As always, Laesara returned from the annual hunts she took with her father feeling healthy, hale, and in the best of spirits. The hunts had gone well, and she was excited to present her trophies and regale her military unit with tales of blood and glory. Malesmesch would have called it boasting or showing off, but she knew he only teased. He would have been proud, too.

It had been a year since her bodyguard perished, and it had been a long road. Though she felt little more than cold, she knew she hurt. Even if she couldn't feel like others felt, even if she was not supposed to feel as others felt or show her pain, she knew she hurt. She knew she cried, deep within in a space. She knew there was an empty space in her heart, a scar marking where he had once been. How could there not be? He had always been there for her, as long as she could remember. He had raised her, been like a father to her, had protected her with his life. His absence had been noticed every single day.

But now, after her hunt, she felt restored. The pain had eased, the scar had set, and she could move on. She was warmed, enlightened and reborn in blood. Or, simply, back to normal. Either way, it was good for her. She was okay.

I wonder if I can invite my friends next year... she thought, stroking Aestival's head as she cleaned up for dinner, It would be better than stories, and it would hone our skills as a group... If her unit went with her next year, they would all have trophies, all have stories, and would be bound together by a common thread... and with war approaching, that kind of bond would be invaluable. She would have to bring it up later, when the Blood Moon season approached again.

For now, though, she was determined to enjoy her first proper meal at a table in a long time. It was, of course, a fantastic meal and, as she had done at many such meals before, she marveled at how her and her father's manners never managed to atrophy much at all. We can be such wild beasts out there... she mused, and so civilized here... It was, truly, remarkable. After dinner came rest, an easy thing for her exhausted body. And all was well.

The next day, she had a headache, but thought nothing of it. She often had headaches during the Blood Moon, a side effect of the bloodlust. Normally, the hunts stopped the pain for a time, but she didn't see anything unusual in them returning sooner. Usually, the headaches came and went anyway. They were not a problem.

This one... lingered. Though it started as a mere ache, it grew to a throbbing in her head, spreading to her tongue and her throat. By the end of the day, her whole body ached, even the slightest movement becoming a trial of balance, pain, and nausea. She knew something was wrong, and she retired early that day.

Rest did little to ease her, not that she rested well – shadowy nightmares stalked just beyond sleep, and she awoke frequently during the night. Her weapon was worried... Very worried. The next day, though, she felt as though the pain had abated slightly. She went about the day, taking it easy even as she did the things she needed to do. She thought she was better, recovering from what ailed her.

She was wrong.

By dinner that night, her blood felt like it was on fire, trying to boil its way out of her veins. Her nerves felt as though they charred and crisped and twirled beneath her skin. She nearly collapsed before servants were able to help her into bed. Her fever grew, and with it came delirium and terrible nightmares and weakness. Her bonded stayed by her side, his light the only light in her dark nightmares, his magic flowing through her veins, trying to help. But he felt that he could do little to stop it.

It was the beginning of a long trial of body and soul, one that she had to survive... or else fall into madness.