<b>It </b>was strange how quickly the facets of time went by. And how very little can change in such a drastic expanse of time. She would not ever say exactly how much time had passed since the first death, but she alluded to it often enough. And was no longer surprise when no one understood the meaning behind her words. After all, in another one hundred years another generation or two will have taken the place of the former, and the cycle repeats itself. The stories written down in tomes and books, copied down from hand to hand, obscured by the passage of too many minds over thinking a subject. The truth becomes a blurry thing, and those who no longer like the facts change them for their own whimsy. And who is there to say that they are wrong -- for the<b>dead </b>can no sooner whisper their secrets into their ascendants ears as those who write down their tales can no more venture into the past to see what really became.<br/><br/><br/><b>	We </b>speak of time here as if it is something frivolous, when in fact it is just the opposite. We think of time as being linear as well, when instead it spins 'round and 'round on the axis of Earth without pause. It is a continuous thing of overlapping layers, and mankind will always be fascinated with the concept of controlling it. It has become a scarce thing for a person to loiter on the present, and more commonplace to dwell on the things of the past and what will become of the future. Remember, it is the present that matters the most, and not considering it will most effect the outcome of what came before and what has yet to occur.<br/><br/><br/><b>	It </b>was one of those rare days of winter where the sun rose high in the sky and beamed proudly in skies of fathomless blue. The blanket of clouds had retreated further to the west to unleash their havoc for the time being. For what it was worth, the people took advantage of the day that had extended into a week and with a promise of lasting longer still. Shops flung their doors open wide, and further out, where the market square became a series of tents, booths, and carts vendors came to hawk their wares. This was the beginning of a long season, and this the hub of trade that stretched as far as the next sea. A literal cesspool and melting pot that allowed for the mingling of culture. But never without incident-- so the stark reminder of guards that patrolled the outskirts and wandered the streets with stony gazes and alert expressions. At least cold was reserved for regions further north than this. Being so close to tropical borders, the air was fine and those traveling south whisked off their cloaks the closer they got.<br/><br/><br/><b>	She </b>perched somewhere in the midst of the hustle and bustle of people, a lone merchant in the sea of voices harping their wares to whichever set of ears would hear them out. Or even to those who had no interest whatsoever. Lark herself did nothing to garner the attention of the curious or wealthy alike; rather, she was but a silent insignia with a cart filled with the odd, unusual, and interesting. Not necessarily rare-- for anything perceived to be of any true value would vouch for more attention than she warranted. Still. She earned her fair share of eyes simply because she was there. And drew more than eyes with her vague answers and even vaguer smiles.<i>Where do you find these things? </i>seemed to ring out the most amongst the inquisitive. Her answer was almost always the same, or similar:<i>In other lands. </i><br/><br/><br/><b>	Aside </b>from the odd nick-knack, she had in her possession a number of potions and droughts, healing remedies and otherwise. Herbs and spices that couldn't be found near these parts. It was these things that lined her pockets with coin rather than the other; it was also these things that eventually attracted the unwarranted attention of guardsmen. They loitered just on the edges of her peripheral-- out of the way, and yet obtrusive with their watchful eyes turned in her direction.<i>Gypsy witch </i>wafted through the air, triangulating outwards like an echo to deal its damage. In their terminology, however, they were wrong. Lark might have possessed the swarthy skin tone of the Romani, but her blood ran thick with the desert's heat.<br/><br/><br/><b>	There </b>was one other contrivance that brought the whispers in her direction. And it was that which brought her here in the first place. At her feet lay two great cats, dozing and oblivious despite the various disturbances around them. They were darker than the deepest shadows, and yet their ebon coats glinted brightly in the sunlight, exciting a blue-black streak in their pelts. They were mates, and would likely remain that way until their end. As far as she knew, they had been together for a longer time than even she had been alive. Their presence with her remained a mystery to this day, but she was ever grateful that they stayed by her side. Recently the female had borne a litter -- and it was the cubs she sought homes for now.<br/><br/><br/><b>	Half </b>grown and rambunctious, they toiled together in the back of the cart that she catered her goods in. And like gangly teenagers, they fell over their own limbs in failed attempts at trying to snag one another.