"She's dead."

Fen's words brought the room to a complete standstill. Becky looked on in cold shock. She had known-before the werewolf had said anything, every instinct in her had been screaming the truth.

"That's impossible," Lianta said.

Becky wished the Light Fae was right, but the truth was reverberating through her veins.

"How?" Taraki demanded.

Even as the Dragonling spoke, the light from the crystal flickered.

"Treachery," Kroven whispered, but his voice carried in the stunned silence.

The light flickered again. This time, a bolt of white shot from the crystal, lancing straight at the tray on the stone table. Valoia's glass exploded into a thousand pieces in a loud and obvious accusation.

"Poison," Fen said.

Everyone looked at Lianta. Except Becky, who was looking at her aunt.

"I thought you said she was immortal?" Becky hissed very quietly.

"I would never," the Light Fae protested even as Becky spoke to Rosalind. "We did not like each other, but we have worked together for over one hundred and fifty years."

A grinding noise answered her denial, as if the crystal itself was disagreeing.

"Immortal, not invulnerable," Rosalind replied.

Becky turned her attention back to the others.

It didn't make any sense. She knew nothing of the personal feelings of the council except what she had briefly seen since she arrived, and it just didn't seem to be logical. A huge cracking sound interrupted her thoughts. She looked up. The crystal was no longer clear, a giant black fissure had appeared at its centre, lurking there like a giant spider with light silvery webs radiating from it.

"No," Lianta cried.

That cemented it for Becky. The Light Fae's face was twisted with despair.

"The council is destroyed," Sigra said, voice soft with disbelief.

Becky looked at Rosalind.

"The trust is part of the magic," her aunt said quietly, "if that is broken, so is the council's purpose."

Now that part actually made sense.

"Who filled those glasses?" Becky asked, finally making herself part of the situation.

She caught her first glimpse of Valoia on the floor where Fen had put her. The Dark Fae's features were surprisingly relaxed, she could have been sleeping. Without the imperious smirk, she was even more beautiful, and she looked younger than Becky would have guessed.

"I did," Lianta said. "It is one of my duties as overseer of the council."

That didn't help at all.

"Who put them on the tray?" Becky asked.

"One of the attendants," Lianta replied.

"And the places on the tray are equivalent to where we sit," Becky said, beginning to see how this could have gone. "It could have been poisoned then."

Fen looked at her.

"The magic would not see the difference," he said; "since it was Lianta who gave Valoia the glass."

"The attendants of the citadel are the most trustworthy of the Fae," Lianta said as if outraged by the idea.

"Even the most trustworthy have weaknesses," Jax said.

Becky looked at her aunt again, the power inside of her was swirling and Rosalind gave her the very slightest of nods. They were both on the same page.

"Would the magic know the difference if Valoia lived again?" Becky asked, looking at Fen, since he seemed to know what he was taking about.

"It recognises us all by our power," Kroven said, drawing her attention away from the werewolf, "it would not work."

"Hypothetically," she said, not willing to get into a debate as the crystal gave another groan, like something dying piece by piece.

"It is impossible and therefore irrelevant," Lianta said, throwing up her hands. "Maybe if we can bring the next in line here fast enough?"

"Please, answer the question," Becky said urgently. "Whoever did this wants us in disarray, we have to find a solution."

Fen was staring at Becky hard when she glanced back at him. The werewolf was a very insightful individual it seemed, because there was recognition in his eyes.

"If Valoia were restored, the magic should balance once more," he said.

Becky shut her eyes for a second. This was so huge, she had only just found out she was a Necromancer and the universe was already asking her to find her absolute limit. Of course, her whole body was screaming this was why she was here, which helped.

"Please move," she said as she made her final decision.

"This is ridiculous," Lianta said.

"Don't you understand yet, Lianta?" Fen said, still looking at Becky. "Rebecca never said she was the same as Rosalind, she never said she sees blue in the gazes of the dead."

Now all eyes were on her.

"Rebecca, this is dangerous," Rosalind said.

