Parthenia turned back to the rail surrounding the balcony and stared out into the darkness. Her green eyes studied the night, as if it where one of her deadliest foes, and she was seeking a way to achieve victory over it. She knew it was a fight she had fought and lost numerous times, but that did not mean that she had to give up. As she stood there, she remembered a night much like this one, dark and moonlit, with the breeze coming of the mountain, her hands dark with blood of someone she had loved, and a cooling body at her feet. She pushed the memory away, and shook herself slightly, trying to forget, but never succeeding. The figure of the cook watched her, knowing what it was she was thinking about, but wise enough not to say anything.

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