This story begins in 1695, somewhere in Asia, eight years after Beldren's story. *** "Open your eyes." The words were a command he obeyed. The room was blurry and he blinked to bring it into focus. Dark shadows were held back by the light of a single candle. The furniture was sparse; a bed, a table, a chipped wash basin. He knew the names of the items, but not where they'd come from. There was no familiarity in the scarred wooden walls or floor. Or in the woman kneeling next to him. She mopped at her mouth and came away with blood. He followed the long drips down her chin to see crimson splattered on her ample cleavage. Black hair was pulled back and cocoa colored skin shimmered in the candlelight. Her dark eyes held expectation; expecting him to know her. Expecting him to understand.