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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/EighthMovement|Eighth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT ADanceOfAngels |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Lessons of Essence ==
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| − | When it had come to the discussion of Sorcerous Training, Cael had been somewhat mysterious over just where he would be holding it, instead asking Ryshassa to meet him at the gates of the palace and that she should dress in something warm. When she'd gotten down there she had found him waiting, long white coat buttoned all the way up, rings glittering on his fingers.
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| − | He offered her his arm, and smiled a little apologetically.
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| − | "I'm sorry, we have a short walk ahead of us."
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| − | In his other hand, he carries an elaborate scrollcase, lacquered red and chased with gold and rubies in geometric design.
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| − | '''Ryshassa Krauser: ''' And Ryshassa is dressed warm, in a thick wine-shaded kimono style coat, the long sleeves and hems edged in black fur. The velvety fabric of the coat is overlaid with a darker velvet design of belladonna blooms and leaves. Instead of a sash, the coat is closed with a series of fasteners running up one side of her body from thigh up to collar. The more traditional kimono she wears underneath is well hidden by the coat, but seems to be a lighter shade of mauve.
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| − | Rounding out the outfit, her head is covered by a fur-lined pillbox hat, and her legs in velvety black boots that disappear past the ankle length hem of the coat.
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| − | Seeing Cael there, Ryshassa offers a warm if somewhat shy smile, before gazing with interest at the case in his hand. She seems to hesitate at taking his arm, but in the end rests a black-gloved hand carefully on his forearm.
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| − | "It's all right," she replies with a short laugh, "I am more sturdy than I look."
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael, ever the gentleman (Well, almost always, anyway), leads her from the palace and then from the Spire and out along the southern road, the land starting to rise there into small hills, and it's into these hills that Cael leads Ryshassa, making idle chatter about some of the things he had seen in great forks, talking to her of Anne's new school, though for the moment he steers away from mentioning topics such as the assassination attempt, just what he'd talked to the dayshield about, and the meeting with the haslanti.
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| − | Eventually though, they come to a cleft in the rock, and it's down here that Cael leads them.
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| − | "Be careful now, this is sometimes slippery."
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| − | As they travel deeper, the air warms somewhat, and a thunder grows in the tunnels, getting louder and louder, until they emerge into what Ryshassa can only assume is a large chamber from the way that the light of Cael's anima doesn't reach the sides.
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| − | It's also oddly silent here, the roaring suddenly muting.
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| − | "And we're here."
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Ryshassa seems intrigued by the surroundings Cael is leading her to, though she makes no mention of it at first, content to exchange words with Cael about his trip. She has a goodly amount of things to tell him as well, though by now he's probably heard of most of them: the Virdynn and Calobis, Monev and Iselsis' possession, her work in the clinic which has taken most of her time up until now.
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| − | Inside the caverns, Ryshassa's grip tightens on Cael's arm -- instinctively, more than anything, at his warning about slipperiness. So does her chatter become more sparse, as she concentrates on her footing, and on this strange, encompassing roar that dies out as soon as they step into the larger chamber.
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| − | Stepping away from Cael's side, she too lets her anima shine, all violet and rose and gold, belladonna petals scattering from the edges of her aura. Part in curiosity, part in wonder, Ryshassa asks:
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| − | "And where is... here?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael answers her with a smile, slipping his now free hand into his pocket, and drawing something forth, which he hurls in a spreadshot arc. What he seems to have thrown are a series of spheres that bust into light as they start to fall towards the cave surface and then suddenly, they stop falling and fly from each other, arranging themselves about the cavern to illuminate it easily.
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| − | It's then that what was making the noise earlier becomes apparent. There's a large hole in the ceiling and a cascade of water pouring down from it, disappearing through a second hole in the floor.
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| − | "The Silent Fall."
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| − | He says with a grand and dramatic gesture.
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Light flickers, then spreads warmly across Ryshassa's delighted face, as she takes in the sight of the waterfall in the midst of the cavern. She gazes upwards... up towards where the fall comes through, as if to glimpse the sky between the ribbons of silent water.
