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_**Note: This story is based on, and set in, the "Cold Blood" universe which was made and written by Onyx Tao. Please read his brilliant stories!

OBSERVE: My storyline, "Finding Home", is not to be considered canon to the Cold Blood universe, there are bound to be several differences between this "alternate universe" to Cold Blood and the actual one. So if you're a fan of Cold Blood, please don't be mad if you spot several "flaws" within this alternate Cold Blood universe. Artistic freedom and yadda yadda... :)**_

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Finding Home**

-Part 1-

-Chapter 1-

-Reminder-

"This damned, cursed cold is killing me".

Livius snapped out of his daze. He had been staring into the night for what he realized may have been an eternity. The hills seemed almost unreal in the dark, yet they offered him the freedom of dreaming what lay beyond. He knew, of course, what did lay beyond. His past.

With a few blinks, and a graceful turn, he was fully in the moment once more, turning to his old friend; Archmage Skender, who was shivering from the cold. He was adorned in the finest robes this evening, no doubt to celebrate the pointless and barbaric victory that the Empire had befouled the world with.

But away with such thoughts, Livius thought to himself. This is a night that makes many people happy. Livius forced a warm smile, but found himself overwhelmed by the sincerity of his emotions. After all, an old friend was present. They hadn't met properly since Livius had returned home to the Empire, and that was only roughly sixteen months ago.

"Skender... my dear, sensitive Skender.. where I see magnificent hills and glorious nighttime activity, you only sense the cold. Ever the pessimist."

"Did you just call me Skender? Simply my name? No title? I don't believe this ... informal? You?" Skender said, looking truly baffled. "I didn't think I would live to see the day.", he said with a smile.

"A man can change his nature, but it takes extraordinary events for it to happen. Most of them... are internal", Livius said, poking his skull with his index finger, sporting a bizarre grin on his lips.

Skender just stood there for a moment, but then he burst out in laughter. Together they walked back to the settlements, where the Empire's grand war tents attempted to pierce the dark skies above. As they walked, Livius thought not so much about the impending partying with all of his fellow countrymen, but rather that he was once again back in the Empire. His old home, with all the old routines. He would need to appear as if he loved it all, but a seed within him had started to grow. A realization that made him conscious about his distance to himself.

The realization was of a malicious nature; one that made him feel cold inside. It made his years away from all this seem like an antidote to a venom that had just started being injected again. Would this old venom kill him, or would it merely make him enthralled - like he was back then, prior to all those years when he got to know that other home... a home so different from what the Empire could ever be...

Only the other night, there had been a bloody battle against minotaur forces near the minotaur town of Xarsen. It had been a milestone in military history. With the new, amazing rifle constructions and dark magic, the minotaur forces had been eradicated. It was just beyond Livius how that could ever happen in his lifetime. He had been safely back at the camp when the fighting took place, but in his mind; he knew his contributions. The dark, foul magic that coursed in the belly of those deadly bullets were partly due to his efforts. At least, he thought that was probably true. Back then, all those years ago, it had seemed a blessing. Using foul tools to overcome a seemingly impossible-to-beat enemy. But those days were far away. His plans, his designs that he wrote back then, shared a great resemblance with the new tools of today. Somehow he wanted to believe that was a coincidence, but the similarities were too many.

"How was your time as a slave to the minotaurs?", Skender suddenly asked. It was too sudden a question, and it made Livius quiver with mixed emotions. His brain froze and he just opened his mouth and stared at Skender, trying to force an answer; a diplomatic one.

But wait, no... not diplomatic. That would make me seem like a traitor to the Empire, Livius thought to himself. He could sense thought patterns in Skender's mind. It was like snakes slithering. Dark thoughts, suspecting Livius of secretly longing to return to the minotaurs... but it seemed to be erratic thoughts; like twisting currents in the river. Skender did not truly believe that he longed back, Livius guessed. But it was hard to tell. Skender's mind had always been harder to read than most people's. Odd that.

"I must admit it was interesting to see the complexity of their society, the luxuries they could afford themselves, the splendor of their bath houses and so forth.... but their beastly ways? Their conniving ventures down murky paths of schemes, rituals and backstabbing? Their uncivilized and hedonistic lifestyle? Barbarians. I am glad we have new tools to eradicate them with." Livius felt like biting his own tongue, but he continued; "..once we've won this war, however, we are free to make use of their vast resources."

Livius managed to look stern. He knew that he had made that impression at least on Skender. He felt the thought patterns change their courses and slipped into silence and contemplation. Livius smiled at the usefulness of his unusual talent.

It would be most unfortunate if anyone, even his allies, found out about Livius extraordinary ability; signature, the minotaur mages called it_._ Magical traits or strange peculiarities that all mages latently radiated onto the world at all times - unique effects from any given mage. He remembered how he had been told that they are mostly a distraction or nuisance. While he would agree that it could be annoying, it had turned useful beyond words in his career.

Livius particular signature was that he could copy ... not thoughts, exactly, but rather thought- and nervous system processes. He drew it from all living creatures around him. It was like basking in sunlight, except the "rays" of these processes would enter his mind, arrange themselves, making themselves comfortable, and then he would know things he hadn't known before. It was like he vampirically reproduced others knowledge in his mind.

The only downside was that it tended to make those around him somewhat confused, sometimes at a loss for words. Those who already were confused by nature could sometimes be almost impossible to converse with, unless he actively tried to suppress his own signature, which he had learned to do most of the time.

He could not usually get knowledge of the future, like plans or intentions; and emotions and memories of the past would still be blurry to him; he wasn't a mind reader after all, not really... he would mostly just learn new things, new techniques, new spells. At least provided that the wielder of the knowledge was sufficiently skilled. It had to be knowledge that was worked so well into the brain and nervous system of the transmitting individuals, that it came more or less as second nature for them to perform whatever action or thought process they may be performing. The less familiar to them, the more Livius would have to magnify his signature to copy the knowledge from them. He was like a knowledge thief, trading mass confusion around him for skills deeply encoded into brains and nervous systems. Practical indeed.

Still, even to this day, Livius had never told a living soul about his talent, or his signature, and he felt certain noone knew about it. There could be grave danger in sharing that with others, even his own colleagues, who had always been astounded at his ability to learn skills quickly.

The General's war tent was huge, by most standards. It could fit hundreds of men - and tonight; it was crowded. As Skender separated the heavy cloth walls of the tent, Livius was amazed at the state of most men inside; drunken, loud savages. It was chaotic. Livius and Skender shoved their path through the inibriated crowd, and eventually found their places near the General himself, who gave a slight nod as he noticed them sitting down.

Livius pushed away a few glasses and plates that had sullied his place with messy stains, and then he heard the General's voice bellow out, dwarfing the already loud volume inside the tent.

"Fine! Listen up all you louts! We are not just here to waste ourselves beyond our senses, we also have a future to plan!", General Ionatan proclaimed. It was impressive to see the effect it had on the soldiers. Livius turned to his sides to see all of the men, except maybe the most drunk ones, neatly correcting themselves and sharpening their ears. The table at the General's banquet did not normally have room for the common soldiery, but on this night it seemed as if they were all allowed to socialize with their betters.

