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[Mikhaeil]

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Mikhaeil sat down in the ludus sand, the rising sun's rays radiating off its surface with unusual savagery. He closed his eyes against the painful glare only to discover a deeper agony flaring within. He was no Dominus. Demanding he be called such and purporting the role was fast becoming a burden too heavy to bear. Watching Agostino grovel before him, giving voice to feared failure in his service, gave rise to the bitter resentment that mouldered in his own breast like rusted iron shackles weighing mercilessly upon every breath of his newly granted freedom. Recently acquired knowledge regarding the gypsy's past and the passions that drove him had availed unanticipated insight. Acceptance was strength in far greater measure than might and a weapon that wielded far greater power than steel. They were very different men and always would be, but understanding was creating a consummate connection. He could only hope this discomforting venture would serve them both well eventually.

Upon opening his eyes an inexplicable thought cloaked his consciousness. Xoriah often called him Angel, but he'd come to think of it more as a cordon of affection than reference to actuality. In truth, he'd allowed little pause over past months in consideration of the archangel he'd once been . . . until last night's conversation with Arahim. The man had spoken briefly of similarities of name and silver chained foretoken. Was there in this yet another connection?

He exhaled softly and came to his feet. The sun had ascended well above the horizon while he'd spent time lost in musings. This would be Agostino's last day as 'slave', tonight's sleep without the elixer and the decision of tomorrow subsequently upon him. It would be both relief and concern to doff the mantle of slave master and welcome Gus back as brother.

[Mikhaeil]

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Saint Christopher, patron of travelers.

Saint Michael, Archangel of Light.

Not everything that is lost can be regained. I understand that. The past cannot be undone, but tomorrow . . . there is ever hope that the future can be shaped by what a man chooses to fight for. When hope is abandoned all light is gone. Every man walks his own path, but who is to say his steps must be taken alone?