Something stirred in the night. Rain was thoroughly exhausted from hours of love making. Passionate and exquisite pleasure had drained the bound male drow into a blind stupor. He was still strapped onto the table, his limbs spread wide, and his shaft dangling softly between his legs. Rain found it charming that the bushel of hair along his groin matched his lustrous red hair. 

      His life-force sated her hunger rather nicely, although it wasn’t as gentle or pliable as Brostin’s own vitality. It saddened Rain that she had to cease sexual contact with the human, for his own sake. Brostin’s hair was starting to fall out, and his eyes were beginning to lose there luster. If she kept feeding on him, he could very well fade away. Rain was curious if the human’s vitality would return on its own in time, or if once taken it could not be regained. 

      In the meantime, this drow would serve her well enough. Drow vitality was sharper, and there was a depth to it that took her by surprise. The difference was like that of an aged wine, kept in the coldest reaches of a cellar. Once finished, Rain was surprised to see the drow’s hair hadn’t faded like Brostins. Perhaps it was possible that drow didn’t age the same. Or maybe he had more to give? 

      Her hunger sated, Rain had wrapped herself under a wool blanket and laid alongside him. The drow’s heart was like a furnace, Rain listened to its drumbeat while nestling her cheek along his chest. She had only just fallen asleep before something brushed her cheek.

      Rain opened her eyes and found a dreadful silence surrounding them. The torch light was frozen in place, their flickering shadows stuck to the cold marble floors. She got up slowly, letting the warm blanket slide off her slender shoulders, and looked toward the main doorway of the temple. 

     Someone was standing outside, gazing up into the canopy. 

      Somehow, Rain knew this was a dream…or something similar to one. Everything was vivid, yet her movements were sluggish. Her blanket drifted from her limbs as she quietly approached, her brand marks glowing ever brighter with each step. 

      “What aspirations you have young one.” The voice belonged to a young woman. The figure kept her back towards Rain, but looked over her shoulder to reveal strikingly elvish features. Although, while the narrow cheeks and startling elven eyes were prominent, they were but the surface. Rain stopped dead in her tracks, her knees were shaking. Looking into the strange woman’s eyes was like staring into an endless abyss, it was captivating and yet terrifying. 

      “who are you?” Rain’s voice quivered as she asked the question.

      “Why, don’t you recognize me?” The strange woman turned around slowly. She was garbed in twilight, the slips of skin that were showing glowed as bright as the sun. Frost white hair descended over her voluptuous breasts, and her bare stomach was decorated with intricate markings.

      “I’m dreaming…” Rain gulped.

      The strange women smirked at that. “Pay attention, and you might learn something from dreams.”

      “Who are you?” Rain could feel droplets of sweat strolling down her shoulder blades, and in between her breasts.

      There was a short pause as the strange woman studied her. She toyed with a lock of hair, which exposed a dark purple nipple over her left breast. Then the woman laughed to herself, as if the question was absurd. 

      “You know who I am,” She said playfully.

      “I do?” 

      “You knew who I was when you were born. In the winters I kept you warm. When you were starved I kept you nourished. When you were endangered, I shielded you. When your mother died, It was my hand that cradled your heart, keeping it from breaking.” The woman took a step forward, the earth seemed to shake around her.

      “I don’t understand…” Rain shuddered.

      “Yes you do, my name dances with the wind. I’ve whispered it in your ear many a solemn night.” The woman cocked her head to the side. She continued to twirl the lock of hair in her hand, eventually bringing it to her lips as if to chew on it. 

      She was right. Rain did know her name. It came to her lips quietly, and as she voiced it, it held power. “Roien!” 

      “Yes, I’m so glad you remembered. I’ve tried so hard to get your attention.” Roien chuckled as she bounced up and down.

      Rain knew better than to let her guard down. It was never safe to relax when facing a literal god…or to her surprise, a goddess. “Is that why you gave me the brand, just so that I would notice you?”

      “Hardly, although I am a little sad that it took so much effort.” 

      Thunder echoed in the distance. Rain could feel the static electricity in the air, and it frightened her. She always hated lightning, and instantly recoiled from the sharp clash against the trees.

      Once the roar of the heavens lifted, Rain was able to collect herself. “Why give me the brand? Why turn me int a succubus?”

      “You mean elevate you? It humors me that you don’t know just how special you are.” Roien sighed with what a look of disappointment on her face. “You’re a rare thing, one born from mortal blood and magical seed. I’ve treasured you since the moment you were born.”