What followed was the General's boring recapture of the last few years, a nostalgic speech about overcoming great odds through great sacrifices, a roundup of the future movements and summary of the logistic situations. Livius tried to stay awake, but he felt his head was getting heavier and heavier as the words became more and more like a lullaby.

Then suddenly he heard:

"We have one surviving minotaur prisoner, too. We are.... unsure what to do with him."

Could this be? A surviving minotaur? Livius was sure he had heard that there were no official survivors. Yet he very much doubted that the General would tell a lie, especially on .....

The sounds. Hooves! It was hooves connecting with ground! It had to be!

The cloth wall behind the General was separated, and nearly a dozen men entered, all wearing ceremonial armor and spears. Some of them held chains, leading to the ankles, wrists and neck of a huge, brown minotaur, clad only in torn undergarment pants. It was presumably part of his former armor. His facial area was mostly white, as were the lower regions of his muscular legs. The tone of brown had a gradient change from the delicate white to the powerful depth of dark brown, and the whiteness that framed his muzzle and face made him seem almost... kind?

The horns were small. Short, but pretty sturdy. He would have to be a soldier, this minotaur. His pronounced muscles over the shoulder and torso area made it seem like there was unlimited potential in his strength, and yet..... he seemed dead to the world. His head hung low, he didn't seem to register the rough treatment to his body as he was respectlessly pushed forward by the soldiers of the Empire. There were deep cuts in several places of his hide, and it was obvious that walking was a huge strain for him.

As the soldiers came closer, Livius tried in vain to look casual. His throat locked up, he held the table as if he had cramped up. He could hear Skender whisper to him; "Don't be so worried, he cannot harm you". Livius felt relieved over the fact that Skender had gotten such a wrong impression over his behaviour. Livius was not afraid of the minotaur. He was stunned to see one again.

As the minotaur brushed by the men sitting ahead of the two mages, Livius made an effort to lean close to the minotaur as he would be lead past him. He could see the expression more clearly now; there was fear in this minotaur's eyes after all. His nostrils flared extensively, and warm air pushed out. For only a fraction of a second, the minotaur lifted his head, thick veins painted on the canvas of his beautiful neck. Scared, questioning eyes met Livius own, for a brief moment. Minotaur eyes - seemingly asking the questions "Will I die tonight, in this horrible place? Where are my friends?".

Looking almost like he was high on drugs, Livius leaned closer as the men passed by with the chained minotaur, and out of the blue; he caught it, briefly:

The scent. Myriads of memories and feelings crowded Livius mind. It was like standing on a beach, overlooking an ocean of past experiences. The scent was there with him once again. I didn't realize I would ever inhale anything like it again.

Musky, rich and so incredibly familiar in his nose; he felt like he was taken back to the period of his life when he himself had lived with these minotaurs. He felt a warmness growing inside him, but then something disturbed that wonderous calm that usually settled; there was a hint of fear in the scent, which ruined the experience for him. It was like having salt poured in open wounds.

In a daze, he turned to see the minotaur being led to a pillar of some sort. No doubt placed there specifically for him. As Livius watched the minotaur being shackled to the stone pillar, he only briefly realized that he was somehow outside the social network of his brethren. He saw spit flying through the air, landing on the minotaurs wounded pelt. He heard words, horrible words, being thrown at the minotaur; both in latin and in unconvincing greek.

_"Shackle him nice and tight, boys!"

"Kill the freak!"

"Fucking animal...."_

It stung so hard to hear all this, but Livius looked as composed as ever despite not partaking. He knew he had to be cold to give the right impressions to the brothers he had been reunited with.

With brazen and confident motions, the soldiers stepped away from the now chained minotaur. There was no way for him to escape his fate, and he did not even try. Livius noticed that, over time, the minotaur's chest heaved more frequently, and his nostrils flared rapidly to fill him with more and more air. He must be close to passing out.

"It is undecided yet, what we are to do with him", General Ionatan said in a low, conversational volume to one of the officers next to him. They seemed to whisper some words between them, but Livius found it impossible to make out just what exactly those words were. It was clear however, that they were on their way to reach a similar conclusion. Their ravenous smiles indicated some sadistic fun to be had.

"I heard of the battle. Apparently some minotaur mage tricked us with an illusion spell, and ... are you listening, Archmage Livius?".

Livius woke up from his thoughts, and faced his friend Skender, who had been whispering to him. Amidst the chaos of motion behind Skender, he could vaguely make out various items still being flung to hit the minotaur, but it was out of focus. Sacrificial lamb to the slaughter, Livius thought to himself before devoting his attention to his friend, who had now begun to arch his eyebrows to gain attention, and indicate how socially distracted Livius seemed to him.

"Skender, the minotaurs are cunning creatures. I am amazed it was not foreseen by our own magi that such methods would be anticipated. Still, I also heard that diplomatic negotiations were cut off by one of our own men, which led to the illusion being exposed. Such things reflect badly on the Empire, I am sure you understand."

Skender seemed uncomfortable, and corrected himself somewhat in his chair. He then raised his hand to object.

"Yes well, had it been myself or ... or indeed you; I am sure no ruffian from the common soldiery would have braved the initiative of an attack, but ..."

The voice of the Archmage was interrupted by another bellow from the slowly rising, and highly intoxicated General, now visibly happier than ever before.

"All right, men!" he shouted and then attempted to hide his chuckles while looking down at the officer at his side. He had a look of searching affirmation in his expression, and the officer nodded approvingly to his General. The General continued:

"I have been informed that the official number of surviving minotaur slaves is an exact one; ZERO!"

To this, the crowd of drunken soldiers roared and cheered. Livius cast a discreet look over the tent, not to eye the state of the various levels of consciousness found in the soldiers filling it, but rather to gain at least a second of focus on the minotaur. It seemed the minotaur watched the General in chocked disbelief. He knew what was coming, Livius could tell.

"And so it is with great joy that I announce that the brave men who brought the minotaur into our tent will now be given full freedom to end his life in any way they see fit, so long as it amuses our weary eyes and ears!"

"- and indeed, noses!" someone from the deep end of the tent screamed. Livius didn't first realize the implications, but as he turned to the overwhelming laughter of the inibriated crowd, he noticed that the minotaur had peed himself in fear. Urine was dripping down from the torn remains of his pants, and the minotaur looked at the General with ears hanging low, lips trembling. His eyes were both as open as the sun itself, glistening with a desire to instill the possibility of mercy for his newly condemned soul. It seemed as if he wanted to talk, but his trembling lips and shaking legs made it impossible for him to produce more than broken sobs.

But... isn't this minotaur a warrior? Livius thought to himself, stunned by the extremely fearful reaction of the minotaur. For a fraction of a second, Livius nearly caved in to the urge of expressing pity and uninhibited forgiveness and love at the minotaur, who was in emotional need of a friend, but Livius used these very emotions bubbling within himself to instead burst out in a cruel and mocking laughter. Skender jumped at the sudden outburst from his friend sitting beside him, but after that initial reaction, Livius had no clue as to how his friend behaved: he was far too busy convulsing in laughter, tears filling his eyes. This is madness.

