“Is there nothing that can be done to stop her screaming?” Astria Trevanei demanded.

The Court Sorceress had balled her hands into fists, as though she meant to strike the physician who cowered before her, and, as she spoke, fire smoldered in the black depths of her eyes.

“I tried to offer her a sleeping draught,” the physician said, taking a defensive step backwards as she did. “Something to calm her nerves, but she wouldn’t take it. She wouldn’t even look at me. I’m… well, I’m not sure she even realized I was in the room with her.”

Astria squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her own temples. The sound of Beryl’s screaming was giving her a splitting headache. It didn’t seem possible that someone so small could produce a noise so loud, but Beryl’s piercing wails seemed to carry though the Court’s marble walls as though they were made of paper. It was a wonder that she hadn’t woken the entire city.

“Force it down her throat if you have to,” Astria said, cradling her head in her hands and fighting the urge to grind her teeth. “Anything to stop that awful noise.”

As if on cue, another piercing shriek came echoing down the hallway, from the small, locked room where Beryl was being kept.

For a moment, the physician – a lesser Trevanei matriarch from the provinces, whose main virtue was not her skill at medicine so much as her reliable discretion – hesitated before replying. When she did speak, her voice was so close to a whisper that it was barely audible over Beryl’s unending screams.

“Even if I could coax her to sleep…” The matriarch trailed off, then cleared her throat. “Astria, her mind is gone.”

Astria closed her eyes and tried to count to ten. Realizing that she was chewing on a strand of her own hair, she jammed both of her hands into her leather scrip, and forced herself to take a deep breath.

She needed to think. She needed to figure out how to salvage a bad situation before it could get even worse.

Both of which were difficult to do with Beryl screaming like a banshee just a few doors away.

Astria could feel her anger flare again, and she barely resisted the urge to burn something.

As soon as the reports of a massive fire in the Nameless District had begun trickling into Court, Astria had known without knowing that – someway, somehow, whatever had happened – it would turn out to be Beryl’s fault.

So she had dispatched her agents to find the source of the flames, and, sure enough, there they had found Beryl.

A gape-mouthed and soot-stained fledgling had told Astria how, even as a score of Guild Sorceresses struggled to quell the spreading blaze, Beryl had just been sitting there, with her clothes burnt to cinders, and the tips of her hair smoldering.

She had just been sitting there, the fledgling said, in the middle of the raging inferno, with her knees tucked beneath her chin, and her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking silently back and forth as a whole city block burned around her.

Beryl hadn’t tried to resist as they picked her up and spirited her away before the city guard could arrest her. She hadn’t even made a sound.

At least, she hadn’t made a sound until they had brought her back to the Court, and locked her inside the tiny room that had been her prison for more than ten years.

Then, she had started screaming. And she hadn’t stopped since.

“What can we do with her?” Astria muttered, thinking aloud as she paced back and forth across the room. “We certainly can’t keep her here. But I can’t let the guard have her, either. There are things that she knows. She’s dangerous.”

The physician bowed her head in thought.

“The Temple has a sanctuary for the feebleminded,” she finally said. “The Sisterhood runs it as one of their good works. It’s on one of the summer islands, fully three days’ sail from the coast.” She risked a glance at Astria. “We could hide her there, under an assumed name. She’d be well cared for.”

Astria shook her head.

“No,” the Court Sorceress said. “Between the ship’s captain, and the priestesses, and Gods know who else? Too many palms to grease. Too many tongues that might wag.” Astria tapped a pensive finger against her own cheek. “Besides, I can’t be expected to sail three days out and three days back every time I need a seal broken.”

“I don’t think you understand,” the physician said, shaking her head. “Her mind is gone. She may never speak again, let alone cast a spell.”

Once again, embers flared behind Astria’s eyes.

“That’s not acceptable,” she said, her voice dropping low. “I still have need of her.”

“That’s as may be,” the physician said, “but I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

Astria was silent for a long time, before a small smile began to form at the corners of her mouth.

