Zyrdicia drifted off to sleep. Too late, she realized someone was waiting for her on the other side of consciousness. As long as she could remember, her dream world intersected squarely with Hell.

She loathed the diabolic emissaries who tormented her slumber. Most of the time, she insisted that Portia or one of her other servants sleep in her chamber to ward them off. The presence of another soul inexplicably seemed to repel the visitors from her dream-state. With Azriok recently disabled, she had foolishly taken advantage of the rare opportunity to enjoy solitude in her slumber.

The instant she crossed over, she saw the small, black shape of the horned messenger waiting. Its bat-like wings flapped menacingly, allowing him to hover near her head. His red eyes glowed like embers. It was from her father.

When it departed and released her, she awoke instantly. Damn it, she cursed, I rid myself of Azriok's fiends only to have Zyr fill the void! She was furious. He had an errand for her. Refusal was not a convenient option when the Dark One called like this, though she was outraged at the mission.

His message was etched in her mind as though carved with a knife. There would be no immediate conclusion to her death-game in Aperans. In fact, at this particular moment she wished desperately that she had never become involved in that miserable little world.