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| − | "This is wonderful -- truly! But what lesson will you teach me here of sorcery?" She smiles, enthusiastic for learning, as she turns back to face Cael. The twilight glow wreathing her slender form slowly fades, but the irises of her eyes still shimmer, themselves a sliver of sunset.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael's smile seems alittle wider at the reaction Ryshassa had to his surprise, setting the scrollcase down on a upraised section of the floor, before he turns back to her.
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| − | "Well, that will have to wait for a while. First, I want to hear what you have learnt while I was away...."
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' The question brings a flush to her face -- "Oh, of course, of course. I read a good deal during the evenings... with Alexsei gone, it has kept my mind off of" ''...my empty bed at night, my mornings without his smile, my effort to remain reassured without his presence close by... '' "his absence."
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| − | ''But how to show what I've learned -- well, it is Silurian -- I should show him, as he showed me. ''
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| − | "I have committed the symbols to memory as best as I have been able," she says, and confidently, she speaks several of them, explaining their significance. She takes up a fallen branch, and traces rounded, delicate lines into the dust, each symbol more complex than the last. The Will, the Self... and on upward... until she has shown in symbolic terms, the entirety of the world as a composite of the smaller parts before it. The sleeves of her kimono whirl about her gracefully as she steps in a gradually widening circle, filling out her concept of theory in a mandala-like diagram on the cavern floor.
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| − | "But the symbols of sorcery are tools, not themselves magic without the understanding of how they might interact with one another, their place in the greater whole of existence. Essence is All -- All is Essence..." she murmurs, finishing with a final flourished stroke the last of her most complex array of lines.
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| − | And then, her display completed, she glances up at Cael, as if for approval...
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael gives her a reassuring smile as he sees how much she is missing Alexsei, his face showing sympathy for her, even if he himself doesn't tend to miss people. "He'll be back soon, I'm sure."
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| − | He gestures as she starts to explain, listening carefully, occasionally questioning but mostly letting her draw and explain as she wishes, watching the diagram of Sorcery and Essence and Creation expand on the floor before him. As the diagram goes on though, he asks her less, just watching the unfolding work.
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| − | Ryshassa's upturned face is greeted by Cael's obviously approving smile. "You have been studious these past few days. This is a very comprehensive pattern of the world and Essence that you have laid out." He nods. "Just as I expected."
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| − | "Tonight I plan to show you a spell as they are recorded, and then as I cast it. Perhaps we will have time for me to move on to teaching you how to shape Emerald Circle Countermagic, which is both the simplest and the hardest spell you will ever learn in the Emerald Circle."
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Ryshassa's work is rewarded with praise, and she can't quite keep the blush from her face. She had practiced this, in her room but mostly in her mind, for several nights now. It is a good feeling to know that she has done well.
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| − | "Thank you, Cael," she says, shyly brushing a lock of long, dark hair from her face. "And that sounds fascinating! I am eager to witness a real example first hand. I have seen sorcery cast before, but without the fundamentals I understand now, it was not particularly enlightening..."
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| − | She nods and straightens herself into a properly attentive stance... she is once again the student, and eagerly so. "Please proceed, teacher."
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Why thank you." He says with a grin, for the permission he recieved to continue ''his'' lesson, unable to resist the temptation to tease, at least a little.
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| − | "Though before we go on, please could you bank your anima ... The light is not needed with the glow globes and the spell I wish to show you is on a rather delicate medium."
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| − | Once the light from her and his anima has gone, he turns to the case and turns a small key in the lock, opening it to reveal an empty interior, lined with black velvet, or at least it appears that way at first. Then he reaches in and picks up the the black scroll and Ryshassa can see that it is just that, a scroll.
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| − | "These are the Scrolls of Night." He says, intoning the name as though it were some grand title. "Well, they are at least some of the many sets of scrolls that bear that name in Creation now, or have done in the past."
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| − | He starts to unfurl the scroll, and ryshassa can see, encoded in Old Realm, the complex symbols she can now recognise and start to understand. The text shimmers slightly in the light, a shine that reminds Ryshassa of Alexsei's sword, though something is slightly off.
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| − | "These particular scrolls of night are around four hundred years old, so far as I have been able to determine. If they are the scrolls I think they are, then They were made by Alveua, The Keeper Of The Forge Of Night. They were a final gift to her lover at the time, a Sorceror of no small skill."