“Tabula rasa,” she finally said.

The color drained away from the physician’s face.

“I can’t,” she said. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“And why not? Surely you know the spell, and you yourself said that her mind is gone.”

The physician gave her head a nervous shake.

“It goes against all my oaths.”

“Why? Because it’s inhumane?” Astria gestured in the direction of Beryl’s cell, from which desperate wailing continued to emanate. “How could cleansing her mind be any more inhumane than leaving her like this, to tear out her own hair and scream until her lungs burst? Surely it would be better for her – and for everyone else involved – to wipe the slate clean?”

The physician looked off to one side, as if to avoid Astria’s gaze.

“The effects would be irreversible,” she said quietly. “And complete. She would retain no memories of who she was.”

Astria shrugged. “I fail to see the problem. She’s already nobody.”

The physician knitted her fingers together.

“I’m still not sure I’m comfortable with this,” she finally said.

“If it eases your conscience,” Astria said, “then please consider that I am not asking.” Her voice was cold, and she fixed the physician with a hard stare.

Slowly, the physician nodded her head. Then, without saying a word, she turned and walked off in the direction of Beryl’s room.

Astria sat down on a low chair, and waited. A minute or so later, the screaming abruptly stopped.

At the end of the hallway, a door opened and closed. The returning physican’s footsteps almost sounded loud against the newly silent backdrop.

“She’s resting now,” the physician said, never quite making eye contact. “I don’t know how long she will sleep. It may be for some time.”

A second passed in silence, before she spoke again.

“When she wakes, she’s likely to feel a bit disoriented, and to have many questions. She’ll want to know where she is, and why. More than that… she’ll want to know who she is.”

“You needn't concern yourself with that,” Astria Trevanei said. “I will remind her.”

Fire. Everywhere. The scent of smoke, and burning flesh. Chaos. Eruption. Screams. Astria! Aliavelli! Mother!!!

Beryl shot awake with a convulsion that shook the bed, her scream punctuated by the sound of her headboard slamming into the wall. She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. The room was pitch black, but only for a moment before a sphere of soft white light fluttered into being, and then Aloise was there. At first, she didn't say anything. She just sat down at the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Beryl's arm. For a long moment, Beryl was afraid to speak, for fear that she would move it. Finally, though, she looked up into Aloise's concerned face. She was about to say something, but the other woman spoke first.

"The nightmare again?"

Beryl opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't. Instead, she just nodded.

Aloise nodded back sympathetically. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

Beryl shook her head. "You're doing more than I could ask for." Aloise smiled. Beryl tried to, but failed. "Sorry I woke you up."

"I was up anyway."

Beryl shook her head. "Fibber."

Aloise grinned, then patted Beryl's arm. "Get some sleep, okay? You'll have pleasant dreams this time. I'm sure of it!"

This time, Beryl forced a smile, though she didn't feel it. "Thanks."

Aloise moved away, and dispelled her light. Beryl shut her eye tight, but she did not sleep for the rest of the night. And yet still, the memory of the nightmare stayed with her.

Aloise did not sleep well the rest of the night, and she snuck out of her bed early, so as not to wake Beryl. She hurried downstairs to help prepare breakfast. Lys was already up. They said their good mornings and set in on the preparations. They were nearly finished when Aloise let a long sigh escape. Lys looked over at her knowingly.

"Long night?"

Aloise nodded. "You heard her, right?"

Lys just nodded.

"I'm so worried about her, and I don't know what to do."

"You're doing what you can. Let her do the rest."

Aloise nodded and walked over to the table, slumping down in a chair. "I think the nightmares are getting worse. She won't say so, but I know they are."

Lys looked back at Aloise with soft eyes. "I think..."

