Mordecai stood over two bleeding, half-alive men, his chest heaving. The third man had mounted his horse and galloped away. Turning to look for Saraneth, he wandered into the barn. His heart caught in his throat when he didn't see her, but saw disturbed dirt where he had left her. He knew immediately something was wrong.

He kneeled down and examined the barn floor, noticing small footprints in the dirt that were definitely not Saraneth's. He knew these footprints. He knew them very well. "Damn you, Ranna." He got to his feet and started to leave the barn as a few villagers gathered around the dying men outside. Pacing over to the pair of bodies, he calmly reached down and gave each of their necks a violent twist.

One of the villagers rushed at him with a pitchfork, yelling something about him being a terrible demon. Not wanting to stir up any more trouble, Mordecai simply grabbed the pitchfork from the raving man and threw it to the ground. The man stared at him with fear flashing in his eyes, and began to back away. "Stay away from us!"

He calmly looked over the group of gathered people. One old woman was eying him up curiously, as if she recognized him. He knew her, that much was for sure. He strode towards her, opening his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Do you remember me, old one?" he asked. She nodded, and a toothless grin spread across her wrinkled face. "I remember there was once a boy named Mordecai that stole breads from my shop. And if memory serves me right, he was in love with the little Saraneth as well." she gave a laugh, then coughed for a moment before continuing. "So you have come home then?"

He shook his head. "No. Home does not exist anymore. I just came to see the girl." The old woman nodded in apprehension. "Have you seen a suspicious woman traipsing around?"

A little boy came forwards from behind the elderly woman. His face was smudged with dirt, and his clothing was torn as if he'd been playing outside all night and day. "There was a mean lady walking just outside the village today. I never saw her before, and when I tried to say hello, she called me a brat and chased me away. I didn't like her."

Mordecai looked down at the child as he spoke. "Did she have reddish-brown hair?" He growled as the boy nodded in agreement. "Goodbye then." the old woman said, grinning up at Mordecai. "We'll be seeing you."

And with that he was gone, having climbed onto one of the black horses and rode off.

Saraneth woke with a start, looking around frantically. She was in a bedroom; an exquisitely furnished bedroom at that. The gray stone walls were decorated with grand paintings and tapestries depicting peaceful scenes and pleasant faces, and the gold and red quilted bed looked large and soft, not like the beds she'd ever known. There was a silken love seat against one wall, and behind it was a small window. Saraneth glanced out the window and noticed that it was still dark outside, so she couldn't have been in this place for more than a couple of hours.

Trying to stand, she found that her wrists were bound to the wall with thick chains. With a sigh, Saraneth sat down again.

A moment later, the dark, wooden door to the bedroom opened. A woman and a man entered, closing the door quietly behind them. She looked up at them as they came to her.

"So this is his beloved Saraneth." the woman spat, an elegant English accent ringing in her voice. Her thick, wavy hair fell about her shoulders in reddish-brown rivulets as she stared down at her. Her golden brown eyes were teeming with hatred. Turning away from Saraneth, the woman paced over to the love seat and sat down, facing the window. One of her long legs showed from beneath her crimson dress, and Saraneth knew, without having to look, that the man was intently eyeing that single, bronze leg. "Why is he taking so long?" the woman said impatiently.

"We haven't had her for very long, Ranna. Just wait, he'll come for her." He walked towards the love seat and kneeled down before the woman. "Then you can have your revenge."

She took his chin in her hand, and he gazed up at her. Something in his face seemed to anger her, because she narrowed her eyes and took a swipe at him. His head tipped to the side as her nails met with skin, and his short, choppy hair hung in his eyes. He breathed a sharp inhale, as if he were restraining himself from swinging back at her. Saraneth saw a few drops of blood stream down his cheek.

"Her life will be just as sweet if I take it now." Ranna said, getting up off the couch. Her eyes yet again locked on Saraneth. "He can find her spoilt corpse when he comes!" With that, she dashed forwards and collided with Saraneth. Saraneth screamed, unable to defend herself due to her bound wrists. Ranna got a grip on her neck with one hand, and quickly wove the other in her black hair. "Would you like that, corpse?!" she shrieked, wrenching Saraneth's head to the side at an awkward angle in a way that was sure to induce pain.

"Ranna!" the man yelled, scrambling over to tear her away from Saraneth.

