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[Bailos]

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A pulse of energy and the Wraith Lord materialized outside the cathedral-like structure that towered above the landscapes of the frozen wasteland of Caina. Thanks mostly to the ravages of time, his tower was one of the tallest things in sight on the desolate playground of polar bears and wolves. Gathering himself and 'getting in to character', he strode forth through the wraught iron doors.

A slip of a secret mechanism along the wall revealed a staircase, hidden by stone, which he quietly ascended. Closing his eyes as he climbed the stairs, he transformed his appearance to meet one which the lady was accustomed to. His goatee found itself a distinguished looking gray hue, and his robe gently faded to the brown cloth of an abbot. His eyes opened. He drew a wry grin.

Reaching the second level, he carefully opened the sturdy wooden door and slipped in, with a warm inviting smile on his face to great the young woman sitting near a bed on the opposite side of the room. She set down her sewing needles from the outfit she was tailoring. A thick, durable, and most importantly, warm cloak for her to wear in her harsh new home.

The young lass looked up and her eyes met the man before her; a smile of innocence was her gift. "Hello Father Gregory" she said, addressing the transformed Bailos.

"Good morning, MaryAnne, sweet rose of this unforgiving landscape.", he said, addressing the young woman. "I see you've had an early start today. Will it be ready in time for you to join me? I am going to the Well on the other side of the mountain for some fresh water."

She looked back down to her work, with the smile still gracing her face, and speculated, "Oh, doesn't look to promising. But she be ready in time for me to bring some timber in to start the fire before you get back"

"Excellent". With that, he moved up another staircase to a third level where he sat himself down at a writing desk, shut in his study which was locked tight at all time. Putting pen to parchment, he wrote out in a journal format;
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Day 42

She has taken the last wave well. Despite my inability to prove that there is indeed an order of Monks and Sisters that lives here with me, she seems to accept I am the Abbot of this Order.

I will try to introduce her to a more normal life soon. Perhaps she is ready to meet her surrogate family. I am almost ready to transplant her. I only used a half-dose of the hallucinogen and it seemed to work well enough.

I almost called her by her name again today. I am still not convinced that she has completly blocked out her old identity of "Sadira" yet. But, she'll be out of my hair soon enough
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He stands up and closes shut the journal. The title on the leather-bound work can now be seen. In clear, bold, block-style letters.
S A D I R A: Phase IV

Father Gregory?
He heard the shout from downstairs...
Coming MaryAnne!