Emerali brought her knees up to her chin and huddled up against the wall of the newly vacated worg den. Ahead of her, just a yard away, laid the fresh carcass of the worg pack leader.

A gust of icy wind blew past the yawning opening of the den, making a sullen moaning noise, and causing Emerali, who was already chilled to the bone from the torrential autumn downpour, to shiver violently. She wrung out her skirt and leaned against the cold, rocky wall with a sigh. A damp, chilly cave wasn't much of a shelter, especially with no hope of a fire or a warm meal, but what couldn't be helped had to be endured.

Presently, Emerali began to feel a little better, though her teeth chattered incessantly. Stretching her legs out before her, she took her harp in hand and clutched it to her bosom, her fingers resting silently on the strings. That shabby little instrument had been her constant companion and savior since she had opened her eyes back on Poeta. It was the one thing that seemed familiar to her in the dense cloud of oblivion that fogged her brain. In the heat of battle, she played that harp as if it were second nature; as if every note emanated from the core of her being-from her very soul-and extended through her fingers into the instrument. If only she could remember who she had been! Even now, snatches of music floated into her brain, but she could make nothing of them.

Exhausted, Emerali tried to settle in for some rest. As she was stretching out on the earthen floor, a distant noise outside made her stop and sharpen her ears. Was it the rain? No. It was a rushing sound, yes, but it wasn't water. The rushing now mingled with a thunderous quaking. Emerali was on her feet in an instant, clutching her harp with an iron grip. She dashed to the cave entrance and pressed her body against the cave wall, every nerve thrilled, ready to attack if necessary. She laid the bow to the harp strings, calling to mind the most powerful attack song she knew.

A feminine voice joined in the din of rush and quake with a loud cry of terror. The sound of footsteps darting desperately through rain-drenched bushes and fallen leaves passed close to the cave, following the noise of panicked running, was the rumbling of heavy foot falls and an enraged roar. A rush of adrenaline coursed through Emerali, and before she realized what she was doing, she had left the comparative safety of the worg cave and stood erect beneath the relentless rain, poised to begin playing. Striving to see through the sheets of rain, Emerali finally made out the source of the din:

A young female Daeva was running as hard as she could away from Frillneck Hatchling and its mother which were savagely attacking her. She turned around to face them, a look of furious defiance on her pretty face. She took her battle stance and began brandishing her weapon-a long staff-at the horrid creatures. She was a Priest-a Chanter-judging by her armor, but she was in a serious plight.

Although Emerali had had unpleasant experiences with many other Daevas out on the field, she was moved with compassion for this one. She whistled hard and loud. "Hey! You brainless brutes, over here! Look at me!"

The Frillnecks' attention was arrested by the shrill whistle and shout. They hissed and growled and made a rush at Emerali. Immediately Emerali played the Protective Ode, shielding herself from the brunt of their initial attack, but the violent charge knocked her down to the ground, stunning her. Emerali struggled to get to her feet before the shield was broken; already cracks were forming in the invisible magical barrier. She didn't have much time. The next moment, she was up and playing her harp fiercely.

The attacks were effective; already the mother Frillneck was weakening, but just when it appeared that the creature might be defeated, the hatchling butted into Emerali so hard that the magical shield shattered and she was dashed against the worg cave wall. She crumpled to the ground in a dazed heap.

At that moment, Emerali heard the Chanter casting a spell. She felt somewhat better and started to her feet again.

"Beware, Songweaver!" the Chanter exclaimed. "I'm nearly out of Mana; I can't do much more for you just now!"

Realizing that the monsters were too close for combat and that she wasn't at enough health to tackle them, she offered the only suggestion she could think of: "Run!"

The two of them ran as fast as their feet could carry them with Frillnecks in tow.

Emerali caught sight of a mossy crag just ahead of them. "Glide, Chanter, glide! It's our only chance. We've got to regroup or those things will kill us!"

The Chanter nodded, her features taut with fear.

The two Daevas unfurled their wings and leaped off of the crag. The Chanter sailed into the air unscathed, but Emerali wasn't so fortunate. The mother Frillneck, furious and mortally wounded by Emerali's spells, seized her by the right wing with her teeth. Emerali shrieked in pain as she felt her wing tear. She crashed onto the muddy earth beneath the crag, bleeding profusely.

Swallowing her pain, Emerali, who had clutched her harp in a deathlike grasp, played the Protective Ode again and rose. Still those horrid Frillnecks pursued her. Her wing hanging limp and stained deep crimson with the flowing gore, Emerali proceeded to churn out the songs, singing out the notes with a voice that cracked under the raw, stinging pain of her wound.

Her efforts were finally rewarded as the mother Frillneck let out a guttural growl and fell to the ground with a clash, twitching once before finally dying. Emerali turned her attention on the hatchling, but a moment too late, for it butted her again, once more shattering her shield. This time it clawed at her abdomen. Another cry of agony broke from Emerali's lips, and she leaped backward to avoid the monster's follow-up attack, gripping herself while trying to maintain her grip on her bow.

