The prince could not sleep. Lying awake he stared at the dark roof of his tent. Finally, he rose and dressed. A short time later he stood staring at the gate. The mystic barrier over Count Iona’s castle flexed, shimmering as another spirit struck it in its attempt to break free.

“They are overly active,” a guard said, also looking up at the flashing dome. “I have never seen the evil spirits so active.”

“Oh? Are you stationed here?” Prince Dista said.

“This is my home, my lord,” the guard said, a flash from the barrier illuminating his bearded face amber. “I used to play in the hills a few miles to the south of here. We would see the flashing of the dome every night, but usually only five or ten times.” The guard glanced at the prince, a little hesitant to speak further.

“Hmm.” Prince Dista hummed, then said, “Well it probably means that the little waif has managed to aggravate them, but they have not been able to take her. Unless she breaks character, she should be whole and hale when the sun rises.”

“Then you are not going to try to break the seal tonight?” The guard asked, but there was a bit of relief as he apparently thought it rhetorical in context.

Prince Dista snorted. “Not likely. That would be stupid in that way, which Sammy tells me I am not.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Maryl said, stepping from the shadows. She moved to stand next to Dista. “I am curious at your confidence in this Sammy person though.”

“You will have to meet her to fully appreciate her - unique - character.”

“Is she really the one who blackened your eye?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. That hurt. Still hurts”

“I’m surprised she managed it.”

Dista gave his sister a chagrined look. “She caught me off guard. It happens, but I’m not going to let it happen again, I assure you.”

“Dista, you need to get some sleep. There are still several hours till dawn.” His sister put her hand on his shoulder and then gave him a quick hug. “There is nothing that you can do until then. In fact, if she has managed to elude the spirits in some manner, you may cause her harm by breaking the status quo.”

“I know that,” the prince snarled, letting his frustration loose for a moment. “But I’m to blame for this, damn it. I should have known she would break through the barrier easily enough, instead I assumed Father’s composition would hold.”

“Dista,” Maryl said in a quiet voice, “that is a reasonable assumption. Father is equal to the any in the whole country in matrix composition. There is no reason to believe a novice, even a gifted genius as you seem to think she is, could break through it.”

Dista put his head against his sister’s shoulder for a moment. “Even knowing that, I still should have been more careful.” He laughed. “She is probably going to find a way to tack on some kind of additional fee for this.” Pushing away from his sister, he shook his head. “No, I will stay here and keep vigil.”

Maryl sighed and moved to sit on a boulder. “Fine, then I will keep you company. For someone who schemes as much as you do, you have too much of a conscience, you know that don’t you?”

“Leave me alone. It’s fun.”

Maryl chuckled at her brother. The intensity of the spirit flashes increased more and more over the next few hours, eventually waking the whole camp long before the first rays of the sun touched the upper spires of the castle.

As if cued by with the sun’s touch on the highest spire of the castle, a grotesque aberration materialized over the castle’s courtyards and smashed violently against the barrier’s dome once, and then a second time in defiance of the dawn. Then a brilliant silver and blue light bathed the whole of the castle’s domed interior. The barrier flashed with its own light as if answering the brilliance and then shattered into an infinite number of shards.

The aberration’s screams rent free from the confines of the destroyed barrier. Light flashed over the camp, a physical force knocking all from their feet. Maryl flew from the boulder she sat on and rolled across the ground.

The light and wind continued past them, but then another followed a moment later. Several additional waves assaulted them even after those first two, but finally the pulses of light and wind ceased, leaving an absolute silence behind. No one knew for sure when the screams ceased to be, but now not even the leaves rustled.

Maryl and Dista stood, though the rest of the camp seemed unconscious. Then Jenna and two other of the guardians stirred, each sitting up at about the same time.

And then the air in front of the castle gates shimmered as a portal opened. A tall man and woman stepped through the portal, both with drawn swords and small round shields. They stepped forward scanning the area even as knights in full armor rode great beasts of war through the portal behind them, all with drawn weapons.

Count Iona moved free of Sammy to hover over the desk. “Sammy.”

“What do you want?” Sammy asked, giving him a suspicious look.. “Did you just try to possess me?”

The Count shrugged, his hands held out at his side, palms up. For all the world he looked like a mischievous child. “I doubt anyone could do that child. At least not completely. I did manage to accomplish what was needed though.” He floated to stand on the far side of the desk from Sammy. “Do you think you can change my tema-rhapsody composition to a purga-requiem?”

