"This is no way to behave, Myra Sunveil, and you know it." she scolded herself, pushing her stool back from her desk. She threw away the dried out inkwell and put the quill away. Making her way down the stairs into Laina's room, she noticed an odd feeling in the air. Familiar, yet she couldn't place it. Her mind wandered to her new dwarf friend, Morg. She had rescued him from drowning when a sea serpent took out its anger on his boat. For this he said he owed her a life debt. So now, he brought her offerings of metal, most of which she had no use. She smiled to herself and she climbed down to the first floor of her small home, where she allowed the dwarf to keep his things.

At first she didn't notice the mass huddled in the corner near the bookshelves. When she did, she stumbled back a step or two, startled. The shape was familiar. A bundle of rags, of what seemed to have been eloquent clothing at one time. That was the odd feeling she remembered. Khellenduras. Yet, the smell of decay did not surround him as it had the last time. Inhaling deeply, though involuntarily, to cover a gasp that nearly escaped her lips, she noted the bittersweet scent of embalming fluids.

His eyes, or the crimson points of glowing light that she assumed were his eyes, focused on her. He stared, as if waiting. Myra stumbled over the words, "I...I didn't... I couldn't... I mean.... I..." Taking a deep breath, she finally managed, "I don't have the information you want." She stood her ground as the figure shambled over to stand before her. She tried to quell the trembling that started from deep within her being, and was unsucessful.

Khellenduras sat there, motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Then suddenly, he moved one hand to remove his goat-skull headdress and the other reached up and grabbed Myra's face, pulling her face down even with his. She cringed but did not pull away. As it was, there was nothing but solid stone wall behind her and this preternatural creature's grip was not something she wanted to test, remembering the liches she'd battled in the Yew forests. Slowly he turned her face from side to side, as if examining it.

Exerting the same force she remembered from their last encounter, he spoke. "Search the tower, the Glade...anywhere. Find how..." A hissing, mixed with his garbled speech emited from his mouth. It grew louder, until it was cut short by a fit of a hacking cough that racked his frame. Carefully he replaced his headdress. Myra was scared to move, his hand still cupping her chin, holding her face level with his. After a long moment's pause, he opened his mouth to speak again. This time, no sound came.

Slowly he moved his other hand and placed it upon her forehead. Myra, frightened, did not pull away, only flinched. His eyes grew brighter, glowing as his thoughts seemed to invade her mind. Her entire being was flooded with his putridness, leaving her with a feeling of being violated. But words rang through her mind, words that were not her own, that seemed to come from him. "You have three days time. If you fail, those you love will die. Find what I ask and they live." His eyes dimmed and he lowered his hand from her forehead, releasing her from his grip. He stared at her for a moment longer before hissed words of power sent him on his way to another destination through the ether.

She stumbled back up to her roof for a breath of air. Was this real? A nightmare? When would it end, and how could she now tell the difference between her nightmares and her life? She sat at her desk for long hours in silence, staring out over the forest towards Tel'Ruid.