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[Kale ab'Arawn]

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If anyone had asked Kale how it was that she knew the things that she knew, they would probably have received little more than a shrug for their effort. The truth was that not even Kale herself understood how she simply seemed to know or remember things. Ever since she could remember, she had had memories of things she'd never done, places she'd never seen, people that she'd never even met. Most of the time, she amused herself by simply wandering Umbra and letting these foreign bits of memory fall into conjunction with things she was sure she was experiencing anew.

The cheesecake had been awful. As tempting as it may have appeared, as delicious as she fondly remembered it (somehow) to be, the first bite had been terrible. She knew at once she didn't care for it. So why the fond memories of it? It was things like this that had brought her to be sure of her suspicions.

Somehow, her fondness for blood was not the only thing she had inherited from her late mother. Apparently, some of her mother's memories had been passed in her blood.

But it didn't stop with that. At first, she had been sure she was hearing things.

There was one time when she found herself at the smith's shop, watching him craft a new sword. She remembered he had been hammering it out, and then shoving the still dull blade back into the forge. She had been so little at the time, but she remembered clearly how she had been so curious to know why he was now sticking this blade in the water. The hissing steam had held her fascination and she had concentrated on the man and his possible reasons.

She had heard a voice, similar to the smith's, but older and richer, more commanding. It was as that of a father speaking to his son.

The water cools and hardens..

She had glanced around the shop, trying to locate the source of the voice, but no one else was in the room.

"The water cools and hardens," she said aloud to the smith. He paused in his work for a moment and nodded at her.

"That's right. My da used to say that. 'Twas part of a song he used to hum as he worked. He was a smith, too."

That had been the start of the thought-reading, as she called it then. The problem was, doing it too often left her tired and hungry. Often times it wasn't worth the effort to figure out what someone's favorite color or animal was. By the time she had become the age she was now, she didn't bother with it much, she was too busy. There were other things to learn or do. There was training.

And then there was something inside of her that needed awakening. That she knew did not come from her mother. It was something to do with her father's race. Sure, she might doodle runes on things to enhance them, but her true power would not be free until this force had been released.

This was why she had led the innocent man toward the Sepulcher. Cajoling him and trying her best to act seductive, as she had seen the loose women on the streets do in town, she eased him inside. He may have resisted at first, her young appearance perhaps causing him misgivings, but she noted that he was reluctant to just leave her alone to her own devices. Idly she wondered if that was true concern or perhaps some odd inner sense of duty and compassion.

He balked at what she told him she wanted from him, no doubt because of her physical age and his honor. But, she preferred the direct approach, it left so few questions. From the street she had led him, firstly with innocent games, which graduated to more mature amusements. Now she found herself ordering him into service when he tried to refuse her.

"I need your help," she finally admitted to that poor innocent citizen. "My power needs to be released, and I want you to do it."

"But why me?" he asked. He sounded nervous and unsure. She knew at the moment that he wished for nothing more than to be out of the sinister building they were.

"Just do it," she put as much authority into her voice as she dared. The man finally spoke with resignation.

"As you command."

He moved closer to carry out the order, and suddenly she was seized with pain. Every bone in her body seemed to scream torture as the most recent growth injection she'd taken chose that moment to take effect. She fell forward into the stranger's arms with a cry, almost doubled over, as her bones enlarged and her skin stretched to fit the rearranging tissues and organs. Eyes closed and trying hard not to reveal too much pain to the man, she clenched her teeth and endured the agony of the growth injections. The man's voiced concern was barely heard as she suffered the results of her impatience.

Finally, she straightened, the pain gone. She now stood a few inches taller, her adult height. Whatever misgivings the man might have had about her age were moot now.

Twice as impatient as before to be done with with this ritual and to receive the freedom her nature craved, she commanded him again to continue. With much reluctance, he plied the natural trade of all males to females.

The deed done, he stepped back from her, all business and anxious to be away from the place. She hadn't actually expected to enjoy it, but she had. But what most brought the grin to her face was the dual offering of blood to the Sepulcher as she had been initiated into womanhood, and the awakening of power within her. The man finally was allowed to leave, and she stood staring at the floor with a smile.

Where her blood had spilled, a network of runes had come aglow.