The silence was bated and intense as Ellen stared at Hans, the type of silence you would expect when you see a performer walking a tightrope in front of a large audience. But there was no audience here. It was just the young, innocent girl and the former Grand Master of the Tempusmancers in an empty bedroom, in a common suburban home, in a well-off neighbourhood.

She continued staring at him through weary, agonising eyes, her teeth biting into the soft skin of her lips. Her desk lamp gave her a yellow, ghost-like tinge to her skin which made her look ill. Was she getting ill? Or was it just the effect of the proposition he gave her? Her stomach gave a jolt from the anxiety that rushed her. It felt as if she was caught between a rock and a hard place.

In fact, that's exactly where she was.

Ellen took the moment to mull over the choice she was given. It was between resuming her ordinary life as a teenager and pursue her dream or to live her life as a time-influence of sorts. She closed her eyes and began to speak.

"Hans..." she paused. "I really appreciate that you see potential in me but I don't think I could live that life. It's dangerous and what if it puts my family or friends at risk?"

The man sighed, an indication of resignation.

"I understand," he said simply. "Some people aren't built for this life." He turned around and straightened his clothes. He looked back at Ellen.

"In that case, the Grand Committee will begin the process of revoking your Tempusmancer practicing abilities. This should be within two weeks. In those two weeks if you feel the need to contact me, just imagine yourself talking to me in your mind. I will add that after that period, you won't remember a thing." He peered at her for a moment longer. Suddenly, he turned on his heel and left the bedroom through the ajar door. As if by automatic reflex, Ellen fled after him but by the time she burst into the dark hallway and ran to the head of the stairs, Hans had already disappeared without a single sound.

She sunk to her knees, head in hands, with her hair falling around her and creating a veil. She felt guilty for letting him down; the fact that he had divulged so much information to her. The nausea she felt ate at her, threatening to make her physically sick.

Tears rolled down cheeks, the first drop hitting the hallway carpet and darkening the area within seconds.

- - -

Three figures waited impatiently in the dark, unbeknownst to Ellen, across the road from her home. Excitement grew between them at what they had overheard and the decision the girl had made. This would please their superior greatly, maybe even to the point of being rewarded. As ruthless as he was, he always rewarded great help.

They had remained at their observation posts for a large portion of the day, watching as Ellen came home on her bicycle; her and her family having dinner, her reading the book and Hans appearing behind her. It was difficult to stay idle for such a long period of time and pretend they were city workers tending to the gardens. No one took double glances at city workers, they seemed to blend in to their surroundings. But it had paid off when the man left post haste, and they were able to ditch the disguises as soon as night had fell so long as they stayed out of sight.

The smallest man grew overbearingly impatient and was the first to break silence. "Do you think we should let him know?" He had a weak voice, and high-pitched like a mouse.

"He has his ways. He probably already knows and is making his way here," the second man replied, his tone implying boredom. Although the man that spoke first was a new convert, he had an unruly habit of grossly underestimating the power of their fearless superior. The second man took a glance at the third – and final – member of the small party. "What do you think?"

"He knows," the last of the men answered meanwhile, twirling a stick in his fingers and eyes glued to the house. "He knows for sure."

"And you should be grateful you are serving him," added the second man.

"But he's on the other side of the world, how can h-." The first man froze in mid-sentence, his eyes widen open in fright. A cool breeze had picked up and rustled the leaves of a nearby tree. It was enough to penetrate the trio's clothes, send chills down their backs, and make their breath visible. The long, grey metal street-lights that lined the street flickered and diminished, plunging the street into perpetual darkness. No one could see a single thing apart from the lights that remained on in the houses and if any of the residents took the chance to look outside, they would be blinded by the darkness. It was like staring at a plain piece of black cardboard. This was followed by deathly silence; the owls that were hooting earlier had stopped singing their song.

"How can I be here?" someone mused in front of them. There was a crisp click! of fingers and the street-lights came back at half-power, the light only enough to faintly show the charming newcomer. He was wearing elaborate Necromancer's robes; a robe made of dark, ivy green silk with gold trimming on the edges that illuminated from the scarce light. His skin was pale, his cheeks rounded, and his nose snubbed. His eyes were onyx black, and his hair was short; black with a gloss-like shine.

"Lord Lucien!" greeted the trio hastily; the smallest man gasping at the sudden presence of their superior.

His resemblance to his brother, Melvin, was undeniable. The resemblance was so close that they even shared the same smirk. Lucien stood in front of the three men, his arms crossed across his chest. He took striding steps towards the smallest of the men, the one that had questioned his abilities. The man immediately looked down at his shoes and refused to make eye contact. Lucien detected guilt, the heartbeat of the man standing before him ringing quickly and thunderously in his ears.

"Do you doubt me, commoner?"

"No, my Lord," he mumbled. Lucien saw the man sway minutely backwards, like he was trying to put more distance between them. He somehow doubted that it was intentional, more like an automatic flight or fight reaction. "One would not doubt a man of your calibre."

"Was it not you that questioned my whereabouts?" his voice was sharp, cutting into the man like swords. He was cowering in front of Lucien now. The remorse pleased him. It meant that his hard-earned authority still instilled fear into those around him.