The names for the two different types of glyph compositions sparked information in Sammy’s mind. Sammy’s understanding of different matrices, glyphs, runes and charter markings flowed freely in an ever-expanding universe of knowledge. If this one connected to that one in this way, and those to that in such a manner, then this would happen. Shifting one by a tenth of a gradient inverted the affect, but if by an eleventh, the whole would break and become useless. Interactions and connections, space and time and degree and names and meanings flowed in her mind. For a moment, the room dim as her mind was overwhelmed..

But then the answer to his question shown brightly through the riffraff. “Y, yes, I think so. Wow.”

“The spell will only work for a short time, but you have access to my knowledge for that time. The spell will, however, make learning the long way better for the rest of your life. You will be able to retain what you learn better. You will be able to learn quicker. Consider it a gift.”

Sammy nodded. She even understood what he had done. She swallowed, because she also understood the danger involved with the spell he used. If it had not worked, her ability to use magic, to even be in proximity to glyph magic would have been stripped from her.

“There is only one thing left to do, Sammy. This is the moment of truth, as it were. I said I would not try to trick you, so let me be straight forward and up front on what is required now.”

Sammy swallowed, thinking he had not exactly been straightforward and forthcoming with the risks just now.

“Sammy, in order for you to access the composition I created, you must enter my sanctuary, where it is located. Only a noble of the lands of Iona can do that.”

Sammy cocked her head at the ghost quizzically. “Then how am I supposed to do it?”

“You must become a noble of Iona.”

Sammy’s face darkened. She lurched to her feet and yelled at the ghost. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before risking my ability to use glyphs?” Fire danced in her eyes and her voice trembled. “There is no freaking way I’m going to become some stupid noble!” Sammy hugged herself, tears suddenly forming in her eyes. “The cursed disease, or maybe the diseased curse, or, or, it would come after me. I would be struck down with terminal noble stupidity.”

The Count regarded the distressed child and then sighed. “I think you will find the way to mitigate the curse. Just don’t try to do it all yourself. Trust others. Surround yourself with people you can trust.”

Sammy glared at the ghost. The crazy thing was ignoring her refusal, and doing so with unfair confidence. “What do you know, stupid noble, crazy ghost. I don’t wanna be a stupid noble. I hate them!”

“Then you are already being stupid,” Timera said from the doorway. Her quiet eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Nobles are humans and make mistakes. We are not stupid, even as you mean it, all the time. Why do you hate me, when I was dead before your parents were taken from you?”

Tears broke free from Sammy’s eyes. “I don’t hate you, Timera.”

“But I’m a noble. I would have taken my father’s seat after him, for I was the first in line of succession when I died. Sammy, you are our best hope. I suppose it’s possible someone else will manage to penetrate the three overlapping barriers General Fleming set up, that my Father and that the royal line set up, but it is not likely. It may be a thousand years before it happens again, if it ever happens again. Our people, those suffering in my father’s land because of the general’s curse will suffer all that time. Please help them.”

Sammy hugged herself and flopped back into the desk chair. “This is not fair.”

“No, you are correct,” Count Iona said softly. “But fairness in life is not a right. At the best it is a privilege that very, very few benefit from. You might even say that life unfairly allows those few to live a fair life when no one else gets to.”

“. . . .” Sammy glared at him in silence.

Timera floated up to Sammy, her body passing through the desk. “Sammy, please promise me that you will be a good noble.” Her eyes beseeched her new friend. “Please?”

Sammy flopped her head down on the desk, passing through Timera’s stomach. “What do I have to do?” she mumbled, defeated. She felt she was not even putting up a proper resistance, but have Timera pleading with her, she just felt so exhausted. Plus, she knew she would cave in eventually anyway. She really did not want people suffering because she refused to even help the people within the reach of her own hands, so to speak. “Agh,” she muttered into the desktop. “Is the only way I can avoid acting like a stupid noble to actually become one? This freaking sucks.”

“Thank you, Lady Sammy,” Timera said, moving a step backward so Sammy’s head was not invading her space anymore. She hovered her hand over Sammy’s head as if petting her. “Please learn to enjoy it someday, too. I would be very pleased if you would laugh and have fun.”

“Whatever.” Sammy sat up and dashed the tears from her eyes. “Well, if I’m going to be doomed to stupidity, might as well get it over with. This is so stupid.”

