In the morning, the captains wasted no time in rousing the party to action, having nearly the entire encampment packed up and ready to move before the sun breached the horizon. They were making up for lost time; the delay from the previous morning's fog had prevented them from getting as far as they had planned. If they stood any chance of reaching Kannoris before nightfall, they would have to move quickly, and ride hard with as few stops as possible.

Through their elven escorts they learned of the village toward which they rode, and of the folk within. The village of Kannoris is one of the oldest settlements in this part of Eralia. It is a rustic establishment, relatively small, situated on the Nenocuil River, and home to a people known as the Súre'antó; the Wind Talkers. The Súre'antó possessed elemental magic that allowed them to manifest and manipulate the wind; this they used to operate a ferry service up and down the river.

Continuing on horseback, they would be at least another four days on the road before they reached Astheas. By way of the Wind Talkers' boats, being blown upriver, it would be less than three. They would be two days on the river, then disembark at the village of Arhenor, where Astheas lay within a day's travel. For the sake of speed, they would go by water.

And so they pressed on and the hours slipped by. Lilly kept Victoria busy manifesting the fire, but did not allow her to practice the arcus ignis.

"We haven't the arrows to spare out here, and you haven't the skill to practice without them. We'll reach Astheas in a few days, until then you'll just have to be content with a few shots before bed." Lilly told her.

Seeing no merit in arguing it, Victoria resigned herself to the repetitive manifestation of the fire. Lilly cautioned her, however, not to get carried away in her manipulations. With Assyria's raven still watching their movements, it would be in their best interests not to reveal the extent of her abilities, such as they were. Indeed, the ensorcelled avian continued to follow them tirelessly. Always at a distance, just out of arrow range, but always watching.

The road now lay open before them, lush green plains stretching for miles around, and ahead, barely visible against the rising forest on the horizon, could be seen the fork where the road split. The left fork continued toward the northeast, overland through dense forests and dotted here and there with various settlements; one of which, they were told, was a tiny village of powerful healers. Their course, however, lay along the right fork, veering off toward the Nenocuil River.

"Won't be long now." Captain Gilmeare informed them as the fork in the road drew nearer. "Maybe another two hours. We should be there before dark, but it will be at their discretion whether we set off on the river tonight or in the morning."

A subtle sigh of relief passed through the others. Despite the need to make haste, and whether they sailed by moonlight or not, they were eager to stop for the night and rest.

Victoria was restless. Whether it was her frustration at having to hold back practicing her newfound gifts, or the unsettling quiet all around them, she didn't know. But restless she was, and uneasy, feeling a twinge of apprehension. Has it been this quiet all day?

As the point where the road parted came closer they could see a tall wooden signpost, and perched at the top was an unwelcome and familiar figure. The raven sat hunched atop the post, its single eye glowing red, as if impatiently awaiting their arrival. It ruffled its ebony feathers, crying out once before taking to the air.

An anger that Victoria hadn't known she was suppressing swelled to the surface, and fire surged to life behind her eyes. The stone beneath her shirt glowed red.

"Not this time you sonofabitch."

Without thinking and with a speed unpossessed by one of her skill level, she strung her bow, and as she did both the bow and arrow ignited with red flames. Taking the shot, the enflamed arrow sang through the air, intensifying as it closed the distance between it and its target. It struck true, obliterating the raven in a bright explosion of fire and feathers.

Gasps and startled expressions swam around her as her arms collapsed on the pommel, gripping the bow with sweat-slickened, shaking fingers. She felt dizzy and out of breath..

Soren broke the silence with a slow clap, a wide grin splitting his face. The others joined, applauding her unintentional display of skill. Lilly though, she gave Victoria a stern look, conveying both annoyance and warning.

What did I tell you about showing your abilities out here? The old woman's eyes said.

Victoria looked at her helplessly, still out of breath and swaying a bit in the saddle. "If it helps my case...I didn't do it on purpose."

Before Lilly could shape a response, cacophonous shrieking rose from the trees as thousands of crows materialized from the forest before them, rising to cover the sky above them; undulating like an angry storm cloud.

"Ride!" Captain Gilmeare shouted, heeling his mount.

Before the word had left his lips the maddened flock descended upon them; driving them. Just as they had with the Brógudún, and not. With the bear, their attack was chaotic, meant to drive them apart; now they were violently urging them to chose a path. They pecked and scratched and shrieked with no less intensity than before, perhaps more so, pushing them to flee.

