He'd already dispatched a handful of spies to northern Celieria in case his search party had missed something so many years ago. Meanwhile, his apprentice Kolis Manza would continue his work in Celieria and learn what he could about the girl without rousing suspicions.

Vadim rose from his desk. His rich, gold-embroidered, purple velvet robes whispered around him as he crossed the room to approach a carefully warded black metal door. He dissolved the wards, placed his hand in the hollow etched deep into the door's center panel, and uttered, "Gaz vegoth.”

The ancient Feraz witchwords sent magic swirling. Metal groaned as the unseen bolts securing the door slid free from their anchors in the stone. The door opened inward to reveal the small round antechamber that served as Vadim Maur's private spell room.

Fire flared to life in three golden sconces as the High Mage stepped through the door, and in the flickering light, figures seemed to move and sway across the intricate patterns of the mosaic tiles that covered every fingerspan of wall, ceiling, and floor in the room. A carved black stone altar occupied the center of the room; a bowl and goblet of hammered gold rested atop it. Opposite the door, pure, cool water poured from the carved mouth of a snarling dragon's head into a rune-etched catch-basin below.

Vadim moved around the room, murmuring a cleansing spell. When he was finished and satisfied that the room held no residue of previous spells, he grasped the small golden ewer that rested on the wide lip of the catch-basin, and filled it. "Water pure, the path to cleanse," he murmured as he poured the water into the altar bowl.

From a deep left-hand pocket of his Mage robe, he withdrew a tiny vial filled with still-warm blood he had recently taken from a particular guest of his lowermost dungeon and uncorked it. "Blood to bindings call." He dribbled a thin stream of the dark red liquid into the bowl. As it broke the water's surface, the blood diluted rapidly, tiny red streamers shooting through the clear water until the bowl was filled with cloudy pinkness. With a razor-sharp black dagger, he slit the palm of his hand and added his own blood to the mix. His Mage senses grew sharp and he felt the dark, binding threads of magic that tied him to the blooded captive.

He tugged on the thin gold chain about his neck and withdrew the sparkling, dark, rainbow-hued Tairen's Eye crystal that had been resting against his chest. The stone was not warm from contact with his skin as any other pendant would be but instead remained defiantly cool to his touch, rejecting him as its owner had done for centuries.

"Tairen's Eye to forge the bridge." He lowered the crystal into the water until it was completely submerged. The pink, bloodied water grew clear again as the Tairen's Eye crystal at the bottom of the bowl began to glow and pulse like a heartbeat. Vadim dipped the small golden goblet into the altar bowl and drank. The pulsing beat of the crystal grew loud in his ears as his heart matched the rhythm.

"Azrahn these souls enthrall." The High Mage of Eld closed his eyes. He stretched his open palms over the golden bowl. Azrahn gathered at his fingertips and spiraled upwards, a spider-silk-thin filament of darkness that pulsed with red lights keeping time with the beating crystal. Threads of Spirit joined it, wrapping the Azrahn in a protective shield, hiding it from Fey senses. The weave traveled up the tiny pipe that rose from the antechamber's ceiling, through hundreds of layers of rock, into the fresh night air of Eld, then raced south towards Celieria with dizzying speed. His senses raced with it, shooting over forests, rivers, and towns until he reached the glowing brightness of Celieria's capital city.

And there, as his body stood vacant and chilling half a continent away in Eld, High Mage Vadim Maur began softly to croon, "Are you she, girl? Are you the one? Show yourself."

* * *

Well into the night, Ellie drifted in a fretful sleep, tossing and turning as she dreamed of flames and magic and horrible battles where blood flowed in rivers. The scenes changed. Shadows dimmed her vision, and a cold, frightening fog covered the world. Within the fog, something stalked her, calling to her, beckoning with familiar malevolence.

Fear gripped her, the certainty that whatever she did, she must never reveal herself to that crooning evil. Hide deep and well. Do not let him find you.

A strong breeze from her open bedroom window blew across her face. In a half-waking state, she imagined a shadow falling across her. She tensed with sudden fear, then sighed her relief as a tender hand brushed hair from her eyes. Her eyelids fluttering with the effort to open, but a kiss feathered across her brow and a soft-spoken caress of words soothed her. Deep, restful sleep finally overtook her and she sank into it willingly.

Crouched on the floor beside her bed, surrounded by a weave of Spirit to make himself invisible, Rain Tairen Soul watched over his truemate as she slept.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ellie woke to yet another pounding headache and the feel of something soft yet bristly brushing against her cheek. Her eyes opened, and she rose up on one elbow to find a vibrant blue feather on her pillow. It was easily as long as her forearm, with a tuft of navy down at its base and iridescent pink glimmers along its edges. The feather had come from a kolitou, a very rare species of bird that lived in the most inaccessible reaches of the Tivali Mountains bordering Elvia to the south. Hundreds of years ago, before craftsmen had perfected the delicate metal pen nib for writing instruments, the kolitou feather had been the quill of choice for kings due to its rare beauty and the danger involved in acquiring it.

Ellie had no idea why the feather was on her pillow, though she had a fairly good idea who had put it there. Climbing high enough to locate a kolitou aerie was risky for men, but it wouldn't be difficult for a Tairen Soul.