Raven sighed and rose from her chair, her silent, booted feet carrying her away from both man and elf. She was very aware of her sword scabbards brushing her thighs. Why she’d chosen long swords, so long banished from her hands, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was only a desperate need to link the past with this…new beginning, for that is what is would be, though how she knew this was a mystery. Her yarting was slung across her shoulders. The true magic of any elven minstrel lay in the instrument and the ability of fingertips to stride over it, not in the instrument alone. Raven didn’t need her yarting for the spell she was about to cast. It wasn’t her spell. It had come from the Messenger; she was just a conduit. Her boots touched the surf. She felt herself falling away, into the Darkness where the music played. She was dimly aware of the motion of her body; the rhythmic chanting that fell from her lips. She was floating. She could feel the magic gathering, recognizing it was beyond her keen, and beyond her body’s ability to channel. She could see it now, as her mind as her awareness began to surface; a rippling of violet and midnight blue surrounded her. A lightning flash after recognition, pain laced through her body. It felt as though the magic was ripping her apart. Her conscience resurfaced and she screamed, but the magic continued to use her as it’s path. She heard Balakan running toward her, and Dalthis moving as well, albeit more slowly. She was falling. She landed hard upon her knees in the sand. A whimpering cry escaped her lips. Balakan was holding her then. Her hair fell forward, hiding her face; hiding the blood, which dripped from her mouth. She wiped it away swiftly, secretively. She looked upward at the flickering gate now opened over the sea, the magic she had wrought, no, the Messenger had wrought, had made it so. She struggled to her feet. It was time. She stepped through.

The tumbled out into a dungeon, or so it could first be perceived. The portal flickered and vanished, leaving them in complete darkness. Balakan, always so forthright, spoke his worries. “I don’t like this.” Neither elf replied. Raven looked around speculatively. There was no questioning that this was a dungeon but it was obviously not the kind one would be imprisoned in, exactly. It was too comfortable. There were manacles, but they were lined with silk, or velvet. There were pillows upon the floor here and there. Raven would have surmised it to be a pleasure dungeon were it not for two things. The first was a chair fitted with all manner of golden blades. Blood still stained them, as well as the floor beneath. Not the kind of toy one would find in a pleasure dungeon, unless it’s owner had a sadistic streak a mile wide. The second peculiarity was a large suit of powered armor. Balakan was inspecting, rambling something about some man or another. It was distant and unimportant. They were here for the dagger. Somewhere in the background she heard Dalthis sniff, as though disgusted. He moved closer. “Do you know where we have to go?” he asked bluntly. Raven’s only reply was, “Up.” She began walking toward the door.

Raven could hear her footsteps. She stopped several times to assure herself that it was indeed her footsteps. She didn’t understand. No one could hear her when she chose to be silent, and yet she could hear each step, and the more she tried to silence herself, the louder her footsteps echoed back at her. They had moved beyond the door and into a hallway, no, a series of hallways. Each hallway was dark, and connected to others. They were taking turns at random. They had long since stopped open doors. Doorways led to horrors….

…they had been moving down a corridor when Raven, who was leading, suddenly stopped and turned toward a doorway at random. She yanked the door open, not bothering to ready a blade. Crimson light spilled out into the hall, causing her to stumble back, blinded. Dalthis dove into the shadows. Balakan moved to flank Raven defensively. Balakan was worried. His companions had been acting very strangely. As though to confirm his worry, Dalthis screamed. Balakan whirled, losing track of Raven.

Meanwhile, Raven moved into to the room, where, sitting upon a pedestal of black basalt was a ruby roughly the size of an elephant’s head. The pillar and it’s charge were reflected in dozens upon dozens of mirrors. Raven moved closer to the pillar

Dalthis screamed and slammed himself into a wall. “…Get it away!” he cried. Balakan stood in the doorway, watching Dalthis in confusion. “Get what away from you?” “The LIGHT! Get it away from me!” Dalthis curled himself into a whimpering ball on the floor. Balakan stood stunned.

Within the room, Raven knelt before the pillar. She could distantly hear Dalthis’ screams. Her fingers brushed the base, where she could see wetness glistening. She pulled them back, bringing the substance toward her face and into the light. Blood, partially congealed, graced her slender fingertips. She resisted the compulsion to taste it.

