Since some readers seem to be rather confused about this fic and just exactly what is taking place, I will make a few notations dedicated to all those confused people out there.

First of all, the raid on her home village happened in Terreille. Since there are two territories named Askavi, I am assuming that Lucivar did not grow up in the Kaeleer Askavi, therefore he must have been in Terreille. Also, there are Jhinka in Terreille's Askavi, as the favourite taunt, "Your father is a Jhinka" comes into play in the Eyrien hunting camps.

Also, Arrin received a message from her cousin in Kaeleer's Askavi, in Agio, thus proving to her that there must be a way to get into the Dark Realm, convincing her that there has to be a way to get to the powerful Lady that helped her cousin in Agio.

Finally, the Blood has destroyed Arrin's home village. But the Blood are still out there, taking advantage of the landens and Arrin wants to put a stop to it, not to mention the risk of a Jhinka attack are climbing higher and higher every day.

Okay, I think that covers most of it. . . Thank you for reading my fics and reviewing. If you have anymore questions, don't be afraid to ask. :)

Continuing onwards. . .

"Excuse me Lord, but can you please tell me where the gate to get to Kaeleer is?" Arrin asked a Warlord that was passing by. She was unfamiliar with how to address the Blood, praying he was a Warlord and not a Warlord Prince that would take offence to her inferior greeting. That was the disadvantage of being a half-Blood. It made it difficult to tell the rank of the Blood, though not impossible. If anything, Arrin hadn't had enough contact to fully comprehend the distinct feel of each rank. She gazed at the man she had questioned.

He was an older man; the lines that had appeared only due to stress and as evidence of a hard life, stood out on his weathered face. His eyes raked over her, looking her up and down in a way that was only insulting and his mouth shifted into a sneer.

"What of it? Do you think the Blood in Kaeleer would accept a half-Blood like you? Go home, back to your village and don't bother coming back. The Darkness knows that you don't even have a chance." Giving her another scathing look, the Warlord swaggered off to be lost in the crowd blocking the streets.

Arrin sighed. Either she was completely ignored or a similar response as given. Adler was right. The Blood didn't like to mingle with half-Bloods or anyone they considered inferior. She would have to find it herself.

Silently, Arrin wandered over to a small side street, where she sat down on a small, roughly cut bench. She sighed. Getting into Kaeleer was a lot harder than it appeared. She had heard stories about Gates; the portals that allowed one to pass through the different Realms. She didn't know if she would be strong enough to pass through the Darkness unscathed, and the thought of what could happen terrified her, but the reward was worth the trip ten times over. Still, it didn't quite reassure the slow feeling of sinking that was building in her stomach. She had heard stories of landens who tired to leave Terreille and seek better fortune in Kaeleer. None were ever heard from again and Arrin had a feeling that it wasn't because they made it and lived a happy life. No, according to the tales, none were successful. They were crushed by the psychic waves that your own psychic power was supposed to balance out, or lost in the Darkness. But in order to not be crushed, you had to have a reservoir of psychic strength, which took the form of a Jewel. The darker the Jewel, the stronger the power. Unfortunately, landen's didn't have that advantage, nor did they posses any power whatsoever. Therefore, there was nothing to protect them from the raging fury that was the emptiness between the Gates. If anyone noticed a fair woman with light brown hair and soft brown eyes that grew steadily paler, they said and did nothing.

Arrin looked up to see an old woman with white hair and a kind face shuffling slowly up the street. She was hunched with age, though her posture did nothing to diminish a kind of regal flair. The crowd, if they noticed a small elderly Lady making her way slowly towards them made no allowance for her passage, nor did they offer to help in any way. Somehow that irked Arrin and she felt a wave of pity for the old woman. They were slightly alike; invisible to the rest of the world.

"Lady! Please have a seat," Arrin called out to her. The woman turned slightly and painstakingly made her way over to the bench. Arrin stood up, giving the woman room to make herself as comfortable as she could, given the fact that they were sitting on an old bench with slight splinters.

"May the Darkness embrace you, dear one," the woman said. Her voice was sweet and didn't tremble one bit with age and Arrin detected that regal flash in her once again.

Arrin smiled slightly and nodded, not sure how to return a saying of the Blood.

"Why is such a pretty young lady wandering around such a place that is Terreille?" the old woman asked Arrin gently and Arrin suddenly experienced a flash of pain at the memories of her own grandmother.

Stifling her churning emotions, Arrin replied weakly, "I'm- I'm searching for the Gate to Kaeleer. I don't know where I am though or how to get there! I'm either completely ignored or appraised like some- some whore!"

"Ah, I see. Well, good luck to you." The old woman leaned back on the bench and sighed gratefully, glad the pressure had been taken off her aching knees.

"If you want to get to the Gate, you follow that road until it reaches the end. There is the immigration building. Fill out the forms and you should be able to pass through the Gate if not today, then tomorrow." The old woman spoke with her eyes closed.

"Thank you. Thank you so much!" Arrin could hardly keep the excitement out of her voice. She knew where to go! But something nagged at her. . .

"But wait. Can a half-Blood like me get through the Gate? Wouldn't we be denied access?" A tremble filled with worry managed to work it's way into her voice.

"Can you do any sort of Craft? Not any of the things that require a Jewel, but just some basics?" the old woman asked, focusing brilliant blue eyes on her.

"Well. . .yes. . .but that's besides the point!"

"It is the point! It means that the Darkness recognizes you as one of it's own, like it recognizes the Blood and will allow you through. Good luck, dear one." The old woman leaned back and once again closed her eyes.

"Why are you doing this? Why help me, a half-Blood when all the others have ignored me?" Arrin asked, grateful yet wary. There was something in this woman's eyes that was not the least bit gentle. . .rather sharp and intense. Not something usually found in a sweet old granny figure. The Blood didn't help half-Bloods or landens. Why was this one? What was the exception to the general attitude?

"Because, dear one, I wear the White and barely that. My family was amazed I was even able to do even the simplest Craft, not to mention wear the Jewels. I know how you feel and vowed I would help those that needed it. And you seem to need help, so I give it to you freely and willingly. May the Darkness embrace you and good luck. May you find whatever you are searching for."

Sensing the dismissal, Arrin ran up the street, jostling through the crowd to reach her destination. She knew she'd always be eternally grateful of the old woman who understood the landen and half-Blood life.

Once the fleeting back of the young half-Blood female was out of sight, the old woman who had helped her sat on the bench, her eyes closed. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and smiled a sweet, gentle smile as she reached inside of her coat and brought out a silver chain. The Sapphire Jewel flared briefly, just for a moment and was looked at lovingly, before being returned to the safety of under her shirt.

The Sapphire Jewelled Queen and Black Widow smiled to herself. May the Darkness embrace the young girl. . .she would need every drop of luck she could get. But she would succeed, oh yes. The girl had too much potential to fail. She was almost certain the child would find what she was looking for.

Silently, she rose from the bench and stepped into the crowd. . .leaving behind a splintered bench and a memory of an old White-Jeweled old woman who understood a young woman's needs. With a final look, she disappeared from sight, lost in the sea of faces.