<div align="center">Zahira Naqvi (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=93697.msg4086443#msg4086443)</div><br/>The faded vision left Zahira cold and alone. A vision had never before accompanied a Communication with Kindred Sire ritual before to her knowledge and she found her hand reaching out subconsciously to where the vision of him had stood. A desperate sob escaped her lips, coming from somewhere deep inside her. Amaravati -<em>her</em>Amaravati - had seemed upset with her not contacting him. But had he not left her? She thought she had been respecting his wishes by not contacting him. The sight of him physically shocked her and the sound of his voice hurt her somewhere deep in her core where lay the longing to touch him just one more time. Three hundred years of burying the image of his face, his body, the low rumbling of his voice, all hit her at once and her knees buckled. She sank to the floor in stunned silence, aching. At least his smell had not accompanied the vision. It very well could have been her undoing. The very stoic and unmoving expression on Zahira's face cracked and silent tears streamed from her glowingly golden eyes.<br/><br/>Moments passed as she knelt on the dust covered ground. Finally she gathered enough strength inside of her to rise. Visibly upset, wobbly legs carried her from her former lover's room. She locked the large heavy doors behind her, placing the golden key inside a pocket hidden in the folds of her velvet gown. She took a deep breath and continued down the long corridor.<br/><br/>Taking the West Wing's winding staircase, Zahira arrived on the second sublevel and took only moments before finding the main library at the core of the third level. She entered, as she always did, with purpose. A cold breeze accompanied her as it always did as well, whipping about and ruffling pages of books. Many Viziers, ghouls, and servants of all sorts looked up to glare at her but, seeing one of the few aged female sorceresses in Alamut, they averted their gazes. She walked to the first table and sat before a very handsome man with taut angular features, clearly human, yet smelling of vampire, making him a ghoul.<br/><br/>"Ghoul," Zahira began, leveling her glowing golden eyes on him, caring not for this man's name or interrupting his studies. "I have need of your knowledge." She went on without allowing him to answer, explaining each of the visions and poems she'd had. When she was finished, she sat quietly waiting for the man to answer.