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| − | "Well, they are made ''from'' the sorceror too. He was nearing the end of his life, and so she took him to her Forge, where the sun, and the moon and even the stars do not shine, and there she forged his soul, as she is wont to do." Cael carries on, as though this were normal. "Because he loved sorcery, loved learning above most other things, perhaps even Alveua herself, she made from him a scroll. And because he dearly desired to overthrow Heaven, or at least the Gods, thinking them corrupt and incompetant by degrees, so she chose the spells appropriately. She wrote them in startdust, gathered by her friends the insects as no-one watched, except perhaps the Maiden of Secrets, who watches everywhere others do not."
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| − | "Which is why I do not wish to expose them to natural light, even that from our animas for that might damage the scrolls, and that would earn Alveua's ire and I could do without Malfaes too wishing to hunt me."
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| − | "The spell I will show you today though is called The Harmonious Blade That Slices Spirits And Not Silk, but is more commonly known as the Spirit Sword."
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| − | "Here, it begins..."
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' The teasing, naturally, set off Ryshassa's blush even further, partly to her dismay! "I did not mean any disrespect of course! I am just ... happy to learn. And to know I am learning out a sincere desire for knowledge, from one with a sincere desire to teach."
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| − | She might be taking him too seriously, but it matters little... a concern for politeness is something deeply ingrained in her. The idea that, for every situation and group of people there is a hierarchy which ought to be respected. So she bows deeply from the waist, to show her willigness to be taught, and to allow the teacher his right to control the lesson flow.
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| − | Her enthusiasm soon returns, though, as she obediently dissipates her anima and listens with great interest to the story of the scrolls. Black scrolls, scribed in stardust... the aesthetic pleases her greatly, and she nearly reaches out to touch the case herself. "A scroll forged from the soul of a sorceror by the one he most loved. That is a beautiful tale. Are all scrolls made in such significant a way?"
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| − | Ryshassa absorbs to her memory the name of the spell, not having heard it before. ''A sorcerous weapon... '' She continues to observe, intent on understanding how Cael weaves the spell from written form into Essence.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Not all of them are scrolls of course. I have seen rune covered rods of purest ice, crystals that sing their spells as they are tapped and heard of other, stranger things. But all of them are in some way special, yes. At least the ones that tend to last. More mundane treatises just tend to fade away. If I were to write you this spell on a sheet of paper now, you would be lucky to have it within a month. Sorcery abhors the mundane." He says
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| − | "But now, observe the start of the spell...." and slowly he takes her through it, starting with the Essence and the Will, explaining the groups that compose the edge, the core, though he mentions nothing of the harmony, wondering if she pick up on the small sections he leaves unexplained, that cause the playing of bells as the sword is brought forth.
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| − | "And that is The Harmonious Blade That Slices Spirits But Not Silk. Would you like to see it?"
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' ''Sorcery abhors the mundane. '' Ryshassa almost finds herself distracted with thoughts of how she might create such objects of functional beauty herself. ''I will keep that in mind. ''
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| − | As the casting unfolds, Ryshassa dutifully follows Cael's explanations with eyes as well as her senses. The harmony does not escape her notice; she finds herself humming, under her breath, as she gradually traces the connections in her mind. A rendition not nearly as full as the real, as her voice is not so resonant nor polyphonic, but the tones are distinct and accurate. She is, after all, a musician.
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| − | Cael hardly needs to prompt her. "Of course I would," she replies readily, almost breathless with anticipation -- curious whether what she sees will be as she envisions it will be.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael has a small smile on his face as he hears the tones she hums and a wider smile as she expresses her desire to see a spell, and so he takes a step away from her, leaving the scroll spread against the wall as he does.
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| − | He concentrates then and ''pushes'' against the rules of the world. This close him, Ryshassa can feel in the currents of Essence that, sorcery is most definately unlike any other charm she has felt, something that probably doesn't surprise her now. As he concentrates and gestures , at first she can see nothing, and then brilliant lines appear in the air above him, tracing out arcs in a mandala, his gestures forming the essentials of the written spell. She can only assume his raw will is filling in the details. Soon though, the lights coaleasce into a ball of fire which he plucks from the air and presses to his chest over heart. Then he forms his hand into a sword grip and ''pulls. ''
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| − | The blade he draws forth blazes with incandescant glory and the strength of Cael's will, a thousand opaleascant hues forged in the depths of twilight and brought forth in an oddly silent cave. He taps the side of the blade, and it rings with the harmony of a chorus of bells.
