[i]Darkness, filled with nightmares mixed with memories that wove with fragmented visions.  The sweep of time, flowing past unnoticed.  A distant pounding that grew louder, and the sound of a strange but compelling song....[/i]

The girl awoke with a jerk, slamming her head against the top of her coffin as she tried to bolt upright, the impact bringing tears to her eyes.  She fumbled in the dimness of the cracked prison for the only thing she truly cared about, and nearly sobbed in relief when her questing hand came across the worn fabric of her beloved plushie.  Tucking it securely into the length of rope that served her as a belt, she reached for the brilliant crevice that indicated access to the outside world.  The pounding from her dreams seemed to have faded, as had the rhythmic call of the rain -- had it been raining?  But there were other sounds, the rumble and crash of falling stones and the hum and tick of...why did she have the mental image of gears?

The girl scrabbled at the gap, and managed to wrench the cover of her coffin aside enough to squirm free, taking a deep breath of air that wasn't so stale.  She could smell rain and dirt, and for a moment her heart soared.  She was free, somehow she was free, and she'd be able to go back home to--

The thought ground to a halt, a pained sob nearly bursting from her lips but she choked it back.  She remembered what had happened.  She remembered where she had been sent.  This must be the Stone.  And there was no going home, no one waiting for her if she did.  The child shivered and opened her eyes to look around, only to squeeze them shut again against the blinding light.  So long in the dark, and she was nearly blind out of it.  Strains of a song filled her ears, tugging at her thoughts.  A lingering trace of vision flitted past her eyelids, a horrific figure that claimed to be a god, seeking to possess a woman.  And the song...the song was important.  The god was evil, her experience with the thing that clung to her mother told her that.  It was the same sort of thing, darkness and madness and contradiction, and she hated it.

But the song, the song was the opposite.  Whoever was singing, she thought that person might be someone she could trust.  The child ventured to slit her eyes open, still needing to squint against the brightness.  There were other people there, and she didn't trust them.  People would hurt you and hate you and lock you up in a coffin.  She didn't want to get too close to them, but could hardly avoid it, unless....

Forcing her protesting limbs to move, the girl clung to the tangle of ivy and other plants that covered the wall, working her way slowly around the edge of the room.  She didn't look at the dark shape with the glowing eyes.  Even unable to make it out clearly, instinct whispered that looking at it would only bring pain.  She prayed the blurry figures that must be the other people she heard speaking wouldn't see her as she picked her way around the edge of the room, aiming for a level other than the one they seemed to be on, and trying to head for the singing.