Honey cavorted through the dying glade, playing with the now familiar elves and other visitors. She ate the apples and pears they fed her and dodged the monsters quite agilely that seemed to take personal interest in the golden doe. Eventually, she retired to the back room of the Silver Arrow and those who remained settled around a few tables. "We must find a way to keep her safe," murmured the young elf sitting next to Azeron.

All conversation stopped for a moment when the stranger entered and quietly made his way to the opposite corner from Owen. Melyanna rubber her temples, her eyes widening at the deep voice she suddenly heard. "Find the trusting fool" Mely looked at the others to see if they heard it, but they had returned to their conversation. In one corner, unnoticed by all, floated an angry pair of crimson eyes.

The young elf slowly left her bed, bare feet barely making a sound as they padded across the bare floor towards the door.

Azeron turned towards the stranger, a hint of recognition in his eyes, "Dolenamo is that you?" The stranger ignored the question as he stood, trembling. "Do any of you know of one called The Trusting Fool?" Melyanna did not hear all the answers as that deep voice suddenly became angry and the stranger ran out of the tavern. The flaming gaze momentarily flickered above the door, urging the young elf to follow.

Rubbing her temples against the pain the angry voice caused, Melyanna stood and silently followed the stranger. Stepping outside she blinked. Before her stood not the glade, but the Empath Abbey. As she wandered through the halls of the abbey, she had the feeling she was being watched. She stepped into the shrine and before her stood a figure, all she could make out of the figure was his outheld hand. She felt compelled to take it, meeting the malicious crimson gaze as she did so. When she looked at what she held, she knew what it was without asking. The still beating heart of an elf.

Melyanna stood in the middle of Empath Abbey, looking down at her empty hand, yet she continued to see the beating heart. Azeron, having felt his wife leave their bed, had soon gone looking for her. He soon found her, standing in all her glory, staring down at her hand, whispering "trusting fool". He carefully wrapped his cloak around her bare shoulders, trying to protect her from the gawking of the guards and bank patrons...

She was whispering, too, though it was the faintest hint of breath. Azeron did not take the time to translate the meaning, and "trusting fool" yielded no immediate connection.

After a few moments, he became certain that she was not hearing him. His voice raised a bit, almost to speaking level, but he quickly decided that it was not working. And so, as gently as he could, he reached out with his thoughts across the bond that the two shared, hoping to break through the barrage of images that she was experiencing.

Melyanna. He repeated it over and over.

Melyanna. Still she stood with her hand aloft.

Melyanna. He did not know how many times he repeated it, but the more he did, the more the gentleness ebbed from his thoughts and the more the urgency entered. Until finally he reached out to her with a mental cry, hoping to stir her from her horrific trance.

Melyanna!

Melyanna. He repeated it over and over.

Melyanna tried to drag her eyes away from the heart and back to the stranger before her. The malicious crimson gaze burnt into hers.

Melyanna. Still she stood with her hand aloft.

She felt something at the edges of her conscience, but that gaze and the heart held her tightly in its evil grasps.

Melyanna. He did not know how many times he repeated it, but the more he did, the more the gentleness ebbed from his thoughts and the more the urgency entered. Until finally he reached out to her with a mental cry, hoping to stir her from her horrific trance.

Melyanna!

It was the anguished cry that finally broke through to her. Melyanna blinked, looked down at her empty hand and then to Azeron. “Mela?” She looked around, her gaze fuzzier than what had become normal to her. It took her a few minutes to realize she wasn't in bed, but stood in the middle of the Abbey. Fear gripped her. What had she done? Why was she here? And why were they all staring at her as if she had lost her mind?

She looked up into Azeron's eyes, finding a mixture of worry and confusion. “Mela...what are we doing in the Abbey?” she whispered, confusion and fear in her eyes and voice. It was then she felt the cool air against her skin and noticed the cloak. The fact that she was naked did not bother her as much as the fact that she was naked in the middle of the abbey.

Azeron's answers were lost as a greater fear caused her heart to pound again. Am I mad? she thought to herself, all thoughts of the dream leaving her. Trembling, she instinctively wrapped her arms around Azeron. “Mely... what did you see? You were staring at your hand when I found you” he whispered against her hair.

He wanted to know of the dream? How could she tell him she was losing her mind, slowly but surely. How else could she explain the horrific dreams. “I... I do not remember Mela...” she said, hating the fact that she was lying, but fearing his reaction to the truth more.