[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/vVKfCjO.png[/img]

[colour=f7941d][i]Level 7 Dormant-Goddess of Magic (Pacts)
[b]Might[/b]: 25
[b]Free Points[/b]: 9
[b]Concelmeant/Detection[/b]: 10[/i][/colour]

[hider=Summary]
Part I
Yara has started a school in the temple
She is teaching a child called Naafeh when Sister Malikhet calls her to go teach the older class about the human anatomy
While on her way, the older class discusses some interesting stuff
A priestess comes seeking Yara for an emergency
Yara goes - a man is having difficulty breathing and it gets chaotic and emotional
Yara refuses to use magic or divine energy to heal him when the seeds she gives him backfire
He dies
Yara is sad
To make everything worse, a parent over-reacts when he thinks his boy is lost and hurts Yara
She gets all depressed and reads poems about how unlovable everything is
Poems from: 
[b][i]There Will Come Soft Rains[/i] by [i]Sara Teasdale[/i]
[i]I Am The Only Being Whose Doom[/i] by [i]Emily Brontë[/i][/b]


Part II
Yara doesn't care
Some people come seeking a legal resolution for an issue
Legal dialogue occurs
The guy in the case is a real prick and says something foolishly 
He ends up losing most of the time he has left to live :) (Yara puts it in a pretty phial for [s]him[/s] her future uses)
We end on a warning
[/hider]

[/centre]

The air was hot, the day was dry, the sun was sighing in the sky, and Yara sat in a small lit room along with two other priestesses and ten children.
[i][color=f7941d]‘Yes, and this word?’[/color][/i]
‘a-um, aanii…tt. Anit.’
[i][color=f7941d]‘No, close, try again.’[/color][/i]
‘Aneet.’
[color=f7941d][i]‘No, you were closer before.’[/i][/color]
‘Anot?’
[i][color=f7941d]‘Where are you getting these "ee" and "o" sounds from? Do you see them written there?’[/color][/i] 
‘Oh, ant?’
Yara nodded in tired approval, [color=f7941d][i]‘yes, good. So, “The great ant”, what’s next?’[/i][/color]
‘The great ant eww…aa…zz. The great ant was waall…walleekk-ing. The great ant was wolliking tt-’
[color=f7941d][i]‘Wolliking? Are you sure about that?’[/i][/color]
‘Uh, wilking?’
[color=f7941d][i]‘No…’[/i][/color]
‘Polting?’
[color=f7941d][i]‘What? Where did you get the-’[/i][/color]
‘Mother Yara,’ Malikhet suddenly interrupted, ‘you are wanted in Sister Olakhat’s class. Leave this class to me,’ on hearing her, Yara leaned backwards on the stool and stretched her aching back. Sitting hunched on a little table while trying to get a child to read was going to claim her back, she was certain. That was the price of sowing the seeds of literacy, she guessed. What did it matter if she eventually became an old crone with a spine so disfigured she walked bent double like one of those Sculptors? Or ‘Azmundian Horrors’ as they were better known in Vetros. That was, of course, if this seemingly mortal body of hers did indeed age and did indeed die. 
[color=f7941d][i]‘Can’t Sister Akanit or Sister Golanaz go instead?'[/i][/color] she said, gesturing to the other two priestesses in the room, [color=f7941d][i]'I’ve been sat here so long that I may well have to teach my feet how to walk again,’[/i][/color] but despite her melodramatic response, Sister Malikhet smiled and shook her head.
‘Sister Olakhat insisted that you come and teach the group of older pupils some of the details of the human body which she has not had the chance to study properly.’

[color=f7941d][i]‘Ah yes, she never did like all those grizzly details. The dummy always made her queasy, poor thing. Very well Sister Malikhet, I leave…uh, by the Master, my mind has grown so numb that I’ve forgotten the boy’s name. I leave him with you.’[/i][/color]
‘I believe that’s Naafeh, Mother,’ Maliket said helpfully, smiling that little knowing smile of hers.
[i][color=f7941d]‘Ah, yes, Naafeh. It’ll sink in eventually I’m sure,’[/color][/i] she sighed before getting up and half walking half limping out of the room, holding her back and muttering in pain at the aching and sighing in relief that she could finally move.