He thought of the ecstatic fury and destructive desires of the soldiers (beasts?) surrounding him, almost wanting to give in to the cruelty and sadism that resided in these war-torn souls; joining them in their dance with insanity. These individuals, who had lost their identities to the savagery of war. His tear canals burned within him, his face a flush of red, veins pushing out from his neck and throat from the roaring laughter that nearly took over his body. He was no longer sure what to feel.

Do I care anymore?

A sound of a spear reaping thick hide of its splendor started to revolve inside Livius ear.

Do I have compassion, or have I replaced it with genuine hatred, genuine antagonism?

A guttural howl of pain from a throat that wants to express desperation, that wants to beg to live. Livius hears it, or does he imagine it? If only I could brave myself to open my eyes. Livius decided not to, but the thoughts raged on.

Do I want my past, my feelings to be destroyed by this night, and its escapades with death? Did I truly ever feel anything for the minotaur, whether it be their species... or even just this one, poor soul? Is my laughter a lie or is it my true nature?

Something heavy connected with something fairly soft. Could it be the sound of a hammer crushing bones? It seems to be followed by the rumbling low, rabid scream of panic; rustling of chains who will not break. What are they doing to him? If only I could open my eyes. If only I could stop laughing. This isn't me, is it?

The sounds suddenly felt more real. He wasn't imagining. But he heard cries from the minotaur now, that sounded almost surreal. A mixture of pure horror, pain and a yearning to beg for his life, once more. It was not imagined. He heard anger too. Rage. But it was way back, far below the rusty low frequencies of a seemingly dying minotaur throat that was throwing out its last desperation to the world.

Is this who I have become? Is this who we all have become?

Clinging to his chair with his hands, he saw the world through a misty haze as he slowly opened his jammed-shut eyelids. There it was; the sight that laid before him, the cause of his erratic and paradoxal behaviour - a giant beast (beauty?) being impaled by ....

Oh my god, they are killing him. This is really happening Livius, old boy. Are you going to let it happen? Will you trade your soul for madness, just for its simplicity?

Madness subsided. Livius wiped his face from the tears and sweat. Only Skender's back greeted him when he glanced his friend. Skender, like most others, attended with fascination the scene before their eyes. The bloody torture and impending execution of the last surviving minotaur. _What could be done to prevent this? _

A sudden realization struck Livius with something akin to the clarity of the mad. I will have to gamble with this one...

"WAIT!!! STOP!!!" Livius roared. He flew from the chair like a falcon in flight, and he dove towards the soldiers, arms flailing vividly. With feeble attempts to stop the weapons from penetrating the minotaur, Livius continued; "There are traces of dark magic in him!".

That seemed to do the trick. The drunken laughter ceased. The soldiers froze. The soldier who stood closest, and who now had his spear held by Livius aswell, gave a look of bewilderment and confusion to the stressful mage.

Livius realized that he had set this in motion, and there was no backing out now. This ruse would come at a high price, and it would likely end the credibility of a lot of mages. Do I really care? Livius thought to himself briefly, but the answer was just a second away; No.

As his thoughts went through his mind like a whirlwind inside a house with open windows, time appeared to slow to a crawl. Livius realized he had stared at the soldier for quite a while, and the spear he held in his hands had become sweaty from his own clutching palms and fingers. It felt slippery in his hands. His focus drifted slightly over to Skender who half sat, half stood up, in something that looked almost like a frozen state. It was as if his friend had cramped up. His eyes were locked on Livius own, and what they wanted to convey was not subtle. They were questioning. More than that; they seemed to declare Livius insane, unfit... anything but correct.

"Dark... magic? As in .... our dark magic?" Skender eventually exclaimed. His voice was quite low, but the incredible stillness and quiet that had settled in the tent made it seem like a lion's roar. It did make Livius snap out of his uncharacteristic and statue-like stance however. Livius harkled and corrected his magnificently woven blue robe. The torchlight made the finer threads seem incandescent in their golden and contrasted glow, as they were moved by his delicate hands. He quickly rose to his full length, sporting a grim and highly determined facial expression, befitting a mage of his stature.

"The very same kind of dark magic, I am afraid. It seems this ... monstrosity here.. ", said Livius and pointed crudely at the terrified minotaur, ".. has somehow survived the impact and dire consequences of our weapons. Not just the bullet, but the magic too. It is a mystery to me; both how he has survived and... actually, also how this phenomena has gone unnoticed."

Skender's face seemed to twist into a wrinkled prune, as if he had tasted something rotten. He appeared furious, and Livius sympathized, but did not show it.

"Unnoticed?!?", Skender shouted.

"I have spent the better part of yesterday tending to minotaurs, they have all dropped; one by one. We didn't expect anyone to survive, and I recall *distinctively* that this one had *absolutely* no wounds that would suggest the entry of a bullet! There were simply no other surviving minotaurs with his facial ... blotch.... so I am sure I wouldn't confuse him with someone else. I am thorough in my testing! Archmage Livius; do you contest my analysis? Publically?"

Livius tried his best to look weary, but not overly dismissive. He needed to express just a hint of superiority to make it clear that he is the one in control. The General eyed him from top to bottom, he could sense it. He gave a smirk that, ever so slightly, appeared patronizing, but not to such a degree that it could be interpreted as mockery. With both hands raised reassuringly into the air, he gently spoke.

"Skender, my dear friend. Like you have said, you spent a lot of time working yesterday - no doubt from morning to nightfall, and with all those beasts to examine, well... all minotaurs look alike; unusual patterns or not. You simply missed it, anyone would have. He has quite a few newly acquired wounds too as you can see, so it is naturally impossible to determine points of entry *now*, but if you would just be so kind as to come here and sense for yourself; the dark magic is lodged into him, I sense it well. I was, after all, one of the *designers*. You of all men should know that."

There was a hint of disbelief in Skender's eyes, as he tilted his head analytically to glance into Livius eyes. Livius felt something forming in his eyes, it had to do with psychological training. He is analyzing me to see if I am lying to protect the minotaur... clever bastard.

"Truly, you do not believe I am jesting, dear friend? I am, after all, far more experienced than you are in this field of magic. Your affinity for the arcane differs greatly from my own, and without diminishing the extraordinary value of your competence; we both know I am better configurated aswell as trained for these particular instances of magic use. But please, do come here, examine him for yourself."

Livius felt confident, and as Skender approached, he smiled gently at his friend, trying to gain his trust even more.

Skender focused. The tent was silent. Livius felt it like a warm sensation, first on his eyes, then covering his scalp like a helmet of light. It was an old spell that Skender used. Old but effective. He's become better. But not good enough.

"What do you feel from him?", Livius asked kindly. As his friend turned to him to talk, Livius focused on his talent, his signature. He expanded his sensory skills, covering the air and ground like an ocean wave covers the beach. He picked up so many things from those around him, but he also knew the effect it would have on Skender, who had begun to open his mouth, but couldn't speak. He just didn't find words. It would only be temporary of course, so the time to act was now. Before anything would escape Skender's lips, Livius approached the minotaur himself, holding a hand near the chest of the shaking prisoner. The desire to signal something to the minotaur to give him comfort was overwhelming, but Livius knew that such a short term effect, which would potentially even be without gain, was far too risky.

