lay on the ground, clutching parts of them impaled by deadly shards of metal. Others would never rise again. The ground, packed hard in preparation for the concert, was now a soggy crimson mess. She shuddered. The place was like an abattoir, the stink of blood and fear hanging in the air. The handful of on-site Healers, used to dealing with little more then a few bruises and cuts, were in a state of panic. They darted about like hummingbirds, helping where they could, but there were just too many wounded. Aranaya was almost shoved to one side as a Security Guard rushed past her, trailing droplets of water from the bucket he was carrying.

She paused to catch her breath and to fight the despair rising in her. Such emotional combat was severely disrupted when someone grasped her ankle.

"Please, help me." The speaker was a slender Skunk, who would have been pretty, had not half the fur on her face singed away, leaving the skin below blistered and swelling one eye shut. There was nothing Aranaya could do for her - she had not thought to bring water with her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, prying the girl's hand from her leg. Maybe she could find water - there had to be a tap around here somewhere, didn't there? Her eyes alighted on a discarded waterskin and she pounced on it. It contained maybe a cup of what smelt and tasted like nothing more then water. It did not take much to tear a piece of cloth from her clothing, which was rather the worse for wear at any rate, and douse it in the water. The girl shuddered in pain as the wet cloth was pressed against her scalded skin. "Hold this in place," Aranaya encouraged her, moving the girl's hand so that it held the damp cloth firm. "It'll help." How long would it be until the authorities arrived? She'd have to talk to them, after all, she was quite possibly the only person here who actually knew the culprits. It seemed unlikely that the Nocturne would be easily caught and subdued.

It was then that she came across another, rather more badly injured Furr. The young Ringtail girl had been practically on top of the speaker when it had exploded, and the blast had all but severed her right arm. She lay, barely conscious, in a pool of her own blood, whimpering softly. Aranaya crouched down beside her and examined the injury. It was bad, but should not be fatal. She tore another strip of cloth from her attire, which was starting to look decidedly shabby, and bound it firmly about the girl's upper arm. She moaned and clutched at Aranaya with her left hand.

"It hurts," she whispered. "Wh-what happened?"

Aranaya patted her warmly on her uninjured shoulder. "Just a nasty, nasty accident," she replied. It seemed unwise to make things worse by suggesting the attack had been intentional. "You'll be fine. The medics will be here soon."

A shudder passed through the Ringtail's body - a shudder of shock and pain. She was fading fast, Aranaya realised, having suffered massive blood-loss before she arrived on the scene. Her eyes were growing bleary and unfocused.

Aranaya sat beside her, taking the girl's left hand in her own. "What's your name?" She asked.

"Kaytie," she whispered, "I want my mama."

With her other hand Aranaya stroked her hair. "You'll see her soon," she reassured her, although she wondered how long the girl could hold on for. "Just hang in there. The healers will be here soon."

"I'm cold." Kaytie drew herself close to Aranaya. She was shaking badly and the tattered remnants of her arm still dribbled blood at an alarming pace. The Aye-aye wrapped her arms about the girl and held her, still stroking her hair.

"She'll be here soon," she said, although knew not if that would be true.

The girl laughed hollowly, but the laughter quickly turned to rasping gasps. "No she won't," she responded a moment later, "she's in Windhavyn."

"Oh, well I'm sure she will be on her way once the news reaches her. So you came all the way from Windhavyn to see Aeternity?" Her intent was to keep the girl talking until the medics arrived. They could not be far away now.

She nodded and then shuddered once more. "I'm dizzy," she whispered, "can I sleep mama?" She went limp in Aranaya's arms and Aranaya's heart spasmed in fear - would the help arrive too late? Her fingers sought the girl's throat and the pulse that still fluttered there. Slow and a little unsteady, but there, none-the-less.

It was then that the Healers finally arrived. They moved with the precision and control of trained professionals, weaving their way through the clustered groups of panic-stunned survivors. Only about five minutes has passed since the explosion, but to Aranaya it seemed an eternity. The Healers spread out, diagnosing the seriousness of every injury in a glance and whispering words of encouragement to those more stunned then wounded. Within a fairly short period of time the minorly injured had been moved into a corner well away from the still-smouldering sound system, which sent immense black clouds billowing into the air. Those that could help were being rallied into carrying water and holding the injured still whilst they were treated. Aranaya held onto her injured girl, praying to Elysia that she would hold in there long enough for proper help to arrive.