Not long after the birth of Chjekaya’s first child – a girl whose face was the gold of Mamoor and whose eyes were as bright as the blessed Ayzof! – Chjekaya had suggested that they dedicate a few hours of every day to teaching children from the temple’s locality how to read and write. Over the past three years the number of pupils had increased and the classes had grown, with those who had come in previous years returning to learn more. And so they had moved them on to more complicated things – rather than just reading and writing, they taught them history, religion and – at the highest levels – about the human body and the basics of medicine. There were currently three waves, one for each year, and each wave had approximately thirty students, with three classes to each wave (for they had deemed classes of ten overseen by three priestesses each as sufficient.)

While the temple was large and the priestesses many, there simply were not a great many parents who were interested in having their children educated. They had in fact received complaints from some families in the area, demanding they stop their antics on the basis that children returning home with their parents were ‘noisy’ and were not doing anything ‘useful’ in the temple. Yara had had relatively little contact with these, and with the parents in general, and so she had not given the matter, and what it indicated about Vetruvian society, much thought before - other than the fact that it made sense for them to object, for of what use was reading and writing for people who ploughed the earth and raised families? It was far more important that whatever children they had be taught at an early age more useful, practical skills rather than reading and writing. And so the number of pupils remained very low, as was, to Yara's mind, really quite natural. But perhaps, had she considered it, she would have had a less idealistic conception of not only Vetruvian society, but the human condition in general, and maybe even the condition of all thinking beings from the lowliest human or hain to the greatest of gods.

'So, Bakintash, one more time, the first raids began during...'
'During the reign of Prophet Primus' successor, Priest-King Sequndus. It was in the latter half, some forty years into his reign, according to the records and the conventional calender. Others date the first raids to the reign of Sequndus' successor, Priest-King Marutkaman, though such reports have been deemed spurious at best.'
'Good, and what was the state of the Horse People in those days, as opposed to the present? Malkiya, stop staring at Bakintash and tell us,' the girl in question sat up in surprise, her previously glazed eyes focusing on Sister Olakhat.
'Uh, sorry...well. Can you repeat the question?'
'Saqeer, what was the question?' Olakhat turned on the youngest of the pupils sitting in the circle.
'The question was: what were the Horse People - better known as the Rukbans or Rukbanians; the inhabitants of Rukbania or Rukbany - back then like, as opposed to what they're like now,' he responded.
'Well,' Malkiya scratched her cheek, her quick mind putting two-and-two together, 'we know that they had learned to ride the horse at that point and were socially more or less as they are today - barbarians living in tents and so on. They were, however, far more politically divided at the time. From what little we know of them at present, we know that they celebrate figures such as Mu'aykala for his effective assaults on Vetruvians - and who appears to be in Vetruvian records also, as the mastermind of one of the more devastating early attacks on Vetruvian villages - and others such as Huntalla, Ma'Erkoz, Dhul'Dhanab and other such tribal chiefs. Their state then differs from the present, where the Horse Peop- uh, Rukbans appear far more united. A great chief - or "Qa'id Adheem" as is his title - called Shaqmar, who is of the relatively small "Azad" tribe, has in the past decade or so managed to unite much of the Horse Pe- Ruban tribes under his leadership. There remain others, most notably the "Ma'Erkoz" tribe which has been amongst the most vicious aggressors against Vetruvian lands and-'
'Good, good, that's enough on that little bit of history. As you know, today we are discussing medicine rather than history, but this gives us a good basis in the beginnings of the study of the human body and medicine here in Vetros. While Prophet Primus taught us much, it was in later years - particularly following the beginning of the raids - that knowledge on this area began to flourish. Who can hazard a guess why? Saqeer?'
'Well, Priestess, from the manuscripts you recommended we look through in the library, it is clear that while the bodies of Vetruvians are to be immediately cremated on death, no such ruling applies to the bodies of the heretic Rukbans. This meant that their bodies were generally experimented on by medicine-men serving in the army. These bodies proved beneficial to our knowledge of the human body, and future experiments on live subjects furthered our learning. However, the coming of the Witch-Priestess has caused a heretofore unprecedented leap forward in medicinal knowledge, though it is currently only the Temple here that is truly making use of her expansion in this field of knowledge, and which is why people from far and wide choose to come here for cures rather than any other Temple.'
'Very good Saqeer, it is clear you have read much on the subject in preparation - however, remember that a simple and concise answer is sometimes better than displaying all that you know, tempting though it may be,' she smiled at the boy who grinned and rubbed his head in embarrassment.
'Sorry Priestess.'
'But as you have clearly done the research, and as the Witch-Priestess has yet to arrive, tell us more about her history,' leaning forward excitedly, Saqeer began.