"Yes, my Lord. But you are great. I need to be punished for my doubt."

A cold smile broke across Lucien's pale lips, making the hairs on the man's body stand on end. He adopted a soft voice, soft but blood-curdling. "Again, and I will take your firstborn that your wife is carrying at this moment. Is this clear in that thick skull of yours?"

The man nodded furiously. "Thank-you, my Lord, thank-you. You have been the most gracious."

Lucien lifted a hand and slipped two fingers underneath the man's chin. He lifted it so the man was now forced to stare into Lucien's burning eyes. "I promise you that, commoner. Mark my very words." He then dropped his fingers away. "Update on the situation, please," he requested from the others.

The third man, named Ratch, cleared his throat.

"The girl hasn't left the house since she came home from school and the library. Grey paid her a visit earlier this evening before you arrived and offered her mentoring to train her abilities. She rejected him and...," Ratch laughed, "he disappeared."

"Did he vanish? Inside the house?"

"Yes, my Lord. He hasn't stepped in or out of those doors. Dermott and his team can confirm that he hasn't accessed the rear door either."

"I'll get to Dermott after I finish with you three." Lucien paused, glancing downwards at the grass. He was evaluating scenarios that played out in his mind, scenarios which would help achieve what he had planning ever since the girl was born. His fingers shook as he analysed these scenarios.

"If Melvin's pet was able to vanish himself within the building, it means that it isn't protected by his network. It means we can access the building and carry out what we had intended to do. If it was protected, he would have had to remove himself outside to pull a vanishing act. The chances of it being protected would be slim however, as the girl technically isn't one of them," he spoke to himself. The other man looked onwards, afraid to interject. "That is. Not yet. The moment she agrees to change, each building she will be in will be protected making it harder to accomplish anything."

Ratch gazed onwards at Lucien, catching on to what his superior was eluding to.

"You're saying," he began. "That we do the snatch tonight as planned?"

"Correct. We do it tonight."

The other two men nodded their heads in agreement. Snatching the girl was inevitable, every Necromancer knew that. She possessed greater power than any of the Tempusmancers' ever had. If they were to make any progress in adopting these powers, the Necromancers had to get a hold of this girl and use her for life-changing – ground breaking – research. Once this was successful, the Necromancers would be able to gain different abilities that many of them only dreamed about. They could overcome their counterparts.

When he was just a student, Lucien's mentor had explained to him that a fabled prophecy had described that such a powerful being was only born once every century. All the details that had been given were accurate to what Lucien had observed about this girl; this girl that Grey was trying to transition to a Tempusmancer.

Lucien cleared his throat. "I need to confer with Dermott and his brethren. I will come back for you when it's time." He cast a quick glance up at Ellen's window and silently trekked along the fence-line that marked her property's boundary. With expert stealth agility, he jumped over the gate that divided the front yard and the back and crouched down, listening for movement and heartbeats. Finding what he was searching for, he cut his way through two tall bushes into a small gap between the bush line and fence. Another three men stood there, expectantly.

"Good evening, Lord Lucien," they acknowledged.

"Hello. Ratchs' team told me that Grey didn't enter or exit through the rear. Is that correct?"

A squat man with shaggy, shoulder length brown hair stepped forward. He was dressed in dark colours, to match in with his surroundings without a doubt. "That is correct."

"Did anyone come outside?" enquired Lucien. His voice was urgent. He had to know finer details if he was to make the move tonight, and time was something they didn't have much of. It was highly risky, especially if that Tempusmancer Grey had a hand in things. A tall, swallow man from behind Dermott stepped forward, him too dressed top to toe in darkness. He propped himself up against the back fence. He had a thick accent. A European.

"A nanny took their rubbish out. She looked like she was about to get a visit from death shortly. She was old and could barely move; not a threat."

Lucien snapped his face up at the unexpected news. "A nanny did you say?"

"Yup. As old as they come. Surprised she didn't have a walking stick. She must've gone home for the evening because we didn't see her go back in."

Rage erupted in Lucien. "Are you stupid?" he hissed, his face contorted in sheer anger. Hostility took over his body; his voice, his mind. The three men backed up towards the fence, away from their enraged superior.

"They don't have a nanny, you donkey!" Lucien spat at them. He motioned at Dermott. "You. Come here. NOW."

Dermott, his legs appearing to be made of jelly and his breathing becoming heavier by the second, stepped towards Lucien as if he was a drunkard. He drew himself up to full height and stood straight and rigid.

"Lord Lucien," he bowed his head, his voice grave.

"Did I not tell you that Grey is an illusionist? Did I not tell you that he could employ a disguise if he so needed?"

Dermott whimpered under Lucien's height, under Lucien's intimidation. "Yes, my Lord. But in our defence, she – him – was not distinguishable. 90 years old at least, heartbeats that were slow; you could hear fragility in her bones! She – HIM! – was everything a 90 year old should be! You didn't warn us against old women!" Dermott instantly regretted what he said the moment the last sentence slid from his mouth.

Lucien gripped the man's wrist and he immediately felt hellfire beginning to burn internally within him. He became paralysed.