A moment later it did, in the form of a buxom and slightly dumpy Mink. She crouched down before the two of them and smiled at Aranaya.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Aranaya said, feeling she should say something, "but I've tied a tourniquet about it and elevated it. I hope that helped."

The Mink nodded. "It is good to see someone who knows what they're doing," she replied. "Now since you've been so kind so far, I wonder if you would hold her still whilst I stop the bleeding." She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes for a moment, a gentle white glow materialised about her hands. A genuine Healer then - Aranaya was relieved. The Healer laid her hands on the girl's forearm and Kaytie shuddered and whimpered at the contact. The glow suffused her entire arm, but was the brightest about the gash. The Mink closed her eyes, putting herself into the Magick. Kaytie squirmed a little, making strange sighing noises of pain. It had been four years since Aranaya had undergone the same treatment, but she remembered well the feeling - as though ants were crawling under your skin. It was not a particularly pleasant sensation. After a moment the Healer opened her eyes. The pupils had dilated so that her eyes appeared almost entirely black. Healing involved putting a large part of yourself into the process. She shuddered and removed her hands.

"The bleeding has been stopped," she said, moving her from Aranaya's grasp and positioning her so that she could not do further damage to herself. "There is nothing I can do for the blood loss. She must be taken to hospital. Would you care to go with her?"

Aranaya nodded. "She has noone else."

At that precise moment, Titus made his grand entrance, weaving and leaping his way around the fallen and calling her name.

"Ary, Ary!"

"Here," she rose one arm, waving it in his direction. He saw her immediately, quite an achievement given the amount of controlled chaos going on around them and ran towards her. Despite the amount of bodies and Healers around, he managed to reach her without event and threw his arms around her.

"Thank Elysia you're alive!" He exclaimed. "You wouldn't believe how hard it was for me to get back in here after the explosion. Oh Ary, I'm so sorry to leave you here with that sort of danger." His fingers touched the gash on her shoulder and he frowned down at the blood. "You're hurt."

"'Tis but a scratch," she replied. She glanced at the Mink and her short, upright ears, perked for information and did not want to share too much. "I was grazed by some flying debris," she replied. Titus looked at her a little doubtfully and she shook her head, ever so slightly. "Later," she mouthed.

But there was not to be a later, for at the precise moment, the Wolverine Guard appeared once more, flanked by two Canines wearing the black and gold of the Eriwyn City Guard.

"That's the one," the Wolverine snarled, "that's the one that was causing trouble - before...."

"Right then," the largest of the Guards said, his hand falling on Titus's shoulder. "You're coming down to the station with me, lad."

"Kat, Kataryna!" The voice sounded far, far away, but somewhere through the shadows of her mind, she followed it and seized hold, dragging herself back to reality. It took her a moment to focus. The carpet was coarse beneath her, the broom closet open inches from her nose, and something lay over her. A broom?

A moment later Arron knelt beside her, his hands on her shoulders. "Kat, are you alright? What are you doing out here? You're bleeding!"

"I, I don't know…" Her bandages had worked loose and blood trickled down her legs and arms as the blagh gru bites reopened. A word blinked in her memory. "Grimalkyn," she muttered, "I followed a dream and it called itself … Grimalkyn…"

"You've been sleep walking," Arron informed her, as if she had not already guessed. "Now, let me get you back to bed before you hurt yourself further." There was a certain no-nonsense tone to his voice, as though she were a disobedient child. He helped her to her feet.

"Grimalkyn," she whispered again as he took her back to her room, refastened her bandages and aided her into the hammock. "He, he wanted my help, I think. He wanted me to go through the Door… But I didn't have the key." Her eyes fluttered and then she sat bolt upright. "Titus, where is he!"

"Lie down, relax," Arron scolded her. "Titus and Aranaya have gone to a rock concert." His voice cracked a little with concern. "They should be back soon." He paused. "If all goes well." Kataryna could sense a restless worrying about him.

"She'll be fine," she replied, "Titus will look after her."

The albino Lemur fidgeted. "Why wouldn't they let me go," he bemoaned, "I could have helped, I'm hardly even dizzy anymore." He pressed his hand to his forehead. "Look what they've done to us. We haven't even scratched them and they've almost brained me and she could've killed you and Titus. There are two of them and four of us and we haven't even laid a paw on them. What if they've been caught?"