Timera laughed and Sammy smiled at her. But then her eyes narrowed. “You don’t think this is what Dista had planned for me all along, do you?”

“If he is as intelligent as I suspect, he probably intended to wet your appetite with this visit toward something similar,” the Count said. “Though I suspect he did not intend to place you in the danger you stumbled upon.”

Sammy sighed. “I suppose?”

“Still, I am glad you came Sammy,” Timera said. “I would not have made a new friend tonight if you had not.”

Sammy gave the ghost girl a lopsided smile. “That’s true. Let’s stay positive and think about good things while walking down the ramp to Hell.”

“Enough you two,” the Count said, interrupting them. “Unfortunately, time is slipping away.”

Sammy tilted her head, sudden hope flashing in her eyes. “Wait, the king is not here, right? So we can’t make me a noble after all. Whew.” She added the extra sound of relief at the end without even realizing it.

The count and his daughter both chuckled at her. “You really don’t know much about the nobility, do you?” Timera asked, smiling hugely. “The king has no say in who is a noble, nor the lands they control. That is decided by the land itself.”

The Count added, “But as the current, or former I suppose, Count of this land, I do have the right to put forth a bloodline to succeed mine own. It is a ritual very rarely used, for obvious reasons, but something quite useful in this unique situation.” The ghost peered at Sammy for a moment as if looking into her very soul. “Actually, I think you may enjoy some aspects of being a noble. You have been holding staphah since entering this area, have you not?”

Sammy blushed and glared at him at the same time, but muttered, “Sort of.”

“Well, all nobles have a form of staphah flowing through them perpetually, and it does not drain them as yours does. It is strongest when they are on their own lands, but it is still quite strong even off it. Coupled with the common staphah enhancement you use so well, you will be quite formidable.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Sammy perked up. That did sound interesting. And it answered some questions about noble resilience she had noticed.

Count Iona moved toward the door to his study. “Come. We will hold the ritual of nobility in the lowest cellar we have access to. It is best to be as close to the land as possible.” The Count led the way down the steps they had ascended earlier that night. And then he opened a secret passage hidden behind a panel in the very room they had all met so few hours ago.

Sammy glanced around the cellar she found herself in after descending the hidden staircase. It looked suspiciously normal, even having that musty cellar smell. Bottles were set into bottle racks. Barrels were on barrel racks. Bins and tins and boxes and jars all sat on shelves, each neatly exactly where it should be. Sammy intrinsically did not believe that any place in the world should be so perfectly organized.

Count Iona moved to the center of the cellar, hovering in the middle of the largest open space available, which wasn’t all that big really. “This will suffice.”

Sammy put a hand on a bottle rack and looked around, butterflies flocking in her stomach. She did not think this location looked like the normal place a noble ritual would take place. She definitely thought she should run away as fast as she could, but she did not. Her mom and dad would not be pleased if she did that, she felt very certain despite her horror at her situation.

“Do not be afraid, Sammy,” Timera said softly from next to her. “Even if the rite fails, you will be alright. You will be teleported to another land, one under a different noble, or one that does not have a noble at all. That is all.”

“Not entirely all,” Count Iona said from where he hovered. “You will no longer be eligible to become a noble anywhere, you or your descendants for seven full generation. Well, you would probably consider that a benefit of failing. Still, you would also be barred from traveling in any land held by those connected to this land. There are other side effects to failing this rite that are not pleasant at all. It is not uncommon for one to die.”

Timera stared at her father. “You never told me any of that, Daddy.”

“Because it does not apply to you, my child. The rules are different for an established house. Even if the land rejected you for some strange reason, it would have accepted one of the others in succession. Even if all of those in succession failed, the land would have searched the remainder of the bloodline. As long as you are part of the bloodline, those restrictions would not have occurred.”

“But what if . . .”

“Timera, it has only happed twice that the primary line and the Tang line were rejected, and both of those instances produced an acceptable heir to the noble seat within the remaining children of the nobles’ immediate families. It has never happened that all of a bloodline has been rejected.”

“But . . .”

Count Iona held up his hand to silence is daughter. “Enough. You would have been accepted. There is and was no doubt of that.”

“But what about Sammy? Why is she different?”