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| − | He holds the sword horizontal, for Ryshassa to inspect.
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Indeed... it is nothing at all like the charms she knows, which are much more simple, and instinctive. It is the exertion of one's will on the natural laws of the world, and to Ryshassa, it feels thrilling, and a touch dangerous. It takes intricate, surgery-like precision to create ''that'' effect, and only that, and make it work to one's favor.
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| − | But she can appreciate that complexity now. It is part puzzle, part design. And now, the results. She can't help but let out a gasp as Cael pulls the blade shimmering from his breast, a figment of possibility made very, very real.
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| − | ''So this is what sorcery can do... ''
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| − | Ryshassa's slender fingers reach out to touch the blade, hesitantly at first, as if she is invading into something deeply personal to him. The hesitation does not last, though, as she admires the ever-shifting colors, the shivering of bells that resounds as her fingers gloss the surface. Purposefully, she presses a fingertip against its edge; hardly a feather touch, and several beads of blood well from her skin, coloring the edge crimson on twilight before it sloughs away.
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| − | "A blade of your own Essence... Is it only sword weapons that can be created this way?" she wonders, curiously, her eyes never leaving the blade.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Ah." he says as she cuts herself on the blade, on an expression of his soul. "You can see how it cuts your skin. But watch..." he rolls his sleave up to show an arm bare of cuts, laced only with a few tattooes that shimmer even now with the remnants of the sorcery, and then he rolls it back down. He takes the blade and deliberately draws it over his arm, but lightly. He winces alittle, as the black shirt turns alittle darker ... but is not cut. Then he rolls his sleave up to show the small incision.
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| − | "It cuts only spirit, magic and life. Silk or steel or stone are no barrier to it. But yes, there are other weapons one can form, both instantaneous and more persistant ones such as this, though I have not the tomes with many in."
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' "So it can be used to pierce right through even armor... A formidable weapon." Ryshassa nods, bringing her cut finger to her lips... cleaning the blood with her tongue. The skin would heal itself without her prompting.
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| − | "I am intrigued. With sorcery, the possibilities seem nearly endless. But there are greater levels of power even than this, are there not? The sort of power that made the Anathema feared and hated centuries ago..." Not that she is still a believer in the Immaculate lies. But even in Alexsei's account, the Solars were not completely blameless.
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| − | "I would like to be able to use sorcery in beneficial ways. There is need for destruction, at times." This Ryshassa says sadly. "But also... for renewal. To bring food to the hungry. Shelter and protection to the suffering. Rain for thirsty crops. And to counteract harmful effects..."
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| − | "This is what I truly wish -- that we should not be feared but welcomed as guardians."
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| − | Ryshassa smiles at Cael, then asks, less soberly, "Will I be performing any sorcery tonight, or will there be more books to study for this beleagured student?" The last is a joke, of course, and her eyes sparkle with it.
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| − | '''Cael: ''' "Just so." He nods.
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| − | "There are three circles of Sorcery. This sword is formed using the rituals of the first and lowest circle, the Emerald or Terrestrial Circle. It is the highest circle that a Dragonblood may learn. Spells of this level can harm or help many men."
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| − | "The next circle, the Sapphire or Celestial Circle, is rarely seen these days, though both Fiona and the Lady Valencia command sorceries of this level, as does The Prophet of the Ashen Book. I believe the Sidereals have access to it too. Spells of the Sapphire circle have much larger effects, or at least more ''comprehensive'' effects."
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| − | "The final circle, the Adamant or Solar circle, as it is called, is if tales are to be believed, glorious and terrible beyond compare. Legends, not often repeated these days, speak of regions laid to waste for hundreds of years ... or of deserts turned to verdant grassland. That circle, I think at least, is our province alone, as Solars." He finishes his brief summary, and then he smiles.
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| − | "But on the subject of destruction, you may relax. For every spell that harms, there is one that protects and one that aids in other ways."