A loud thud from upstairs interrupted the older woman, and Lys and Aloise exchanged a glance, and Aloise stood and quickly moved upstairs to the room she and Beryl shared. A few minutes later, she returned with a dazed look on her face and holding a leather-bound book and a slip of paper. When she didn't say anything, Lys took both items from her. The book was a sort of inter-planar atlas created by a planeswalking explorer several centuries earlier, bookmarked to the desert plane of Carghora. The second was a simple note scrawled in Beryl's hand. It read:

When Lys looked up from the note, Aloise was staring off into space. She started talking, more to herself than to Lys. "I have to go after her. I know she asked me not to, but...I have to. I mean, I always do my friends favors, right? So, not doing it once isn't so bad, is it? And anyway, what kind of a favor is that? 'Don't follow me'? That's not a favor. Following her is a favor. That's what she needs! Right? Uh, Lys?"

Lys had turned back toward the stove while Aloise had been talking. At the mention of her name, Lys looked over at her. "You go get ready, dear. I'll pack you two a nice lunch."

Carghora was hot. Sweltering, in fact. Beryl wiped her brow with the back of her hand, but it did little good. It had been a long time since Beryl was in a desert, ever since she had learned to fire-walk with that kind old man in Ra'Totse. She had forgotten how much she disliked the heat. It was an entirely different sort of heat than from her fire. It was more persistent, more insidious, yet still less deadly.

The thought spurred Beryl onward, across the threshold between two gigantic pillars reaching like the fingers of a titan through the sands. The moment she crossed that invisible line, the wind howled to life. So fierce was the sudden gusts that the sands surged upward in a cyclone and forced Beryl to cover her face with her arm and close her eye tight. When she heard the wind die down, she pulled her arm away, and looked up in awe.

Towering above her was a massive, horned Djinn, shirtless, muscular, and smirking like a cat with a cornered mouse. Beryl gulped, but did not step back. After a very long, very tense moment, the Djinn, at least five stories tall, leaned toward Beryl and cocked his head.

"Well, well. What have we here? It has been ages since a Star-Strider has come to make a bargain. Tell me, what do you wish? And what do you offer?"

Beryl gulped again, but held out her hands, cupped together. "First, I need to know. Are you Aroksaakesh, Shah of Djinns?"

The titanic Djinn laughed heartily. "I am!" he bellowed. "And wise you are to ask. I am the one you seek, and doubtless, I have what you desire. What do you wish, Star-Strider?"

Beryl looked down at the desert beneath her. "I've...I've seen so much...done...so much. To so many people. My memories haunt my dreams...my nightmares. I'm the only one left who knows, who remembers...but...I can't. I just...can't. I can't stand the burden anymore! I just want to forget. Can you do that? Can you take the memories of my past, so that I can finally find a future?"

Aroksaakesh moved one muscled arm up, and brought his hand up to his chin, considering the pyromancer's words. "Rarely do I warn those who seek me, but you ask a dangerous thing." When Beryl said nothing, the Djinn shrugged. "But that is a service I can provide."

In a small, quiet voice, Beryl said, "thank you."

"Do not thank me, little one, for no bargain has yet been struck. I can grant your wish, however ill-advised . But I require something of you in return. What have you brought to me?"

Slowly, Beryl opened her hands to reveal a small, heart-shaped glass pendant on a simple golden chain. The Djinn cocked an eyebrow. "I see no value in such a trinket."

A tear fell from Beryl's good eye. "I was...given to understand that you prize things of," she paused, collecting herself, "sentimental value. This is the last thing...the only thing...I have of my mother." She forced her hands further forward. "Is it a bargain?"

Aroksaakesh thought for a torturous moment, and then reached one clawed hand out and, surprisingly gently, plucked up the pendant.

"It's a bargain."

Aloise was worried. She knew Beryl was alright. She knew it. She had to believe it. But still, she was worried. When she found the book on the floor next to Beryl's bed, where it must have fallen after Beryl 'walked away, she knew it was a bad sign. When she opened the book to the bookmarked page, she had almost lost it. Carghora was not the most pleasant plane, but the page that was bookmarked spoke of Aroksaakesh, described as the magical offspring of a Djinn and a Demon, whose bargains were brutal, disastrous, and deadly.