“Because she is not of an established bloodline. It is not a simple thing to become a noble. Less than one out of five thousand who perform the ritual have been accepted by the land. Stop interrupting me, Timera,” the Count said, interrupting his daughter’s attempt to interrupt him again. “I have reason to believe Sammy is that one. I am willing to risk my very existence on it. I believe her prince holds that same belief.”

“I don’t feel complemented at all, I want you to know that,” Sammy said. “You really believe I would make a good stupid noble?”

“Your view is skewed, Sammy. Nobles are not as bad as you want to think them.”

“I don’t believe it,” Sammy said, snorting her derision at the absurd assertion.

The Count nodded. “I know that. But time will teach you how narrow your views are. We are capable of going much lower than you could ever imagine, and we are also capable of reaching heights just as high.”

Sammy pursed her lips and laid her head on the bottle rack. “I am so not greatly comforted.”

“Sammy, come out here with me,” the Count said.

Sammy pushed away from the rack. “Fine. I cannot believe I’m letting this happen. I am so never going to let myself live this down. It’s like I’m abdicating and siding with the enemy. You haven’t cast a spell on me have you?”

“No,” the Count said.

Sammy grimaced and muttered, “Like you would say yes.”

The Count chuckled and agreed readily enough, “True.”

Sammy glared at the ghost. “I am not greatly comforted.”

Timera chimed in, “You said that already.”

Sammy cast a sidelong look at her friend. “Well, it needs to be said many, many times.”

Timera giggled and was rewarded by a cold glare. “You’re laughing at my misfortune.”

“I don’t think it’s a misfortune for you at all,” Timera sang. She floated through a rack of bottles into the aisle on the other side of it. “I will pray for your prosperity.”

Sammy stood in front of the Count. He began to trace a pattern in the air, energy lines glowing where his fingers danced. Sammy watched the process in rapt fascination. The Count murmured to her what he was doing, the sequence of the glyphs and runes, matrices and compositions. The lines changed colors as he drew, spanning the whole rainbow and filling in most of the gaps.

Finally Count Iona finished and stepped back. “Sammy, this is the Symphony of Nobility. I have drawn the foundation and linked it with my bloodline, but you must finish it yourself. There are a number of places and ways you can do it. This is the final test. What will be will be.”

Sammy nodded, distracted by trying to absorb all that he had created around her. She traced this line and that. She grinned. She knew what she wanted to do. Reaching out to the right with one hand and to the left with the other, she drew a number of lines that connected different compositions with each other. She then traced three control runes, Meekness, Concentration, Growth. The last thing she did was draw Yghph and pushed it into the space it fit best.

The Symphony of Nobility flashed, and an infinite number of shimmering sparks burst forth and began dancing around Sammy. And then the great cloud of swirling lights paused, frozen in time for a brief fraction of a tiny moment. Every spark suddenly flashed bright, each in a plethora of colors, known and not known.

The sparks collapsed in upon the girl as she stood up from crouching to finish the symphony. They all passed through her clothing as if it did not exist. Glowing lines formed intricate patterns on her skin, the light blazing through her clothing as transparent glass, simple patterns mixed with complex, sublime with common, crisp with fuzzy. Fire blazed around her, singeing the ground below her, scorching the ceiling above her. A moment later the flames vanished, but Sammy’s silhouette remained outlined by an intense glow for a few moments longer before it too dimmed to dark.

Sammy looked around, puzzled as she could not perceive any difference in herself and the cloud of light surrounding her had vanished. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of heated stone, wondering what was causing it. “That was kinda cool, but isn’t something a little more dramatic supposed to happen?” She turned to Timera as she spoke. “Wasn’t I supposed to be teleported away if it failed?”

Timera pointed at Sammy’s hand, her eyes huge as only a bewildered and awed ghost’s could possibly be. Sammy looked down and her own eyes widened in a fair semblance of Timera’s. “Wha, what is this?”

“It is your mark of nobility, Sammy,” Timerea said, excitement coloring her voice. She raised her hand and lines formed on it. “See? Even as a ghost, I still have mine. Every single member of the bloodline has the mark of nobility.”

“So it worked? Seemed like nothing happened though.” Sammy sighed. “So unlucky.” She let out another sigh, just to emphasize her disappointment, but then she said as she glanced at where the symphony had been drawn., “Actually though, it was kind of anticlimactic, wasn’t it. I was expecting something rather more dramatic.”

Timera sobered, though she still smiled a little. “It was only so for you. It was most impressive for us.”

