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Fret not, Mia Bella. I shall find you and haunt you the rest of your days.

“Why d' ye dance with fire, Agostino?” Aurelia watched, dazzled, as he spun the torches dizzyingly, the fire grazing his flesh. Nowhere did it touch long enough to burn.

“Because, Contessa, ...

The motion of the world rocked him gently. The wind washed through the fortress in waves reminiscent of the sea, as he sat vigilant in the northwest watchtower. Night was a vast and living thing, its ...

“Listen here, Gypsy. I’ll have you removed from my room and arrested for thievery—” But his threats were cut short as Agostino stepped up to the man and flicked out a dagger, the point of it ...

The last of his clan had retreated back to their camp near Compassion. Each had spoken soft words as they touched him. A simple touch, so important in times like these. The sharing of a spirit, the ...

How long had he lain beside her that morning, nine years ago? Lost gazes entwined in ways the world could never unravel. Hers open and pleading. His, quite simply, lost. Side by side in the dust. ...

In dreams...

“Mia bellissima Oriana...” He smiled, burying his face in her long, dark hair and breathing in the scent of heather.

“Ti amo, Agostino.” Her voice was quiet and calm as ...

What hand forges the will of man, and bends it to greater purpose? Agostino lay silent in his bed, crude blankets tossed carelessly in restless sleep. Every muscle ached in protest of the harsh dema ...

Something stirred him from abyssal slumber. Screams, a flash of fire, red through heavy eyelids. He managed to lift them only a moment, long enough to realize he was moving. The child gypsy, Sarah, ...

The darkened world trembled.

“Agostino.”

Would that I had the voice to answer. The sight to find you. Would that your angelic voice could call me from my tomb and bid me again to walk amon ...

What is this fire which burns through my veins, but fails to consume? Madre della terra, spare me this pain and allow the fire to do that for which it was created. Consume. Destroy. Per favore, spa ...

Tired. More tired than he had ever felt in his life. Agostino clung tightly to the woman he carried, but every inch of his body cried out for rest. He was mere feet from the tent when he paused, un ...

The brown-skinned gypsy nailed the notice to the palisades, then took his position on the watchtower.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v647/amdiriel/notice-1.png

The gypsy paused before the announcement. Debating for only a moment, he signed his name upon one of the lines intended for such purpose.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v647/amdiriel/sig.png

What happens to the soul of a man enslaved? The question burned in Agostino’s heart and enflamed his mind as the sun blazed overhead. Already the seasons had begun to transition, and the cool, cle ...