"Of course it's dangerous," she replied, glancing at her aunt, "but I'm guessing whatever happens if this council falls will be worse."

She let her gaze run around the council.

"You can really do it?" Sigra asked, big eyes round in shock.

"We're about to find out," Becky replied.

Those gathered around Valoia parted as Becky stepped forward. More than one gaze held disbelief, but the last thing she needed now was doubt.

"What do I do?" she looked at Rosalind.

"This is ludicrous," Jax declared.

"Whatever your instincts tell you," Rosalind said and Becky sank to her knees on the opposite side of Valoia to Fen.

She could sense the essence of the Dark Fae lingering even though her body was dead. It was the easiest thing in the world to reach out and touch it. She shivered, even though the cold didn't really bother her as the air around her dropped in temperature, and she let her power feel around the remnants of Valoia's existence. The strength she sensed was incredible, but it was something else that had her attention. Something was angry.

It wasn't a humanoid awareness, it was something else, something esoteric and odd.

However, it wasn't important to her as she let her instincts lead on. In her mind's eye she thinned her power into a blanket, gently wrapping it around what remained of Valoia. She learned the feel of the Dark Fae as well as she could before calling with her magic.

It was a beautiful, enticing song just for Valoia and she felt her quarry respond. The dimming presence strengthened, becoming more and more whole with each second, until it was as if Valoia was standing right there. Becky could see a ghost like image, shimmering in a way the other ghosts she had seen did not.

"She has her," Kroven whispered in a reverent tone.

Valoia was staring straight ahead, like the ghost in the cemetery, as if completely unaware of what was going on. At least that was a small blessing. Becky was not sure she would have been able to mentally cope with a fully aware, dead Valoia.

Continuing to follow her instincts, Becky opened the blanket she had around the essence of the Dark Fae, expanding it to include what she could only sense as a lifeless husk. Bile rose in the back of her throat at the sensation of the completely empty thing. There was dead and there was alive and this vessel was neither in the magical sense of the meaning, it was simply nothing and she wanted to recoil.

Instead she squeezed.

She used the blanket of her power to bring Valoia's essence in line with her body. At first it was easy, as easy as calling forth the ghost had been, but moment by moment it became like wading into water, then into treacle, then into quick sand and so on. The closer Valoia's essence came to her physical form, the harder it was to bring them together.

Finally, Becky understood why some Necromancers failed.

It took every last ounce of strength she had to keep going. As if she was running a marathon her heart pounded and spots danced in front of her eyes, but she would not give up.

She squeezed the blanket of her power, constricting it around her quarry like the most vicious swaddling clothes. Like an insane mother with a dangerously fractious baby, she refused to let go. There was no doubt in her mind that if she faltered for a second, this would all be finished, and hope would be gone.

When she felt something metaphysical click, like a key settling into a lock, she could have cried. The blanket of her power evaporated as it fulfilled its purpose, leaving only tendrils behind, but they and she still vibrated with her magic.

Valoia took a shuddering breath and power resonated in the air.

"It's working, look at the crystal," someone said, but Becky did not dare look up to see.

Valoia was breathing, she was alive, her magic intact, but Becky could feel the necromantic connection between them. Becky was maintaining the Dark Fae's life. It was not enough.

"The bargain must be sealed," she found herself saying, voice deep and filled with a vibrating resonance that echoed around the chamber.

"Rebecca, no," Rosalind said, tone aghast.

* * *

Becky could understand her aunt's horror, but she had to make Rosalind understand.

"She is mine," Becky said, each word dragged out of her as she tried to explain and maintain the power flooding through her, "she must be her own."

It was so hard. A large part of her wanted to keep the Fae. Something greedy and hungry for power liked the feeling of the total control she had over Valoia. It was hard to ignore.

"If another dies we will be right back at the beginning," Kroven protested from somewhere to Becky's left.

Murmurings of agreement came from all around.

"Not if it is a self-sacrifice."

Lianta's voice brought silence to the room.