"Do you have a wife?" Lucien snarled. The man nodded as a reply. The burning stopped and he regained control of his body. "Consider her perished. Learn from your mistakes or you too will join her," he threatened. He eyed the other two men that stared on in horror.

"Keep this idiot in line. Another one and you will both suffer for his mistakes. When you work as brethren, you take responsibility for each other."

The anger was still well and alive in his body as he made his way back to Ratch's men. Where did we find these sorry excuses? he pondered. The lacking quality in modern recruits was depressing, nothing like the men that were found centuries ago. He had to do something about it, a purge amongst the ranks. He saw Ratch waiting for him, underneath the shallow shadow cast by a large tree.

"Oh dear me," Ratch clucked, drawing out each word in a deep tone. "Aren't we in trouble?"

"They let Grey go. He pulled an illusion and vanished outside of the house."

"Do we make the move? Risk that it could be protected?"

Lucien stood quietly for a minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. So much planning went into this to just throw it away, the thought of it alone pained him. He answered on impulse; on what he deemed to be right.

"Yes. But we need to be prepared. Something tells me that Grey won't be too far away the moment he realises something is happening." Lucien turned to the second man, Hawk. "Will you do the honours?"

Hawk stood up from where he was sitting, clasped his two hands together and blew into them three times; three bursts of loud owl calls. This would signify to the others that it was time.

The front trio joined Lucien as they marched their way across the hard, bitumen road. Skulking along the side of the fence to avoid the crunching driveway, they lightly stepped onto the brilliantly polished wooden decking of the veranda. Taking the locked doorknob into his hands, caressing it like a handshake, the lock popped and the men crossed the threshold into the dark lounge room. It was clean, unlike Lucien's den. To his pleasant surprise, he didn't feel the sensation that usually washed over someone when protection was enforced. Not one of his men was falling to their knees, withering in pain.

Knowing the proceedings from the back of their minds, they crept into their positions. The front brethren were to assist Lucien upstairs with the girl whilst the brethren from the backyard were to secure the ground floor against any intrusions. Expecting the worst - a contingency of Tempusmancers - to come, Lucien had assembled the most brutal of his Necromancers to take the ground positions. They were young but they had strength and physical savagery needed to take the others down.

He led the way up the stairs, one at a time, with no creaking. Reaching the top flight, he looked into the main bedroom where her parents were sleeping. Ellen's father was snoring a storm, and his mother wasn't far behind him. Mumbling something under his breath, he made certain that they wouldn't wake up for at least five hours.

Five hours of deep slumber, he laughed. That's if you wake up by the end of it. I never quite mastered that yet. He then crossed the landing to where Ellen's bedroom was and noticed that the door was ajar and light was pouring from the gap. He could hear the rustling of pages and the compression of bedsprings.

Signalling for his preferred trio to stop at the stairs, he pulled out the oldest, grandest book he had in his library from beneath his robes and held this in his hands. He slipped a beautiful rose inside the top cover; something that he couldn't resist and knocked on the wooden door.

He turned back to his men for a last glance. Such a charming ladies' man, bringing flowers, Ratch mouthed at him. Rolling his eyes, Lucien pushed open the door and walked inside.

Ellen looked up from her bed and saw a man in robes walk into her room. His black hair gleamed in the light from the desk lamp, his pale skin contrasted against deep green and gold metallic robes. There was a certain handsome charm to him. He was holding an ancient book in his hands. The book she had borrowed from the library that was propped on her knees fell between her legs as she pulled herself off the bed and onto her feet.

"Who- who are you?" she stammered; her voice faulting. Was he part of the Grand Committee, here to take her abilities away? She looked back at the tissues that littered her bed.

"I understand you have rejected Hans Grey's offer? I'm here from the Grand Committee to get your final view on matters before we proceed forward," he said, gently. Sweetly. Innocently. Reassuringly.

"I've been thinking about that..."

"Oh. You have?" he smiled. There was something about him that made Ellen feel comfortable, as if he was an old friend. He took a few steps towards her and sat down in her desk chair. "And what did you think about?"

Ellen watched as he placed the heavy book onto her desk, a blood-red rose peeking out from the top. Odd, she thought to herself. She watched him smile, and this was pushed out of her thoughts.

"I want to be one of you."

There. She said it.

"Well, that's great news!" he enthused, placing his hands lightly on his crossed knees and smiling widely. He picked himself up from the chair and ambled towards her, placing a hand around her shoulders and rubbing her back for support. Ellen's nose prickled as she caught his scent; something summery, something flowery and earthy. She didn't have time to scream as he whipped his other hand around her mouth and nose so she couldn't breathe. Panic riddled through her body, anxiety rearing its ugly head as her body became deprived of air.

She tried pushing him off but he was too strong and easily overpowered her, grasping her into a lock.

"Shhhh, beautiful," he cooed in her ear, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. His touch was soft. "I promise you this won't be painful if you don't fight, darling." Ellen stared at disbelief at how calm the man was, his lips still in a friendly smile.

She clenched her eyes shut, as tight as she could.

Hans Grey. Where are you? I need you, she begged with her remaining energy.

And then she blacked out.