Raven hated to keep secrets from her friends, but sometimes the whims of the world around her gave her little choice. Almost every night, she went up onto the roof of the townhouse she shared with her closest friend Ashyra and gazed up into the heavens, looking for a sign or waiting for a sensation that would tell her what she needed to know.

Ashyra never enquired about Raven's nocturnal activities, assuming they were something to do with the black-haired dancer's mysterious past, hidden by a veil of amnesia that parted only rarely, and then for only tantalisingly brief moments. Each time one of these revelations occurred, Raven changed, gaining new powers or becoming more capable with the powers she already had - and each time, the woman became less and less...human.

That's assuming she was ever human to begin with, Ashyra thought, when she was alone. Maybe the Raven I thought I knew is nothing more than an illusion - but that won't stop me trying to keep hold of that illusion. Maybe there's a middle-ground, between what she was and what she is that both can accept. I mustn't give up on what she is now because I'm afraid of what she was then. If I did, what kind of friend would I be?

Raven was glad that Ashyra did not pry. I wish I could tell you what I'm doing, and why, the tall enigmatic dancer often thought. The time isn't right, and I can't guarantee I can deliver on the promise I made to myself - to bring back your brother, whole and well...

Ashyra had been living for the past few years under the notion that her brother, Almin, was dead, lost on the Star Seas along with the prospecting vessel he had been on, but recent events had revealed to Raven that Almin was, in spirit at least, very much alive. His body was another matter - he had fallen prey to a frightful creature known as a Dark Dravwyrn, a monster that enslaved its victims with enchanted venom, transforming them into lesser versions of itself, and Raven had learned the truth whilst taking part on a raid on the Dravwyrn's lair. The monster was now dead, and its surviving "children" were free to prowl through space as independent creatures - but Raven knew that the spirit of Almin, rekindled somehow by her empathic abilities, would not submit to the predatory instincts of the species.

He's out there somewhere, under the Dravwyrn curse, and I have to find him, Raven had decided. I have to find him, then find a cure. But where to begin...?

As a Dravwaeri, Almin would be a formidable opponent for any adversary, but there were some who were trained to hunt down and destory the victims of the "Dravwyrn Curse". Raven knew of these warriors - the "Waeribane" - having fought alongside one of them during the assault on the nest of monsters, and she respected and feared them in equal measure.

The only reason Raven had to fear them was that there was every possibility that they would track down Almin before she could find him, and the Waeribane's code gave them no freedom to consider each case as unique. To them, a monster was a monster, no matter what it said to them in its own defence, and Almin's pleas for mercy would fall, without exception, on deaf ears.

Raven had a useful ally in the small yet deadly form of Marishanna of Daliphae, a wicked warrior-sorceress commanding the star-sailing vessel Succubus. Marishanna had convinced herself that Raven was some kind of demon, a creature worthy of her worship, and for now, Raven was prepared to play along, even though the possibility existed that Marishanna just might be right - to date, there was a considerable volume of evidence to suggest that Raven was, in part, demonic in nature.

One only needed to see her sprout great dark wings from the back of her head to see the reasoning behind Marishanna's devotion.

Raven had shared something of her secret with Marishanna, telling the little adventuress to listen out for sightings of Dravwaeri, especially ones acting strangely. Marishanna sought an explanation, but Raven played the part of "demoness" well enough to ensure the warrior-woman's compliance.

"You do not need to know 'why'", Raven had said sternly, eyes glowing, wings twitching impatiently. "Just make sure to get word to me as quickly as possible."

In the meantime, Raven continued her vigil. She had no idea what to expect as she sat on the roof, staring up at the stars. Revelation could come in the form of a vision, a distant psychic voice calling out to her - Almin might even appear, flying down out of the sky...

Infinite patience was not amongst her growing range of supernatural abilities, however, and some time before the first of Freeport's artificial suns rose, Raven went inside and sought her bed. There was always the possibility that some enlightenment would come to her when she slept, she realised, but enjoyable dreams would suffice.

It did not take Raven long to undress, shedding her white silk shirt and sky-blue velvet shorts but keeping on her high-heeled thigh-length boots. More and more often, the black-tressed dancer chose to sleep in boots, luxuriating in the feel of slightly stretchy white synthetic leather clinging to her legs and finding that she often had more thrilling and stimulating dreams when she wore them in bed.

I didn't get turned on by wearing boots before, she said to herself as she slid under the satin sheets, but maybe I did in the past - that past I can't remember. If that's so, then this is a part of my lost life that I don't mind refamiliarising myself with...