“So I’m a Count now.” Sammy held up her hand and looked at the glowing lines decorating it now. “How depressing.”

“You seem to be in a pretty good mood for being so depressed,” Timera accused.

“Hmph” Sammy harrumphed.

“You are probably not a count, Sammy,” Count Iona said. “It is normal for a new bloodline to begin fairly low in the noble ranks. A baron or such. But it happens occasionally that a higher ranking is achieved.”

“I thought I was inheriting your nobility,” Sammy said, glaring. “If I had to go through this for nothing, I am so going to find a way to punch you.”

Count Iona raised an eyebrow at her. “That would be interesting. Still, you have inherited the connection to a portion of my land. As I drew your Symphony of Nobility, you should be able to access my inner sanctum. However, your bloodline is not mine, nor mine yours. Whether you are a baroness or a countess or something else shall be determined by your connection to the land. Your prince should be able to tell you where you stand in that matter. Or his father. You will need to swear allegiance to a king in any case.”

Sammy blanched and sputtered, “What? Why the heck would I do that?”

“Because it is dangerous in this world for any who are alone.” The Count gave Sammy an even look as if to say this should be self-evident.

Sammy looked rebellious.

The Count tapped a finger on his chin. “Sammy, you do not think you survived to now without relying on others, do you?”

Sammy frowned. “I have.”

“Oh? Tell me, did you make the clothes you wear?”

Sammy shook her head on reflex..

“What about the dagger in your boot? The home you lived in - did you make it? The glyphs you can use, did you create them from your own imagination, or did you copy them, maybe modify them to work for you needs, but still relied on what someone else came up with? Did you feed yourself when you were a baby? Did you learn to speak without being taught? Did you invent a new language?”

Sammy waved a hand in the air and said, “Stop already, stupid noble. I understand already. No one can live completely isolated from others.”

“Exactly. And the more you cooperate with others, the more you will be benefitted, the more you will benefit others. I don’t think you have been harmed excessively up till now because you interacted with others, if somewhat strangely.”

“I said stop already,” Sammy growled as emotions she did not understand assaulted her.

The Count however continued anyway, “I think you have the capacity to make many friends. You befriended Timera in a matter of moments. Don’t live alone, Sammy.”

“I said stop. Shut up already!” Sammy yelled. “Stupid Dad.” Tears began to flow down her cheeks. “You’re trying to be my stupid dad. Just stop already. Please.”

Count Iona moved to hover a hand over Sammy’s bowed head as she wept, emotions she did not know how to handle racking her newly awakened noble soul. Lines of power covering her body, even unto the strands of her hair, danced and pulsed with light in response to his gentle concern. A look of profound pain and sadness passed across his face.

“Sammy, I am sorry . . . .” He paused as if ready to say something else, but then shook his head. “Sammy, we do not have time anymore. I truly am sorry for the fleeting nature of time. Sunrise approaches too quickly.” The Count’s voice hardened with resolve and purpose. “We must hurry now. Come with me.”

Sammy stood up obediently, too worn out to resist the command in his voice. She followed him back up the stairs, ascending high into the tower above the study. Her energy returned as she climbed the stairs. Finally, they came to the last floor, a single open room surrounded by glass. Sammy could feel the presence of a complex composition filling the space from wall to wall. It seemed to even extend a bit beyond the glass walls.

“I converted this floor to make the tempa-rhapsody,” the Count explained. “I will help you modify it to a purga composition as much as I can, but we must work fast. The dawn is less than two hours away. Timera, you will help as well.”

“I will get the others, Father,” Timera said and fled from the room.

Sammy looked after her. “Others?”

“The rest of my family who died in the general’s trap.”

“Why didn’t they come out before,” Sammy said, suspicious again.

“They are all ghosts, the same as I and Timera. You have the same general opinion of ghosts as Timera, so the others have remained hidden.”

Sammy began to tremble. She had forgotten that the Count and Timera were ghosts somehow.

The Count added with a chuckle, “Plus, Timera is still afraid of ghosts, so we try to stay quiet for her sake.”

“Oh.” Sammy suddenly covered her mouth with her fingers. “It’s kind of cute that a ghost is so afraid of ghosts.”