"Stay away, Astarael, or I'll spill your blood as well!" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder at him. He paused, and she turned back to Saraneth. They met eyes for a calm moment, then Ranna struck her square in the jaw with a clenched fist. Saraneth yelped, and instinctively kicked at her attacker's legs. Ranna dropped to the ground after the blow, an insulted on her face. Saraneth had only succeeded in angering her further. Gripping the flesh of her throat with lengthy nails, Ranna pressed her fingers into Saraneth's windpipe slowly until she struggled for breath. Blood quickly welled up around her fingertips.

Astarael watched sadly for a few minutes as Ranna threw her against the wall, kicked her, pulled at her hair, and did most everything else in her power to harm the poor girl. When Saraneth curled up against the wall and tucked her head in her knees, the beating paused. Ranna drew a small knife from somewhere in the folds of her dress, brandishing it at her victim. "I will bury this in your heart if he does not come before I see the sun on the horizon!" She turned and strode angrily towards the door, knocking over a tall, potted plant and an end table in the process. She disappeared in a flutter of crimson cloth, and Saraneth cringed at the sound of the door slamming shut. Staring blankly at the floor with wet eyes, she had all but forgotten that Astarael was still in the room with her.

It was only when he came to her that she remembered his presence. She shied away from him as he reached down to her, covering her face with her hands and pressing herself against the wall.

"No, dear. You needn't fear me." he said. He squatted down next to her, and retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket. Saraneth peered up at him as he did so, unfurling slightly as to watch him closer. He dabbed gently at a bleeding cut on her cheek, and she winced. "You must forgive Ranna. She's been quite mad since he left us."

"Who?" Saraneth asked softly.

"Mordecai..." Astarael spoke his name with a sigh. "He had been with us for quite some time, and we had all grown quite attached to him. Then, a few nights ago, he just picked up and left without a word."

Saraneth simply sat there and knitted her brows in confusion. What had Mordecai been doing at a place like this? Why had he stayed there when he'd had a perfect home in her village? Why was Ranna so angry about his absence? All these questions tempted curiosity and jealousy to rise within her, but she pushed them out of her mind.

Astarael continued. "We found him outside during a rainstorm. He was cold, hungry, and soaking wet when we brought him inside." he smirked a little, and his eyes wandered around the room lazily as he spoke. "My mistress and I were quite taken with him at once. Despite his mangy condition, he was simply gorgeous! So, needless to say, we fixed him his own room and allowed him to stay here as long as he wanted. He, in turn, served as a wonderful companion." He paused as footsteps sounded from outside the door, and turned to look in that direction until they faded away. Turning back to her, he examined her face for a moment. "What was your relationship with him, anyways? We could never get him to talk much about you. Even mentioning your name brought a tear to his eye."

She drew a lazy breath before answering his question. "Honestly, I do no know what name you would put to it." she rested her chin on her knee and gazed down at the floorboards. "Why? Is that important somehow?" she asked.

Astarael shook his head slightly. "I was just wondering." He shifted his gaze to the little window, and sighed. "For your sake, I hope he arrives soon. I'm afraid my mistress wasn't exaggerating with her death threats."

Saraneth watched his motions closely. "Why is she so angry with me? I've never seen the woman before in my life. How could I have wronged her?" She winced as she shifted around uncomfortably, bruises quickly forming tender spots under her skin. He laughed slightly. "Surely you could have assumed by now that they are lovers..." He glanced over as Saraneth's eyes began to fill with tears. "Oh, child. Was that your role in his life so long ago?" Astarael's face was emotionless as he turned to glance at her.

Silence overtook the room for a few minutes, only to be broken by the sounds of horses outside. Astarael scanned the ground beneath for the source of the sounds. "Two horses? Who has he brought with him?" He stood and walked to the door, his footsteps amazingly quiet against the hard floor. Reaching out for the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder at Saraneth. "I don't think we shall ever meet again, dear. Adieu." She watched him as he left the room, noticing something as he did so. The potted plant that Ranna had knocked over was twisting and burning in an agonizing, unnatural death. This had begun as Astarael had passed it. She watched in disbelief as it's browning leaves curled into themselves and finally fell from the plant's stem.

She tore her eyes from the sight as the door shut. Panic came to her as she remembered she was trapped in the room, soon to be preyed upon by Ranna. Then another thought entered her mind. Was Ranna the only one she had to fear? Perhaps Astarael meant her harm as well.

Saraneth fidgeted on the floor, her arms bound awkwardly behind her back. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes, attempting to calm herself down. Her heartbeat was ringing in her ears, and her entire body felt hot as fear and anticipation threatened to bring tears to her eyes. "Calm down, Saraneth. You're going to be fine." she said to herself, her voice merely a whisper. The back of her throat tingled as she refused to let herself cry. "Mordecai will save you."