"There is an incommensurable stream here, almost like cold lava on a watery surface, do you sense it? The monotonous blaze of our dark magic, that would normally feed on the biological processes of the victim, has somehow nestled itself into a loop inside a vacuum. I sense this entropy derives from the very nature that had the dark magic confined. Within him. Sort of like an ... immunity. Do you concur?"

The General and all the soldiers looked at Skender with blank eyes, awaiting a reply. The effect that Livius had placed on Skender seemed to do wonders.

"I feel.. concur? No. But there is something. I feel ... nothing... Nothing on him? I don't know... what is happening?". Skender looked as if he was about to panic, but when his words failed him, he started to grunt and whip his arm towards the minotaur. The General looked at the mage in disbelief, then turned to Livius. Livius noticed that the General was shrugging his shoulders and spelled out some words with a mute mouth, indicating that he was wondering what was wrong with the blabbering mage.

Very odd... Skender behaves far more erratic than I had anticipated. Why is his mind so dysfunctional? It is almost as if he is already under other mind effects? Maybe he is ill, or depressed? It shouldn't have such a strong impact on him. Livius felt a great concern over the mindstate of his friend. A ruinous consequence indeed. He realized he had better stop using the amplified signature on Skender, it seemed to actually harm him.

While Skender tried to find words to object with, Livius devoted his attention to the General.

"General, I realize the supporting mages have all moved on to their respective locations and duties, and since I am the highest ranking mage present; I would advise that you join my chain of thoughts here...". The General perked his ears and lowered his brow. Livius had his attention. It was clear from his body language that he did not like Livius, and that he anticipated a boring speech.

"It would be of great, bordering on unfathomable importance, that we assess all data we can regarding deviations from our expected results. These minotaurs are not supposed to survive the dark magic we have placed within the bullets. The potential situation at hand is seemingly that a certain, unknown percentage of minotaurs may in fact be immune to the effect. In order to perfect the strategical effectivity of our newly developed weapon, we need to ascertain that even the resilient victims are guaranteed a swift death. I would consider it a tremendous honour if you were to meet with me privately about the details of procuring a location where I would be free to study this specimen. I need to make sure that we are capable of producing just that type of weapon in the future."

With this, he turned to Skender as he minimized the span and magnitude of his signature's effect. "Do you concur, my old friend?" he asked in a slightly less formal and loud tone. Skender simply sighed and nodded. He then said, "I concur."

The General only nodded and waved his hands to the soldiers. "So be it. Boys, bring the minotaur to the infirmary; he may be of some use after all." The commotion amongst the formerly entertained soldiers began only as a low murmur before the General continued; "Yes, I do know this means we will be derived of some entertainment, but there is still plenty of booze to go around. Drink's 're on me!"

The soldiers released the minotaur from the pillar, and he fell to the ground like a sack full of heavy stones. As he collapsed, he instinctively parried the earth with his bleeding hands, and he screamed as he connected clumsily. The front row of soldiers were showered in small dots. Livius looked at the soldiers, as they beheld themselves in disgust. Their clothes and armor had been adorned with minotaur blood from the heavy fall. It had sent the blood flying through the air.

Livius left the commencing stupor with Skender, some soldiers and the minotaur in tow. He walked up to the General and they all left the tent, heading off into a dark passage that led towards the night and the stars. Music began to play, but it was quickly muted as the cloth fell behind him. With a confident grin, he followed the General who had a muttered debate with some officers before him. Livius knew that the General would agree to anything he desired; if there was one thing the General could not afford now - it would be to get entangled in an arcane issue with the circle of magi. Very likely, Livius thought, he just tried to save what little remained of the soldiers spirit, by quickly siding with this irritating Archmage, and get the matter dealt with relatively smoothly. Mages were a pain in the ass to men of swords and honour.

The night was calm. Livius began to notice the sounds around him as they walked. Metallic sounds of armor as the soldiers walked, the soothing frequencies of muffled debate ahead of him, and of course the heavy impact of hooves on the soil. Oddly heavy? Livius noticed that the minotaur had trouble keeping the pace. His limping made the steps less precise, and heavier on their impact. Livius began to slow down his own pace, and forced the soldiers to do the same by initiating tedious conversations about the interesting design of the ceremonial armor they wore. As they began to speak quite enthusiastically, Livius caught a glimpse of the minotaur and noticed he could walk more easily. There was a hint of relief, but only ever so slightly. As the discussion went on, Livius forced some attentive nods every now and then, but his mind was elsewhere; focusing on the watery eyes of the scared minotaur. On occation, his glances would be returned. Livius tried to imagine what the minotaur was thinking, but there was no indication. Only fear.

With a disappointed frown, Livius head sank as he was bent on removing his gaze from the minotaur. Suddenly his head snapped back into place though, once more staring at the minotaur. How is he able to walk at all?, he thought to himself, with even more fear in his eyes than the minotaur himself had the strength to visibly show.

The blood left a trail behind him, and suddenly it dawned on Livius just how big he was, containing so much blood. One of his legs seemed almost mangled, and as a result; his limping. As Livius focused his eyes on the crippled leg, he clearly saw a bone pointing out. His hooves seemed almost diagonally broken from side to side. The pain has to be inhuman. The chest was torn on so many places, it seemed almost like the remains of a rag doll thrown to an overgrown dog, and the leaking blood seemed almost pitch black, casting only light reflections from the light of the moon. As the chest heaved, raspy clutches of air ventilated from his lungs along with fresh blood. His breathing sounded so heavy, so painful, like coughing nails. His thick neck exhausted with tension from all the pain, as his milky eyes conveyed the proximity and fear of death. It would have to be near.

Livius slowly retracted his head to scout the path ahead. He had become too tired of seeing the horrible sight of the battered, scared minotaur soldier. As he took a few steps, his thoughts had begun to circle around the concept of contentment. Being happy with what one has got. After all, here he was, in near perfect health, and it could all easily be .....

A loud snap, like a fresh breaking of a twig covered in thick liquid, only deeper. A thunderous, deafening scream. What in the heavens and hells?

The minotaur had fallen, and the soldiers had begun to pummel him with the blunt ends of their spears, screaming for him to get up. Livius saw the leg that had seemed broken moments ago, it was more or less clean cut in half from the ordeal of simply walking. The... the hoof... it is hanging free, flopping around the destroyed leg. It is more or less completely separated from his fantastic, white coloured lower leg... no... What god permits this?

The minotaur looked at the sky with desperate eyes, seemingly losing his consciousness. The dry mouth a rigid statue, depicting ungodly pain. Tongue twitching uncontrollably at the lack of being able to scream more. The pain was choking him. Livius approached the soldiers with haste, to talk with them. He halted in his flight as a final howl filled the night. The minotaur bellowed his first word in broken latin:

"MERCY!"

