Zariel woke from her nightmare screaming. Her eyes flew open and she glanced nervously around the dark room. The steel-like vines of her cage stood firm and held fast. "Where be I?" she thought. Then she remembered: Abraxus. She rubbed the bump on the back of her head from where Abraxus's swordhilt had struck her.. was it yesterday? "Gods," she thought, "how long hae I been here?"

"Ah, Zariel," cool voice hissed.
Abraxus stepped from the shadows, and the young elf tensed. Zariel put her hands out in front of herself, instinctively trying to protect herself from any other harm. "Please, m'Lady" she stuttered nervously, "donnae hurt me."

Zariel cried silently as images of her time in slavery crowded her mind. "This cannae be happening to me. Silvanus, please, nae again. What hae I done?" she prayed. "Why d'ye nae hear me?" Zariel was vaguely aware of Abraxus detailing how she had gotten her revenge on Bloodmaiden and Harland, but her words seemed to come from so far away.

"And now, what am I going to do with you? You are quite useless to me." Zariel's reverie was broken by Abraxus' words. "But perhaps Democritus may find a use for you."

Zariel shook her head, the color draining from her face. "Nay, please," she whispered. "Please let me go." Salty tears began to flood her eyes, and an uncontrolable trembling seized her body. "Please!," she managed to shriek.

A black portal opened a few moments later, and Democritus stepped out of it followed by his bear. "Abraxus," he greeted her with a slight bow, glancing at Zariel who stood frozen in terror in the middle of her cage. He appraised the elf quickly with a practiced eye. Turning back to Abraxus he asked, "You thought you had something of interest for me?"

"Tell me," she intoned coyly, "what do you make of this faerie?"

Zariel took a step backwards in fear, her eyes growing wide, as Democritus walked around the cage to where she stood. She barely managed to stifle a frightened cry as his hand grasped her arm. "Short for her race," he began, "and scrawny. She's not going to be much good for work. Still, I see that she is a magic Her value should increase as she learns more of the art."

"Then I will allow you the use of her as your slave within House Entenaka," Abraxus smiled smugly.

"Nay, m'Lady, please!" Zariel cried, desperately hoping that some sympathy might be shown her. "Please donnae do this to me," she sobbed brokenly.

"Silence!" the Matron hissed, her eyes glowering.

Zariel felt the strength leave her legs, and she sank into a heap in the corner of her cage, crying and praying that Silvanus still might save her.

Democritus excused himself briefly to attend to pressing business, promising to return shortly. Zariel was scarecely aware of his absence, her mind too busy trying to shut out the flood of memories that paralyzed her. A strange magical humming sound focused her attention back on the present, and she noticed a strange glow around the bars of her cage. Suddenly, she and the cage were transported into a remote forest, where Democritus waited, and Abraxus appeared moments later. The Drow woman flipped through the pages of a worn black tome, searching for something. At length, she seemed to find the what she searched for, and released the cage that held Zariel there.

Zariel knew she didn't have a chance, but only one word screamed through her mind: Run! As soon as the bars disappeared, Zariel found a renewed strength, and sprinted past the two Drow at top speed. But they would have none of it. A simple entangle spell caught the elf's ankle and wrists, pinning her to the earth. "NAAAAY!" Zariel's screams echoed off the trees and through the forest as she struggled furiously to free herself from the vines.

A shadow blocked the sun as Abraxus and Democritus stood over the frightened child. Abraxus easily found the spot in her tome and began to chant malificent arcane words, a heavy steel collar forming in the air. Democritus added his own incantations, blending them with those of Abraxus until they were satisfied that the collar would serve their purposes. Zariel quickly exhausted herself in her struggles, and could only watch and plead as Abraxus took the device from midair and knelt beside her. "Please nay," she whispered with a barely audible voice, cringing away from the Matron as much as the vines would allow. As Abraxus fastened the device around Zariel's neck, Democritus began a new chant, causing more vines to encircle the girl's slender ankle. As his chant grew in intensity, the vines grew in thickness and strength, until they were harder than the strongest blades. Then, thorns grew and bit into her tender flesh at a mere thought from him.

"Now," Democritus began, "you will not repeat this performance. You will come when you are summoned or when you are called, and you will not keep us waiting. You will be severely punished if you try to hide on any plane that is resistant to my summons. For now, I will allow you to keep your affiliation with these... Guardians, is it? But, you are forbidden to speak of your slavery to anyone. You will not ask for help. Is that understood?" Zariel could only nod in mute terror as tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "Good," he continued. "You will observe the basic training you received from the trainers in the UnderDark. Oh, and don't think you will escape detection with your magics. This collar ensures that we hear everything you say and indeed reverything you think. I can even see you if I wish." "So you see," Abraxus broke in, "you have no choice in this. You will obey, or you will be punished.

