25.1

Lorion, the Lyrian Healers' Guildmaster, spent nearly three hours chanting spells and waving crystalline magic wands over Dirk's comatose body.

Zyrdicia sat in a corner and scowled. To her, the white magic made the air in the room stink. It smelled sickly sweet, like a great vat of rotting honey filled with flies. It turned her stomach. The longer she smelled it, the greater her nausea.

Lorion was the most skilled healer in Lyr. He was often described by the city's residents as a miracle worker. He was also terribly greedy. There was reputedly no illness or injury he could not cure, if the price was high enough. And he was not above causing illness in order to demand an exorbitant fee to provide a cure.

Lorion and Zyrdicia had long, tense relationship, often manifesting itself in open dislike at Council meetings. They rarely saw eye-to-eye on Lyr's governance. She tolerated him because the Healers' Guild was essential to Lyr's day-to-day existence. She had called him only out of sheer desperation.

As he persisted in his magical work, the smell of the powerful white magic permeating the room slowly overcame Zyrdicia. Her stomach rolled with waves of nausea. When Lorion finally finished, she was on the verge of vomiting, though she was doing all she could to conceal how ill she felt.

The Guildmaster shook his head in frustration. He said gravely, "I cannot undo your handiwork in this man's mind. I have placed his body in a state of suspension that will sustain him indefinitely. But he will not recover."

"If it's about the fucking money, I will pay you with a massive pile of arcanium instead of plats."

"As much as I desire your arcanium, Zyrdicia, no amount of it could bring this man back. He is gone."

"If you can't heal him, tell me who can," Zyrdicia said weakly, covering the lower half of her face with one hand in a vain attempt to block out the lingering smell of Lorion's magic.

"No one in my guild, that much is certain. This is a demonic injury without a physical manifestation. I've never seen anything like it," he shook his head, an accusing tone creeping into his voice. "I would not begin to know how to undo such diabolic magic. Perhaps one of the Seraphim could accomplish it." Zyrdicia stared hard, trying to decide whether the last sentence had been a joke. Seeking aid from the Lords of Light, the angelic opposites of the Sephiroth, was unimaginable. Being chastised by a healer was the last thing she needed today.

She sneered and caused the man to combust in quick burst of perfectly controlled Hellfire. It incinerated Lorion before he even had time to scream.

25.1.1

Sindra, the vampiric sorceress, appeared with Charles a few minutes later. She looked around the room carefully, taking it in.

"Thank you for coming," Zyrdicia greeted darkly.

"I came as soon as I heard," Sindra replied, kissing her cheek. "You don't look well."

"The smell of Lorion's magic is revolting."

"Really? I can't smell it. Are you sure it's the magic?" Sindra arched a brow knowingly.

"Of course it's the fucking magic! The white-light-crystal-waver's sorcery smells disgusting."

Sindra shrugged. Her facial expression was skeptical. The vampire's eyes fell on the pile of ash at the center of the room. She cast a sidelong glance at Zyrdicia. "Lorion?"

Zyrdicia nodded.

Sindra pursed her lips and said gravely, "Murdering a guildmaster won't sit well with the rest of the Council. Aren't they supposed to be off limits?"

"I killed Magnus once and no one seemed to mind."

"Yes, but you merely improved on him," Sindra said, smiling. "Lorion is quite unimprovable now.""

"Did Charles tell you why I need you?"

"Something about your mortal pet being injured. But I don't understand why you need me to address that?"

Zyrdicia said grimly, "I know you've studied other forms of magic besides mine, Sind. Find a way to undo this for me."

"Darling, this mortal is not worth saving," Sindra said tenderly. "Letting him go would be the best thing for you. You've grown far too attached. It's unhealthy."

Zyrdicia stared at the vampire, her purple eyes wide and forlorn. A full minute passed. Finally, she said in a beseeching whisper, "I'm not ready to let go."

Sindra stared at the comatose man on the bed. Her eyes betrayed not the faintest glimmer of interest. "I wouldn't know where to begin," she said flatly.

Zyrdicia's eye's narrowed. She said quietly, "You want to be in charge of the Magic Guild. Find a spell to undo this thing the dream demons did, and you'll have it. If he dies, I won't give you the Magic Guild's seat on the Council."