Sleep descended on Raven surprisingly quickly - surprising in that she no longer slept as long as she had previously. As more and more of her powers emerged, her need for sleep decreased, leaving Raven wondering if a time would come when she would only sleep so that she could dream. For now, her body still needed a couple of hours a day to refresh itself, and in return for her conceding to its needs, it rewarded her with flights of subconscious fantasy...

...and when Raven next stretched, there were no sheets getting in the way of her limbs. She was lying on a bed of large cushions, over which was draped a cover of embroidered deep blue velvet, so dark that the silken black of her hair almost merged with it. Raven, too, was a little different - her wings were present, partly spread across the cushions, and she was wearing her favourite long gloves of finest white leather as well as her boots.

The winged dancer glanced down her body towards her boots, and found a small figure sitting, crosslegged, between her partly spread legs. About half Raven's height, the girl was naked apart from boots of her own, like Raven's in style, with cuffs flaring down nearly to the knees, but they were glistening black in colour with golden heels and gold tips to the toes. The girl's hair was also similar to Raven's, being straight and black, and the little female wore it in such a way that it came down her front, covering her breasts and pooling in her lap.

"Marishanna...?", murmured Raven, shrugging off the last remnants of drowsiness.

"Yes, My Lady", purred the small woman. "I wanted to be here when you awoke. I haven't been waiting long."

"Waiting for what, I wonder?", Raven responded, smiling knowingly. Marishanna had tried this kind of thing before, offering herself for Raven's pleasure, and the little warrior-sorceress's gear was scattered all over the floor - a tiny black leather skirt, a short waistcoat, a cloak lined with crimson satin, a sword-belt with the wicked little sword Silver Death still in its scabbard...

"Whatever you like", said Marishanna, smiling back. She was very much the dominant sort, but had previously admitted to being quite willing to surrender that role to Raven, which made the dancer think that she could perhaps get away with just about anything, despite Marishanna's fearsome reputation.

And at that particular moment, Raven felt, for once, particularly inclined to test her luck.

"You could always polish my boots", she said, and Marishanna's eyes sparkled with delight.

Those same eyes glanced briefly towards the cloak as the little female considered the satin lining for a boot-cleaning cloth, but she dismissed the thought almost before it had fully formed. Instead, she pulled the rest of her hair round to her front, crawled over to Raven's left leg and, once she was settled astride it, set about her task using her own jet-black tresses to polish the already glistening surface of the winged woman's boot.

Raven watched Marishanna with much interest. The warrior-sorceress had a tendancy to stretch herself out against the dancer's boot, letting her stomach and breasts press against the synthetic leather as she leaned forward to polish the foot and toe of the boot, and Raven could tell that not much real work was being done. She's enjoying herself - and to be honest, so am I, the dancer told herself, lifting herself up onto her elbows. I can clean them properly later.

Marishanna slid off Raven's left leg, and was creeping over to straddle the other boot when Raven leaned forward to playfully grab the little adventuress's ankle. She stopped short of her goal, however, when she caught sight of a figure, a tall, ominous shape that completely hidden in the darkness surrounding the bed of cushions until that moment.

The dancer glared at the dark figure, which retreated immediately. She opened her mouth to demand that the intruder reveal themself, but before she could speak words formed inside her mind...

Do it, purred a voice that was much like the mind-speech Ashyra sometimes employed, yet it was somehow more than that. Take the girl. Use her. Enjoy her - you know she wants you to...

The voice was alien, and despite Raven's mental defences, strangely compelling. Already in a mood to play, she lunged towards Marishanna and grabbed both her ankles. Possessing a fighter's instincts, Marishanna initially struggled, then relaxed a little as she realised what was happening - leaving herself quite unprepared as Raven snatched up a length of the small female's hair, and swiftly bound Marishanna's hands behind her back.

"This...this is a surprise...", Marishanna gasped, her cheek against the velvet, shuddering as Raven's leather-clad fingers traced paths down her back and arms. Her next gasp was a wordless expression of alarm as one of those fingers swept round under one of her buttocks and darted like a striking serpent, up between the diminutive female's legs...

Raven awoke with a flinch so forceful it hurt the muscles in her neck. She had never had such a dream before - never dreamed of perpetrating such brutal abuse against anyone who came to her as a friend - and she felt not a little unclean for entertaining such a violent fantasy.

And to make things worse, Raven could still hear the voice that had convinced her to take advantage of Marishanna, chuckling wickedly in a distant corner of the dancer's mind before falling disturbingly silent.