Premonitions

[Ariadne Fyrian]

There were may that often wondered what exactly went on behind the closed doors of the Satrap's villa, but none could truly know, or understand, the depth of what transpired day after day. Night after night. Evening after evening. It was a cycle that perpetuated itself, and with the rise of the sun each morning, everything that seemed old was bathed in new light. New llife.

And as Fyrian opened her eyes on a new day, a new horizon of possibilities, she smiled to herself.

Fate had dealt her a favorable hand; Denetion it seemed wished her well. Rolling over to her side, she pulled herself close to the Phressian Satrap, Csephion Draxus. His warm body was a welcome thing, and she gently wound her limbs with his, her lips teasing his ear.

"Wake, Noble Satrap," she purred.

"The calls of your noble state beckon."