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| − | "The simplest example of this is the Emerald Countermagic. This is the first spell you will learn, and it's purpose is simple. To tear apart a spell as it is being cast or as it carries on. While it is not a graceful spell in its effects, it will never be worse than an offensive spell actually unleashed."
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| − | "There are rituals I know, to summon and to bind Elementals and to coersce and aid them into endowing something with the essence of their element, granting it properties beyond the mundane. While I have not the texts, certainly not internalised to show you, I have heard tell of spells that will do as you desire, summoning forth fresh water, sheilding those around you with a mist of ice or encouraging crops to grow to the point of harvesting in mere moments."
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| − | "Where there is Essence and there is Will, there is a way." He nods.
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| − | "But that, I leave up to you." He says in answer to her question. "I believe you have everything that you need to know to cast sorcery, but I do not know that you Understand it."
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| − | "Do you?" He asks, as he carefully stores the scrolls away, locking the box once more.
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| − | '''Ryshassa: '''Understanding... Ryshassa ponders this, ponders all that Cael had explained. The Circles of sorcery. The possibilities they entail. And... the lessons. The sword drawn from Cael's chest, scintillating, chiming with bells. The words, the language of magic. The theories, connecting those building blocks into something greater.
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| − | "There is still... something missing," she says after a moment, solemnly, choosing her words carefully. "When I first asked you to teach me, you spoke of the difficulty of this path I will walk. The path to sorcerous enlightenment. Certainly the studies have challenged my mind in ways I had not contemplated until recently. But this is... mere academics. Analysis. Comprehension. If it were just this, any Essence wielder with a sharp enough mind on her shoulders could be a sorcerer."
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| − | "Yet... they are rare. There are many more who understand the theories than actually practice them. The ones that do... they accept that with the power must come a price."
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| − | Ryshassa's eyes gaze deeply into Cael's. Searchingly. "How did you know when you had paid it?"
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael watches her as she considers all that he has said, all that she has studied over the past few weeks, all that she knows of sorcery and essence and the shaping of Will. He gives her a solemn nod as she admits there is still something missing, something not there. A fundamental bridge missing between Comprehension and mere understanding.
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| − | "Yes, there is a acceptance that must be made. There is gulf so fine it can barely be seen until you are on the edge, and then it fills your world."
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| − | "Knowing there is that price is one of the final steps though."
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| − | He answers her questions not exactly wholely meeting her eyes, the questions about the price stirring things within him that he did not usually consider. The blade, though, conveys something of his turmoil, the surface rippling with a strange beauty. But then he can avoid it no longer, and he looks up to meet her eyes, and she can see within them something she hasn't seen in there before. Perhaps it's a thought of what might have been.
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| − | Two years ago...<br>
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| − | ''There he stood, atop the mountain, the cold wind biting at his face, though muted slightly by the amulet on his neck. The Zephyr was below him, almost blinding in the sunlight, here above the sparsely scattered clouds. The mountain beneath him was made of crystal so pure the light simply fell through it, gathered by the natural refractions of the light into a chamber at the heart, the chamber that produced the stone he used now, casting his gaze over the many leagues, thinking. ''
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| − | ''Thinking on what his mother had told him. ''<br>
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| − | ''Thinking on what the Sages had told him. ''<br>
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| − | ''Thinking on what the half-remembered dreams had told him. ''<br>
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| − | ''Thinking on himself. ''<br>
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| − | ''Thinking on Creation. ''
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| − | ''He considered the path that laid before him, and the mountain split that path. ''<br>
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| − | ''There were two ways down the mountain. ''<br>
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| − | ''There was the easy way, and the other way. ''<br>
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| − | ''One way would see him travelling the world, experiencing its sights. ''<br>
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| − | ''The other way would too, but not just on his own whim. ''<br>
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| − | ''One way would see him know pain and loss and suffering. ''<br>
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| − | ''The other way would too, but not just those which he choose. ''<br>
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| − | ''One way would see him gain power and riches beyond that which he had now. ''<br>
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| − | ''The other way would too, but not just for himself. ''<br>
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| − | ''There was a choice. ''<br>
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| − | ''The easy way, or the other way. ''
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| − | ''Cael decided. ''
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| − | ''He choose the other way. ''
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| − | "I knew." He says, in a tone that is serious and solemn.
