My own bones fight me tonight. I awaken late, my attendant, dressed in flowing white informs me that I have not passed entire days and that it is nearly midnight. It takes great effort to right my limbs and sit up on the edge of my bed. The stiffness in my face makes me wonder what kind of death mask i am wearing. My attendant never balks, but she also rarely raises her eyes to my face.

'Leave me now. Summon Cassandra, I will await her here.'

I give my orders in a low voice and sit like I am cast in stone. The attendant bows as she rises and steps quickly from my private chambers. I am left in the enveloping silence and gentle glow of just one covered lamp. I can hear the joints in my fingers snap as I try to move my hands...

Illiandra wont have to wait long for her eldest Childe. Cassandra is one of the many Daeva who spend their days and most nights in the manor.Cassandra enters the Princes private chambers without the usual forewarnings of the attendants. Cassandra is nearly six feet tall, her hair a shocked white like frozen lightning and her eyes a cold blue.

For her height and features its almost strange that Cassandra doesnt come off as imposing; just proud, regal, following in the footsteps of her sire but with a lighter hand. Cassandra kneels before Illiandra; picking up instantly that something is wrong, far beyond the usual malaise that has overtaken the prince in recent nights.

'You called, my lord?'

My voice is a drone. Its the monotone lackluster you would get if you recorded a live band with a failing microphone in your shoe. I sound far away, as if my lips are hardening and my tongue is turning to dust.

'You will be my voice at tonights Elysium.'

I dont complain, I dont explain. I dont understand what is happening to me. Ive heard all the guesses, of course, as to what its like to fall into torpor. But this seems different, like I am turning into a statue as I sleep longer and longer everyday. I have to wonder just how many coherent nights I have left.