Since Zog’s death, Fand had an every growing awareness that he was watching over her. He had come to her in the dream that had called her back to earth. He was with her now, she knew it, felt it. The line between heaven and earth seemed to be a very thin thread and not the void she had imagined. Though she could not see him, she would have moments like these where he seemed so near, she could reach out her hand and touch him. On the cot her left hand lay partially open. Though it appeared empty it was not. At times like this she didn’t jus image his hand in hers, she actually felt it.

Like a gently flowing stream Pyre’s prayers washed over and around her. She felt the power of them moving through the air. Would the Keeper take heed of them? Was Zog praying too? She should be praying. Petran needed her prayers. She gripped Pyre’s hand tighter and focused. He was in the third round of the prayer of peace

Suddenly, Fand felt the faintest squeeze of her left hand, and then it was empty. Zog was gone. Why had he left? Had he gone to Petran to welcome him to the life beyond? She pleaded, Please don’t let that be it.

A strange sensation radiated through out her body. It was at first warm and then very cold. Beneath the surface of her shoulder blades she felt two large knots form on either side. Quickly they increased in size. A tremor of pain radiated from them. She felt her muscles and skin stretch to conform to them. Panic took hold of her. Something bad was happening. Something very bad. Her head and eyes stung like they had been whipped by a strong wing. Little needles of pain spiked on her face and head.

Pyre stopped praying and turned to her. His eyes filled with alarm when he saw her. “What the hell?”

Before she could answer she felt her skin rip, warm blood oozed down her back. What ever was inside of her had just burst out. Another more intense spasm of pain rocked her. The things shot out further. They pressed against the back of her gown. She could feel the warmth of her own blood spilling from the things. Another sensation rocked her. Her hair suddenly grew and was trailing down her back like a snake. Her eyes had sprouted lashes. She could see the fringes of them. The surface of her skin began to burn and tightened. She cried out.

Pyre gasped. His eyes were wide and terrified.

Another jolt of pain took her breath away. The things on her back tore through her gown and jerked out at an angle. In Pyre’s eyes she could see her reflection. Two small bloody wings were growing out of her back. Pyre’s grip tightened on her hand. He pulled her to her feet. “I must get you to Loren.”

At that instant the door slid open. It was Loren. When he saw Fand, His eyes too grew wide, but not with fright, with anger. His entire face flushed.

Pyre asked, “What is happening to her?”

Choking back his anger, Loren said, “Petran was too weak to control his power of regeneration. Some of it must have broken off and gone to her wing buds.”

Pyre asked, “What are you talking about?”

Fand did not pose any such question. She understood what Loren meant, only she did not understand what this would mean for her.

Loren said, “Move aside.” Pyre did. He stepped in front of Fand and took her face in his hands. Deeply, he looked into her eyes. His very soul invaded her body. He said, “Fand is from the tribe of Kedir, the children of Nephilim. Her wings were clipped at birth by your mother. They should never have grown back.”

“What?” Pyre asked.

Terrified, but still focused on Loren’s eyes, Fand said, “Get rid of them.”

His eyes clouded. “I can’t. Once the process has begun, it cannot be reversed.”

“Am I to be stuck with these forever?”

“I don’t know Fand. I must get you to my m-, to Renate.” To Pyre he said, “Get the sheets from her bed. We must cover her. No one can see her wings.”

Trembling Pyre stripped the cot. He and Loren bundled her in the sheets. Her growing wings pressed against the confines of sheets. Before Loren placed the pillowcase over her head, he held her gaze. He was trying to give her a share of his strength but she was too frightened to receive it. Once the pillow case went over her head, she could feel the heat of her breath. Another wave of pain rocked her. The wings were getting bigger. How big would they get? Suddenly she knew. They would get big enough to carry her. Images of birds' wings filled her mind. The length of a swans’ wing span, the distance of a goose from wing tip to wing tip. So much longer than their bodies. She had seen pictures of angels and she had always thought flight would be a marvelous thing, but not now, not now. She gritted her teeth against the ever intensifying pain. In that instant she remembered Jerim’s Relic exploding in her hand.