      “But why?” Rain was loosing her composure.

      Another bolt of lightning lit up the gloom. Rain could feel small droplets of rain dance across her shoulders. Roien didn’t seem to mind, or even care.

      “One day, perhaps, I shall tell you. But only if you don’t figure it out for yourself.” Roien’s answer was swift like the wind.

      “So…what do you want from me now?” Rain was getting tired of asking questions. 

      Roien seemed to sense her frustration. Her tone shifted, abandoning the playful mood and suddenly becoming more serious. “I’m sorry, but it is no longer safe where you are. I need you to leave.”

      Leave? Rain raised an eyebrow. “Where shall I go?” 

      “Go north, and then east. Follow the river until you reach a valley hidden beneath a great mountain. You may claim your Delsaldes there.” Roien let loose the lock of hair from her thin fingers.

      “Why can’t I just build here?” Once again all the questions were frustrating Rain. The lack of answers equally so.

      “There are other powers at work, some not too happy with a child of mine in these woods. You must go north, and only confront them when you have become stronger. There is much I need you to do for me once you reach the mountains, and sadly little time.” In the distance, a fire could be seen. Rain could smell the smoke with the wind as Roien continued to speak. “One other thing, the lands you must cross are dangerous. One must cope with the geists who haunt them before you, and those with you, can make a fair crossing.”

      Geists. They were the stuff of myth and suspicion. Spectres raised by necromancers, and often abandoned after devouring their masters. Even Tjere spoke of them with unease. The marshlands to the north were abundant with them, it was the reason why Tjere hadn’t scouted them in the first place.

      Gaining entry into those marshes didn’t seem possible, let alone desired. “What must I do?” Rain asked, hoping it would be the last question.

      “For once, Roien provided her with an answer, “You have a choice, there are two roads before you, but only one you can walk. One offers you sacrificing your little entourage to the wandering spirits, keeping only the worthy alongside you.”

      Rain wasn’t sure she liked that option, “and the other?”

      “A harvest moon is approaching. Your powers will wane, and your womb will flower. Offer yourself to that vampire creature you have tucked away, and the geists will sense your undead offspring. They will not touch you.”

      “Is there a third option?” Once again all the questions were causing Rain to grind her teeth. Her patience was running perilously thin.

      “Death,” Roien answered sharply.

      At least she’s answering, Rain thought to herself. “Those are all bad option.”

      “Whatever your choice, I’ll be here to embrace your soul in the end.” Roien renewed her playful tone. Somehow a god speaking so humorously felt unnerving. It made Rain feel like she was a toy, or a simple pawn. In the grand scheme of things, that might very well be true.

      The sound of the coming storm was growing in the distance, it was wrecking havoc against a curtain of flame. Far off into the distance, the wind grew, forming what looked to be a vortex of fire and light. Yet still, Roien paid the rising disaster with little interest. 

      “Should I be worried?” Rain could feel her heart throbbing beneath her breast. 

      “Never,” Roien’s answer was somehow comforting.

      “I feel like I should be worried.” The vortex was growing in the background, it looked like it would consume everything in its path.

      Roien laughed, letting the wind brush her hair without care. “Just don’t disappoint me,” She winked.

      “How can I disappoint a god I’ve never met with a task I know nothing about.” Rain spoke louder against the wind.

      “I have faith in you,” Roien’s answer was serene.

      Hearing that from a god surprised Rain. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to say that?”

      “What am I in danger from?” This time it was Roien’s turn to ask a question. “Beware the knights. They think they serve Him on the throne, but in reality they are under sway of another, far worse power.”

      Just as the vortex started to devour the pond, Rain felt a pressure tightening against her chest. She woke up with a startled gasp. Sweat covered her forehead as she looked around. 

      Nothing had changed in the chamber, and gone was the smell of ash and smoke. It felt surprisingly peaceful around her. All except the tightness she felt against her chest. Somehow the drow had gotten loose of his bounds and cuddled alongside her. He squeezed his body against her back, and his arms wrapped around to cradle her breasts. Apparently, whatever he was dreaming, it caused his fingers to grip onto her softness with unease. 

      Rain brushed him aside, and squirmed from his grasp. He snored as her feet touched the cold marble floors. It was still night out, and the only sound above the snoring was the crackle of old campfires from outside. 

      The aftershock of her dream, or nightmare, continued to haunt her as Rain walked toward the rear section of the old temple. Bound in chains against the wall, Count Greave slackened against his restraints. He wasn’t breathing, in fact it appeared he was very much dead.