Lyreia sat in the back of a darkened vehicle, slowing blinking herself awake, before falling back into a deep sleep once more. The stuff her captors had forced into her certainly was strong. Especially since Lyreia had never done skooma before. Her head swam, and suddenly, so did her body.

   She was underwater. That was the only way to describe it. Her auburn hair lifted into the air as she floated, revealing her Elven ears. Revealing her shame. She opened her eyes, and was floating in space. Just as suddenly as she had been there, she was gone.

  She laid down on a dusty bed of hay in a prison cell, as she was approached by a hooded man. She clutched to her chest a silver box, holding so tightly that her knuckles whitened. She heard the prison door open, and then felt the first of many blows. The cloaked figures were all around her, kicking her like a dog. One of them reached down and tried to rip the box from her grasp as the rest mercilessly landed blow after blow on her body. They drew their swords, and started to plunge their blades into the less vital parts of her, slowly killing her off. She tried to fight, but she could hardly move; a thick fog was over her vision. Out of the fog emerged a dark figure, different from the rest. It raised a glowing hammer and brought it down hard against Lyreia's chest. She screamed in agony as her body collapsed into nothing.

 She woke up in the back of a dimly lit carriage, with some kind of makeshift roof built to keep out the light. She groaned as she ripped open her shirt, still feeling the open wound bleeding on her chest. She looked down, and saw instead a swirling pattern. 
  "What the fuck!?" She yelled.
  "What're you doing back there!?" A rough voice yelled, and she scrambled to fix her shirt. The carriage stopped, and footsteps sounded around the side. Lyreia lay in the carriage, breathless, as the back doors opened, and her captor smiled inside. In his grubby hands was a silver box.