ension crackled in the atmosphere surrounding the establishment of Ordo Rosae Moriatur. Everyone seemed to doubt each other. Though the members were very close-mouthed about the foreboding evil, Isabelle wondered if she had gotten herself into deeper trouble by petitioning for the order.

Lying on her pallet, one hand resting upon her forehead, Isabelle thought about her first day in Ordo. Strange, she thought, although the members of the order tried their best to make her feel welcome, she felt something sinister lurking in the corners of the huge establishment. Isabelle sighed and brushed away a flicker of worry. She proceeded to sleep but found that she could not, for the Hunger gnawed on her gut like acid. She tried to ignore it, knowing full well that if she followed her needs and not her head, she would never be truly in control of herself again. Damnation. If the Hunger would just let her be....Just for a day...

Isabelle got up and paced around the room, hoping to distract her thoughts from the Hunger. She succeeded, for a short while. She turned her thoughts upon her sponsor, the justicar Stonehaven. There was something peculiar about him that made Isabelle doubt his mortal origin. One thought led to another and soon enough she came upon the subject of her curse again. She fingered the onyx pendant hung upon a silver chain that she wears about her neck and contemplated her doomed fate. Isabelle closed her eyes, a sign of defeat. She cannot fight it, she thought. She needed to feed the Hunger in order to survive. She stood up and began the Hunt.

Although she came upon Tristram before, Isabelle found herself lost. The Hunger steadily increased to the point where the pain was too much to bear. Then suddenly, Isabelle saw her salvation. Although some part of her befuddled mind reminded her of her oath against harming one of her kind, she proceeded onward, intent on feeding herself.

Wirt cursed as he counted his day's wages. Collapsing upon his tree, he concluded that he would never be able to win Gillian's favors with this puny amount. Ah, my sweet Gillian...he thought, a secret smile forming within his lips. No-one knows the fantasies he had, and still have, about her...

"Psst, boy."

Wirt jumped up, his face flushing. He hated being caught when he was right in the middle of a day dream...specially ones that involve Gillian. He turned around, annoyed. "Whom the hell would be bothering me at this time," he began, and stopped suddenly. Before he stood a young girl, more or less his age, with dark curling hair that hung up to her waist and huge gray eyes that held a hint of secrecy. Wirt held his breath, fascinated as the girl moved towards him. The resemblance of a panther stalking her prey printed itself in Wirt's mind when he saw the girl walk, but he was too numb to be wary. The girl kneeled before him and tilted his head sideways. "I thirst, boy. If you are not willing to share your blood with me, look me in the eye and tell me to leave." Wirt broke out in sweat as he realized what this -- this creature had in mind for him. He sputtered, but he could not tear his gaze from the monster, much more, speak. The girl laughed and reached for the sharp onyx pendant she wore around her throat. Wirt thought he heard the girl mutter, "Two become one..." before he fainted as the sharp point of the pendant sliced the skin of his vulnerable throat.

Isabelle felt ashamed and disgusted at herself. What she did was evil, sinister. She berated herself for being too weak as she walked the paths back to Ordo Rosae Moriatur. Yet, amidst the self-hatred and shame, Isabelle could not help feeling satisfaction.

"I heard some kind of creature attacked young Wirt last night." Frylia said quietly. Calisia nodded, "Yes, I have just been to town and spoke with Pepin. He thinks those gloom bats that live inside the catacombs did it to Wirt. The poor boy lost a surprising amount of blood..." she trailed off, as she spotted Isabelle. Giving her a friendly wave, she beckoned the girl to come join their conversation. "Hello, Isabelle. Did you sleep well last night?" Calisia asked. Isabelle smiled and nodded.

"What I cannot comprehend is why that boy would ever venture near those blasted catacombs. From what I have seen of him, he is scared stiff even to touch the air around the labyrinth." Grae said thoughtfully.

"What boy?" Isabelle asked, paling considerably. Frylia gave the new petitioner a strange look. "Grae was talking about Wirt, the boy who was attacked last night," Calisia explained, "the healer, Pepin, said he lost a great deal of blood."

"Oh." Isabelle said, her face impassive. "Please excuse me." She whispered and walked away from the group, seemingly in a hurry.

"Whatever got into that girl?" Grae asked, bewildered at Isabelle's actions. Grae and Calisia both turned their heads to Frylia. "I do not know," Frylia said slowly, "but I have a feeling she knows more than what she is telling us."

"Are you going to talk to her, Frylia?" Calisia inquired.

Frylia sighed, and shook her head. "No Calisia. There are more pressing matters at hand."