There was really nothing Kataryna could reply to that. She could hardly disperse his fears when her own ran along the same lines. So she worked to distract him. "Arron,' she said, "you write children's books, yes?"

He nodded. "I have in the past, yes."

"Have you ever heard of a Grimalkyn? It sounds, and looks, like something from a faerie tale."

Arron paused and frowned at her, pushing his glasses up his muzzle. "Maybe," he replied, "it does sound vaguely familiar. I may have something on it in my library at home." A slight smile played on his lips, "Titus's library is somewhat … lacking in that regard. Why do you need to know?"

"It was in my dream," she said, "a lithe pink and blue creature with glowing blue eyes. It said I had to help someone and lead me to the Door. Do you know where that door leads?"

"The broom closet from the looks of things, unless there's a secret world in the back of it." He chuckled at the concept.

"There is," Kataryna replied, her voice completely free of mirth. "But I need Titus's help to get into it." She struggled, trying to rise, but dizziness overwhelmed her and she fell back into the hammock. "Damnit," she growled, "why can't I get up? There's so much that needs doing. I can't just lie here all weak and useless."

"I should learn," he replied, "to cease being amazed at what this house throws at me. I think I shall head our and do some research on this Grimalkyn for you. That is, if you are fine with being here by yourself? I doubt that anything could hurt you here."

"I'll be fine," she moaned, "just bored and impotent, that's all." She sighed. "I don't suppose you can help me downstairs - then at least I can browse Titus's bookshelf."

"That I can," Arron replied and together they made the long, slow walk down the staircase. Kataryna's head spun with every step and several times she found herself clinging to the albino Lemur for support. After a giddying eternity, he helped her onto the sofa. She sunk into its welcoming depths. Titus was certainly one for comfortable furniture. Or maybe the house provided that too. The couch seemed to mould itself around her wings, so that they were not so awkward.

"Anything you need?" He queried, "a blanket, a hot drink, would you like me to turn on the magivision?" He fussed about her like a worried mother hen.

"I'll be fine with a glass of water," she replied, "but I would appreciate the magivision being operational."

Arron nodded, and approached the transparent pyramid that rested on what appeared to be a wooden shelf protrusion, created by the tree itself. He ran his long fingers down its surface, and it radiated into life, little figures appearing within the pyramid in three dimensions.

There appeared to be some sort of game show going on. It was called "Predator or Pray" and seemed to entail a handful of contestants running around in what appeared to be a hedge maze, wielding various fake weapons. Currently two were involved in a fencing duel in an egg-shaped corridor, what was quite probably the centre of the maze. Arron sighed and rolled his eyes as he returned with a jug of water and a glass. "Day time magivision, eh?" He set them the drinking vessels on the table beside her, within easy reach. "Have fun Kataryna," he said, "I'll be back shortly."

"Take care," she responded. "We don't know what's out there." She felt so useless. Wasn't she supposed to be leading this ragtag band against the hoards of darkness? Such thoughts inspired dry mirth. Help them? She could hardly help herself. What had she achieved? She'd almost got herself killed by vampiric roaches.

"I will," he replied. "It's only a block away, after all." And he took his leave, just as another contestant moved from the shadows in an attempt to stab one of the duellers in the back. Each contestant wore a vest with a light on it, and when a certain button on the suit was pushed, the contestant would have "died". The other combatant saw the sneaker come up behind and shouted a warning. His opponent whirled, stabbing the stealth attacker in the breastplate and was promptly stabbed in the back by the one that had shrieked the warning.

"Argh, I am slain!" He gasped, as his light went out and his fingers twisted into claws before he tumbled to the ground. If one had to "die" on public magivision, one should at least do it spectacularly. The stealth Assassin was clasping at his chest and stumbling back, before he hit the wall and slid down, his light doused. It was all play-acting, Kataryna knew it, but the sight of it still creeped her out. Wasn't there enough violence in the world without it being turned into entertainment?

The image cut with the winner of the round strutting proudly about the "corpses" of his opponents and flickered black for a moment before giving way to a news bulletin.

"Eriwyn has been ravaged by the effects of two tragedies this hour past," a rather worried looking newscaster said as behind her a scene of utmost devastation appeared. Kataryna gasped in horror. It was the Eriwyn stadium, and there were people lying everywhere, the ground red and slick with blood. Black, choking smoke billowed from the hollow remnants of an extremely tall speaker. "Elysia did not smile kindly upon the Aeternity reunion concert when one of the speakers exploded. The number of fatalities is not yet known, but there were some 500 Furrae in attendance. No arrests have yet to be made, but several Furrs have been taken in for questioning." The scene behind her flickered and was replaced by a shot of two City Guard Canines escorted someone away. That someone was easily recognisable as Titus.

