It is well past midnight now, on a day that just never seems to end, and lack of sleep gnaws on the edges of Alptraum's consciousness as he wings across the sky over Babel. A cool gust of a contrary breeze jolts Alptraum to alertness, and his mind snaps back to the present. It takes a moment for him to register that he's flying, and to struggle with just where he was going, exactly – or perhaps he hasn't decided that just yet.

Before Alptraum had left the hospice, one of the priestesses had asked him a strange question: "Tell me, young man, who is Rinala?" In the chaos and confusion of the hospice, Alptraum had been distracted from answering, and for some reason the incident hadn't even fully registered – not until much later, just now, that his mind sorts through recent events to make sure that this isn't all just some bad dream.

But then, there it is, the distinctive tower of the Cenesta estate, a rugged structure that is part household, part temple, as so much of it over the years has been devoted to shrines to various of the lesser deities and memorials to ancestors. A stout statue of the bat god Breklea perches atop the highest pinnacle, with a weighing line in one hand, and a trowel in the other. Every lantern is lit, and the grounds are alight with torches and candle globes carried by every guard and servant: no one sleeps here tonight, not with the unrest in the city.

Alptraum's distinctive features – and the fact that he's been here several times before with work crews being assigned tasks and sent out in part-time service – make certain that he is quickly recognized. When he asks to see Lord Cenesta, he is ushered in from the landing by Steward Malkaeus, an elderly white bat with deep lines etched around his rheumy eyes, and knobby wing joints that suggest he hasn't flown for years.

"Lord and Lady Cenesta left some hours ago," Steward Malkaeus says, his voice barely louder than the brush of the hems of his thick scholarly robes dragging on the polished marble tile floor of the receiving room. He holds out a hand, as if to stop Alptraum from snapping away at this revelation. "They headed to the Coalition Tower, for the emergency meeting. We have heard the news from the tower … but I trust that they are not among those that have been singled out by the Temple Executors for punishment. They have committed no crimes against the Temple."

The chamber is tall and mostly empty, curiously fashioned with a great many arches, flourishes and a curious tiling form to the ceiling and walls that suggests a great many miniature ziggurats or pyramids jutting out, and joined by potted plants, hanging tapestries, and other soft things that collectively serve to buffer the sound considerably. As Alptraum has learned on previous visits, the soft surfaces and pyramid structures deliberately break up flat, hard surfaces to reduce the reflection of sound – a feature to be found in many private meeting rooms in noble houses of Babel, to reduce (somewhat) the risk of keen Eeee ears eavesdropping on private conversations.

For whatever reason, there isn't a chair or perch in sight – or, for that matter, any small figurines, baubles, or other curios that are usually to be found in this room and scattered about the house. There is, however, a golden-furred Eeee girl in tattered robes of a Yodhbarada, minus any of the jeweled trappings that would suggest any high status, save for a pair of moonstone earrings that almost match the pale blue of her eyes. She leans disrespectfully against a hanging tapestry showing Breklea and his followers adding a level to the Tower of Babel, under the direction of a larger-than-life Sabaoth. "Oh, it's you," she says, looking up at Alptraum. The nonchalance in her voice sounds forced to Alptraum's ears.

"Avralie, it's me, I suppose. Who are you and brings you here?" Alptraum inquires, then takes a bit more time to try and locate a place to sit. Still finding none, the weary Eeee crouches down instead, taking a much needed break. He blinks a few times, eyelids feeling heavy.

The Yodhbarada wrenches her mouth into a frown that might under other circumstances look cute, if it weren't for the reputation of a Yodh that goes along with it. "I am Yodhbarada Renaize, and it is my blood-bound duty to fulfill the Curse of Barada, and spread the word of the death of my sister, Davaryna, at the hands of Elise de Bellefeuille of Rephidim this very night."

Alptraum looks up, expression one of surprise. "Yodhbarada Davaryna? I knew her. I wouldn't have wished her ill, though I wouldn't have considered her a friend," Alptraum says. "Death tears through Babel tonight, it seems. What exactly happened?"