'The Witch-Priestess rose to prominence in Vetros about-'

'Sister Olakhat, did Mother Yara come here?' a voice suddenly interrupted the boy. Breathing heavily at the door was Sister Keliptria.
'No Sister, we are still waiting on her. Why?'
'There is an urgent case she is needed for. A man has been brought in and is struggling to breathe, we don't know wh-' 
'Have you pushed upon his chest as the Witch-Priestess showed us?'
'Yes, and Sister Lilaneem gave him the kiss of life, but nothing is working.'
'I see. I did call for the Witch-Priestess, so she should be here any moment now.'
'Yes, of course. I will wait for her then,' Keliptria looked at the circle of ten pupils and gave an apologetic glance to Olakhat, 'very sorry for disrupting your class, Sister.'
'Not at all, it is clearly a matter of urgency and importance. We will just have to continue this as a history session then. Now, Piraqa, can you list the Priest-Kings we have had since the Prophet Primus?'
'Yes Priestess. We have had Priest-King Sequndus - who is recorded to have lived through one hundred and ten floodings of the Mahd -, Priest-King Marutkaman - who is recorded to have lived through ninety-eight floodings of the Mahd -, Priest-King Marutkaman II - who is recorded to have lived through one hundred and twelve floodings of the Mahd -, and the current Priest-King Akthanos, who has seen the Mahd flood ninety times, seventy times as Priest-King.'

As the class went on, Keliptria waited at the door with growing panic. The moment she spotted Yara, she ran to her and near enough fell apart before the Witch-Priestess, who quickly calmed her down and had the priestess tell her what the issue was. And though there was some distance between the more recently constructed 'school' building, to the right of the Temple's right wing, and the wards on the left wing dedicated to caring for and curing the ill, Yara and Keliptria had soon arrived.

'Mother, we don't know what's wrong with him,' Sister Lilaneem immediately told her, 'he appears to be having difficulties breathing, but he was not drowned or anything of the sort.'
Frowning, Yara placed a hand on his chest and felt for the man's heartbeat. It was erratic, and his inhalations were coming in pained gasps.
[color=f7941d][i]'I mean, air has to...'[/i][/color] she muttered to herself, [color=f7941d][i]'it's not the nose, that looks fine...throat...hmm. Well, there must be some kind of blockage. That, or his two air-sacks are not functioning. I see no logical reason for the latter, so I suspect it is the former. Bring me those seeds on the fourth shelf, Sister Lilaneem. Quickly.'[/i][/color]

As the priestess went to do as Yara bid her, the dormant-goddess prodded the man's chest and massaged his throat area slightly. There did not seem to be any swelling, so the blockage was probably further down. When Lilaneem returned with the phial of seeds, Yara bid them raise his head and turn his nose upwards, so as to pour some seeds in. On so doing, there were a few seconds of calm. The man blinked and sighed, relaxing in their arms.
'Ah, that feels better,' he murmured, and Yara smiled to herself. The man sat up and took a few breaths, feeling his mouth and throat.
[i][color=f7941d]'That's good. Rest a while and- my God, he's going blue. That can't be good,'[/color][/i] the man was once more gasping, clawing at his throat in pain and frothing at the mouth. His neck had very suddenly and swiftly - before their very eyes - swollen nearly twice the width and length it had been before. The man was clearly in extraordinary pain, and the priestesses were rushing around Yara in confusion - some bringing cups with water and putting them to his swollen lips, others bringing wet pieces of cloth and dabbing at his neck and forehead in an attempt to cool it and ease the swelling and the pain. Others brought him pillows, attempting to get him in a position that would ease his breathing - but nothing seemed to work. And all the while Yara stood there, partially confused and partially thinking on what the issue could be.
'Mother! Do something, work some kind of spell for the Master's sake!' one of the priestesses - Sister Hebatel - was screeching. Panicked and angered by the commotion and noise all around her, Yara turned on the poor priestess in vexation and slapped her across the face.

[color=f7941d][i]'Be quiet! Be quiet and leave. Now,'[/i][/color] Hebatel looked visibly shocked, and the others around her froze all at once and were aghast. Saying nothing, Hebatel backed away and quickly left the room. With silence all around her - other than the gasping, frothing man - Yara turned back to him and considered Hebatel's words. A spell, she had said. Furrowing her brows in anger, Yara put the thought aside. She would do no such thing, not here in her capacity as a human and a healer. If there came to her those who sought her more fantastical services, that was one thing, but here was a completely different thing. Here she was just Yara, just Mother Yara.
She looked at the others and pursed her lips, and once complete silence had dawned and the man had become utterly still, a little sigh left her mouth.

