Darius looked up at his master and sighed.  Why was the man so interested in him?  What was so important about him?  He looked over the notes that the man had provided for him to turn into a chronicle.  He read them once… then twice.  Then his eyes started clouding over.  He couldn’t read.  He tried to force his eyes back into focus.  He didn’t succeed.  The words totally went out of focus.


A girl was sitting in a beautiful garden.  She was beautiful herself.  A flowy gown draped over her curves.  She was reading a small book.  She set the book down and smiled, eyes half closed.

 Suddenly hands caught her from behind.  She screamed and struggled but no one came to help.  Darius could see who was attacking her.  She was thrown back to the ground.  Her gown was drawn up over her head.  Something glinted in the sunlight.  Then there was a splash of blood… a scream that cut off.

 The girl twitched and screamed.  More blood flowed.  Her gown was removed along with the rest of her clothes.  Then she was still.  The scene faded from view.

 Darius flew out of the chair and landed on the floor.  His stomach emptied before he had time to process where he was.  “You saw something?” he heard someone say softly.

 “She was killed.  He killed her.  Oh sweet Fates… oh Fates!  He killed her,” he started murmuring hysterically.

 “Not plants?”

 “No… no plants… no plants… it was a… a deiva with a knife.  He stabbed her again and again.  I don’t know why.  He just… just killed her.”  Darius looked up and found his master looking down at him.

 “Sorry,” the older man said.  He started to draw Darius to his feet but the younger chronicler shook his head.  “Need some time?” he asked, tilting his head.

 “What was that?” he asked.

 “A retrocognitive vision,” the older man said.  “You are very special.”

 “No… I’m… just…,” Darius murmured.

 “A very special hal-deiva, my boy,” he returned with a smile.  “The report, you see, had her as a victim of a plant attack.”