"No!" Kataryna screamed at the magivision, although it could not hear her, and for a moment was overwhelmed with dizziness.

When she regained cohesion, a new image replaced the last. The focus this time being a large den-house dug into the side of a hillock. Smoke poured from the little round windows and billowed through the door. A sign before this den identified it as "Dancing Rains: The Eriwyn Home for Orphans". Kataryna started. This was where Arron had spent his formative years.

"… the fire is believed to have originated in the basement and quickly spread through the rest of the Orphanage. Of the 32 orphans currently in residence, only 20 can be accounted for, but authorities are hopeful. No arrests have been made and the fire is not thought to have been started intentionally." For a moment the scene panned to one of the orphans, clustered about and looking at the viewer with big, sorrow-filled eyes. Caught in the background were some random watchers, the usual crowd of vultures you get circling around any major event. It was just a fleeting glimpse, half a second of view, but Kataryna recognised her immediately.

Tawny.

She growled in fury and at her own stupidity. The concert HAD been a red herring, albeit a destructive and tragic one, Tawny's real interest had lain in the Orphanage. But had it just been a random act of destruction, or was there a deeper reasoning behind it? Her thoughts turned instead to Titus and Aranaya. Titus had been taken into the custody of the Guard, but at least he was still alive and appeared unhurt. And what of Aranaya? Had she been taken for questioning too? So many questions and she felt so helpless, unable to move without dizziness. She could not even reach the telecommunicator to speak with Arron. She was so damned useless…

Anxiety welled in Arron as he made his way home. There was the most unnerving sensation that he was being watched, but every time he turned all he would see was Furrae going about their everyday business. And he never saw the same one twice. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he slid through an alleyway between two rock-shaped dens and into the lightly forested area that was Evergreen Apartments.

"Hey Arron," someone hailed him and he saw two children playing hop-skip on the flat between the trees.

"Lucy, Jake," he greeted them warmly, as they ran up to him. "What's up?"

"What happened to your eye," Jake asked. Eight years old and with the stocky build typical of his skunk-kin, he was as forthright as they came. His younger sister, Lucy, was rather more timid. "You been fighting?" He added.

"Fighting?" Arron forced himself to snort in laughter, "have you ever known me to get in a fight? Nah, 'twas only that I misjudged a low hanging branch."

"Where ya been?" Lucy added, shyly.

"I've been staying with some friends. Why, did you miss me?"

She nodded, positioning her thumb into her mouth. Six years old and still sucking her thumb, Arron would have to have a word or two to her parents. "A bit," her voice was muffled, "did you catch up with your friend?"

"My friend?" He frowned, suddenly feeling nervous although without reason to. It could merely be a friend he hadn't seen in a while. So why did the words tweak at the fear-strings of his soul? "Did he give you a name?"

She shook her head. "He was real tall, taller then you, and his fur was real thick and black."

Jake piped in here, unwilling to let his sister steal the limelight. "An' he had a picture of that lady what lives…"

"That lives, Jake, that lady that lives," Arron corrected him automatically. Dario - it had to be Dario, and he had come looking for Aranaya and he. Why? Surely the Black Lemur knew they had left?

"That lady what lives in number twelve. Only I ain't see her in days either. Ya didn't 'lope with her or nutthink?"

"I haven't eloped with anyone, Jake, we've just been staying with some friends. What did you tell him?"

"Only what we hadn't seen ya and we didn't know where ya was. Don't ya know him?" Jake was beginning to catch on to Arron's growing nervousness, "only he seemed to know all sortsa stuff 'bout you and that weird lady at number twelve."

"What sort of stuff, Jake?"

Jake backed down at that, Arron had allowed too much emotion into his voice and the young Skunk was suddenly panicky. "Only, ya know, stuff…"

"It's okay Jake, I'm not going to be mad at you. I just need to know. This fellow, he isn't a very nice person and he doesn't like Aranaya or me very much at all."