The soldiers somehow stopped, and they looked down, puzzled, at the sobbing minotaur. The minotaur suddenly started crying. His throat opened, his muzzle opened, and the chasm of his mouth and his bleeding teeth made no attempt to hold back his horribly frightened cries. Behind eyelids that had clutched together entirely, like two black lines on a white, furry surface, his tear canals formed streams of pained, salty rivers. They streamed down his muzzle, dripping onto the ground along with his dignity. He kept on crying, like a child who had fallen and hurt himself, and Livius suddenly got images into his brain. He felt .. My signature... I am sensing something from within him... Oh by the gods in heaven, am I picking up *memories* from his life? That is so unusual, I wonder if ....

Bright shock slammed Livius brain. An irredescent glow painted up a new world within another person, and the flood filled Livius mind with vivid pictures, sensations, smells, voices... Livius shivered and pictured the minotaur as a young boy; a playful and curious calf, who had wandered into a forbidden playground, hurt himself badly, and wanted the comfort of his understanding father. Who wanted to return... home.

Home - where it all made sense. Where a glass of warm milk, familiar scent of home and of his father would accompany him alongside the soothing talk by the fireplace. The gentle, low rumble of his father's comforting words would mingle symbiotically with the crackling of the fireplace he loved so much. The fireplace that he had helped his father to build. His first achievement in life that he felt proud over. His father blinked an eye at him now, and his smile made the small minotaur calf's field of vision misty with happiness. How the big figure in the chair could bring a smile back to his saddened face seemed almost ... miraculously easy. The small calf would cup his clumsy hands around the much too large glass, looking up at his father with adoring eyes and a broad smile. He was looking at his role model. His father, who smelled of safety... who smelled of infinite love.

Livius stood frozen, and began to breathe shallowly, quickly.

Had he experienced such days in his life? Will I ever know? And.... why wasn't I there by his side? Despite all my magic knowledge, I cannot make that one dream come true.

Livius was baffled at his thoughts, the cruelty of life, and had an immensily hard time holding back his own tears. He needed not interrupt the soldiers however, they had subsided their attacks and stood patiently, looking at the minotaur with eyes that almost seemed to reflect... pity?

Livius threw himself to the ground, kneeling beside the pained minotaur. He looked into his fatigued eyes that no longer seemed to care about anything. "Pleasing... own mercy... " the minotaur slobbered in improper latin, almost swallowing his own tongue from the intense attempt he just had made to speak. Livius eyes teared up, and he gave a smile that would make the sun itself seem pale and bleak. He held a hand on the sore chest of the minotaur, who gave only a slight jerk at the strange sensation of a kind human touch on his tattered body. The heart within this giant beauty beat like a war drum, but it spread a glow within Livius that could not be replaced with any fireplaces in the world; past or future. With flawless greek, Livius spoke to him with a kindness that lacked borders.

"You brave soul. We will give you mercy. You will not die this night. Not on my watch." Livius bit his tongue before continuing, because he felt himself losing control over his voice from the emotional volcano that had begun to erupt within him.

"We will carry you to the infirmary, and I will not rest until you are fully healed and the pain is all gone. Then you will get to sleep, and you will be fed. Trust me on this." Before he let go off the chest, Livius tilted his head and allowed his tears, hopefully unseen by the soldiers, fall down on the face of the minotaur. "Please stop crying, you have nothing to fear from me". Livius lips began to tremble, and he had to close his eyes and try to steel himself before getting up from his knees.

The minotaur looked as if he had been struck by lightning, he arched his eyebrows and Livius looked straight into his eyes, who had more questions within them than a seminar of academics. Oh my god, his eyes are so beautiful. Clear blue eyes, watery with tears, yet so subtly warm. He must be a saint, there is so much kindness in his eyes... what beast I seem to him.

"On your feet, soldiers of honor! Here lies a soul that has endured more hardship than any of you. Pay your respects to him by carrying him to the infirmary. Give him at least that one last tribute. He has suffered enough on this night, has he not?". Livius hadn't looked more serious in his entire life as he spoke those words to the soldiers around him. His eyes were fires from the core of the Earth itself, and no soldier objected. They didn't even dare go about their duties lazily. With impressive might, they all struggled together to lift the minotaur up, as Livius concentrated on the obliterated streams of nerves, blood vessels, bones and muscles within the minotaur's frame. He decided quickly that healing would have to come later, but there was another thing he could do.

Livius went up to the minotaur, grabbed his head with both hands, near the horns. He looked straight into his eyes, but yet saw not the confused face and wandering eyes. His attention was first focused within himself, letting out streams of luminous, spiritual gas. It was as if the warmth of his own body melted into the body of the minotaur, and he felt how the liquid heat flowed into him, like waters given to plants. The pain signals, that worked busily throughout the near wasted large body suddenly ceased to flutter about. A serenity settled within the nervous system, and the pain washed away. The minotaur moaned excitedly as his pain ebbed out. He opened his eyes fully and looked at Livius with a starving expression on his face. The quivering eyes trembled with some kind of joy, and the slowly moving mouth worked with newfound strength to try and form new words which he would bring to Livius like a gift from the stars.

But no words came. There was thankfulness in his face though. Livius smiled as the soldiers, who questioned nothing from the fear of annoying the Archmage, began lifting the minotaur up the last remaining bit. They began to carry him, holding him upright from beneath his huge armpits.

The infirmary proved to be relatively simple, just a long, rectangular tent with various tables and stools, and some crude medical devices that would perhaps serve as some aid, but there was nothing here that would suffice to treat major wounds. It was all plain to see as Livius approached the tent, that had more and more people entering it. The heavy cloth wall revealed more and more of the simplicity inside as Livius came closer. There was blood on the tables, blood under them, and some meaty remains here and there. Right before Livius entered the tent, he halted as an unsettling sight caught his eye: burning of corpses. Apparently not all of the dead minotaurs had been burned yet, but he noticed them in the distance. Pitch black smoke rose from the crimson fire, and crispy remains filled the pile. A severed head of a minotaur seemed to look at him, judgingly. His tongue hung out, eyes were dried up. Horns were covered in charcoal of fallen friends. Livius felt gall moving up towards his throat, but he suppressed the sensation and entered the infirmary.

As Livius eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out shapes that went around lighting torches. Some people cleared a large table while the General talked with the officer from before. They laughed and were in good humour. General Ionatan noticed Livius and went up to him.

"Ahh, there you are, Archmage Livius".

"Please General, just call me Livius". The brightness from the torches made Livius lift a hand to shield his eyes. He was a bit tired, but he knew it was going to be a long night. The minotaur stood by the edge of the table, two soldiers held him up. The heavy and rapid panting made it seem as if it was hard to support the weight. The minotaur sank a bit, like he was about to faint. He still had the energy to look at Livius though, clearly expecting a clarification.

"Really? I have been told, on rather good authority too, that you are of the ... shall we say, old school? Formal type, they said. Not that I mind, I like it that way. People are getting more and more ... informal. It is all well and good on a night of celebration like this one, but under normal circumstances: I take formality and discipline over chaos, any day of the week!". The General managed to produce a hefty smile, and he looked warmly at Livius, who knew it was a fake smile, albeit a good one. He must be used to licking boots, it is clear he fears the Circle of Magi. Maybe that is wise, though...

"Well, this day is, like you said, special.... so ... with that in mind... do treat me informally.."