His description reminded Aloise of Fisco Vane, without his endearing qualities.

Aloise had been walking through the desert for over an hour, and she was just starting to lose confidence when she caught sight of two pillars of black stone protruding from the desert. She made for them immediately, though they were further away than she had assumed, and much, much taller. As she finally started drawing near them, she saw a single, thin figure wondering around at the base of one of the pillars.

"Beryl!" Aloise yelled, running over to her.

The scarred woman looked up as Aloise ran to her, but Aloise stopped short, her mouth hanging open slightly. There was no recognition in Beryl's eye. Beryl smiled at Aloise, but it was a hollow smile.

"Hello," she said. "Pleased to meet you."

At that moment, Aloise's heart shattered. "Beryl? Are...are you okay?"

The scarred woman smiled again, but a look of confusion crossed her face, and she looked behind her for a moment, as if looking for someone. She didn't answer.

"It's me, Beryl!" Aloise said, fighting back panic. "It's me!"

A flash of recognition appeared in the other woman's eye. "Oh! Well, hello, Beryl!"

"No," Aloise said in fear and frustration. "You're Beryl! I'm Aloise! Beryl, what happened to you?"

Beryl shook her head, and shrugged. "I don't remember."

Aloise wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes, and was about to try again when she heard laughter from the other side of the pillars. Without thinking, she grabbed Beryl by the hand and pulled her across the intangible threshold. The moment she did, the desert erupted in a whirlwind of sand, and Aroksaakesh appeared. Fearlessly, Aloise pulled Beryl, who was struggling away at the appearance of the large Djinn, closer to him.

"You're Aroksaakesh." Aloise said as a statement of fact.

The Djinn laughed. "My name has travelled far, it seems."

Aloise narrowed her eyes. "What did you do to her?"

"I?" The Djinn asked, feigning surprise. "I have merely fulfilled a bargain. She came to me asking a wish, and I granted it, for a price she agreed to."

"She sold you her memory for a wish? I don't believe you!"

Once again, the Djinn laughed. "No, no, you misunderstand, Star-Strider. Her memory was not her price. This was her price." The Djinn held out his hand, Beryl's pendant clenched delicately between two claws. Aloise's heart sank again. "Her memories were her wish."

"No," Aloise whispered, then looked back at the Djinn. "Undo it."

The Djinn just laughed.

"Undo it!" Aloise yelled, feeling her temper uncharacteristically flare.

"Why should I do something like that? A bargain is a bargain. I would no more undo a wish made than I would grant one without a price."

Aloise felt like crying. She looked back at Beryl, who was looking at her in confusion. Finally, Aloise turned back. "Then I want to make a wish, too. I wish you would give Beryl back her memories AND her pendant!"

For a third time, Aroksaakesh laughed. "And why would I do that?"

"Demand your price," Aloise said. "Come on. You like bargains so much! Make one with me! I want my Beryl back!"

Aroksaakesh seemed to consider. After a minute, he held Beryl's pendent up to his ear. "Lovely trinket, this," he said, almost casually. "I decided it would be appropriate to keep her memories in here. I've heard them, of course. Tell me, Aloise Hartley, do you know the things she's done? Do you know the people she's killed? The lives she's destroyed?" The Djinn leaned forward, coming very close to the planeswalker. "Have you seen what she sees in the night?"

Aloise exhaled through her nose. "I want...MY...Beryl back!"

Aroksaakesh pulled back, and smirked. "Very well, then. I will make a bargain with you. But I do not easily undo my deals. Your price will be steep."

Aloise shook her head. "Name it."

"I will return your friend's memories, and her mother's trinket, for the price..." he stopped, dramatically, "of your courage, Aloise Hartley."

"My...what?"