At the fork they veered right, and the crows continued to give chase. Only when the crossroad was well behind them and the forest grew thick around them did the birds cease their merciless pursuit. Once it was deemed that they were well and truly rid of their pursuers, Captain Gilmeare called for the company to halt, allowing their blown mounts to catch their breath and to check themselves for any injury.

Victoria dismounted slowly, and the moment her feet met the earth her knees buckled beneath her and she sank to the ground. She swayed as she leaned on her arms, trying to keep herself upright as the world around her began to spin. Voices from those she new were nearest to her sounded very far away, and pinpoints of light and dark danced in her vision.

"Victoria!" Soren shouted the moment she went down.

"Soren..." Her voice was barely a whisper, breaths coming heavy and ragged. She gratefully collapsed into him as he dropped to the ground beside her.

"What's wrong?! What happened?! Hey, come on, stay with me!" He smacked her cheek gently.

"Sor...en..." She breathed heavily. "So tired...spinning..." And she said no more before unconsciousness claimed her.

For a moment she could still hear the sounds of voices, though they sounded muffled and nowhere near. She had no sense of up or down, but she could sense that she was moving; which way or how far were unknown to her. Finally, the darkness consumed her completely.

When Victoria awoke, she was in a large dark room, lit here and there with candles. Shadows she couldn't quite make out attached to voices she couldn't quite understand moved and muttered quietly around her. Her ears rang painfully as she struggled to sit up.

Seeing her stir, Lilly shuffled quickly to her bedside. "Lie still." She said gently.

"Where are we?" Victoria glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Kannoris, in a lodging house." She took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I tried to warn you that you weren't ready to use the bow like that. That was reckless, Victoria."

"Reckless?" Victoria asked, confused. "What happened? What did I do?!"

"You don't know?" Lilly asked. Victoria merely shook her head. "What do you remember?"

"Um..." Victoria struggled for a moment, desperately searching her memory. "The raven. I remember the raven...on the signpost. Then running...and falling...and..." Soren's face emerged from the darkness of her memory, distress written all over his features. "Then nothing."

"Hm." For a few moments Lilly said nothing else. "If you've truly no memory of your actions, then it is my best assumption that our dear Xareig grows impatient of Assyria's games. He felt your anger toward the raven and used it to seize control of you. In a manner, it was Xareig who killed it, and not you."

"Killed it? The raven?!" Victoria's eyes were wide. "I killed it?! How?!"

Lilly made a shushing motion, chuckling at Victoria's astonishment. "Yes, you did. He made a good show of it, too." She said, pointing to the stone.

"What did he do?" Victoria asked.

"It was overkill, if you ask me. Through you, he formed the arcus ignis and destroyed the bird before it could get out of range again. Then the crows came, that's the running you remember. And then the falling is when you fainted."

Victoria took several moments to absorb what she had been told.

"Which brings me to another point." Lilly continued. "You fainted because your body has not been trained to handle that kind of power. It was simply too much for you. You must be cautious while you still only barely grasp the reins of that power. If you allow Xareig to take control through your anger, his power will decimate your body. To put it plainly, it will kill you."

The blood drained from Victoria's face. "So now on top of everything else, I can't get mad or else I'll end up dead?"

"Now don't get yourself worked up." Lilly patted Victoria's hand reassuringly. "Of course you can get mad, you just can't allow yourself to succumb to it. Xareig took advantage of the anger you kept buried, no one could have known he would do that. Now that you know the risk of it, you can prevent it from happening again."

"How do you know though?" Victoria's voice was a raspy whisper. "How can you be sure I can hold him back." Her eyes stung, tears threatening behind them.

Lilly smiled kindly. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Victoria. You're stronger than you reckon." She patted Victoria's leg as she stood. "Get some sleep, you need to regain your strength. We leave at sunrise, we can talk more in the morning." She shuffled away quietly, making her way to her own bed.

A hand in the dark reached for hers. "She forgot amazing."

Victoria jumped, stifling a gasp as she jerked her hand away. In the dim candlelight, she could just make out Soren's face leaning over from the bed next to hers, and she dropped her head back on her pillow with a sigh. "You do. You love seeing me jump." She moved her hand back to grasp his, rubbing her eyes with the other.

He chuckled quietly. "I'll admit, it's amusing. In my defense, I've only done it on purpose the one time." His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "You really were amazing earlier. Whether a dragon made you do it or not."

They sat that way for a little while, hands joined and smiling at one another in the darkness. The sparse light cast by a handful of candles threw flickering shadows across their features, and the stone pulsed dimly beneath Victoria's shirt.

