Author: Sandra

"The dead of night."

"Funny how they always put that. As if deep down, mortal men and women did know, at some level, the dead did own the night after all."

Sandra sighed quietly to herself, after sending her companion away, for she was not involved in this one. The place, a small grove just outside of Castle Rock, Maine. A simple, unassuming place, that held a dark secret. Perhaps, she thought as she began her kata, entering a meditative state with the calming, repetative and precise motions of the hakaar whistling cleanly through the pure night air, perhaps all things have their dark secrets.

Slowly she twirled, a glimmering ballet of death given light by the silvery moon. Her body never tired, but her mind cycled through its doubts and fears, sacrificing them on the altar, just as something else was... so long ago...

Sandra screamed in agony, fighting with all the might a fourteen year old girl could. That is, without much might at all. Her struggles pleased her would-be benefactor, who enjoyed seeing the hopeless fight of his prey, before her ending as he solemnly intoned. "The Caul..."

She paused, ears hearing an inhuman burbling arising from beneath the altar, her limbs suddenly seized by black, oily tendrils that grasped her, hauling her into the darkness of the Pit. She screamed in utter fear, the coldness engulfing her, the other Fallen waiting for her to be consumed utterly by their talisman.

Inside the Caul, she was bombarded, her mind shattered and soul challenged by the evils that man had committed, from the First Murder to the slaughter of the local Indians. Rapes, murders, thefts, all manner of atrocities cascaded in her mind, making her long to submit to the Evil that would emcompass all... except for one small spark, not beaten, never beaten by such Corruption. Even as her spirit was crushed and chained, the glimmer of hope did not die as her new Master had hoped. As she slowly was released at the foot of the altar, and the true decadence of the ceremony began in earnest, she refused to bow to her new Master, craving only Freedom, that it could never, would never give.

Sandra continued to twirl in the dance, her movements practiced and graceful from three centuries of near constant jyhad against the Camarilla, the Wyrm, the Devil itself. As she paused and finished, a familiar voice, one that haunted her dreams the past three centuries, echoed with bitterness. "You haven't aged a year."

Sandra paused, feeling the heavy weight on her soul as she glanced over and looked upon the faded image of a young girl, no more than fourteen, eyes dark and haunted as her neck was marred with savage wounds. "Nor have you."

The ghost snarled and pointed a finger at her, "I cannot change what I am. Nor can you. Murderer."

Sandra simply nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her as she looked upon the wraith. "I didn't know... I did try to save you."

Sandra prepared the sacrifice to the Caul, her work aided by the mental domination and enslavement practiced by the Fallen in order to make this most attractive toy more useful as a lure. She quietly chained the girl down, and looked into her eyes, seeing herself as she was, five years ago. Quietly, she unobtrusively unchained the girl's bonds, and looked at the priest. "Let me do it, Master."

The Fallen One smiled, handing Sandra the sacrifical dagger, standing behind her with groping hands upon her shoulders, chanting as she raised the dagger high... and plunged it into his gut, breaking the spell and unleashing a hail of Paradox upon the spell casters. Quickly grabbing the girl's hand, Sandra hauled her from the altar, the distraction causing her mental enslavement to completely depart, and ran for the wilds, the Fallen too busy to cope with angered spirits to worry about escaping slaves.

After several minutes of running, Sandra paused and held the girl close, picking a spot to hide in the brush as they were both winded, needing rest. Hearing no noise of her former masters giving chase, she led the girl out of the cover, and into the arms of a man, who easily bared his fangs on the unsuspecting fugitives, advancing toward them as they both screamed in terror...

The wraith nodded, her bitterness unfaded after three hundred years of howling pain. "You might have, but the results were the same, weren't they?"

Sandra shakes her head, "Better you suffer this fate than live as I did those years... believe me in this." and she looks at the ghost. "I had no choice in the matter... do you think I would go through the trouble of saving you if that were so?" as she offered her hand to the ghost. "See into my thoughts, see what happened from my eyes."

The wraith slowly advanced, then stepped into Sandra, submerging both of them into the thoughts of yesteryear...

Sandra awoke under the earth, buried alive. Almost screaming before her rational mind, surfacing after her Avatar, her mind were enslaved by the Fallen, her mind realizing that would only cause her to choke on the dirt. Sniffing, she smelled something, so tantalizing on the surface... if she could only reach it. Frenzied, her mind completely out of control in hunger, she dug out for the surface, fingers cracking through the dirt and finding the ground.

Without hesitation, she broke through the dirt and found the source of the smell. Pouncing quickly, she leapt upon her prey and sunk her fangs deep into the neck, draining her victim too quickly to even allow a scream. As her blood lust faded, she looked down, and saw the mangled, drained corpse of the girl she tried to save from her former Masters. She had no time but to let out a shriek of agony, before a solid thud connected with her head, darkness engulfing her vision.

The wraith talked to itself a moment, then shook her head, her voice a bit stronger, clearer now than before, the bitterness eased from her voice. "I... I understand now." as Sandra slowly stepped out from the wraith, eyes haunted by the vision.

Sandra shook her head, "I wish there was something I could do for you," as she paused, looking embarassed, "I don't even know your name."

The wraith paused, and then whispered, almost shyly, "Rachel."

Sandra glanced at Rachel, and gently took her hands, compensating for their lack of material presence. "Rachel... what can I do for you?"

"I could help her."

Sandra paused in surprise, and then turned to see Ariel materialize behind her, looking at Rachel thoughtfully. Ariel whispered, "I am skilled in the arts of reclaiming the Psyche," as she extended her hands to Rachel, her third eye glowing softly in the moonlit grove.

Sandra stepped back, looking at Ariel as the ghost of the Salubri continued, "Sandra... you are advanced enough... you no longer need my constant help. Though you will find that you will be needed by those that trust you least."

The Inquisitor paused, slipping her hakaar away quietly as she whispered, "I will miss you, my old friend."

Ariel laughed softly, her musical delight easing even the most jaded soul, "I'm only a scroll's case away..." as she and Rachel faded into the darkness, where even Sandra could not see. Pausing, she looked at the ground, still red with the blood of innocents. Quietly, she chanted a ritual, summoning the spirit of a unicorn, and binding it to protect and cleanse this place, to bring the dark memories of this place to their final deserved Rest.