"You heard me. I have heard Beryl's memories, and they speak often of you. They speak of your light, and your goodness, but mostly, Beryl Trevanei's memories speak of your fearlessness. If you wish to sully my bargains, then I shall sully your nature. If you wish to have your precious Beryl back, then you must live the rest of your life in fear. You will fear the darkness, you will fear the unknown, and you WILL fear the flames. What do you say, Aloise Hartley?"

Aloise looked back at Beryl. Strong Beryl. The Beryl who would walk through fire and not be burned. The Beryl who had been through so much, and come out smiling, despite herself. And the Beryl whose hand Aloise currently held was not that same Beryl. She had her body, and she had her scars, but she did not have the fire that burned in her one, green eye. She did not have the spark that truly made her Beryl.

It broke Aloise's heart, and she was just about to agree to Aroksaakesh's demands when a sudden thought occurred to her. She turned back to the Djinn.

"Double or nothing!"

The Djinn seemed confused. "What?"

"If there's one thing a bastard son of a djinn and a demon likes more than bargains, it's betting! So how about this? I ask you one riddle. If you solve it, you can have my courage, and you can keep Beryl's memories. If you can't, you give Beryl what's hers, and I keep what's mine."

The Djinn stroked his chin, but ultimately smiled. "In all my centuries, I have never failed a riddle. I accept your challenge, foolish Star-Strider!"

"Good," Aloise said. "Here's my riddle. Where are Beryl and her mother together?"

The Djinn furrowed his brow. "What? With everything you have to lose, you ask me that? Have you already forgotten that I have Beryl's memories? Have you forgotten all I have seen and heard?" The Djinn laughed, and hard. "They are together in Beryl's nightmares!"

"Wrong!" Aloise yelled, pointing at the Djinn with her free hand. "That's not her mother in her nightmares, it's her fears! Moira Trevanei loves her daughter, and would never torture her. Beryl and Moira are together in the Mirror World, where even YOU can't touch them! I knew one like you would look to the negative, to Beryl's emotions. You had the answer, but you couldn't see it."

Aroksaakesh howled in rage for more than a minute. When he finally calmed down, he composed himself and, reluctantly, handed the heart pendant to Aloise. "You win, Star-Strider. But be warned. You may leave Carghora in peace, but if you ever return to this plane, you will not leave it again."

Aloise, feeling pushed past even her limit, stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm not afraid of you!"

Without another word, Aloise 'walked away, dragging Beryl through the aether with her.

Both women were in tears, tears of anger, tears of sadness, tears of gratitude, and tears of joy. Beryl had regained her memories, and after a congratulatory hug, had endured a lengthy lecture on never putting Aloise through that sort of thing again. Beryl promised she wouldn't, and Aloise had forgiven her, and told her that she would always be there for her.

Then both of them received a stern talking to from Lys about wasting a perfectly good lunch.

That night, as they were getting ready for bed, Beryl looked over to Aloise. "I'm really sorry."

"Hmm? Oh. Don't be! We got through it, so don't worry about it."

"I know," Beryl said, moving over to the other woman. "But seriously. What you did for me?"

Aloise turned to her and nodded as Beryl pulled her in for a tight embrace.

"I'll never forget it."

The funny thing is, this was my intended ending all along, but I was originally going to leave it on a cliff-hanger after the Djinn demands his price from Aloise, thus leaving it on a quite negative note. Then, literally AS I was rereading the piece for errors, you posted yours. So I read yours, and I was thinking, Hmm. This is a lot of bad for poor Beryl right in a row. Maybe I'll be nice. So, I decided to write the rest of it and post the whole thing.

I think I made the right choice!

This was good. Hard to read (poor, poor Beryl) but good. I'm glad her Spark ignited in that tavern rather than, well, this.

That being said, I now sort of want to see and alternate, alternate reality where Astria DOES decide to send Crazy Beryl (who is crazier than a Beryl full of monkeys...) to that island of the Sisterhood, and Astria sort of dumps her off with Hepthia, who of course knows who she is.

That would be an interesting story!