Livius tried to make it clear to the General that his mind was elsewhere, demonstrating it both with his dull voice and lack of eye focus on the General himself. He didn't wish to appear overly rude though, so he decided to turn his attention fully to Ionatan to convey his (hopefully) final words to him.

"It is imperative that I be left alone in this infirmary. I will need to concentrate on the use of magic, and if I am distracted, something might go wrong. Horribly wrong. Therefore, I need you to tell your men to leave. The minotaur, once placed on the table, will be of no danger to me. I will suppress him with spells. On the morning, I expect that you, being a man of honor, will show me the courtesy and generosity that you are famous for... I will need only a few soldiers, a caravan escort to a safe location, and perhaps some sustenance. Will this be possible to arrange?"

The General, oddly enough, kept his high spirits up as he replied.

"Absolutely. I will provide you with food, water, an escort and ... shall we say.. three soldiers? I already know of a location, you see. An old minotaur farmstead, now abandoned. They should have storages with food left unpillaged, and more than enough room for the lot of you. After maybe a week or so, you will be given leave to meet with me and some other higher-ups to deliver a report on your progression, then we can take it from there. I suspect the Circle of Magi would expect to meet with the elusive minotaur, but that is only my guess. This solution should work out fine, yes?"

Livius smiled and nodded at the General. They shook hands as Livius gave him an enthusiastic "yes" as a reply. Perhaps he expected trouble where there was none to be had. Smooth sailing, was the thought that first entered Livius mind, but then he was reminded that he still had to make sure that the minotaur didn't die before his plan would be set in motion, making the whole idea collapse on its own.

"Right!", Livius exclaimed and approached the minotaur, who appeared to calm down a bit as he came closer, focusing his eyes on Livius only. Once Livius was only a meter or so away, however, it was clear to him that the minotaur was not at all less calm. It was just that the shaking was more evident from afar for some absurd reason. At least it seemed that way - the minotaur was absolutely terrified, and his wet eyes seemed large as plates as they locked on Livius, red blood vessels trailing off in all directions from the iris' fluttering center. Livius was probably the last twig of hope that the minotaur could cling to, but the warmness that such a notion induced was covered with a thick layer of icy reality; there was so much work to be done. Firstly - the comforting. I think I should go with "confiding doctor"... Livius looked at the soldiers and adressed them plainly.

"I will have to explain the procedure to the minotaur in his own language. When I am done, you can place him on the table and then I need everyone in the room to leave, as this healing will take.... all my efforts. Hopefully, it isn't too late."

With that, he approached the minotaur as the soldiers did their best to hold him up. He spoke in greek:

"I am going to heal your body from all injuries. I am, as you may or may not have guessed, a mage. More than that; an Archmage. I am the best chance of survival you may have and I am the reason you are here now, rather than burning away at a pile of corpses. I will ask the men to place you on this table, and then you must remain as still as possible. It is not going to be painful, but it may feel funny on occation. I will also use magic to make sure you will not move too much, or you risk permanent damage..."

Livius noticed that the minotaur was shaking terribly, and his eye focus on Livius felt desperate, like he was about to pass out. He tried to nod, but he was just so afraid. Livius sighed, but not in displeasure, rather out of compassion.

"I realize this might frighten you, and I will leave your muzzle free to move, so you can focus on your breathing, and if necessary; talk to me. If you become too afraid, I might be able to interrupt the process, but I would prefer if you could brave yourself through the whole ordeal. It will take me hours to heal you from all the wounds, but in the morning, believe it or not; you will be fully healed. Your hoof will be intact so you can walk again, without pain. Your bones will be set right, your skin and hide will not be wounded, nor aching. Scarred, maybe, but you will have full sensory capacity, and your blood loss will rejuvenate too. Do I have your permission to go ahead with this and save your life? It feels impossible to you now, but tomorrow it is my belief that I will have been able to restore you fully. You can walk, smell the air, enjoy food, water, and all other sensations again. There will be no more torture, no death. You will be treated well. So... do I have your permission?"

The minotaur gave a deep nod. Livius in turn nodded to the men that held him. Two more soldiers approached, and all four helped carry the stiffening minotaur up onto the table. His deep braying sounds echoed through the tent as they lifted him, but he didn't lash out. They pinned him down to the table and his eyes were beginning to show panic. Despite this, Livius waved at the soldiers to release him and leave. The General wished Livius good luck, mentioned something about returning in the morning, and then they were all off. Livius was alone in the tent with the minotaur. Alone at last... under different circumstances, this would be a lovely experience.... as it stands, I feel like a serial killer about to cut up his frightened victim, while trying to convince him that I only do what's best for him.

Despite the gravity and complexity of the situation, Livius approached the minotaur very carefully, and gently placed his hands on the stomach, spreading his fingers across the warm bed of sweaty fur and stroking the area slowly. The muscles beneath softened a tiny bit, and the minotaur's eyes - still piercing Livius own with their unasked questions - even seemed to be weighed down by slowly descending eyelids. Livius smiled at him.

"I will soon begin.. now, is there anything you want to say before I begin the procedure? I assure you, you can and will be healed. I am only here to help you, nothing less. If you would prefer, I can make you sleep during the procedure. It may be easier for you that way. What do you think?"

Livius looked with serene eyes into the minotaur's. He lay there, panting a bit lighter, focusing on various places of Livius body with searching gazes. At first he didn't speak, then he swallowed deeply. It seemed to hurt doing so.

"I... I'm ... afraid.", he said, gasping for air.

Livius smiled warmly at him, remembering the image of the minotaur's father from the memory he picked up. Lacking a muzzle, it was hard to reproduce it, but he did what he could to look comforting.

"I know you are. Anyone would be in your situation, whether they be human or minotaur; king or pauper. I know there is no way for me to give you comfort, and you are naturally fearful of all humans, but I swear to you on my life; I am only here to heal you and make you feel good again. It was my initiative that brought you here, and I will explain why to you - but right now, I don't want to waste time. Suffice to say I will not just heal you and leave you alone. I will follow you, and you will follow me. I will keep you safe."

Livius noticed that the minotaur's eyes and his expression was filled with a sudden disbelief, and it dawned on Livius that perhaps he had been a bit too forward, a bit too emotional. Maybe he's starting to wonder if I am insane? I have to try and move more slowly, or I will never get him to trust me.

"Can I make you go to sleep? It will not be as comfortable as an ordinary sleep, but it will make your heart rate easier to manage for me. You will still breathe as you should and... well, perhaps it would feel nice to be relieved of the pain and fear for a while."

The minotaur nodded. Livius nodded in return. He felt the urge to place a kiss on the minotaur's forehead, but he heard heavy cloth being pulled aside. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Skender rushing in. The minotaur began to turn to see what the commotion was all about, but Livius spell trickled into his mind, snatching his consciousness in a soothing caress of dark. The minotaur was sound asleep.

"Did I not express clearly enough that I was to be left alone, Archmage Skender?"

Skender walked up to the other side of the table, looking at Livius with rage in his eyes.

"It is not for you to decide where I reside. I am an Archmage, just like you pointed out, and despite your pretty words to the General, you do not outrank me. Not here, anyway! I demand to know what is going on!"