Outside the room, Dalthis sat up. “Where did it go?!” he cried in frustration. “Probably back from whence it came, my good man” said Balakan, who offered a black gauntleted had to the elf. "...Don't you dare refer to me as a human in any way!..." snarled Dalthis, knocking away Balakan’s hand. Balakan frowned, “In terms of race, man is not specific. Man refers only to male.” “I have a name, Battle Fodder”, came the growling reply, “Where’s Raven?”

Raven looked up toward the ceiling above the pillar. Balakan jerked a thumb behind him, into the room where Raven indeed was, “In there, I’d imagine.” Dalthis frowned and moved swiftly toward the doorway.

Moments later, Raven screamed. It was her image that hung above the pillar, dripping blood upon the ruby, creating the radiance. Raven’s duplicate’s face was twisted horribly in death, but it was smiling. Raven shrieked again, skittering backward on her hands and knees away from the pillar, slamming into Balakan, who still blocked the door.

Balakan, sword in hand, had turned to face the room as Raven slammed into him, his blade moved protectively between Raven and the pillar, though he could not identify the source of fear.

Raven was hysterical. She didn’t realize she hit Balakan. She leapt to her feet, drawing her blades; prepared to attack her love who stood between her and freedom.

Balakan blinked in confusion, “Don’t make me disarm you, Raven.” Raven halted mid-swing, recognizing Balakan. She whirled back to face the corpse above the stone, but it was lost in the shadows near the ceiling. “…out…my way…” she growled at Balakan, whose reply was, “huh?” She paled, feeling ill and whirled again on Balakan. She shoved him roughly aside, manifesting strength far beyond her own to do so, and slipped into the hallway to lean against the wall near the door. Balakan grunted as she shoved him aside.

“…close the door.” Balakan did. Raven dropped her blades with a strangled cry while Dalthis looked on, eyeing the now closed door. Balakan leaned down to pick up the blades. Raven desperately wiped the blood from her hands, vigorously rubbing her slender fingers on her cloak long after the blood was free of them. She withdrew gloves from somewhere within her shoulder bag, sliding them on grimly. “Give me my blades,” she said, holding out her hands. Balakan gave them to her dutifully. “What was it?” he inquired. She met Dalthis’ eyes and then slid wordlessly away from the wall, continuing her way down the hall…

…and they only got worse.

“This place should be destroyed. It’s a monument to cruelty for the sake of self-pleasure.” Balakan grumbled. “That is not why we are here” was Raven’s whispered reply. The sound of her footsteps was louder and louder. It was driving her mad. Dalthis looked non-better then she, but such is the way of Pandemonium…of this...place. Balakan seemed untouched by his surroundings, however. Though one could never tell about someone encased in so much metal. She turned her speculative eyes away from her companions, toward a doorway. She could here a whisper of voices beyond. No, not from beyond, but from within her own mind. They were calling her. She could feel herself slipping into the darkness again, like she had when the messenger broke through to cast her spell. “Can you hear them?” she asked softly. “Hear…what?” asked Dalthis, blinking. “No” Balakan said, moving to stand nearer Raven.

Raven’s mind sidestepped, sliding toward the blackness. The voice drew louder. Distantly she could hear music. She realized she was fighting, but it was only making her ill. It always made her ill. So why fight? Raven let go and spiraled inward, toward the music. Within her minds eye she caught sight of the women, the dream-bring, flying upward as she fell.

Raven’s fingers caressed the door’s handle before she jerked it open. She calmly began to ascend the flight of stairs beyond. Balakan moved dutifully behind her. Dalthis sighed, “It’s about time we found the damn thing.” He began walking, “Raven, do you have any idea where the dagger is? Besides the obvious direction of up?” Raven tilted her head slightly, but didn't look back. “Shhh…Raven’s sleeping.” Raven, who was not Raven, giggled. It echoed unnaturally loudly in the stairwell. Dalthis frowned and looked at Balakan, but remained silent, save for a tiny whisper, meant only for himself, “…damn Messenger…”