"Oh," his hand flew to his mouth. "I'm sorry Arron. I didn't know. He seemed to know stuff 'bout ya so I thought he must be ya friend. He was like talkin' 'bout your party an' ev'rything." He faltered. "Then he started askin' me questions 'bout you, like what you do every Elysiadae. I told him ya spent it in celebration like the rest of us. He didn't seem to like that much. He grunted and then asked me what I did. I told him I ate at the feast with e'ryone and watched the fireworks. An' he asked me if I knew I should be faminaning on those days and spendin' them on me knees in prayer. An' I said, no I weren't and his eyes started to look real nasty." He paused. "Then my papa came out an' asked him what he wanted and why he was talkin' to me like that and he got all polite like an' I was sent away."

"So the black fellow talked with your father for a time?"

Jake nodded. "I dunno what they was talkin' about."

"Were," Arron corrected, "what they were talking about."

"Well, I don't. He wasn't right was he?"

"No," Arron replied, "Elysia decrees that none shalt ever need to kneel in submission before another. Dario is a very, very sick man. If you ever see him again, I want you to call the City Guard immediately, and then - if you can, call me, okay?"

His voice was so cold that young Jake only nodded and shivered in response.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Lucy ventured, removing her thumb from her mouth for a moment. "He was scary."

"I don't know," was all Arron could say, "but I hope he found what he was looking for and won't need to." He sent Lucy and Jake on their way and approached his house. His tree felt wrong. Usually when returning home, he felt a welcoming feeling of home-coming, but not this time. Something was wrong.

His front door was not locked - but he could not remember if it had been so in the first case. He had left in rather a hurry, after all. As he entered the short, sloping entry chamber he knew someone else had been here before him. Even with nothing out of place, there was a taint upon the treehouse.

There was actual sign that someone had broken into the house, but Arron knew as soon as he saw his study that there had been an invasion. Unusually for one of creative mind, Arron was impeccably tidy. In his quarters there was rarely anything gout of place - he worked best when not surrounded by clutter. Thus the scattering of books across his desktop spoke volumes. He had not left them there, and some were sitting open, spines upright, something Arron would never do in a thousand years. Books were too valuable to vandalise in such a fashion. He gasped in horror as he realised which of his books had been thus mistreated.

It was an ancient tome - or to be precise, a copy of a multitude of ancient writings, written before, and shortly after, the Great White had begun to sweep all trace of the Furless Ones from the land. Various scribings had been found by the Ancestors and copied word for word, translated as best the scholars knew how. Arron had acquired, at great expense, this copy some years ago when researching a pre-Apocalyptic novel. What had Dario wanted with it? The Nocturne were interested in Pre-history? He picked up the book, sliding his finger into the pages that had been pressed open. They were crinkled now, having been left too long, and Arron felt slight revulsion that such an artefact could be shown such little respect.

It was discussing those terrible days after the Death Machines had begun their deadly reaping and had been copied from a collection of diaries kept by the Furless Ones. They all spoke of the terror, of entire cities reduced to ash in one brilliant white flare (seen, it should be noted, from a long, long way away) and the white powder that fell like snow but brought only death with it.

These facts, this spine-chilling eyewitness account, had killed Arron's desire to write such a story. It was too gruesome, too macabre. He had no wish to write a horror story. A horrifying thought crossed his mind - what if Dario wanted to relive it? His religious fanaticism, skewed as it was, made a fine weapon, and had not the followers of Valliklaw always spoken of a great Clensing?

He flicked back a few pages and found that one of the pages had the corner folded down. Suppressing a shudder of revulsion, he opened that page and carefully unfolded the crease. It was terrible, the ancient yellowing parchment would hold the mark forever. The pages themselves held a two-page spread of a map, drawn by the Ancestors. It was spotted through with asterisks and there were some names printed on it, the names of places Arron had never heard of. Much to his horror, one of these asterisks had been circled in red ink and, in impeccably neat writing, a word had been printed.

Dancing Rains

Burrr-ring-burrr-ring.

Kataryna was rudely awoken from her slumber and almost tumbled off the couch. How she had managed to fall asleep at all was a mystery, unless Arron had slipped something into her drink. The magivision flickered through the spectrum of colours, signifying an incoming call, and a moment later Aranaya's face appeared inside it. She looked worried and more haggard then usual.

