But the aged priest continued to stare at the child even after. The midwife was raising it to her shoulder, looking expectantly at the wasted form of...the child’s mother, who rested against the pillowed headboard of the great bed. Dark burgundy swatches of the finest silk spread across her lap and were draped over the huge clawed bedposts, pooling like blood on the thickly carpeted floors. To either side of the bed a small, mahogany table, with withering roses in a porcelain vase. Roses covered. Although Aloya's personality permeated his mannerisims his own thoughts and knowledge were intact and he was able to control all physical actions. He was a man in a young girl's body, yet he remembered all that he had learned in this lifetime as Aloya and respond accordingly. It was a nice but strange melding.Mark followed the road towards the tunnel that came out on top of the high cliff that looked over the fire pit that simmered on the side of the Fire Mountain.It was here that those maidens. More

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