Livius looked up and displayed calmness as he spoke in a soft tone of voice; "You are free to remain and observe, but we both know your arcane specialization is not in healing. I stole valuable healing spells from the minotaur lands, and I am better equipped to do this. Once he is healed up, I shall examine the dark magic myself. I have already secured a location, and once my results are complete, the Circle of Magi will have to examine him themselves. I cannot leave this experimentation upon myself alone, after all. I want second opinions."

"But not my opinions?"

"You know I value your input in most, if not all, issues. But ... you cannot even feel the dark magic within him. From your standpoint, it is meaningless to argue against an occurance that you do not even perceive. You are free to remain and observe though, as I said."

Livius began to feed the minotaur regenerative and rejuvenating magic, it was like a stream of living water flowing from his fingers into the sleeping creature.

"From what I already see, you have gotten significantly better.." Skender said with a curious tone. It was obvious that the magic that Livius worked on the sleeping minotaur was an interesting distraction. Skender was no longer as aggravated, though it was clear he hadn't gotten all the answers he sought.

"This is unfortunately only the beginning, it is going to get considerably harder as the night progresses. I just don't want to stress his body with too rapid a change."

Skender laid his hands on the minotaur and nodded approvingly. "Delicate use of magic, I must say.. I am not entirely without affinity, but it is dawning on me that I will be of no real use here..."

Livius looked at his old friend, who had begun to look slightly depressed.

"You have done so much for the Empire, Skender my old comrade. I will have to work day and night for the rest of my life to approach the same level of dedication that you have put into your work here. Don't forget that you worked in this very tent arduously for what must have seemed like an eternity; I know that. It is now my turn to work - and only on one particular minotaur. If we're lucky, the dark magic I sense may even be something else, and then we will simply put him to death. Look, I ... I don't have all the answers, Skender. Perhaps I only desperately seek to redeem myself to the Empire that I love so much... I hope I am doing the right thing here, and....well... time will show."

The humble tone seemed to work wonders on Skender, who lit up considerably from those words. He looked with confidence on Livius, and patted him on the shoulder.

"I was foolish to contradict your judgment. The Empire rests safely in your hands, and ... I am tired. I will retreat to my tent. Hopefully, we will see each other in the morrow. Otherwise, we can hold an open communication from a distance. Good luck, Livius."

"Thank you, Skender. Good night", Livius replied. Skender left the tent in high spirits and it was impossible and meaningless for Livius to suppress a smile. The joy was short-lived though, as it dawned on him just what lay before him. The life or death of a minotaur. A life that had shared a part of its splendor with Livius. He had been invited to share a memory with this soul, and now this very life; this individual with a whole universe inside him waiting to be explored, depended on a tired human mage to save him.

I went into his world briefly. It is now up to me to save him.... will he ever let me in again, and ... will he do so willingly?

He felt the streams of magic within the minotaur, but he also felt the tissue and bone damages... the task ahead was monumentally larger than anything he had experienced before, with the sole exception of...

Pain struck Livius from the recollection of the past. It was like having a knife lodged into his brain. In an instant, Livius froze and could not move. His breathing intensified, and he closed his eyes. First it was black, but out of the desired oblivion came the image of flames reaching the sky with their scorching, beak-like fingers; leaving the heavens stained with blackness of smoke. Ashes flying all over the place. He remembered that his master asked him to find someone to heal in the blazing fires. Livius failed in doing so. In the turmoil, only one option laid before him; fleeing. He didn't even have time to collect anything. With his torn toga, he headed for the unknown.. he walked for days before he would meet the scout patrol sent from the Empire. They had brought him back to this... this home. Where he was now. In the Empire.

With a deep sigh he released the tears that had gathered up in his eyes from remembering what once was his ... other home... far away, in times past. A home that felt more like a home than any other had.

He placed a greater pressure on the chest of the minotaur, making the tongue fall out and extend further from the gaping maw.

Livius lifted his face towards the stars. The confines of the tent escaped his mind with ease, and though his eyes were still closed he could clearly see the flames, as if they had been burnt onto the black canvas of his shivering eyelids. "It seems I finally found someone to heal for you after all, my former master...", Livius said to himself in the hollow tent, as he let loose the streams of healing.

As Livius reached into the minotaur with his energy flows, he felt what he needed to feel. There was a lot to heal, a lot to set right. He had learned potent healing magic during his time in the minotaur lands, so he felt prepared to use the spells again. Perhaps even more so on this day, as his fatigue almost made the heavy task ahead of him seem distant somehow. He felt as if he was sitting inside the head of someone who was doing the work.

As he reached into the minotaur and sensed, guided and corrected all of the minute details of the inner activities of the body; the sinews, blood streams, muscles and nerves of the tormented minotaur - he discovered that his mind began wandering... Skender had worried him. I wonder how he perceives me? It is clear that he is suspicious about my loyalty, and he should be. I haven't got the first clue where I stand in that issue, myself.

As Livius began to place the bones right, letting the incandescent threads of healing tie together that which had been severed, he looked at the beautiful hoof. As it moved closer to the leg, it reflected the torchlight in an almost poetic way. It slowly gained hold of the leg, and through vessels of energy it seemed to steady and mend itself quite well. The sundered was slowly transformed into something magnificent again. Livius felt the leg and hoof uniting quite well, and the muscles of the lower leg gave off a welcoming twitch as the hoof had been set in place. As the skin melted together, it was hard to make it perfectly symmetrical, but eventually, Livius managed to get it working. Only a slight bulge hinted a previous injury now, and it would not even be painful. Just a reminder. This night has been a constant flow of reminders, Livius thought to himself.

He thought back on the time where he had been reunited with the Empire, after the fires and flames in the home of his master. So strange, Lord Shade is the only one I choose to call "master"... I wouldn't dream of giving anyone else that status... I am clearly a traitor to the Empire. Livius smiled somberly at his own thoughts, knowing it was both honest and yet... amusing. Perhaps ironic.

A grunt from the minotaur made Livius turn to him and focus on the present.

Muscles all seem to be in place.. no fractures remain, blood stream is back to normal... I feel some slight disturbance in the nervous signals, but that is to be expected. After all, even healing is in itself a traumatic experience. Takes a lot of getting used to... like being in the Empire again.

Livius looked at the cloth wall on the other side. It was quite a few meters away. The cloth was moving slightly by a soft breeze from the outside.

He remembered stumbling in the dark one night. That night, he saw an encampment, and as he approached it, armored scouts had grabbed him rather brutishly and carried him forth to some young, spoiled brat in fancy imperial clothes. He had a weird smile, and he would soon begin interrogating, as if Livius would be able to speak coherently despite his malnutrition and dehydration. It took the combined effort of several guards to verbally beat through the thick layers of that kid's skull that perhaps the "timing was a bit wrong", and that it "would probably be wiser to let the man sleep a bit". It was a strange day. Apparently that youngster had been some higher-up with a distinct plan and a privileged background.