"Arron, Kat," she said and there was a desperate tiredness in her voice, "I hope you get this message. There's been an accident and Titus has been taken into custody for behaving suspiciously. I'm currently at the hospital waiting with one of the victims until her Aunt comes to sit with her. Be careful." She paused, "Dario's at large and they're in league with a fidgety little Tarsier who calls himself 'Gidget'. He seems to be good with explosives. Anyhow, stay in the House and well, I'll be back soon. I just hope Titus doesn't get into too much trouble…" Her voice faltered and the screen flickered and returned to some sort of romantic drama. She sighed and fumbled about on the small table for some sort of writing implement, eventually unearthing a quill pen from the rubble. She might as well make herself marginly useful, after all, she felt pretty darn useless about right now.

Titus arrested, Aranaya in hospital, her as weak as a newborn Kit… How were they supposed to save the world?

They couldn't even save themselves.

He saw the smoke before he saw the ominous clouds blotting out the stars, and quickened his pace. He was too late. Whatever it was that Dario had sought there (provided of course that Dario had been the one that had so mistreated his books) was either destroyed or already in his paws. Still - if Dario had been here, then he hadn't been at the concert and Aranaya was safe from him, for now. That, at least, was a comforting thought.

Smoke rose from the hill den in noxious, cloying clouds, although the fire had been tamed. Around it clustered a small group of onlookers, vultures that had swooped in to the kill, intermingled with horrified Orphanage staff watching the exhausted fire-fighters choke the last of the fire. Arron recognised Matron Johansson, still clad in the flannel cap and striped shirt she had favoured when he had been in her care. Indeed, the only change was a bit more grey in her pelt and some mass around her belt. Even though it was dark, she saw and recognised him out immediately.

"Ah Arron," she said and started towards him, the crowd falling away as if pushed by an invisible force. "Couldn't resist checking out the drama? You're certainly not here for the tutoring."

"Of course not, Matron," he replied, remembering how much he had loathed her, still loathed her. On several occasions in the not-so-distant past he had returned here to tutor some of the more difficult Orphans. Each time she had treated him with the same disdain and superiority he recalled from his childhood. "I was just hoping for some carnage, maybe a few scalded bodies, you know. Research - for my latest book. So what the heck happened here?"

Whilst he had not expected to find the place a smoking wreck, it surprised him that he could not feel any remorse, nothing more then the concern that people may have been hurt. Dancing Rains, despite its pretty name, had been the source of rather sizeable dollops of misery for him. The Matron had been only one of the factors.

"A fire," she said, as though it were not blatantly obvious. "Started in the basement." She shivered, "the poor kids."

"Arson? Did you notice anyone unusual hanging around?"

She rose an eyebrow at him. "What are you? The Inquirer²?"

"Just a concerned citizen," he answered.

"Just a nosy citizen." She grunted. "They're asking us and the kits questions, so why don't you wait for the magi-coverage? I'm sure it'll be deep and insightful." She said the last three words as though they were dirty.

There was no point in arguing with her. She would draw everything from him before she would admit to anything - and whilst he had seen no hint of her being a member of the Nocturne, it would not surprise him. So he merely smiled politely and bade her "goodbye".

As he walked away, he risked a glance over his shoulder and saw her staring after him, forehead creased into an expression that was either puzzlement or annoyance. His eyes dropped instantly. It was hard to believe, after all this time, she could still dominate him with a mere gaze. If she would not help him, then he would find someone that would.

The Fire Fighters were still doing their duty. There were two of them - which meant that they considered the situation dangerous. In Eriwyn, the Fire Fighters were Mages whose main talent lay in conjuring water.

"I know what happened." A voice spoke up as he entered the tree belt that surrounded the Orphanage.

He glanced around, trying to track it. "You do? Where are you?"

A small girl stepped from the shadow of an ancient oak. Her hair was cut in that neat "straight all around but for the fringe" style and her eyes were wide and green, set in a black mask. He did not recognise her - she must be newly orphaned, the poor child. She smiled at him. "The pretty fires ate it," she said. "All munched and burned it up. The golden lady, she came and saw and left damn quick-smart." The little girl giggled. "I said a naughty word, I did."

Arron wondered if maybe she were a little simple. She was not that young, after all, maybe nine or so turns of the seasons, certainly old enough to carry on a coherent conversation - which she was not exactly doing at the moment. "What golden lady?" He asked gently.

"No, no, no," the little girl shook her head vehemently. "She said not to tell, said not to say nothing about her. She said, if I did that I'd wish I were dead." A smile broke through her somewhat frightened expression. "That was a rhyme," she said.

"What's your name?" Arron asked, in an effort to change the topic and calming her.

