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[Merci d'Rue]

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As she stared in the mirror and saw the myriad of silver hairs upon her head, her vision came back to her in aching clarity. She was young, only 28-29 human years of age, and she was far from old age. Yet the silvery wisps of hair would not be denied, mottling the signature blue hair of this Cryomancer.

The vision had been disturbing, but real and she did not pass it off as a dream as she once would have. It's warning was clear. Her death and return from it twice had cost her the normal effects of time on her body and now she was aging at a rapid rate. Death was angry at how she had cheated it like a jealous lover, it wished her back within its fold. She shook her head. It could not be so, it must not be so, she still had work to do..

Every mortal walked a day and died some each moment, for their death was inevitable and pending. Lycans for all their regenerative powers could not escape the highly volatile lives that they lived, few died of old age, many died of beheadings or heart failure due to a sword within them..

She had no fear of death on the battle feild but the knowledge that time may rob her of her this glorious death and push her into a bed, where she lingered till old age consumed her, m ade her furious at best. She vowed that she would pay the price, sacrifice and pain was no stranger to Merci.

So the stones edifice in her vision carried weight. Pondering this she knew that as it had granted her life, that perhaps with the right sacrifice, it would grant her the slowing of the decay upon her body. For time had turned cruel to her and marched harshly upon her, like a new found enemy. She would defeat this foe, only the strong survive.
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May destiny guide you...