[color=f7941d][i]'I am not a god.'[/i][/color]

And with that she left. She contemplated going to her room, but decided to return to the school instead. She was in no state to teach, but she thought having children around her would soothe her somewhat. As it were, she found herself wandering the main courtyard for a good while, and by the time she got to the school the parents were already flooding the place. Most did not recognise her, for she had left the interactions with the parents to others, and so none stopped her or got in her way.

'Sorry, you are a priestess here, right?'
[color=f7941d][i]'Huh?'[/i][/color] she looked around herself, and a huge man, easily twice her size, was suddenly before her.
'I'm just looking for my son's class. His mum usually gets him, so I don't know where he is,' the man was saying.
[color=f7941d][i]'Uh, yes. Of course. Your boy's name?'[/i][/color]
'Naafeh.'
[color=f7941d][i]'Do you know which wave he's in?'[/i][/color]
'Uh, wave? No, no I don't. Though I thought I heard his voice when I was praying in the temple earlier,' Yara nodded absent-mindedly at his words.
[i][color=f7941d]'Yes, we sometimes take them in to pray, lets see now. Naafeh...Naafeh,'[/color][/i] she looked around herself until she spotted Sister Akanit standing outside the class she had been in earlier, [color=f7941d][i]'come, let us ask Sister Akanit.'[/i][/color]
Approaching the priestess, she asked her if they had one Naafeh in the class.
'Ah, yes. Naafeh. I'm not sure. Sister Golanaz, did you see Naafeh?' the other priestess frowned and shook her head slightly.
'I think...he went to pray some time back and didn't come back. Sarik told me he went with his cousin or something of the sort,' watching this display, the father seemed clearly perplexed.
'What do you mean his cousin? Where is the boy? You're telling me he's not here?'
[color=f7941d][i]'Oh no no, don't worry. I'm sure he's somewhere around here. Lets go check the prayer hall,'[/i][/color] Yara muttered more to herself and began walking off, the father in hot pursuit. Yara suddenly stopped and turned around, [color=f7941d][i]'ah, sorry. The prayer hall is the other way.'[/i][/color]
The father frowned deeply and muttered darkly to himself as they retraced their footsteps and made their way into the temple's main building - it was a rather awkward walk, and Yara prayed she would not have to walk it back with him - and into the prayer hall. They looked around for a few moments, but other than the odd worshipper or priestess, there was no Naafeh or cousin to be seen.
[color=f7941d][i]'Do you see him?'[/i][/color] she asked the father, who groaned and smacked a pillar before turning away and walking quickly back towards the school, Yara following close behind and looking around in case the boy was walking around somewhere.
When they returned to the Sisters Akanit and Golanaz, Naafeh had not appeared there either.
[i][color=f7941d]'I'm sure he'll turn up, he can't be anywhere other than here,'[/color][/i] Yara muttered monotonously.
'What do you mean "you're sure" he'll turn up? Where is the boy?!' the father was now fuming and looking around himself, anger apparant not only in his voice, but also in his eyes. Then he looked once more at Yara, 'what are you doing standing around looking at me for?! Find the damn boy! What kind of no-good place is this? What rubbish! By the Master, this whole place and all of you are worth less than the dung of one of those horsebeasts! Why'd I listen to that stupid woman and brin- Find the boy, by God!' Yara watched the strange display numbly, not quite believing it or taking it in.

[color=f7941d][i]'Uh. Um. Just...calm down and...we'll find him. Wherever he is-'[/i][/color]
'Stop talking and go do something!' he roared, pushing her aggressively with a giant hand which immediately floored the Witch-Priestess.
'Hey!' the other two priestesses made to step towards the man and restrain him from further violence, but they were very quickly surrounded by other parents. And Sister Maliket, along with another woman and a little boy, were suddenly beside the fallen Yara.

'What do you mean he was praying?! Where? With the women?!' she heard the father's voice.
'Bro, just calm down. The boy was with his mother and a priestess, he was safe. He was praying. For the Master's sake, calm yourself.'
'Here, here, calm down. Look, Naafeh is here, see?' a female voice.
'You collected him? You didn't even te...'

