This will be a Tortall/Emelan/Justice League/Law and Order:SVU crossover. I forgot to put that at the start of this story to begin with, and I've been getting weird reviews ever since my latest update... SORRY! I will try and write the Justice League part as though Sarah knows nothing about it, because hey, she doesn't, which should make it easier to read for those nonfans.

Okay, so this first part just sets Sarah's mood for the rest of the story…

Chapter 1:

Playing in the dirt, such a glorious life for a Knight of the Realm. Sarah thought with a grim smile on her face. It had been three months since her mission to what she had termed 'Alternate Earth' and spring was in full force; they needed every able body to till the fields. They had finished bringing the season's crops in yesterday; it was time to prepare the fields for the next.

She swung the hoe above her head, bringing it crashing to the ground with more than excessive force to break up a clump of dirt. Richard and Kris, the first her second in command for the men-at-arms of Greenstone, the second her clerk for the fief, were working beside her. There was a crack of thunder; Sarah leaned on her hoe as she grinned. "Goddess, how are you?" Her two associates dropped into low bows, not rising as the Great Mother Goddess replied.

"Very well, thank you." Her red, full mouth twitched into a smile. "How is the harvest? I've noticed you never pray at Beltane for good crops."

Sarah shrugged. "I know not to bother you over crops when you've got the rest of the world's problem to worry about. Harvest is going well; we're actually on schedule for once. Of course, you aren't here to discuss Fief Greenstone's crops; what's the situation this time?" Sarah glanced at her two male companions, frowning at their subservient positions. It'll take me weeks to break them of that again.

"There is much unrest among my siblings and me… Would you be interested in performing a personal mission?"

Sarah's frowned deepened. "What? It wouldn't involve sabotaging the other Gods, would it? I mean… your brother hates me enough as it is."

"He does not hate you, Messenger. He is confused by you." The Great Mother hesitated. "It would not involve sabotaging anyone; rather you would be providing a society one final chance. Have you heard of Ekallatum?"

Sarah shrugged, picking the hoe up and continuing work. "To the far south? Yeah, why? What final chance?"

"They are coming very close to reprisals from my siblings and myself. They are my people, I wish for their continued survival, and I am the only one left arguing for them in my brother's court." Sarah met the Goddess' eyes, straightening once more.

"Is this anything like what the Graveyard Hag did for Carthak? Except, maybe, this time your Chosen has a bit of warning?" Sarah was a little wary, considering what Daine had gone through at the hands of the patron goddess of Carthak.

"I would like you to remind them they owe due respect to the Gods; if you accept you will be there in an official capacity, and I shall announce you as our Messenger before the Court."

Sarah sighed. "Do the other Great Gods know about this?"

"If you choose to accept it would be best if you called upon me for any issues that you may have." The Goddess sounded concerned that Sarah might disagree with her.

"So I have a choice?" Sarah was very confused. Certainly they had pretended to give her a choice on the other missions, but there had always been the threat of Mithros showing her the death, and pain, and torment the victims would face.

"Certainly, Messenger. I would not attempt to force you like… some others." Sarah grinned as the Goddess' lips gently turned upwards, but then she sighed heavily.

"You'll be alright here Kris? You can manage without me?" She turned to the still-bowing clerk; he glanced upwards.

"Of course, Sarah. We always manage." He grinned in her direction, and Sarah shook her head.

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in. You run the fief better than I can." She muttered. "Alright. Give me a half an hour to pack some of my better clothes and change into my armour; I assume you'll want me in all my knightly finery?"

"Thank you, Messenger." The Goddess bowed and disappeared; Kris and Richard straightened.

"If anyone asks, I'm on a mission for His Majesty. If anyone finds out they might tell the other Gods, and I'd rather they didn't find out." Sarah rubbed the back of her neck, glancing up at the sky. "At least now we know why the sun's been so harsh. Mithros must be pissed."

Richard and Kris nodded. The man at arms spoke. "I'll help you with your armour."

Together they trotted towards the tower, waving to various people as they passed. When they reached Sarah's rooms Richard pulled out her best armour; goldwashed plate armour, lightweight, made to the finest quality money could buy. He began to polish it as Sarah stepped behind the screen with a bowl of water, scrubbing the dirt from the day's work off her skin. When she had finished Richard helped her clip her breast plate on, afterward he pulled out her shield, polishing it quickly with a cloth rag. Sarah finished the rest of her armour by herself.

Forgoing her helm, she clipped her sword belt to her waist, hanging her favourite blade, a Yamani sabre, in position by her left thigh, before walking to the chest by her bed and pulling out her finest serviceable clothes. She was a warrior for the Gods, not a pretty wallflower for display, and the Ekallatum King would know that.

When she was ready she had a pack in her right hand, a shield attached to her left arm, and her armour was sparkling. Calling softly she said, "Mother, I'm ready."

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She landed in a crouch in the middle of a raucous, swinging celebration. It stopped the minute she appeared. Men with olive skin held ladies on their arms; their eyes were oval shaped and their hair was mostly a shiny black. The men dressed in breeches and open vests, revealing long V's of their chests, while the women wore dresses, most with splits down the length of the legs, and a tanktop style top. Where am I, the Bahamas? Sarah thought to herself. At least the dress code is a lot slacker than Tortall.

A man stepped forward; he wore heavy golden makeup and jewels on every finger. His hair was slicked back, reaching to his shoulders, and an easy grin on his face. He spoke heavily accented Common. "The Mother has granted us another boon! Her Messenger honours us with her presence!"

Sarah blinked. Her Messenger? She bowed low, murmuring, "I thank you for your grand welcome, Majesty." The leader of Ekallatum was a king, like their neighbours to the far north, Tortall. He clapped, summoning a footman who appeared at Sarah's shoulder.