The cold seeping through every pore of Becky's body agreed with that and it wanted life, it wanted it badly. She had pushed her power so far and so completely it was all but sentient as it used her, she was ready to give in to its needs. Yet, something tickled at her senses, something that spoke to her less base instincts.

It seemed to take her an age to discover what it was as silence reigned around her. It was sweet and cool in her peculiar awareness, not icy cold like her own power, but similar, and she chased it. She almost laughed in shock as the reality resolved in her mind. It was Valoia's diluted vampiric side, the touch of the dead that the Dark Fae carried with her, mixing with the magic of the council chamber itself and something else, something alien that Becky could only guess might have been what gave the Fae her longevity.

"Blood," she said in one explosive syllable.

"We will decide," Jax snapped back at her.

"No," she ground out, "blood, all."

It was so hard to speak as her power warred with her higher thoughts.

"She speaks nonsense," Taraki said.

"No," Kroven said and Becky prayed he had caught on, "blood is life. Rebecca, are you saying that blood from all of us will provide enough life to seal the bargain?"

Becky nodded desperately, still not daring to look away from Valoia's still features.

"How?"

That came from Fen.

Becky stuck out her left arm, fingers spread wide as she followed instincts that were already rubbed raw.

"Blood brothers," was all she could think to say.

"What?" she heard from one direction, but she was too close to the edge to figure out who had spoken.

"Kroven," she heard Rosalind say, "it is a tradition from our realm. Humans cut their palms and share blood."

Thank god for her aunt was about all she could think.

"We must all share blood with Rebecca," Kroven passed on the knowledge. "A cut to the palm and a joining."

"That's disgusting," Lianta said.

"That is the only way," Fen countered angrily, clearly on board with the plan.

"I did not say I would not do it," Lianta responded.

"Hurry," Becky ground out between gritted teeth.

She was in no mood for arguments and she could not hold the power as it was forever.

When someone took her hand, she did not resist. She gasped and gritted her teeth as something sharp was drawn across her palm, but she did not dare take her gaze away from Valoia. It hurt, but it paled into insignificance as the first member of the council placed their hand against hers. The energy she had felt tickling the edges of her senses daggered at her as something base and indescribable came into being when alien magic clashed with her own.

She had to push to make her shredded instincts allow Valoia's power into her essence. The moment she did, it lanced through her veins, accepting the gift of blood greedily.

More magic was added as first one then another of the council joined their blood with hers. Only the vampiric taint of Valoia's magic had any control, sucking in all that was offered and binding it together. It made her want to scream as it went beyond pain. This was not of her, not the cold that wound through every iota of her being. There was fire, there was alien ice, there was sharp electric power and eventually there was more of the vampiric power, now coming from two directions.

Becky was sure she was going to cave under the onslaught. She clung on, using the part of herself that was greedy for power, even when it was not her own.

She lost count of how many had joined their blood with hers, but she knew the instant the last of the council did. Not only did the magic of each individual flow through her, being pulled together by Valoia's vampiric power, but the magic of the citadel itself daggered into her as well, as if it sensed her purpose.

Now she finally screamed as the swirling mixture of magic and life ripped through her. It took away all awareness of the outside world, morphing her reality into a maelstrom of colour and sensation. This was not something any mortal creature was supposed to know. It threatened to take her mind and she could not fight it.

Her Necromancer abilities leapt at the life that was offered, but she was not in control. They moved beyond her ability to comprehend, sealing a bargain of which her mind could barely conceive.

Then, when she thought she could take no more, it finally broke. Reality slipped through the cracks, slowly rebuilding, bit by bit, until it began to make sense again.

She could not move, but she was being held in a strong embrace. There was something soft under her cheek and a slow regular beating filtered into her mind. When it finally made sense, she tried to pull away, but she had no strength and those arms cradled her gently.

"Relax, Rebecca," Valoia told her, voice perfectly serious for the first time in Becky's experience, "you are safe."

It was all the permission Becky's body needed to give up on consciousness as the strain she had put on herself made her pay. When she could think she would probably be mortified, but, as it was, she fell asleep on Valoia's ample bosom.