"Matron told us to never talk to strangers," she said, "what's yours?"

"I'm Arron," he replied with a slight smile. "I grew up in Dancing Rains just like you and sometimes I come back here to help look after the other kits. And I'll tell you something, I didn't like it much. I was scared of Matron Johansson."

"She roars like a lion," the girl said. "And growls like a bear. And all the kits run and hide in fear." She clapped her hands delightedly at her own little rhyme.

Arron chuckled, amused. Maybe she did not seem so simple after all, just somewhat fey. He had warmed to her immediately, but then again, he had always liked kitlings. Youngsters always seemed more open and tended not to view his mutation with anything more then curiosity. Of course, things had been rather different when he had been a kit himself. Maybe things were the same for this kit - she was not exactly what one would describe as normal. "Would this golden lady be afraid of Matron Johansson?" He asked.

The little girl shook her head vehemently. "Golden Lady not afraid of noone."

"Anyone," Arron corrected automatically. "So what's your name?"

"Luka!" She replied, doing a little twirl.

"That's a pretty name," he said, "I think there's a song about it."

She looked at him, all blue eyes and innocence. "Really? Can you sing it?"

"No," Arron said, shaking his head and smiling, "I'm afraid not."

"Awww," she pouted at him. "You're no fun."

"No," Arron agreed, "I'm not." He wondered how he could get her to talk more about what had happened. "She said not to tell anything about her, but if you told me about why she was there, that wouldn't be telling me about her would it? Just what she was doing, and she didn't tell you not to say that, did she just?"

Luka frowned at him for a moment, he was using child logic against her. "She opened a door in the floor," she said after a long pause, biting her lip in concentration. "Oh, I rhymed again. An' she got out a real big box and it was heavy and had stuff carved on the side. An' I was hiding in the shadows cos I was watching the furnace and heard her coming and thought it might be Matron come to call me a 'bad bad girl'. An' she looked at me and she smiled an' told me if I told me not to talk about her or else an' then I got kinda scared and then the door of the furnace blew open an' flames started dancing out and they were real pretty but I thought maybe if I stayed there I'd be kinda fried so I left real fast. An' so did she, only I can't talk 'bout her cos I'm not allowed."

"Well that's ok, I don't need to hear anything about her." Arron replied, "I think one of my friends knows her. So why are you hiding in the woods? Where are the other kits?"

"Matron'll be mad at me," she said, sucking her thumb. "She say I did the big fire an' it all my fault." He felt her small hand press into his. "Don't make me go back. I'll go home with you!"

"I have to," he said with a sigh, remembering how fearsome Matron Johansson could be. "I'm sorry. Look I'll take you with me and we can explain to her, together, that it wasn't your fault."

She shook her head emphatically, dark hair flying. "No, no, no! She no care, she say it my fault!"

Arron was at complete loss. He couldn't just take her with him, and he didn't really think the Matron would hurt her. "Why would she say it was your fault?"

"'Cos I was there when the fire exploded," she said, staring at him with huge blue eyes. "An' things often go all fiery and red and pretty around me."

"Did you light the fire Luka?" He asked, perplexed.

"No, no, no, I no light fire, I just call fire. It like me an' I like it."

Arron froze and stared at her. "You called the fire?"

"Sometimes," she whispered, shuffling her feet. "Sometimes I don't mean to call it but it comes anyway." She stared up at him. "You won't tell Matron will you?"

Something had occurred to Arron. Meeting this child had been no accident. The talent of Pyrokinesis was a "gift" of Elysia, although if not trained could easily become a curse. Luka was important. He did not know how, but he knew she had a part to play in the encroaching apocalypse. It went against his principles but he would have to take her with him.

He tried not to think of it as kidnapping.

"Don't worry, I won't," he reassured her. "Do you really want to come with me?"

She smiled at him. "Yes," she said, clapping her hands together. "You're nice an' funny an' maybe you're sing my song for me, yessir?"

"Maybe," he replied, "although my singing voice is not worthy of praise."

"Why not?" She asked, forehead creased in a frown.

"Because I sound like a squashed toad," he replied.

Luka unleashed a mad girly giggle. "I betcha you don't," she insisted.

"You're right," he replied, "I'm worse. Now, would you like to further unearth my flaws or would you rather head somewhere warm?"

She looked up at him and put her small hand into his. "I got with funny white man." She said. "Can I call ya whitey? 'Cos you're white an' stuff."