Their voices slowly faded as the commotion moved further and further away from where Yara lay on the floor. At last, Sister Malikhet bent down and helped her up, along with Golanaz and Akanit.
'That was qui-'
[color=f7941d][i]'Just...take me to my room,'[/i][/color] Yara murmured flatly, her eyes glassy, her limbs limp, and her head leaning slightly forward and drooping to the right. The three other priestesses looked to one another anxiously, before they half walked and half carried her away. She did not sleep that night, but lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. And yes, a part of her cursed her foolish naiveté. How did that strange poem she had read once go, the one she had not truly understood at the time? She lifted herself up and made her way tiredly out of her room and towards the library, where she fell into a seat and looked around her at the shelves. At last seeing the tome she suspected the poem was in, she lifted it from the shelf before falling onto the closest bench. She leafed through the pages, her glazed eyes barely registering the words, until she came to the familiar page - for she had marked it where it read 'burning pyre' (the words had faded and could no longer be read, and so she had replaced it with something that seemed appropriate if not truly correct). And she read:

[centre][b][i]'There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, 
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a [color=f26522]burning pyre[/color];
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.'[/i][/b][/centre]

Perhaps, she thought to herself, she understood it somewhat now. Perhaps she understood it now that she had seen what she had seen today. She knew not why - perhaps she had just become unduly sensitive following the incident with the patient, or perhaps because she had not had any interactions with parents before - but what had occurred had hurt her deeply. It was not so much the fact that he had pushed her - though that did shock her greatly - but rather, the fact that he had been as he had been. She had not realised humans were capable of the very same wickedness she had thought she had escaped when she fled from the life of the gods and took up the life of mortals. She had been a fool. She had not observed them long enough. She turned the page and found there another poem. The ink was worn and nothing could be read but the last part. And it read:

[centre][b][i]'...irst melted off the hope of youth, 
Then fancy’s rainbow fast withdrew; 
And then experience told me truth 
In mortal bosoms never grew. 

’Twas grief enough to think mankind 
All hollow, servile, insincere; 
But worse to trust to my own mind 
And find the same corruption there'[/i][/b][/centre]

Her eyes widened and she slammed the book shut, before getting unsteadily to her feet and - she did not even return the book to its place on the shelf - rushing back to her room. There, she slumped on to the bed and did not move for a long time.

[centre]***[/centre]