At that moment, to Emerali's utter surprise, the young Chanter charged forward, ramming her staff into the hatchling's back. It let out a deafening roar and lashed its tail at the Chanter who flew backward with a loud "Oof!" and landed sprawling on her back. Her staff flew out of her hands several feet away from her.

Emerali rose to her full height in spite of the pain and the overwhelming weakness she was beginning to feel due to blood loss. She had had enough of that little monster. Emerali drew her bow across the harp strings; the hatchling was temporarily rooted in place. It screeched and writhed in its enchanted bonds. Emerali followed up the tune with her final deathblow. Again she drew her bow against the harp. The instrument sounded a hoarse melody that ended with an odd noise like a deep groan.

The hatchling let out a final screech and at last fell to the ground lifeless. Emerali let out a hoarse laugh. "And stay down!" she gasped.

The Chanter rose rather tremulously to her feet. Sheepishly she retrieved her staff and approached Emerali who was standing by sheer willpower.

"Thank you so much, Songweaver. I almost didn't make it there." Her eyes widened as she realized the severity of Emerali's wounds. "Great Aion, your wing..."

At this point, Emerali's strength failed her and she collapsed at the Chanter's feet, senseless.

Brilliant daylight roused Emerali. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes opened at last. Dazzled by the bright light, it took several moments for her to focus. At last she saw where she was.

Emerali was lying on a wonderfully soft bed in a modest but cozy home. The light of dawn was pouring in through the latticed window next to the bed. A generous fire burned on the hearth of a fireplace several feet away. The feeling of warmth and safety was glorious, but even more wonderful was the feeling of being whole. She was perfectly well again.

Emerali rose from the bed slowly. She realized that her bloody, sodden gear had been removed and replaced with a simple long garment of pale blue. Another look around the little home revealed that her armor had been cleansed and set out for her; it was draped over a small sofa ready to be donned at will.

Before she had time to think another thought, a small female Shugo entered the room bearing a tray with breakfast. "Ah, good morning, Daeva! Glad to see you up and well, nyerk!"

"Thank you, friend," Emerali replied, politely. "Tell me, please, whose house am I in?"

"This is Miss Thori's home. I'm Vylinerk, Thori's maid, nyerk. Miss Thori come soon to see Daeva guest."

No sooner had Vylinerk spoken than the said Thori entered. Emerali recognized her as the Chanter she had met on the field.

"Oh, you're up! Excellent! How are you feeling, Emerali?"

Emerali blinked. "How do you know my name?"

Thori smiled somewhat shyly. "Your coin bag. It has your name on it. Besides, you'll think me crazy, but the pouch resonates. It... almost sings your name. Anyway, I wanted to thank you for saving my life. I thought that was it for me yesterday, and it would've been if not for you. I have to admit that I... I'm not the most skillful Daeva in Elysea. I'm still in training; I've much to learn."

Emerali smiled at Thori gratefully. "Well, thanks, Thori. You saved me, too. Daevas may be immortal, but that doesn't make death any more inviting, resurrection or no. And I'm indebted to you for taking me in. I admit I haven't had very good experiences with most Daevas that I've met, but you surprised me."

"Well, let's call it friendship and the debt is paid on both ends," Thori suggested.

Emerali smiled and nodded. "Friends."

"Okay, so how are your wings?" inquired Thori.

Emerali unfurled her wings and tried them. They were fully healed and restored. "Excellent. Good as new."

"Great! Now, Emerali, rest and have your breakfast. While you do, tell me all about yourself."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much; I've lost my memory almost entirely. Only strange flashes and strains of music come to mind, but nothing that makes any sense to me. I don't know anyone at this point," Emerali said.

"Strange!" remarked Thori. "Well, start back from whatever you know."

Thus Emerali proceeded to tell Thori about how she had awakened on a Poeta with no memory and how she had tried to begin a new, uncertain life as a mercenary. She told her about the higher calling she had received that led to her ascension and so on to the present time.

"Every day is like weaving a design into a tapestry," Emerali concluded. "A new piece is added, but the design is still incomplete. That's what I am: an incomplete tapestry."

Thori shook her head sympathetically. "That's terrible! If only- Wait, I just remembered: there's someone who wants to meet you."

"Me? Who?" inquired Emerali, wide-eyed.

"A Daeva named Devaen. He says he knows you. This is a small village; I'm afraid there were quite a few people who are aware you're here, and word travels quickly. Apparently, your reputation as a brave, dependable mercenary has preceded you. Lots of people seem to know about you," Thori explained.

"Hmm. That's a dangerous kind of fame," Emerali mused aloud.

"Will you see this Devaen?" asked Thori.

Emerali considered. "Yes, maybe he can shed some light on my past," she said finally.

"Okay. Well, 'til you get on your feet, you're welcome to stay with me. I can help you get a home here if you'd like."

"I would. Thanks so much, Thori; you've been so nice to me," Emerali said, smiling gratefully.

Thori winked and smiled. She then left Emerali to groom herself.

As Emerali readied herself for the meeting, she couldn't help feeling suspicion. Who could this Daeva be who claimed to know her? If he did know her, could he hold the key to her past? Was he a friend or a foe? Only time would tell.