A dream: You find yourself in a dimly lit room roughly circular in shape. The walls lined with shelves and the floor lined with cabinets. In the center of the room is a large metal vessel, with some kind of script written in what appears to be a spiral around it slowly making its way down through the legs of the vessel to the floor where the writing continues into a circle surrounding the large container. The walls are white and irregular. There are no doors and windows that you can see. There is a gap in cabinets that line the room, however there is no handle, or hinge, or seem. On the shelves around the room are small bottles and vials and book of various shapes and sizes and coverings. The only lighting for the room are small candles on stands on three sides of the room. It smells of rot and death, a putrid smell that turns your stomach. Then there is a figure in the room with you. She looks to be human, tall and slender, she quickly moves to a shelf and begins taking items while muttering to herself. You can see her pull a book from a shelf and quickly flip through its pages to a place she obviously knows well as she finds it almost instantly. She waves her hand and a small cloud appears inside the room with her just above the vessel. She grinds something between her fingers and tosses it into the cloud and the cloud turns dark and water begins to fall from it filling the vessel below. The woman grabs a bowl and quickly begins tossing in other items into the bowl. A second figure appears.

“Good, you have started already” she says to the first woman.

This one appears shorter still as slender and sleek as the first. She moves to a different area of the counter and begins her own work.

“Of course, Of course, much work to be done now that the harrowing has begun.” the first woman says to the other over her shoulder as she works.

“Three have already found their way here and it will only a matter of time before all the daughters of the Night rejoin.” The second answered back .

They both seemed to work at what they were doing without much concern of the other except when one seemed to have something the other needed in which case the object seemed to be passed from one to the other without as much as a single word of request. The second would often hold out her and as soon as she did the first would place a certain jar or bottle in it without as much as a whisper between them.

“Did you hear of the mortal in the swamp of the south?”

“He is using an old tome of an acquaintance of ours.”

“Does the poor thing have any idea what he is doing?”

“Of course not, but it should keep attention away from us for a time so it is decided to let him be.”

“Which tome did he get ahold of?”

“In excitatio in dracones”

“Does he know what he has?”

She lets out a cackle, “Ha ha ha, of course not, the poor thing.”

The vessel in nearly filled with the water pouring out from the cloud. She lifts her hand and the cloud vanishes. She takes some wood and places it under the vessel and fire seems to spring to life on them. A third figure appears in the room.

“Nice of you to show up sister.” the two other utter in unison.

“I was delayed”

“We can see that,” says one. “As clear as the nose on your face” finishes the other.

The three set about their work. Each muttleing mixtures in small bowls and jars in front of them. As they set about this work you can feel yourself being pushed from this place. Your vision is fading and their voices begin to muffle. Almost as if you are being dragged away you can feel yourself thrown suddenly and violently back to your body. You wake.