“Do you remember Conor, when I first met you.” She sighed. “So young, with so much potential…. You certainly have grown into what I expected, although not with my guiding hand as an influence” She smiled as she stood, leaning forward to stroke the chalice she never removed her eyes from Conor. “I marked you as mine. Conor du’Ruan. You were meant for great things, but only at my side.” She shook her head as if chastising a wayward child.
“Peri nok avin coor” He voice like silk spun in Conor’s head as the magenta liquid spun in the chalice. Her finger drew a circle on the glass and as she drew her finger upwards the blood swirled and merged and danced around her finger tip. Raising her hand to the lip of the chalice a single drop of blood rose into the air and pulsed in an alternating beat from the rest it had left behind. He could feel it in his veins. That was his… That was him hovering there below Shevta’s hand.
“It has always been in my power to bring you back to me, had I chosen, However your experiences outside of my grasp has created a better man then it would have here. I like what you have become, and I choose to keep it now.”
Holding out a hand, palm up, a young serving girl gently placed in her hand a clear crystal attached to a thin silver chain.
“From this day, Conor du’Ruan. You are mine. Soul and body. Your will is mine. your thoughts are mine. Your heart is mine.”