Reluctantly, Soren brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss onto her warm skin. "Your friend's right, though. It's late, and you need to rest. "He gently withdrew his hand from hers, smiling through the heat that burned within him. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She whispered back, willing her pulse to slow.

Thanks to the abuse her body suffered she had neither the strength nor the willpower to stay awake to contemplate what had happened earlier. Belatedly, she realized how every muscle and joint in her body ached, and her eyes began to throb in her skull. Rolling over, she settled into a more comfortable position; breathing deeply and letting herself fall back into the blackness of exhausted oblivion.

* * *

The water in the scrying basin burbled angrily as the ball of fire in its vision grew, ending with a bright splash of red before the water grew still and dark once more. Fury burned red in Assyria's eyes; her fists trembled at her sides and her nostrils flared angrily. Whirling around, she reached for the nearest graspable object, and hurled a lit iron candelabra across the room; sending it clanging against the stone floor.

"If you want something done right, you do it yourself." She growled contemptuously as she turned and stormed from the room.

Her footsteps echoed along the dark stone corridor, stopping only just long enough to unlock a narrow door at the back of the castle. Behind the door, carved into the very stone of the mountain, sat a tall winding staircase, ascending into darkness; a window at the pinnacle high above serving as the only source of light.

The top of the stairs opened up to a tiny room, containing only a small table, a set of cubbies filled with scrolls and sheets of parchment, and a tall wooden cupboard marked with various symbols and sealed with an iron lock. The opposite wall contained only a narrow door leading outside. It was to the cupboard she strode purposefully as she produced a small black key from a thin chain about her neck. She removed the lock and opened the doors to reveal its contents; the scent of smoke and blood emanated from within.

"Hello, old friend." A wicked smile curled her lips..

Inside the cupboard, cradled carefully on a bed of deep red velvet, stood a tall black staff. The shaft was as smooth as black ivory, and the top was carved into menacing claws that grasped a large, faceted black stone. A dark red aura pulsed within the stone's depths as she gripped the staff, lifting it tenderly from its resting place.

"If this girl," she said the word with disgust, "insists on challenging me, then I accept." The aura from the stone grew, encompassing her in its dark, blood-red glow. "Indeed, I will take great pleasure in hunting you myself, but the blood I will shed shall be upon your hands."

She strode across the room, exiting through the narrow door, out onto a wide semi-circle ledge that jutted some fifty feet or more out from the mountainside and overlooked a vast frozen wasteland. Outside, the sun rode low along the mountain peaks, casting the valleys below in shadow, and a biting wind howled as dark clouds blew in overhead.

She stepped out to the center of the ledge, where a circle carved of ancient symbols began to glow red. At the heart of the circle she stopped, raising her arms and began to chant. Amid the swirling snow and howling gales, Assyria summoned her dark magic, and rose with it to hover just above the ground. With a flash of red, her body began to convulse; limbs thrashing and stretching unnaturally. Morphing, in a haze of blood-tinged smoke, from woman to beast.

Where once a human woman stood, a great black wyvern rose in her place. Fair skin and silken hair transfigured into thick scales, leathery wings, and deadly talons. Wisps of toxic miasma seethed between vicious, razor-edged teeth that were bared in a snarl as she loosed a resounding, shrieking roar that echoed for miles from the mountaintops.

She flapped her wings, and in two great strides launched herself from the ledge, rising into the sky on the icy wind she commanded. She circled once, then turned west, gaining altitude and speed as she began closing the distance between her and her quarry.

By nightfall, she found her first victims; a village of miners and stoneworkers, many already fast asleep in their beds. She descended upon them without warning, setting homes ablaze with spit-fire, filling the air with miasma when they attempted to flee. Men, women, children, it mattered naught to her; they fell before her like wheat at the reaping.

Assyria continued carving her path of destruction long into the night, ceasing only to seek sustenance; ravaging livestock, decimating entire herds. There were a scant few who were minded to stand and fight, but in the face of fire and poison gas, they never stood a chance. Enough slain to satisfy her bloodlust, and just enough left to tell about it. Indeed, even in the night word spread like wildfire of a terrible beast and the destruction it wrought.

Riders and messenger birds were sent out in all directions, racing to warn others of the approaching danger. These she allowed--when they were going the direction she wanted them to go. She didn't care how quickly word spread behind her, where the damage was already done; she wanted word of her destruction to precede her. She was sending a message.

I'm coming for you.