It dawned on Livius the next day that he was a mage; not only some adept, at that. Livius would learn that, as they entered familiar gates many, many days later. Through the whispers in the hallways they would arrive to eventually, as they had reached the capital of the Empire, it was made obvious that the youngster was some sort of genius. A prodigy. An expert on finding people through magical means. Seems they really *were* searching for me..

Livius suddenly snapped back to the present again. He was so tired.. so thirsty. He began to work on the exterior of the minotaur. It felt as though he saw everything through a mist.. how long had he been doing this healing? For ages, it seemed. Still... time flew by quickly, and the minotaur's breathing was getting increasingly steady. Pulse was less erratic too...

The interrogations were hopelessly long, and tedious.

In the polished, but soulless chambers and rooms of the estate in which the Circle of Magi would confer, he had been examined like an exotic animal. It was a lengthy process for them to find Livius fit to once more serve the Empire. "He is too valuable" was the constant refrain. How ironic, once more. Apparently Livius was a phenomenal actor. They had all bought it, and now he was once more in the fray, serving as a "battle mage". His new robes looked more or less exactly ... Livius glanced them. Yes. They looked more or less the same. The patterns on the arm were.... fading? No. Just a bit blurred. Why?

Suddenly Livius realized he could barely stand up. Was that sunlight breaking through the opening of the tent? It was.

The minotaur... why wasn't he being healed? How long had he been in here? Suddenly Livius remembered things that happened hours ago. He didn't seem to acknowledge the events then, but ... it must have happened. Didn't a soldier come in, asking if Livius wanted water? Didn't he say ....

Oh there it is. A glass of water. Livius recalled that he must have drunk from it too, as it seemed half full, and the edge around the spherical mouth of the glass had a misty coat placed on it. I must have received that glass hours ago? It was warm in here. So warm.. Maybe it is the sunlight coming in? Or the ... breath... or skin.. of the minotaur?

Livius placed his hand on the body that lay before him. So warm was the sweaty, thick skin of the minotaur. Livius suddenly remembered that he had healed him while going back into his memories. There was nothing that remained to be done. I did it? Yes... I did it!

The hours had flown by so delicately, but the price to pay would likely be high. Livius felt exhausted, and could barely stand up. He was seeing double, and his field of vision had white freckles (stars?) dancing about, as the tent and all of its inventory became darker. It was clear he was nearly about to pass out.

Was his eyes playing tricks on him again, or was the minotaur suddenly making an effort to lift himself up? He probably was. His elbows held up his upper torso and head, while the rest of his body was still horizontal. His legs twitched slightly, and that seemed to make him upset. Or did he look pleased? Livius had a hard time focusing, but he felt happy - like there was a very gentle bee swarm inside him that sort of ... tickled him pleasantly.

"Errr.. that...leg thing... the .. spasms. Yeah. They are to be expected" he said in greek to the minotaur, who turned to face him with a concerned look on his face.

"I feel.. funny. There is still some pain and I feel as if I have pins and needles on my skin, but... oh god. My hoof. You ... you fixed my hoof? And my ... body. And.. oh, by the makers, I am alive". The minotaur looked in amazement at his body, and he began tracing his powerful fingers over the old wounds. Only scars remained.

Livius felt like explaining some more, but it was getting increasingly hard to focus, what with all the strange colors eating his view. Eventually he forced himself to make an effort.

"The scars, I'm afraid, will probably always remain... and the hoof might always be a tad bit more swollen than the other one, but it shouldn't bother you in any other way than purely...aesthetically. It was hard to heal you aswell as make everything look perfectly untouched, but.. I am pleased with the result. You can walk, run and .. err.. function normally in every way. Eventually. Just don't ... exert yourself too early, you should rest the next few days to rejuvenate and let your body adjust to the changes and ... well, to regain blood and ... all that.. "

The room started spinning a bit, and the minotaur suddenly seemed to cramp up. Nerve signals could still send out the wrong messages to the brain after a healing session. It was natural for the mind to believe it was still hurt, but it is of course a frightening state to be in. Especially if you're not aware of the phenomenon. Livius was about to explain it to his bovine patient, but his lips just wouldn't open. He heard anguished braying from the minotaur, and he thought he saw him clutching his hands around his chest in pain. Suddenly the chest was white. Actually, the whole minotaur was white, it was ... Lord Shade? From the minotaur clan? Can it be? So strange that he would be here now... or am I still there?

Livius approached the white minotaur laying on the bench. His staring was returned with an equally confused stare, and Livius felt overwhelmed. His eyes showed him the most magnificent colors and he was overjoyed! Life was fantastic! Euphoric!

I must clearly be back in House Shade!

"Oh by the gods, it's *you*!" Livius said and threw himself against the frantically moving minotaur. It seemed as if he was cramped up and hurled himself from side to side in something similar to a state of pain, now why would he do that?

Silly minotaur.

Suddenly Livius felt aroused. His eyelids sank down, giving him a dozy expression. "I bet you want to be pleased, master".

Livius thought he saw a very questioning look on the minotaur's face for a moment.

Rubbish. He loves this stuff, and so do I!

As Livius' lips had found themselves wrapped around the sturdy right nipple of the minotaur, he began to suckle with glee on it. He closed his eyes, moaned lowly and embraced the muscular chest of the minotaur with both hands, trying to cup and squeeze their inviting shapes gently in his loving grips. Livius erection connected with the wooden bench, and he kneaded against it with dry, humping motions as the wet, hard nipple and chest was thoroughly explored by his desperately thirsty tongue. Livius right hand travelled down the tensing stomach, and found its way under the loincloth with ease. The warm, holy sac of the minotaur filled his trembling hand with its steaming hot presence, and the taste of the sweaty chest made Livius almost delirious. He gently rubbed the testicles and moaned loudly.

Livius felt his nose trickling with delight, but an odd metallic taste filled his mouth. Blood was probably leaking from his nose.

What do I care?, Livius thought to himself and continued massaging the firm, yet soft orbs in his hand. His tongue traced the outskirts of the minotaurs chest, its curvy landscape offering beads of sweat to be soaked up and tasted. Delicate, salty fluids gave life and spirit to Livius' mouth, and sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh god.... master, you taste like a pagan song" he blurted out, but then something registered in the dark recesses of his confused mind.

Livius felt a strange chain of thoughts inside the minotaur. Looks like my signature is picking something up.... but it's so odd... why would he be thinking about a punching technique?

It all happened in a split second, but that second made Livius clear-sighted. Suddenly he realized he had become high from lack of sleep, and that he had been behaving very inappropriately. The nervous system process he had picked up from the minotaur was potentially dangerous, and he lifted his head from the minotaur's huge chest and saw a giant fist rapidly accelerating towards his nose.

"Oh, shi ... " was the last thing Livius managed to convey before a sharp pain was followed by a thick darkness. Unconsciousness hit him shortly after the ground did, and the backpain felt like sugar and honey as they derailed all thoughts of staying awake. Oblivion, here I come...

The darkness had enveloped him with obtuse walls, thick with their powerful *nothing*... and yet somewhere beyond the veils of black, he heard armored, human feet clanking, and worried voices shouting. There was also some cloth being pushed away, sounds storming in to the tent... and ...

....was someone screaming "Kill the minotaur"?