He smiled, despite the nickname that had been the bane of his childhood existence. Somehow coming from the mouth of a small child it did not seem so bad and certainly not insulting. "You may, but I'd rather you called me Arron," he said. "All of my friends call me Arron."

"Am I ya friend then?"

"If you want to be."

She considered this question seriously. "I've never had a friend before," she said. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he said, chuckling, "having a friend is the most wonderful thing in the world."

"Good," she replied, skipping a little to keep pace with him.

He didn't want to think about what he was doing or what it meant. The Orphanage was not a real home and it would be dangerous to leave her there - for both her and the other kitlings. She was a Firebringer, one who called to the flames and could bend them to her will. Except that she was young and untrained and such a talent could have dire results. In the tree she would be safe, Arron was sure. Aside from the lack of any fire to call, the Tree had its own form of protection. The Tree would keep them safe from the Nocturne and surely it would keep them safe from her wayward talent too. He had to believe that.

The walk home seemed to take longer then usual and it was almost as though he could feel eyes upon him. Luka noticed it too.

"There's somethin' eerie-scary comin'," she observed, sounding more curious then frightened. "It's like something nasty is tip-toeing along behind us on tiny toes."

Arron closed his hand more firmly about hers. She shrieked a little in excitement as he whipped her from the ground and onto his shoulders. She was surprisingly light, little more then fur and bones. Poor food and funding for the Orphanage, no doubt. The tree rose before them and with much relief he made his way through the gate and into the long grass.

Only something was different. Something was odd.

As he approached the house he saw it.

The front door was gone.

He lowered Luka to the ground, perplexed. How could it just vanish? She glanced back at the darkness of the street and shuddered.

"Darkness comes," she said, "it whispers in the night."

Arron walked around the house, and around it again. On the second circuit he saw the door. It was large and in its usual place and impossible to miss. He paused, pondering his own sanity. It had not been there a minute ago, he would swear on it.

Luka had found something of interest in the grass and was poking around at it near the gate. In a few strides Arron had reached her and scooped her up. He did not trust whomever it was that followed. Despite this rather abrupt treatment, she made no protest - her entire attention was focussed on what she held in her hands.

It was tarnished and chipped, blackened and dented, but it was also a firelighter.

"Pretty," she whispered, staring transfixed at the dull grey object, caressing its surface with her small fingers. "I know your there, why won't ya come to me?" The ever so faint scent of smoke rose into the air.

Arron snatched the firelighter from her hand. The metal was warm, as though the fire insider were awakening. If not for the fact it had lain dormant in the grass so long, it would surely have ignited then and there. Instead he palmed it and Luka began to scream and pound on his arm.

"Givit back!" She shrieked. "It was answerin', it was listenin' - it's mine and I found it and it's mine."

The metal firelighter grew steadily hotter and an acrid reek filled the air as whatever fluid remained inside began to boil. He dropped it as pain seared through his palm. Luka pounced on it, grasping it with no sign of pain.

"Mine," she said firmly.

The albino Ringtail Lemur stared at his hand. It throbbed painfully, the skin streaked with red. What was he getting himself into? Was Luka really just a sweet and innocent child with a treacherous gift? He was beginning to wonder.

She met his eyes, ripples of orange-red fire surrounding her pupils. A small smile crept across her lips. "It is mine," she growled in a low, menacing voice. Flames seemed to leap from the palm of her hand, coiling and dancing about her fingers. She bent her knees, beginning to bend towards the long grass. "See how they burn," she sung in a childish melody.

"Stop!" Arron commanded, leaping forth in an attempt to grasp her wrist before the fire made contact. It licked out greedily, eager to taste the grass. His hand closed about her slender wrist. "No." He said it quietly but firmly.

Luka froze and stared at him, her irises were now completely orange, golden flecks flickering not unlike the flames. For the longest moment the two gazed into each other's eyes, the gold turning slowly back to blue as the flames around her hand flickered and died. She stomped her foot and then bit him sharply on the arm. Although not deep, her teeth were sharp and it startled him. For a moment he lessened his grip but that was all the moment she needed to make her escape.

She broke free with surprising speed and bolted into the darkness. Arron, blood dripping down his arm, darted after her, just tin time to see something tall and black and fast drop from a tree branch and grasp her about the waist, springing back upwards in an easy leap.

As he was consumed by shadows, Luka's laughter tinkled out, musical and filled with childhood enthusiasm.