<i>Kittens</i>, albeit large ones. They were more of a relief to her than anyone could know. If only because it had been more than fifty years since the two great beasts had borne another litter. There were four in all -- two male and two female -- as if nature remembered its balance and revealed it in the presence of the cats.<br/><br/><br/><b>	The </b>ignorance of mankind was both a blessing and a curse. There was one guardsman in particular that had been paying especially close attention to the quiet, eccentric young woman who only tore herself away from where she sat on the lip of her cart to tend to the few potential customers who had picked up their courage and made their way over to her. He watched her entrance each and every one of them with a bewitching smile on her face and an allusive gleam in her eyes. Dark, he thought. Like the wave of hair that cascaded over her shoulders and trailed between her shoulder blades. It was when the mane was whisked to one side, pulled over casually with a flick of her hand that he stepped closer, squinting at the exotic design etched on her back. She exposed such a marking proudly, he'd revel to himself, by the cut of the robes draped over a sleek frame. Right over where her heart would be was an archaic sun. The ebon ink swirled intricately, forming whorls and lines, a seemingly chaotic pattern throughout the center while the rays burst forth in all direction as writhing snakes across sand. He knew what it meant. By all that was sacred, he thought the marking was all but lost to time.<br/><br/><br/><b>	Lark </b>looked up at the approach of the guard not with the dark intensity that he assumed, but with the jungle's savagery. Hers was the gaze of dark jade and the wild green of the wilderness. However, her presence was as cool as the breeze and as calm as a still pond; her smile radiated the quiet intensity of someone who knew just what to expect from a man like him. Saying nothing, she waited with one leg extended to the ground, where her toes dangled the sandal she only half wore on her foot. A piece of jewelry was wrapped around her ankle and coiled up her calf in the shape of a serpent; its eyes bright as emeralds and red as a ruby as it gazed upwards. Its body purest silver. The other leg she tucked underneath herself, childlike. She even cocked her chin up, eyes alight and a whisper of a smile barely touching the corners of lush lips.<br/><br/><br/><b>	He </b>spoke first, as it was expected of him. "You are a slave, are you not, girl? I recognize the symbol that you wear so proudly on your back. I have been watching you for over an hour now, but I have yet to see your Master."<br/><br/><br/>"<b>O</b>nce upon a time, a long time ago. But no longer, good sir. I have earned my freedom in every possible way," came her reply. It was as smooth and confident as the space she dominated. Her expression remained the same, albeit the quirk of her brows turned curious. "There aren't many who recognize the House of the Obsidian Sun any more."<br/><br/><br/><b>The </b>guard looked skeptical, as men are wont to do when faced with a conundrum. Seeing this, Lark shifted to move, only to have his gloved hand clasp down hard on her upper arm. It rendered a surprised expression from the woman in question. Stiffened her spine and brought her head around sharply to meet his gaze again. This time, though, there was a warning in her eyes. As if to reiterate the point, the male of the two great cats lifted its massive head from betwixt its paws and growled a warning. The guardsman, however, was riveted on the woman, his lips parted. "I don't believe you. There is no such thing as a<i>free</i>slave. That House..." He trailed off, licking his lips; his eyes turned cruel with realization. "I've read about it in the histories. They breed theirs to serve for life. Is that not the truth?" He shook her by the arm, causing her eyes to flinch regardless of her nonchalance.<br/><br/><br/><b>Twisting </b>up the length of her leg, undetected by the guardsman's gaze, the jewel-eyed serpent rose and climbed until it disappeared underneath the hem of robes. The growling of the predator a mere foot away from him grew, threatening. "You do not know what you say," she murmured coolly. "If you release me, good sir, I can show you my merchant's voucher that allows me free reign to these lands and elsewhere. I will advise you to release me ... for your own good. I do not know what you have heard or what you have read-- but you make a very<i>dire </i>error in your calculations, sirrah."<br/><br/><br/><b>Nothing. </b>If anything, this only angered the man. By now, a gathering crowd had also formed, staring in speculation. Sensing this, the guard smiled and tightened his grip so that the imprint of his fingers paled her flesh around the vice. "Don't you dare threaten me,<i>girl. </i>You need to come with me; the officials will sort this out. See, girl, there is no such thing as<i>freedom </i>for your kind." He yanked her hard enough to cause her to tumble forward. Little did he know, it was already far too late for him. Like tiny, pointed daggers, the metal fangs of the snake glinted wetly for an instant before sinking into his wrist like a knife to bread. The effect was quick. With a cry of surprise, he released her with a tremor. And kept shaking as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground in a fit, seizing like a madman.<br/><br/><br/><b>After </b>that, all hell broke loose.