"Our carriage was beset upon by the Templar, as we headed to the Coalition Tower," Renaize says, looking toward one of the tapestries as she speaks. "Our defenders were cut down effortlessly, it seemed, and then we ran into a trap around a blind corner – the carriage toppled, and the Drokars were tangled. Hoseth slew the Templar's mount, but died for her daring. Teirsa and I escaped the carriage, but Davaryna did not. The Templar was disguised as a Gallah, but Davaryna, gifted of Barada, could see her secrets, and proclaimed her name aloud, so that we might hear it as witnesses, and bearers of Barada's Curse. The collection of secrets accumulated about the de Bellefeuille family from the archives will be released, in recompense for slaying Davaryna." She swallows. "But we were not the only ones set upon. I learned that soon enough. The Yodhgorphat have been wiped out to the last. The temples of Inala, Zakaro and Blakat are in flames."

"Not to the last," Alptraum says softly. "One survived the attack of the Templars."

"Is that so?" Renaize says, her own mood hardly altered by the revelation. "One. How fortunate that Gorphat could stir herself to that much effort."

"She lived because I rescued her. I didn't arrive in time to help the others. I couldn't have done much against so many, anyway," Alptraum replies and stands.

Renaize looks between Alptraum and the steward, then says, "I have seen many Templars at the Tower. When last I spied upon them, the Cenestas were alive and in good enough health, along with many other minor nobles of Babel … but I know nothing of the matter of their business there. The Templar claimed that Davaryna was being executed for her sins against the Temple. I expect that the other priestesses were eliminated for similar 'crimes.' But they knew where to find us."

The steward bows to Renaize. "We of House Cenesta are very grateful that you bring us word of our master and mistress."

"It was a setup, like another recent event," Alptraum concedes, then nods toward the steward. "I'm grateful to hear that as well. I consider Lord Cenesta a friend and am glad he is well. Do you know if the Templars are still there?" Alptraum then says to the Yodhbarada.

"No," Renaize says, "I do not think that the Templars themselves are hanging about. They seemed intent only on coming to eliminate those they had deemed 'criminals'. However, I saw a great many warriors bearing the white 'Anchor' that were at the tower to offer 'protection,' no doubt."

"Oh, of course," Alptraum mutters grimly. "Well, I suppose I could go there and try to find out what is going on as long as the ones who saw me help the Yodhgorphat aren't there." He stretches, then adds, "Though, I think I'll need to get some rest first. I won't be able to handle any fancy flight in my current condition."

"You are welcome to stay here," Steward Malkaeus says. "It is an offer we are extending to all of our faithful employees, though the accommodations are very humble. There is greater safety in numbers."

"And danger in other numbers," Renaize says. "If you're thinking of going straight to the Coalition Tower, you can think again. You'll not get in there on any terms you'd like unless you have some way of turning yourself invisible, or conjuring up an army."

"Can't be as humble as sleeping in a snow bank, friend," Alptraum answers. He then looks at the Yodhbarada and asks, "And why not? Thath himself, seems to have taken an interest in me. I don't know if they would try and harm me. And aside from coloring, I don't exactly look like one of the temples. But, hmm. Invisible, you say? There might be something just as good."

Renaize smirks. "Oh, really? And what would that be?"

"Telling," Alptraum counters and smirks back fangily. "I know lots of people. I can check on possible 'back' entrances, as it were."

"Hmm. Be that as it may, you're still a fool," Renaize says, rolling her eyes. "But if you're set on dying in such a spectacular way, I suppose I could at least offer you a little something to make it more interesting." She digs around in her robes. "You wouldn't happen to be a decent shot with a crossbow, would you? I'm positively horrid with one, especially since I lost my glasses."

"I'm all right with one and could use it," Alptraum answers. "And as for being a fool, well, perhaps. It's not like I'm going to attempt to get in if it appears that dangerous. But, I want to make sure the Cenestas are safe and to try to figure out who set up the trap. I have a good idea, but I want to look for proof."

"Proof? It hardly matters," Renaize says, as she pulls a quiver of curiously formed bolts out from her robes. "Now then … many of these bolts are fairly special … but read the runes, and I'm sure you'll figure out what they're intended for." She also produces a light crossbow – not quite as light as the one that the Korv sheriff used back in Sylvania, but still not quite as hardy as Alptraum's preferred weapon. "Put it to good use, and Barada's blessing will be upon you and yours."

