A cry of outrage had risen from Shalonesti.

Judging by her outer shell, the increasing presance of danger did little to affect the woman. The Matron bore an emotionless facade, her face set into a stony and unrevealing gaze. Inside, her mind was in turmoil, and her heart was in conflict.

She was sworn to protect the members of her house, as Matron. But yesterday Lei'ursthadd had been called into the throne room, before King Andelas and Queen Azhiraz, and informed that the people of Shalonesti had demanded her and Lyan to be imprisoned therein, for a murder they said a Ka'vanth had committed.

Ursah had refused to give them the Ka'vanth's name. And so, she had accepted the responsibility of taking punishment for the actions of her house. Such, she saw, was her duty, by which she was honor-bound.

She had informed Lyan, later, that it was only her blood they called for. She had an obligation, also, to protect her husband from harm.

And so the woman was in conflict. The child in her belly had every possibility of being born in a Shalonesti prison, and it was for this that she shed her tears. And also her husband's anger that she would not state the Ka'vanth's name to keep herself from trouble. It was an anger born of love, but perhaps that was the hardest sort to deal with. Lei'ursathdd only knew that she loved the man, and he her, and that he was angry.

She sat now before a statue of Drakkara, with the rustle of many ravens overhead. Her husband and her goddess were the only ones who would ever see her cry, or ever truly know her weaknesses. The statue was blurry through her watering eyes, and the Matron placed a lavendar rose carefully at the base. The rose had become a daily ritual, but today she had come to pray.

"My Great Lady, I thank you for the knowledge and protection that you have granted in the past. I ask your wisdom and protection in the future. I realise I am nothing to one so great as yourself, but I remain your loyal servant. I give you all that I have to offer. Protect my people, beautiful one. Let us live to taste the sweet blood of the Shalonesti, and the salt of their tears. For every tear I have shed, let them shed ten thousand more. And for every death they grant to my people, shall they know ten thousand more. Let them cry, my goddess. Let them wail. And should I be called to death, may I serve you then, and may my death be not in vain. May it spark a fire within the souls of my kin, greater than they have ever known, that they may be fuelled to carry out our one desire. Vengeance, my lady. May we have vengeance. May a cry rise from Shalonesti that will be heard for eternity. May the universe reel at intensity of their pain."

The Matron clutched at a tiny charm on a necklace, a thin silver holy symbol of her Goddess. The child within her stirred, and Ursah bowed her head in supplication before the altar.

"May my child know victory." Lei'ursathdd added, with a bitter scowl.