“Up,” Loren said as he hoisted her onto his shoulders. The door opened and closed. Another door opened and closed. The next thing Fand knew Loren was running through the hall. Each foot fall send a fresh and devastating spike of pain through out her body. The steady step of Pyre followed behind. They made a sharp right turn and then they descended a stairwell. Around and around it spun, making her feel sick and dizzy. Pyre had begun to pant behind them. In the distance she heard the sound of water rushing. It grew louder. An underground river?

Loren stopped, he whistled three long notes. Fand heard a door open. Loren carried her to the sound of the door. Dirt crunched beneath his boots, or was it sand. She couldn’t tell. Through the pillowcase she saw light. Loren took a step up and the stairs swayed a little as he ascended. He pulled the pillowcase off her head. She was in some kind of cart. Herbs hung from the ceiling. There was a small narrow bed against the right side and on the left was a table littered with powders and bottles. Renate was behind her, beyond her vision. This was her Gypsy cart. This was the place where Zog had conceived his child. How was it that it was here? Where was here?

Renate moved in front of her. Her face was pale and she was clutching her pregnant belly. Meeting her eyes, Renate quickly regained her composure. To Loren she said, “Unwind them gently. We don’t want to damage her wings.” With skill and care, Loren removed the sheets. The instant they were free, Fand’s wings sprang open. They had grown to a magnificent size. Her feathers were drying. The weight of the wings lessened. Blood no longer slid down her back, but her gown was stained with the stuff.

Fand asked, “Can you take these off?”

“I don’t have any experience with such a procedure. If I tried, the blood loss could kill you.”

Loren asked, “What are we going to do?”

For a moment Renate was silent. When she spoke, she asked, “How did this happen?”

Loren told her.

Renate shook her head. “Resen, will he ever learn?”

Loren said, “Not so far. What now, Mother?”

Mother? Renate was his mother! Fand’s eyes traveled from Loren, to Renate. Though their coloring was different their eyes were the same and so were their jaw lines.

“I must take her to a place I know. It is an outpost of the people of Kedir. Usually, I can reach one of the tribe from there. They will know what needs to be done next.”

Renate’s word sunk deep into Fand’s mind. She protested, “No! I am supposed to go home!”

Renate said, “You can’t go home Fand. Not with those.”

Anger and fear flared up inside of Fand. Resen, this was Resen’s fault. If she still just had one hand she could have gone home. She could have had a normal life. Now, now what lay before her?

Renate said, “I am sorry Fand. This is not entirely Resen’s fault. It is partially mine. I made a choice long ago and the consequences of that choice keeps hurting people. If I had never approached Zog, you would not be here.”

“What?” It was Pyre who asked this.

Fand understood now. Renate had taught Zog the sacred arts. If not for her—The fire inside of Fand became a consuming blaze. “Yes, you. You have cost my family so much. So very much.”

“I have, but we don’t have time for this. We have got to get you out of here, before anyone knows you are gone. You must trust me, and if not me, trust Loren.”

Fand did not want to trust anyone. She wanted to go home. That was all she had wanted. It was such a simple thing. Why was she being denied this? She took a step away from Renate. She heard the rustle of her feathers. She felt the air move among them. This was not real. This was a dream and she would wake up. She would. In dreams sometimes if she screamed really loudly she would wake herself up. She opened her mouth. Loren clamped his hand over it. In a gentle voice he said, “No, this is not a dream. Please, listen to my mother. Please, your life depends on it.”

“Why?”

Renate said, “Come, we must go.”

Pyre asked, “All of us?”

At last, Fand turned to him. His face was white and his eyes were wide. The weight of the moment hit her like a heavy stone. She might never see him again. She might never see Uncle Wert again! Her eyes swung back to Renate. The woman touched her and began to speak. The next thing Fand knew she was hurling though the darkness of Transferrance. Bitter curses passed through Fand’s lips, but they did not stop her descent. She could feel her wings open and tremble. They caught the air and held it. The sensation was strange and frightening. She wanted to wrench herself free of Renate but she dared not. A voice, Zog’s voice filled her mind, Trust Little One, trust.

Angrily she spat back, “Trust who, what?”

Zog did not answer.