Alptraum accepts the quiver and crossbow, then says, "The proof matters to me. And oh, if you happen to hear rumor where the General has fled to, would you be willing to forward it to me? We may have need of him, er, her, er, whatever, in the future." The ebon furred Eeee then offers a small smile and says, "I'm not sure there are any blessings I could offer you, so I hope that the road will be kinder to you from this point on. Be well."

"Be discreet," Renaize says. "As for the General … let us just say that where he has gone, others are forbidden to follow. And now … " She bows to the steward. "Barada is pleased with the hospitality your household has shown. I must continue on now, to fulfill my duties."

Alptraum quirks an eyebrow, then grins, "Understood."

"Good bye, Master Nightmare," Renaize says, as she steps to the doorway, and spreads her wings. "May your dreams be free of trouble … and may you trouble the dreams of your enemies." And with that, she pushes open the door, and snaps off into the cold dark sky. Even now, the sky begins to burn red as the sun breaks the unseen horizon with the coming of dawn.

Alptraum stifles a yawn, then turns to the steward. "I would greatly appreciate some directions to a place where I can get a few hours of sleep. If I get into the tower, I'll try and check on Lord and Lady Cenesta while I'm there and find out if they'll be allowed to return home anytime soon," Alptraum says.

The steward smiles faintly. "Follow me, young sir… "

Fog collects in small pockets in a gently rolling plain bordered by scatterings of chaparral that gradually cluster into thick tangles of underbrush and the twining branches of ancient trees. To the east, a horizon made jagged by mountains is limned by the faint glow of breaking dawn, though the sun is not yet visible. Wisps of red cut through the remaining mists of night. One by one, the stars bow and make their departures to make room for the sun, though the Procession merely trades its nighttime glitter for its dull haze of daylight.

Alptraum reclines in the wet grasses of the plain and gazes up at the fading stars – something he did often in his childhood. The cool air and sounds of night echo in his ears. He smiles softly, albeit a bit sadly, the peacefulness of it all welcome respite from his life of late.

Those stars still visible in the sky seem to form pictures against the black velvet of the fading night, divided into distinct halves by the cutting stroke of the Procession. With a clarity and exaggeration that can only truly come in dreams or in a child's imagination, the images of the constellations glow faintly. There are the constellations he remembers learning as a child in Sylvania: the Sea Serpent … the Hunter … the Little Hen and its Chicks… But joined with these – and in some cases superimposed with them – are new constellations he's learned in a new land: Inala's Mirror. Rephath's Scales. Blakat's Dagger. And then, there is the constellation of the Star and Anchor, its central shaft pointing unerringly to the north star.

Alptraum reaches up and traces a claw through the air, as he draws out each of the pictures in his mind. His Sylvanian upbringing comes first, then followed by the new ones he's learned since in Babel. "Amazing how different the world looks from one culture to the other," he muses.

One of those constellations is the Corpse, which looks disturbingly very like a skull in Alptraum's view of it, though skewed on its side due to his own perspective, lying as he is in no particular alignment on the grass. Most of the stars are also part of another constellation, he knows – though he cannot remember if it was in Sylvania that he learned of this particular constellation – a constellation known as the Amaranth … the eternal flower. "It cannot be both," the breeze whispers, or perhaps it does not. After all, there is no one here but Alptraum and the sun and the Procession and the stars, the trees and the field.

Alptraum blinks a few times and sits upright now and cants his head. "What cannot be both?" he utters to the fading night. "The eternal flower? Or one cannot be part of the other? It's either the Corpse or the Amaranth? Why could it not be both? It's all in how you see the world? Who's to say which is correct?"

"Which is correct?" Alptraum hears his own voice echo, and then a cool breeze stirs up the mists even more. A ripple passes through the constellations – a shadow – a sky island, high above and unreachable even by wing.

"It depends on which side you stand, doesn't it?" Alptraum tries to answer himself.

"Which side you stand?" echoes on the wind. The sky island continues to drift by, heedless of Alptraum or anything else on the earth below, and the sun relentlessly continues its conquest of the night sky.

"I don't know!" Alptraum shouts at the sky. "Each sees the other side as evil, but it's not entirely true! There are people on both sides who are good people. I just want the chaos to end. I just want my people, people like the Cenesta's, to live in a place where pain doesn't rampage daily. But, which side can offer stability? Look at the Coalition and its allies with the sky islands … Gods, I think my father arranged the trap. How many deaths is he responsible for? And didn't he once serve the old rulers of Babel? And you ask me which side I stand on!?"

