Esmora bowed before the Wraith Queen.

"Your majesty," she said reverently.

"Ah, Esmora. Come, approach me, my child," said the Wraith, almost fondly.

Esmora obeyed, her long, brown hair swishing up the steps. Eager, brown eyes looked up at the waxy face expectantly.

"I am hungry," the Queen stated.

"We have not yet reached a suitable feeding ground, your majesty," Esmora replied.

"I must have a small snack," said the Queen, reaching towards Esmora.

Stepping forward, Esmora said, "I am glad to be of service to your majesty."

A few seconds later, Esmora had aged eight years.

"I rather like you this age," mused the Wraith. Esmora, exhausted, could only nod. She was now eighteen.

Esmora raced through the hive ship. "Raz," she called, "I was chosen!"

Raz stepped out of a room and asked, "Chosen for what?"

"Of all the children, I was chosen for them to experiment on because of my telepathy!"

"This is a great honour," Raz said, with a touch of sadness in his voice.

Esmora looked up at tall, Raz. Just the other day, they had been the same age, but the Wraith Queen had fed on him and had given Esmora back a few years.

"They start the operation tomorrow," she wistfully said.

Pain. Fire. Anguish. Screaming. Voices.

"Something went wrong."

"We will try again."

Esmora did not know how long she had been on that table, but the first thing she noticed on waking was that she could no longer see.

"Where am I?" she whispered to herself as she recognized not a hard table, but a bed that she was lying on.

"You are in your subconscious," came the voice of the Wraith Queen. "Probe around with your mind and a picture of your surroundings should appear in you mind."

Esmora obliged, and found that she was in a rather spacious room. Much grander than anything she had ever known before.

"Good," the Wraith Queen purred, "You are a fast learner."