'Mother, a few people are requesting the Temple settle a case according to the divine law,' Sister Malikhet leaned in and whispered to the Witch-Priestess, who was sitting in the Miracle Room staring blankly at two phials which appeared to have more or less the same substance within them.
[color=f7941d][i]'What? Sorry, didn't quite catch tha...'[/i][/color] her voice faded and she continued staring at the phials.
'Some people...want you to settle a dispute between them, Witch-Priestess,' Malikhet repeated, frowning slightly at Yara.
[color=f7941d][i]'Oh, really? That sounds interesting...'[/i][/color]
'Shall I call them in?'
Yara raised her head suddenly.
[color=f7941d][i]'What, bring them in? Why?'[/i][/color]
'So you can...well, settle the dispute between them,' Malikhet said slowly.
[color=f7941d][i]'Oh. Yes. That. Can't you do it?'[/i][/color]
Malikhet pursed her lips and shook her head slowly. Sighing, Yara slumped into her seat.
[color=f7941d][i]'Fine, bring them in and lets get it done,'[/i][/color] bowing ever so slightly in respect, Malikhet turned away and hurried outside to call the ones who had sought the Witch-Priestess' aid. They soon walked in and Yara surveyed them. There was a young woman accompanied by an older man (probably her father), and a young man accompanied by another older man (probably his father).
[color=f7941d][i]'Yes, what is it?'[/i][/color] Yara asked brusquely.
'You are the Witch-Priestess?' the girl asked.
[color=f7941d][i]'No, I'm an Azmundian Horror about to tear your head off. Get on with it,'[/i][/color] came Yara's snappy response.
'Uh, yes. Well. Three years ago, this man,' and here the girl pointed at the young man, 'promised to marry me after this next flooding of the Mahd. We decided to go ahead with the Taal-e Aqd and wait to exchange rings and bracelets till this coming flooding. He has now had a change of heart and wishes to undo the contract and go back on all his promises. I am here for justice.'
Yara looked at the young woman for a few seconds, nodding slowly.
[color=f7941d][i]'O-ok...'[/i][/color] the Witch-Priestess said, [color=f7941d][i]'uh, well. What do you have to say?'[/i][/color] she looked towards the young man.
'Witch-Priestess, it has been a long time since we signed the Taal-e Aqd. It can no longer be valid as marriages are usually sealed quickly after the Taal-e Aqd. That is the custom and way of our people. I am not doing anything abnormal or unjust by informing her at this stage that the Taal-e Aqd has become invalid and I am not bound to her in any way. There is no justice for her to seek, no injustice has been done,' Yara raised an eyebrow at his words and looked to the girl. The poor thing seemed on the verge of tears.
'I-I'm glad I'm not marrying so horrible a person. All I want is justice, and for him to get his just punishment for the years of my life and youth I wasted as I waited on the fulfilment of his empty promises.'
Yara rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes.
[color=f7941d][i]'Should you not have realised something was amiss when he told you to wait so long?'[/i][/color] Yara looked towards the woman accusingly.
'Uh, well. I...I thought the Taal-e Aqd pretty much confirmed everything. I never imagined he would try to invalidate it on the basis of time passing. I never thought that was even possible,' with these words barely out of the young woman's mouth, Yara turned on the man.
[color=f7941d][i]'That is true enough. It may be customary to marry quickly after the Taal-e Aqd, but there is nothing customary about invalidating the Taal-e Aqd due to more time than usual passing. It is written quite clearly in all the books of law: the only way to invalidate a Taal-e Aqd is through an explicit dissolution of it by a priest or priestess, and with the consent of both parties,'[/i][/color] Yara's cold eyes gored the young man, who visibly seemed to shrink before the blunt dread of her dead gaze.
'It is not written anywhere in the law that one must go ahead with a union against their will, either,' he at last lashed out.
[color=f7941d][i]'Of course not,'[/i][/color] Yara responded coolly, [color=f7941d][i]'and it is not my intention, nor, I believe, the intention of the accusing party, to bring about a union. You must return to the maiden what you took from her with your false promises,'[/i][/color] at this the man frowned.
'I have taken nothing from her - we exchanged no bracelets, she gave me nothing of her wealth and I gave her nothing either.'
Yara turned to the young woman and appraised her for a few moments.
'I...there is no bringing back the time he stole from me,' she muttered miserably, though in the large dark room her mutterings did not go unheard. Yara looked to the man once more.
[color=f7941d][i]'And there you have it,'[/i][/color] and for a good while all in the room were silent, till realisation dawned and a small laugh escaped the young man's throat.
'Wait? That's it? You want me to give her "time"? If that's even possible, she can have all the time she wants!' the words had hardly left his mouth when a strange stillness came about him. Yara smiled at the young woman.
[i][color=f7941d]'Do you want it?'[/color][/i] she could not speak - was it fear or awe? - but nodded quietly, [color=f7941d][i]'he has offered you all, but you seek only what he took. I shall take the surplus offered as payment.'[/i][/color] And so she wrote upon the parchment, and it was sealed though no word was uttered by contractor or contractee.

No sooner had she put the parchment away, then, before them all, black and white vapour poured from the young man's body and converged above the young woman's head. One year fell like a drop of water upon her head. A second fell upon the same spot, quickly followed by the third. And though there did not appear to be any great change in her outward appearance, she had regained what she had thought forever lost. Such balanced contracts were the stuff to make Reathos dance with joy, and even Vowzra would have to bow his proud head and concede that none crsfted calligraphy so balanced and beautiful as hers. Who could write so that Time, and souls, and Death itself bent around their strokes as though there they had always belonged?

A small empty phial leapt from one of the shelves on the wall, and the rest of the young man's Time poured into it and condensed until it was a thick, translucent grey liquid which bubbled and frothed eerily within the sealed glass. Yara looked at it for a few moments before it floated away and settled itself on the shelf behind her, another acquisition to add to her lengthy list of concoctions and treasures - and this time, behold!- she had seized Time itself!

[color=f7941d][i]'Your matter is settled. Justice has been served. The accused party has paid all costs. You may go.'[/i][/color]

Yara did not look at the parties as they departed, busying herself once more with staring at the two phials. She neither heard the girl's words of thanks, nor saw the look of horror on one father's face as he looked upon a son who had, within seconds, become twice his age or more. Beware, you loose-tongued ones, of what you speak in the court of the Witch-Priestess!