Jinsen watched Kimberley closely as she ran through the kata. There was something different about her, something that the Eightfold Lotus had not quite been able to put his finger on. As he watched her move fluidly from one position to the next, he watched her body for any sign of tension, any hint to the difference. Then he looked at her face, and it dawned on him.

"Kimberley, why are you smiling?"

"Huh? I don't know."

"I have never seen you smile like that before."

"You've seen me smile lots of times," she said, trying and failing to hide her smile.

"Not like this."

"Okay, so I'm smiling differently. How's my kata?"

"Flawless, and you know it. Why are you smiling?"

Kimberley sighed. "Does it matter?"

Jinsen stared at her, but did not speak. Kimberley sighed again.

"Fine." She stopped her kata. She hesitated for a long moment, and then began, her words coming out so fast and so frantically that Jinsen could barely keep up with her. "I met a man in town today. Jinsen, he's so...well, he's so gorgeous! And he's smart and funny and...gorgeous! And he said I was pretty. No, beautiful, even. No, no, he said that I was, how did he put, 'the very loveliness of Summer's flower, When soon the Fall comes heralding the hour.' Isn't that great? I've never had a man say anything like that to me before!"

"And what is this fine gentleman's name?"

"Raiker," she said happily. "And he said if I meet him tomorrow night, he'll write a poem for me! I swear, I could just die!"

Clade looked upon the walls of the fortified bastion, the first that would stand before his returning the plane t a state of nature, to allow it to grow strong. He expected armies, blades and spells and all the useless flailings of man. He knew what it woudl take to destroy them. He had seen it a thousand times before.

What he had not expected was to be faced alone.

The figure before him was human, a woman barely past girlhood, wrapped in a dress of decadent crimson silk, gold hair immaculatley kept flowing to her waist and longer. She was barely more than a twig, and yet when Clade gazed upon her, standing resolute, it gave him pause. An so his relentless march stopped. The ancient troll's voice echoed from his gigantic body, stirring the air. Yet the girl did not even blink.

"Who are you?" Clade asked.

"I am Ophelia Lumara," the woman declared, "Heir to the God-King and rightful ruler of all Shandrovol. Now, stranger, you will declare whether you intend to help me, or Phyrexia?"

Clade held silent a long moment. Heir to the God-King. Such insolence! Such Arrogance! But still the blood in his veins ran cold. He gazed into Ophelia Lumara's eyes, and she simply stared back at him, and coursing through her, beneath the skin. There was strength in Shandrovol, then. Strength the likes of which Clade had not seen for an age. So long he could not remember...

Clade blinked.

"You are strong." he declared, "You do not need my help."

Without waiting for the retort, Clade departed.

Clade looked upon the walls of the fortified bastion, the first that would stand before his returning the plane t a state of nature, to allow it to grow strong. He expected armies, blades and spells and all the useless flailings of man. He knew what it woudl take to destroy them. He had seen it a thousand times before.

What he had not expected was to be faced alone.

The figure before him was human, a woman barely past girlhood, wrapped in a dress of decadent crimson silk, gold hair immaculatley kept flowing to her waist and longer. She was barely more than a twig, and yet when Clade gazed upon her, standing resolute, it gave him pause. An so his relentless march stopped. The ancient troll's voice echoed from his gigantic body, stirring the air. Yet the girl did not even blink.

"Who are you?" Clade asked.

"I am Ophelia Lumara," the woman declared, "Heir to the God-King and rightful ruler of all Shandrovol. Now, stranger, you will declare whether you intend to help me, or Phyrexia?"

Clade held silent a long moment. Heir to the God-King. Such insolence! Such Arrogance! But still the blood in his veins ran cold. He gazed into Ophelia Lumara's eyes, and she simply stared back at him, and coursing through her, beneath the skin. There was strength in Shandrovol, then. Strength the likes of which Clade had not seen for an age. So long he could not remember...

Clade blinked.

"You are strong." he declared, "You do not need my help."

Without waiting for the retort, Clade departed.