The vampire replied, "Even if he doesn't die now, he will die soon. A year, or ten. Perhaps even twenty. But he will die. Mortals always do. That is why one mustn't get attached to them."

Zyrdicia glared silently in response.

Unpreturbed, Sindra's prodded, "Or are you planning to make him immortal, as you did me?"

Zyrdicia said sullenly, "Whatever it takes."

"After all he's done to hurt you?"

"We're more than even on that score." Sindra shook her head and said, "Let him go. He's just a man. The whole world is a full of them. You're too emotionally bound to this one. It's a weakness you should be rid of. Take a little pain with his death now to be free of it in the future."

Zyrdicia stood up and faced Sindra, anger flashing in her eyes. A moment later, Sindra shuddered as the force of Zyrdicia's will crashed against her like an unseen blow. For the first time in decades, Sindra was reminded of her magical bond to woman who had raised her from the dead. Through the magic that bound Sindra to this world, Zyrdicia could, if she chose, force Sindra to do anything she desired.

Feeling the magical pressure of Zyrdicia's mind, Sindra's lips pressed together and twisted into a wry smile. She purred, "You haven't done that in a long time."

Sindra had been exiled from Zyrdicia's inner circle for nearly forty years. Once the madness of her resurrection had subsided, Zyrdicia had ignored her. But Sindra had always missed her mentor.

When Sindra was alive, she had been the only mortal Zyrdicia had ever personally tutored in Tenaebran magic. But Zyrdicia had taught her so much more than magic. They had been dear friends in those days. Sindra had idolized her. She was Zyrdicia's first assistant. Sindra had invented the job. It had not been a role for an errand-runner or glorified gopher. She had been Zyrdicia's right-hand in business affairs, and together, they had come up with schemes that reshaped the fate of the Lyrian world. Sindra had been feared in her own right, even as a mortal. Asking Zyrdicia to turn her into a vampire had seemed a logical progression of her development. She had never expected to fall into years of hallucinogenic psychosis after her resurrection -- or that Zyrdicia would turn her back on her. Being on her own for so many years, Sindra had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be utterly incapable of resisting Zyrdicia's desires. And to be owned by her.

Zyrdicia knew Sindra's thoughts without even trying to read the vampire's mind. Sindra was adept at not broadcasting thoughts to strangers, but she could not possibly shield them from her maker. Zyrdicia coaxed tenderly, "I gave you your freedom to spread your wings, Sind. I had to cut you loose from me, for your own good. You would have never conquered the madness that plagued you after I raised you from the dead, had you remained mentally bound to me."

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be severed from you?"

Zyrdicia's eyes traveled toward the window as she remembered raising Sindra from the dead, all those years ago. Truthfully, she had never thought about what Sindra may have wanted. She said, "When you told me you wanted to be a vampire, I warned you that you would suffer."

"I never expected that you would send me away," Sindra said darkly.

"You wanted to be my protégé. You wouldn't be as strong as you are now, if I had shielded you from loneliness. But it's time you came home to me. Help me with this now!"

Sindra looked at Dirk and frowned, "Can it be that you are actually in love with that mortal?"

Zyrdicia sighed and nodded silently.

"Azriok makes perfect sense. He is a god. But a mortal? He's meat. They're like cattle, objects to be dined upon."

"I'm half-mortal," Zyrdicia reminded Sindra.

"And half not."

Zyrdicia said quietly, "I want him back."

Resigned to the task, the vampire sighed petulantly. She walked to the bed and stared at Dirk. She cocked her head and arched a brow as she ventured telepathically into the wreckage of Dirk's mind. "Have you considered using a time portal to go back and change it?"

Zyrdicia shook her head and said, "I've no idea how to control one. And there hasn't been a chronomancer alive for generations who had the precision to take me back to that moment. Even if I could do it, time shifting would likely cause something far worse than this to happen."

"Like causing your pregnancy to terminate."

"I'm not talking to you about that."

Sindra said flatly, "You know what will happen in Lyr once there are suspicions that you are vulnerable."

"I'm not vulnerable," Zyrdicia said, her tone adamant.