Trisen combed her blonde hair with her fingers. She hit a snag and began to pick out the knot. After she was done, Trisen walked in front of the mirror in her room. Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling that someone or something was in the room with Trisen made her study the mirror. Sweat was already beginning to speckle her forehead and Trisen's heart beat so hard it hurt.  In the reflection of the mirror, Trisen saw a man with a white bandanna over his mouth charge silently at her, a dagger clutched 
tightly in his right hand.
        Trisen gasped and whipped around. She caught the man's hand and stopped him from stabbing her, but it was only one step in victory. The two staggered around, trying to gain control of the dagger. The dagger...the only thing important in both Trisen's and the man's mind. The thing that would grant the bearer of it victory over the other.  Trisen tried with all her might to control the man's mind, but he was being protected by some very strong magic that she could not get through. In desperation, Trisen spent all her strength trying to break through the magical barrier. Even though Trisen managed to make the man stagger back a bit, he quickly recovered and lunged at Trisen. Trisen was now on her back, but she managed to roll out of the way.  The man swung the dagger as he fell and the blade scraped across Trisen's forehead, putting a fairly deep laceration on it. Even though she wasn't mortally wounded, Trisen screamed as though she had been gored by a bull.
        Trisen's screams brought Vorador up to the room promptly. Vorador had, at first, had no idea what was happening, but he then saw Trisen stagger back and the man once again lunge at her. The man raised the dagger and prepared to plunge it into Trisen. With an angry growl, Vorador leaped at the man and lifted him up off the ground.
        "Who are you?! Why did you attack her!?" Vorador demanded.
        The man stuttered something illiterate. Vorador snarled fiercely and ripped the cloth off of the man's mouth.
        "What did you say?!" Vorador roared, his voice rising.
        Trisen wiped away a little bit of the blood that was trailing from the wound on her forehead. She looked for Vorador's wound, but it was no longer there.  Even though she was confused, Trisen kept quiet. She felt that now was not the time to ask meaningless questions.
        "Th-the-the wi-witch! M-M-M-M-Mal-l-lek w-w-wants h-he-her k-k-k-killed!"  the man stuttered fearfully.
        Vorador narrowed his eyes in fury. This was one battle he wasn't going to let Malek win.  "Why does Malek want her killed?"
        The man managed to find his voice.  "B-Because... All th-the oth-other mem-members of the c-circle thi-thinkss-she's a m-m-menace! A th-threat!"
        Vorador slammed the man onto the floor and put his sword tip to the man's throat.  "And they sent you to murder her?"  Vorador asked in a cold rage.
        The man nodded. It was the last thing he did, because Vorador plunged the sword into the man's throat. Trisen sighed heavily, and started to stand up.  She was trembling uncontrollably from the sudden fright and energy loss.
Vorador turned to Trisen, leaning his sword on the bed.  "Trisen... Is your wound serious?"
        Trisen shook her head, catching her bangs in the profusely bleeding wound.  Trisen quickly pushed her bangs away, smearing blood across her forehead.  "Not as serious as yours...was… What happened to your injury? It just disappeared..."
        "Vampire flesh heals quickly... Vampires also tolerate pain better than humans..."
        Trisen nodded knowingly.  "Oh... Unfortunately, my race is like humans... They...used to...bleed until the wound was cared for... They used to bear pain like any other human...not well..."
        Vorador gingerly pushed aside Trisen's bangs, revealing the laceration from the dagger. He handed her a small cloth.
        "Here... Mop up the blood with that... It should help..."
"Thanks," said Trisen, taking the cloth and gently wiping the wound. She flinched as stinging pain rocketed up through her skull. "I tried..."
        Vorador turned around. He had walking out of the room, carrying the man's corpse.
        "Tried what?" Vorador asked. 
        "I tried to control the man...but I failed... There was some kind of force field that was protecting him... Sorry if I interrupted anything that you may have been doing..."
        Vorador held up his left hand.  "No apology is necessary... I was doing nothing important..."
        Trisen smiled faintly.  "Thank you..."
        "You're welcome," Vorador said, leaving the room.

        Trisen very slowly closed her eyes, focusing all of her magic gently in one point. She did not force the magic in any way, but she did try to make one main point for all of her magic to flow into. Gradually, silver strands, flecked with neon green specks of magic could be seen with the naked eye.  The strands wound their way around the room, floating towards the point where Trisen was centering them. A few strands strayed out of the room, but Trisen ignored them. She wouldn't let them cause any damage to her savior's mansion, not after he had provided her with protection and a roof over her head.
        Trisen called back her magic, and it obeyed her order. The magic focused into one small point, then, with a blinding flash, disappeared. Trisen opened her cinnamon eyes. She had finished the ritual. The ritual that helped her power grow and become easier to control, supposedly. After some of her failures, Trisen doubted her control over her magic. Trisen hadn't told Vorador this, but if she was startled suddenly or very angry, she tended to blast out with her magic at any provocation. Trisen felt the chain bracelet on her left wrist. Would she be able to summon the goddess if it was needed? Or would she fail? Both choices 
were frightening, yet one was victory and the other led to defeat.
        "Malek…" Trisen murmured heatedly. "The entire Circle of Nine... How am I a threat? Surely my magic cannot break through theirs...can it?"
        The question brought Trisen to thinking. Could she possibly harm or kill a member of the Circle with her magic? Was it potentially that powerful?  Then there had been Elzevir... That funny little man whom Trisen had been warned numerous times to avoid, yet she was constantly wondering whether or not to travel to his place. Supposedly Elzevir could take anybody's soul and put in a small stuffed toy with something as simple as a lock of hair.  Trisen had never heard of such absurd ideas, but people had warned her about him so gravely that she had decided to keep her distance.  Trisen began to wonder what would happen to her. Would she merely live out the rest of her life in Vorador's mansion, reading her life away? Or would she take revenge upon the circle? Either way wasn't exactly a good choice. Either fortunately or unfortunately, Trisen's life would take a quick turn of excitement...