The sun breaks over the horizon at last. The constellations lose their distinctiveness, becoming only stars once more, and fading away at that. Only the Procession remains, arcing through the lightening azure sky. And then, even that gives way … as Alptraum awakens to find him in the great hall of House Cenesta, one of many Eeee and Fnerfs and other species in lesser numbers clinging to rafters or huddling on claimed sections of floor on poor excuses for bed mats formed by rolled cloaks and cloths. Light breaks through the eastern window, prompting a disorderly chorus of groans and complaints, and a great many bodies rolling or shuffling to turn their backs on the unwelcome light.

Alptraum gets up slowly and groans. He stands, then starts to stretch and test out his muscles. "Far too little sleep, but such is the way of things," Alptraum thinks grumpily.

Alptraum's body protests at getting up so soon. The night was already about over when he first laid his head down to sleep, and though it is actually some time after dawn at this moment – the sudden "dawn" here is really just that the sun has finally reached high enough in the sky to reach past any intervening obstructions to intrude here – it is hardly enough time for him to be fully recuperated. At least, however, he's not in danger of falling asleep in mid-flight, like he might have feared the night before. And, by the looks of things out the window, at least Babel hasn't been razed to the ground.

Alptraum collects his few belongings and returns his daggers to the back of his belt-sash. He also spends a few minutes checking over his bound wounds to make sure they're not getting worse. "I suppose I'd better get moving. Hopefully, I'll still be able to find Autumn-Storm and see who she might know that may know a way in and out of the Coalition Tower," he thinks, "Should check with the steward too and see if the Cenesta's have returned or if still no further word from them."

Alptraum waits in one of the many meeting rooms, this one subtly decorated in cool hues ranging from blue to purple, and faint hints of cloud-like patterns in the walls, with an irregularly shaped wooden table dominating the center of the room, its edges curving this way and that in a way that might represent some sort of stylized cloud. The table is low to the floor, and seating is on white puffy cushions that add to the "cloud" motif. The door glides open with a whisper, revealing a dark-robed mage with black-and-white hide, a face suggesting that of a Rhian colt, and a spiraling horn rising from his forehead. "Sorry to keep you late, sir," he says in a whisper. "I'm Ror – Oh! It's you again!" He closes the door behind him.

"Avralie, it's me again. I wish I was visiting here on better terms, but," Alptraum says, thinking over what he will say. "I came to ask for help – what with the current situation here in Babel. I assume you've heard about the Tower of Babel, then the attack at the Coalition Tower?"

The unicorn's expression drops, and he whispers, "Yes, I've heard. It's really terrible. Lots of people are dead, and even more hurt real bad. I've been pretty busy." His eyes linger on Alptraum's own conspicuous bandages. "I hope you're doing okay?"

"I'm all right. I'm thankful for the help others gave me and I was able to repay then in kind," Alptraum answers and leans against the wall. "I'm really nervous about being here. But, I don't know where else to go. The whole Tower of Babel incident was staged to cause a crisis, or so I suspect. Then a meeting could be called, which then allowed the lure of several groups to the Coalition Tower to either be killed or perhaps imprisoned. I think Thath is behind it and I want to find out exactly what he's up to. But, I can't likely even go near the Coalition Tower, being what I am and all."

"I don't know if anybody can go there now," the unicorn says. "I've had to be extra careful about leaving the Guild Hall at all. I don't know which I'm needed more for anymore – making Obfuscation spells to hide people, or Healing spells to fix ouchies. I wish I could be, you know, in several places at once. Except then I'd eat even more food than I do now. And that could probably be bad, you know, with the cargo lines cut and all that, and the food getting expensive. I haven't had candy in a long time."

Alptraum nods and looks at the wall, then continues, "There has to be a way to find out what is going on. I don't trust Thath – it's just something about him. I fear for Babel and what he's up to. Even more, I'm tied up in all this mess because of my association with the Yodhsunala and because of the nature of birth. I stick out like a swore thumb, as the phrase goes. I couldn't even likely go up to a guard and even ask how the people inside are doing. Not when nearly everyone you meet believes, or has heard the rumor, that you're Sunala's son." He shakes his head and sighs.

"Darrrrrk!" the unicorn says, in awe. "Sunala is your MOM?!"

