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[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

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The letters exchanged with Thrax had left Ceinwyn inspired. She hadn't really intended to create anything... at first. But, the more she considered the idea, the more enthusiastic she was about attempting it. Her recent success with creating hybrid infants had given her the method to achieve such a thing. She still possessed a few of the vials of the demon Thrax's blood, and those were blessedly free of the drug, Utopia.

Why create a child, when I can restore the being, itself?

Her mind traveled back to Thrax's change. He had refused to allow her to assist him, leaving him at Oggaroth's will. He had been cleaved in half, the demon inside of him removed. She knew not where he had gone. Once he had returned to this plane, he had not been the Thrax she had known, any longer. He had turned to the Light, forsaken his dark doings. Long had she hoped for a cure for him, though her fellow Umbrans had written him off as a lost ally.

To think, that all of this time, I held the means to give his soul a form and I did not realize it. It is a good thing I have taken control, once more. It might have never been realized.

She cursed the idiocy of her other selves and stepped upon the teleporter, alighting in her lab. She gave a glance to the tubes, contained within were the products of the union of Merci and Lestat's donations. They wanted strong children for Umbra, and how could she argue such logic? Originally six, now only four remained. One having mutated uncontrollably into an amorphous blob. Apparently, one of the collected samples had been contaminated. She would chastise Eve later for her carelessness. It was good she had told the woman to bring six samples of each, just for such a reason. The other fetus had simply stopped responding to the nutrient supplements. She knew for certain that at least two would survive, perfectly healthy, and so far, the other two did, as well. The couple would have the two they had asked for, and if there were two extra, she could simply keep them on ice.

In vials along the far wall stood the prized blood. Gifts of a would-be consort. One that had never come to fruition thanks to his self-sacrifice. She wondered if Ishtar appreciated what he had done, or even if she was aware of it, at all. At any rate, he was no longer the Thrax he had been. Almost entirely different, in fact.

But different enough or too different?

There was but one way to find out, and if it did not work, what harm would there be? She sat down at her desk and began taking notes on the instruments and items she would need to begin recreating his body.

With any luck, He would walk this world, once more.