Kali Petrovna

To Lady Illyrie ni Eiluned, Baroness Rowantree, with warmest regards.

My Lady:

Our daughter's recent Chrysalis was an event neither of us expected, and yet, we were quite pleased and relieved to know our Kalika was in good hands, and that her fellow students were so ready to defend her. Everything was handled so well, and we are relieved to know that she is in such a supportive environment for her. As she is a slightly 'unusual' Changeling, Tamara had her concerns about her attendance here, but has seen that it is, indeed, the best place for our daughter.

In gratitude and respect for you and the Barony as a whole, we offer you a token of our thanks, in the form of aid. Specifically, the vial enclosed will summon both of us to the site immediately if ever there is a major attack, as both of us have fought to defend territory often before, and Tamara in particular can see and do things fae cannot. If there is time enough, a whisper over the vial of request will bring each of us within the time period specified, which gives us time to assemble resources, and thus, Tamara could summon her pack as well. It goes without saying that we will heed the summons if called.

With sincerest regards,
Dmitri Solovei (Dmitri Andreevich Korovin), burgess of Liberty's Heart County, Caer Golden Door, and County River's Walk
Tamara Mikhailova Petrovna, Stalker-on-the-Eventide, Homid Adren Ragabash of the Shadow Lords, alpha of the Thunder's Swift Strike pack

Now feeling: scared

...and somewhere in the dark dreamscape, the shink of a drawn sword reaches her ears.

A cloak whips around the swordsman, his face starkly pale, beautiful but cold, deadly. "You will not have her," he whispers, pressing the blade's flat to his lips. "By Dán, she is mine..." She does not know the face, has never seen it before, and some part of her tries to run, to stop this...

Her mother's voice enters her mind: ...Do not interfere in a lover's quarrel...

Kali shakes her head, chasing after the black-cloaked figure. She finds something round in her hands, cloaked in black velvet -- a palantir. The figure mounts a ghostly horse, looking like nothing so much as a beautiful ring-wraith. Kali feels herself trying to keep up, growing faint with the extertion and dropping to the ground.

The next thing she sees is two figures side by side - Aragorn and Arwen, hands entwined, the ranger holding a small spring of Kingsfoil. "Are you awake?" The elf's gentle voice is understood even to one who cannot speak the Sindar tongue. Her hands ache, burned by the power of the palantir, and she feels weak. She is wrapped in a cloak not her own.

The man speaks, then: "You saw something. How did you come to get this palantir?"

Kali shakes her head, not knowing how to answer. "I don't know... but the Wraith..."

"The Wraith chases you for what you carried. No place here is safe now."

She closes her eyes and whispers, "Not me. He wishes to kill someone. He swore he would murder someone and take his woman for his own..."

Both figures glance at one another; Aragorn rises in disgust and begins to walk away. Arwen looks down sadly, rising to follow him. She hears her mother's voice overlaid with the wraith's: Nobody will believe you. Hide your talents. The sound of a ghostly whinny breaks the night's silence. I come now and death rides with me. You cannot stop it. Kali tries to sit up, tries to run, but cannot move, pinned in fear at the sight of the figure. Her eyes go wide, and a dark laughter fills her ears.

You belong with us. Not with them. The horse turns, rides off, and she tries to scream, but the sound dies in her throat. She hears a man's anguished death cry moments later, eyes wet, knowing she could not save him.