"Well, I'm the child of a Srinala," Alptraum says slowly and fidgets. "My whole birth is a bit, ah, unusual."

"Ohhhhhhh," the unicorn says, nodding sagely. "I get it." He frowns a bit, looking up in thought, then he says, "No, I don't, really. But that's okay. There's lots of stuff I don't get. But basically you just want to help people, and you're worried that someone might see you, right?"

"See me, or detect me. I've had people sense me before. Been called 'Child of a Foreign God' before by a Savanite Priestess, right before she tried to kill me and suck out whatever power she claimed she felt within me." Alptraum says. "I just want to be able to get into the Coalition Tower and try to find out why the various nobles are staying there, against their will or whatnot. And what That might be up to and if he's the center of all this horror."

"Oh yeah," the unicorn says, nodding knowingly. "You have to be careful of those evil cultists who try to suck your life forces out of your eyeballs. SHOOOOOOP! And especially those madmen who try to sacrifice you so they can awaken ancient dark gods to walk the earth again and take over the world. I mean, that is the WORST! But it's pretty bad here, too. Do you think maybe some sort of invisibility spell would help you out?"

"It could. I'm pretty good at moving quietly. How long do such things tend to last? And, all I can really offer you in return is whatever I uncover in the Tower. Would that be enough?" Alptraum asks.

"Welllllll," the unicorn says, "it kind of varies. You see, there are all sorts of wards to work against Shadow Magic. It's really useful against people who don't expect it … but here in Babel, lots of people have figured out what Shadow Magic can do. You don't even need to be a wizard to ward off Shadow Magic. You can just put up a few talismans, or make things out of certain materials, or just be very very certain in your head that you don't want anyone spying on you, and it becomes harder to work Shadow Magic on you. But if you're at least halfway good at sneaking around on your own, I can do my best to help you be even sneakier."

"Well, I am pretty good at sneaking about. But, with as long as Thath seems to have been around, he probably has all sorts of wards against Shadow Magic, huh?" Alptraum asks. "Would making me sneakier hold up to such?"

"Every little bit counts," the unicorn says. "What we'd probably have to do is a multi-layered approach. That is, say, I work on some sort of 'Don't Pay Attention to Me!' spell on you as one layer … but also a different spell to make you quieter and harder to see. You see, an Obfuscate just means that people who aren't actively looking for you aren't going to notice you … but if they are – such as, say, they are trying to find you, or are guarding a post and won't let anyone by – well, then, you'd have a better chance of sneaking on by any road. Uhm … how much time do you have? This could take a while. Something like this would be bad to rush."

"I just need to make sure some of my friends are informed as to what I'm up to, then I have all the time needed I imagine," Alptraum says.

"All right!" the unicorn says. "This is going to be so dark! We'll be like secret agents, out to save the world! Well, Babel, any road. Uhm … it'll take me some time to get stuff ready. Do you think you could be back around noon or so? And be sure to get any stuff together you plan on taking with you. I'll need to put dweomers – that's magic-talk for 'casting a spell on something' – on anything you're going to carry on you. Oh yeah, and I'd better get out my new chalks… "

"Sounds fine by me," Alptraum says with a nod. "I'll go make sure my friends know I'm trying to gather more information as to what is going on within the Coalition tower. I won't be taking much, save for my usual daggers and this crossbow I was given. I figure worst comes to worse, the choking cloud arrow I was given would increase my chances of escape if something goes horribly wrong. Hmm, I hope it's just like a smokescreen. Okay, only if things get REALLY bad. Anyway, I really do appreciate this, and will do whatever I can to repay you for your time."

"Oh, no problem!" the unicorn says, enthusiastically. "I always wanted to be a hero! We can come up with our very own hero team name! Like … the Dark Avengers! Or … the Black-and-White Heroic Angelic Warriors! (BAW-HAW for short, which can also be our hallmark battle cry!) The Dark Duo! Or … the Sneaky Trio! (That is, if we get a third member.) Uhm … uh … well, we can figure that out later." The unicorn gives Alptraum a conspiratorial wink.

Alptraum tries hard not to laugh. "Yes, later," the Eeee replies and heads toward the door. "Anyway, I'd better get going. I'll see you at noon. Bye," Alptraum then adds and slips out though the doorway. As he makes his way back out of the building, he can't help but wonder just what sort of dangers he's walking into.