"I am sure I dreamt of her many times. Many times. Yet it seems odd to me that I only ever remember this one in particular with such clarity, while the rest seem foggy blurs. The world... Athamé's world... was helter skelter, out of control. And I knew no way to put things right again, except to cover the woman's wild eyes beneath my cloak and draw her to me enshrouded in darkness. I think the dream ended there, for I can never recall anything after the darkness.

"Odd thing though, when I awoke there was this chant running through my mind: 'Served quite warm, Steeped in sin, Tea for death, Drink it in.' I myself, had refused the cup in the dream. Do you think that was wise of me?"