Abraxus smiled a wicked sneer at the tearful girl, and then beckoned for Democritus to follow her. As the two departed, the vines that held her trapped to the ground receded, leaving only the anklet and collar as physical reminders of her new status. Zariel curled into a tight ball where she lay on the ground and cried herself to sleep, not having the strength or the courage to venture back to her clan home.

The silence of the forest was shattered by a sudden motion in the distance. Dark robes swirled; Zariel was surrounded. The flash of a swordhilt, then darkness. Stifling, repressive, soul-draining darkness. Endless drills on behaviours and station, beatings, tortures. An eternity dragged by. Then she was back home. Where was home? Ashes everywhere, ruins, waste. Corpses. Skeletons. She stood in the center of what once was her home. A glint of gold caught her eye. Her mother's wedding ring. And nearby, her father's signet. An ivory comb. A bible of Silvanus. All her possessions in the world now. No home. No family.

Zariel woke with a scream, looking wildly about her for any danger. "The dream," she thought, "'tis onla the dream again." A voice somewhere chuckled at her. "Reminiscing, dear? Don't worry. You'll have many memories to add to those." She shuddered as fresh tears formed. "Nay," she thought. "I cannae do this again." With her bible of Silvanus clutched firmly in her hand, Zariel set off for the deeper recesses of the forest. Her resolve was made.

Finding a small hill in the middle of an undisturbed swamp, Zariel sat down on the damp grass and began to read her bible. Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned each worn page. Then, after setting the sacred text gently on the ground, and meditating a short while, Zariel stood up. "Silvanus, forgive me," she sobbed quietly. A brief search through her bag, and her fingers closed tightly around a small ivory-hilted dagger.

A swirling black portal opened before her, and Democritus stepped out of it, peering intently at the frightened girl. Zariel tried to stifle a small gasp, and took several steps back, increasing the space between herself and the Drow. "Stop," he commanded. Zariel took another step backwards involuntarily. "Sit down, girl." She shook her head nervously, preparing to flee. "Don't make this more difficult for yourself. I can just call forth the vines once more to force you to sit, or you can obey on your own. Do you want to do this the hard way, faerie?" Tears spilled down her cheeks as her breath caught in her throat. "SIT," he growled at her. Zariel flinched at his tone and quickly decided it would be wise to obey him.

"Please donnae hurt me, Master," she whispered fearfully, unable to control the tremors that overtook her. "I didn't come here to hurt you, child. What did you think you were doing?"

Zariel paled and stumbled over her words. "Please, Master, I ... I cannae do this anamore," she sobbed. "Please l..let me die." The young elf spoke in a hurried jumble of words, not daring to look up at the wiry merchant.

Democritus was silent for a moment, studying the figure before him with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. "You want to die?" he fairly sneered at her. He pressed his own ebony dirk into her hand, forcing her fingers closed about the hilt. "Go ahead.Kill yourself."

Zariel flinched at the coolness of his touch, her eyes wide with fear and mistrust as they searched his face for any sign of a trick. Reading her doubts, the Drow held up both of his hands and stepped back a couple of paces to give her room. She hesitated only a moment before dragging the blade quickly across her wrists, undeterred by the warmth of the blood flowing freely from the wounds. Several quick slashes followed before Democritus could shake off his shock and grab the dagger away again.

"Gods, girl. I never believed you would actually do it." He grasped her mutilated wrists in a strong grasp, chanting healing incantations to stop her bleeding. Zariel screamed and struggled wildly trying to break his grasp. "WHY?" she screamed at him. The question repeated 7again and again, as the shouts dissolved into indiscernable sobbing. "I need you alive for now," he explained cooly. "I want you to cast a special spell for me." "I be nay wizard, Master," she whispered brokenly. "I know. But you have a greater gift for magic than I do. You will go out and train your abilities. I will ask you for progress reports occasionally to determine if you are complying with my directives." Zariel shuddered, tears still filling her eyes. "After you have completed your training and have played out your role in my plans, I will allow you to end your life, should you still wish it." "I hae nay choice," she whispered. "The sooner you master your skills the sooner you may be free." Zariel shook her head sadly. "Misstress w' ne'er allow't, Master." The small elf could hardly be heard between her sobs. "I will deal with her. You just see that you make adequate progress in your studies." With a gesture of his hand, Democritus stepped into another black portal, his dagger tucked securely in his sash once more. Zariel crumbled to the grass, exhausted mentally and physically. She lay there a long while before gathering her strength to find a place where she might practice her skills, to show progress for both the kindly guildmaster who instructed her for free, and to Democritus, lest he be displeased with her and punish her for her insolence.