“How did the ritual go with the robe?” asked Asara. She handed her son a warm cup of tea, and the began to pour one for herself. Big white clouds floated through the sky above the Middens orphanage, and the sun shown on all the flowers of the garden.

“Not well,” said Tirost, as he took a sip of his tea. “Necromancers came for it, and we weren't able to keep control of it.” His mother nodded thoughtfully.

“Perhaps nothing will come of it – like that gem you dug up.”

“Don't believe everything you read,” said Tirost with a grin. “I took the gem -” He was interrupted by loud voice of a young S’Kra Mur girl.

“Tiraustht, Tiraustht! Tell us the story about the evil Tallnah again!” she shouted. Asara laughed.

“Not now, Relly. I was just telling Ms. Armagna about -” started Tirost.

“No, no!” shouted a freckled boy with black hair. “Tell us about the time Mazrian killed Geva!”

“Nooooo,” whined Relly, whipping her tail back and forth in annoyance. “I want to hear about the Tallnah.”

Suddenly everyone in the garden paused for a moment, as a strange sensation of being watched washed over them. But in a moment, Relly and Searin seemed ready to renew their argument with vigor.

“That's enough you two. Go play knights and rebels. In less than an anlan, we'll come inside and you can hear some stories. Maybe Tirost can tell one or sing a song, if he has time,” said Asara. The children grumbled their assent and ran off to join the other children tussling, arguing, running and shouting in the garden.

“Anyway, Tirost, just be careful if you go poking around for that robe. You've been curious since the day you were born, but remember: so was Zamidren,” she said, and her silver-flecked blue eyes flashed in the sun for a moment.

“I know mom. I'll be careful.” Both became aware of a pale blue moonbeam which appeared next to Tirost. A fierce blue-white glare forced them to avert their eyes. The children playing nearby gave a communal gasp of awe, as a blue moongate rippled into existence.

An immaculately dressed Elothean woman stepped through the gate onto the green grass of the garden. With a graceful movement of her hands, Angel lowered her head and sunk into a formal curtsy before Asara. Then Angel smiled, and stretched her white wings in the late morning air.

“It is good to see you again, Angel,” said Asara.

“Angel!!” roared the children, as they came running, and wrapped their arms around the woman's legs, laughing with joy.

“Hello everyone!” said Angel, as the children begged to touch her wings or go through the moongate, or to know the future. Tirost rose to his feet, and Angel's eyes met his. She projected her thoughts directly into his mind.

“They're up North. I've heard from some of their victims on the road west of Langfirth, and they say it's Blackfire.”

Tirost nodded. “It seems I must be going, Mom.”

Asara sighed. “Alright,” she said. “But be careful. Angel, please make sure my son exercises some caution this time.”

“I'll do my best, Asara,” replied Angel.

“Are you leaving already?” asked Relly with moisture rising in her golden eyes.

“I am, but I'll be back soon, and we can play Moon Mages and Barbarians,” said Angel with a wink. Relly grinned. “Are you ready,” asked Angel, turning to Tirost. He nodded, and hugged his mother.

Asara smiled, and turning to the children, shouted, “Alright, all of you – go play before we have to head back inside.”

Angel stepped through the moongate, and Tirost followed, with the shouts of the children fading away behind them.

“You're Nefis this time, Laeran, and you're Whiteburn, Relly.”

“I'm always Whiteburn. I want to be Angel.”

“I'm Mazrian!”

“No!! You're always Mazrian. I'm Mazrian. You can be Tirost.”

“Tirost sucks!”