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| − | "If there is any doubt that you have made the choice, the choice has still to be made."
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Ryshassa can only nod, seeing the swirl of thought on the crystalline blade, the profound recollection in Cael's eyes... knowing that whatever moment he had faced, it had been life-altering and irreversible.
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| − | ''What have I ever given up in my lifetime? ''
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| − | ''But for my innocence --''
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| − | Cynis Sydrea, her mother, pulled tight the bodice laces of her all-too-brief outfit. A younger Ryshassa stands there, meekly and obediently allowing the older woman to inspect her. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Remain polite, respectful and chaste. You will know when they will want more. Give it to them -- but not your cunt, you whore, or you'll be worth less than dirt to us."
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| − | ''-- my dignity --''
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| − | They enjoyed her. So gentle, so soft-spoken. Yet so willing to please, in every way but penetration. And that only because Mother would punish her for it, Mother would cut off their ''balls'' if they spoilt her little doll, her little pet.
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| − | She learned to love them, in a way. Surely they were seeking such carnal desires for a lack of love elsewhere. Her hands would soothe their aches. Her lips would ease their loneliness. Her flesh would be their canvas of pleasure and pain. She would be a receptacle for their need, and thus be important to them. Thus be praised, and affirm her existence one more day.
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| − | But Mother always, always hated her, and so she would learn the meaning of shame.
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| − | ''-- and my virginity? ''
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| − | Salagin, forceful and sweaty, rutting her like he would a common whore. It was her fault, he had said. ''She'' was toying with him, with her claims of chastity, her blushing denials. And then the fear... yes... the fear in those demure, downturned eyes, that aroused him all the more. He would be the one to have her. And he did -- that night. That terrible, bewildering night, he made her ''his'' --
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| − | ''No. ''
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| − | The Ryshassa standing before Cael is older now, married and independent, clad in winter kimono of mauve and black. A power in her own right, a ''Sunchosen'', whose hands may heal the most grievous of illnesses, whose lips deliver calming words and memories to ease the most troubled of minds. And she does not avert her face from his, though her cheeks burn with the recollections she has dredged from her consciousness, and her eyes ache with the familiar sting of unshed tears. Shame. Can he see it? Does he desire her for it, to know what lusts lie beneath the pristine surface, fueled by a desperate instinct to be ''needed''?
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| − | "I have never truly sacrificed anything in life," is what the healer says aloud, slowly, shakily at first, taking a heavy breath as if she has just risen up from deep underwater. "I allowed others to take it from me, because I would not fight it. I would be the receptacle -- I would recieve pain, but never give it. I thought..." Now she almost does look away. She feels laid bare, to even speak of these things to another, things only her husband has ever heard. "...I think I deserve it."
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| − | "But if I were to give up anything now, I think it would be my... my unwillingness to cause others pain. Not because I wish to be cruel, but because it has become an crutch for me, to view myself as a savior. Because when I say that I wish to hurt for others, and never hurt in return, it is really just saying I lack the courage and worth to live any other way."
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| − | ''There. It is said. But words alone cannot consider it done. ''
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| − | '''Cael: ''' Cael watches Ryshassa as she had watched him, watches the subtle signs of a pain long forgotten being recalled, sees the tears just waiting to form at the edge of her eyes, then watches the blush blossom over face.
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| − | ''What is it that she recalls? ''
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| − | ''Why does it hurt her so? ''
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| − | ''The time she alluded to before Alexsei? ''
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| − | He makes no comment to her blushes, though his face is sympathetic and reassuring, softly lit by the glowglobes, wondering if he could say a few words to take that pain away. Knowing that perhaps some day he could, and wondering if he would then...
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| − | Then she spoke, and he could hear the effort in her voice, read the shame on her face as she spoke of things to him in the privacy of the cave.
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| − | "That is a hard path, that you have lead." He says softly. "To let people take from you what they wish. To think such things about yourself. For that, I can only say that it is not a life I could lead, not for as long as you have."
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| − | "The choice you have made though, that will be a harder path for you, I think. To change the habits of your life."
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| − | "I think it will be enough though."
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/EighthMovement|Eighth Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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