“ Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.” Hippokratos, Olympian healer     Third Hive Day of Mortis, 126 HR Terrance stood at the window of his quarters and looked out over the Athar's Circle. The destroyed city blocks, silent witnesses to the Lady's long past wrath, surrounded the Shattered Temple like memorials and guardians at the same time. All day long, the sky had been the dark gray color of wet stone. Thin, low-hanging shreds of clouds had sailed through the Ring, like cobwebs caught by a sudden gust of wind. Under the frequent rain showers, the City of Doors had seemed cool and dreary. A normal day, in other words. Now darkness had fallen over the Ring, and at this time of day Terrance would usually be sitting in front of his fireplace with a book and a glass of wine. But today he was expecting a visitor, his longtime friend Elyria. The lupinal was a priestess of Mishakal and, like him, had long been active ...