“It is indeed.” The Count’s smile faded. “It is probably Timera who has kept the rest of us sane until now. But it is only a matter of time before one of us loses control. At that moment, all of us will be forfeit. Thank you for coming here in time, my replacement.” The noble ghost bowed low at the waist, eyes cast to the floor. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Sammy swallowed and nodded. “Um, you’re welcome.” Sammy bowed in return, but felt rather awkward do it.

“Let us begin,” County Iona said with resolution.

“Yes,” Sammy nodded. She quickly became immersed in transforming the Count’s composition into another one. She missed the coming of three other ghosts, each looking much like the others, though at different ages.

Once the modification was finished, Sammy stood looking over the completed work and grinned. She wiped sweat from her brow and looked around at more than the pattern filling the room and cried out in fear. She held a trembling hand over her heart.

“Sammy, that’s not very nice,” Timera said.

“What, you do it every time you see us,” a woman said smiling.

“That’s not very nice either, Mother.”

“But true,” a boy a few years older than Timera said. “Every, every single time.”

“Hmph,” the girl ghost said and turned her back on the boy.

“This beautiful creature is my wife, Countess Iona” Count Iona said, moving behind Timera’s mother. She had long hair that danced silver, moving with no regard to any actual wind. “That young man is my brother’s oldest child, the third in line of succession to my seat, first Tang Dramskal.”

The boy laughed with easy humor, “Not that I would have ever taken it. Timera would have made a wonderful Countess. She might even have weighed in as a duchess.”

“Don’t bring weight into this,” Timera said, crossing her arms and pouting. Her cousin laughed at her. She pouted even more.

“And this last one is my youngest sister, Lady Laster.” A very heavy set woman with large breasts inclined her head, but did not say anything.

Sammy fidgeted nervously. This was just too much. “Is this, I mean, are there only this many?”

“No,” Timera said, floating over to Sammy and moving a little behind her as if hiding from the other ghosts in the room. “There are a lot of others, but we are the only ones who can work glyph magic.”

“But we all wish to witness you purging the evil general,” Lady Laster said suddenly. “If you will allow it.”

Sammy swallowed and glanced behind her at Timera.

Timera nodded, fear in her eyes. “I’m a little scared of so many g, ghosts, b, but it would be kindest to let them see his defeat before the end.”

Sammy nodded. “O, okay. I, I guess it’s o, okay.”

“You two are so exactly the same,” Dramskul said, shaking his head. As he spoke, wavering, transparent bodies began passing through the floor, rising into the room.

“The sun is rising,” Count Iona said. “It will touch the upper spire in moments. Sammy, only a living hand can close a purga composition. Please?”

Sammy nodded and moved to the spot where the last line would be drawn. As if drawn by the congregation of ghosts watching Sammy, a grotesque version of a man formed outside the tower’s windows. It did not seem to see them though and instead smashed itself against the outer barrier which still barred it from leaving the castle, and then it did so a second time. Sammy desperately drew the last line, finishing the glyph composition as the first ray of sunlight touched the upper tip of the highest spire in castle Iona.

Silvery blue light flashed outward from the composition, filling the whole castle inside and out. The barrier enclosing the castle shattered and the general screamed in agony once and again, but never a third time. The composition pulsed, sending out a rippling wall of power and light in all directions. The general’s horrid form disintegrated into nothingness.

Sammy turned to Timera with a grin. “Success,” she said to her friend.

Timera stood bathed in the silvery light and smiled back at Sammy, but her smile held a deep sadness. “Thank you, Lady Sammy,” she said. Around her the small crowd of ghosts wavered in the light, their bodies breaking apart and vanishing like smoke in the wind. “Thank you, thank you,” they said over and over again as the light broke their connection to the realms of life.

Sammy took a step forward, “Timera?”

“Thank you for freeing us, Sammy. I wish I could stay with you, but I am so happy too.” Tears ran down the spirit’s cheeks. “I pray God and the lands you serve to ble . . .” Timera broke apart, her final desire left unspoken, unfinished.

Sammy stared at the place Timera had been, unable to move, unable to think.

“Well done Sammy,” Count Iona said softly. Sammy turned to him. Small sections of his body wafted away in the light. “The land has chosen well in you. Thank you.”

The composition pulsed again and the Count disintegrated. Sammy dropped to her knees, tears streaking from her eyes down her face in a torrent, though she could not think enough to know exactly why. A massive fist crushed her chest, making it hard to breath. The tears pent up and denied from when her parents died joined those for the passing of her new family.