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     Adame looked at his mentor, General Jorge, with eyes that burned. Liquid filled them but he blinked it away. It was only because his eyes were dry, soldiers didn't cry. The general's ashen face and his slow laboured breathing hearlded the end if something wasn't done soon. Adame had sent his best man on a mission to bring back what he hoped would result in a cure. He had no idea what brought his formerly robust leader to the brink of death in just a few days. It was a mystery he hoped to solve with the help that should be here at any time.

     He heard a disturbance in the hallway and prayed to all the gods and goddesses the she had arrived. He detested what she was, what she stood for, but the mission his men had just successfully completed had taken a powerful weapon from the enemy and hopefully, would save a man he cared a great deal about. A man they would never hope to win without.

     His illness wasn't natural; his cure wouldn't be either. He watched as his men carried in the female and laid her next to the general, as if her mere presence would cure him. He could see what drew Knorris to this witch. She was a beautiful whore. Her long, golden hair curled around her delicate face. Her creamy, pale skin invited a touch to see if it was as soft as it looked. Her eyes were closed, but he remembered looking into their swirling blue depths as she cast the spell that pushed men back during one battle. She could have killed them, but he had reasoned she must have had a use them and wanted them alive. Perhaps they needed slaves?

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