The man did not meet her eyes. His head was shaved, and he held his hands in a silent askance for her bag. She passed it over, glancing around the room at the other men and women around the room. They all stared. What did I expect? She asked herself with the slightest shake of her head.

"Come, come, Gracious Messenger. Sit with me, share a drink." As she strode forward, her eyes still wary, she noticed another footman, again with his head shaved, holding a platter of cups above his head. Am I noticing a similarity to Carthak? I really should have asked for time to study up on the culture before I agreed…

Taking a cup, she sniffed at the surface before placing it back on the plate. At the gasps of indignation from the surrounding nobility she explained quietly, "Forgive me, Majesty, but I do not suffer spirits well. I would partake, but I assume you wish for your palace to be standing in the morning."

He chuckled, his eyes bright and glassy with inebriation. Sarah thought she saw the problem with this society after only a few minutes. It's decidedly hedonistic… The king was replying. "Of course, of course, Gracious Messenger. You have the magical Gift. We have heard of you, even this deeply south. You are a great warrior, so I am wondering, what brings you here?"

Sarah took one last glance around the room, her eyes flitting from face to face as she carefully sipped the fruit juice provided. At last she sighed, looking the king directly in the eye. "The Gods are angry. Ekallatum is close to reprisals that could destroy your kingdom. I am here to give you one last chance."

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The news didn't go down well, but that was to be expected. The fact that King Coskit only 'assigned her quarters' and had two guards escort her to them spoke volumes of how her name had spread through the lands. Of course, she'd be willing to bet almost anything the guards were stationed outside the door to dissuade her from leaving. At least I got to keep my sword…

Sarah sighed, turning back to the bed, where her pack sat. She opened it, noticing it had been thoroughly searched; everything had been replaced in the wrong position, and began unpacking. I suppose I'm in for a long stay. After she had unpacked she walked to the desk, inspecting the drawers. Nothing.

Examining the rest of the room she found it laden with listening spells of every variety. Goddess, how am I supposed to help these people if they won't accept what I say as the truth?

They will. Was the only reply she received. Sighing, Sarah set about undoing the various spells that permeated the room, breaking them down with her Gift one by one. It garnered the desired effect; a man knocked on the door firmly, before opening it to a sight of Sarah lying on the bed with her hands folded behind her head, staring at the ceiling.

"Gracious Messenger, is there anything I may do for you?" This man wasn't a servant; his head was full of hair, and when Sarah clutched her amber pendant she saw a pale green magic.

"No, thank you." She returned her gaze to the ceiling, where a powerful paralysis spell lay, directly over her bed, just waiting to be activated. He placed a tray of fruit juice on her desk.

"In case you change your mind." He bowed himself out of the room, and Sarah waited a few moments before examining the juice. The cup, pitcher and tray all had listening spells engraved on the bottom.

They could really learn a thing or two from George… she rolled her eyes at the simplicity of the spells. Or any of the first year University mages. Sighing, Sarah dragged her bed to the other wall, away from the range of the paralysis spell, and flopped back down onto the mattress.

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By the morning it seemed the news had blown over; she was over the indignation of being placed in a room obviously used to trap foreign spies, and the guards were gone from her door. A servant delivered a silver platter with a note written in scrawled Common she read it quickly.

Gracious Messenger (I have really got to find something else for them to call me)

I am certain you are hungry, and it is my wish for you to join us for a breakfast in your honour. This humble servant shall await your preparations and provide any assistance you may need.

We anticipate your arrival.

King Coskit III of Endokat, Ruler of the Ekallatum lands

Sarah shook her head. It looks like I don't have much in the way of a choice… She pulled out a pair of breeches, not her nicest, and replaced her nightclothes behind a screen quickly. When she was ready she tried for a friendly smile, but the bowing servant didn't notice; his gaze was directed at the floor.

"I'm ready, if you wouldn't mind leading me to the breakfast hall." He didn't answer, instead bowing deeply out the door. Sarah followed as he walked throughout the halls, shoulders slumped. He bowed to every noble they walked past; when they arrived at a set of large doors he bowed once more to Sarah. As he held his hands up to push open the doors the sleeve of his grey cotton robe fell back; Sarah spied a glimpse of a tattoo.

Quick as a fox she grabbed his wrist, pulling back the sleeve to stare astonished at the marking. "You're a Priest of Shakith?" She enquired sharply, her green eyes staring piercingly at the feeble man. "You can't be a servant; priests should bow to no man. How did this come about?"

He didn't answer; instead he gently extracted his hand from her grasp and pushed the doors wide open, revealing the king and a dozen other nobles all dressed in fine silk clothing. When the king saw the expression on her face his gaze turned thunderous. Speaking in the native tongue of Ekallatum, Kalla, he jabbered at two guards who immediately headed towards the servant.

Sarah stepped in front of him, reaching for a sword she didn't have. "Stop! What are you doing?"

"He is to be whipped for upsetting the Gracious Messenger." A woman replied quietly from the king's righthand side. The expression she wore was troubled.

"What?!" Sarah growled, still shielding the servant from the guards' advances. "He did not upset me; turn your whips upon your own backs, it was the positioning of a Priest as a mere servant that angered me. Do you people not understand? If you should continue on this blasphemous course it will lead to nothing but the destruction of your kingdom! Priests of the Gods wait upon no mortal; they bow to no man!"

The king looked nervous as he took a long drink from his cup. When he finally answered he chuckled nervously. "Gracious Messenger-"

"Stop calling me that; I shan't be held accountable for you showing me more respect than the Gods." She snapped impatiently.

"My Lady." He searched for words. "It seems you misunderstand… we do not have servants here, in Ekallatum. The men and women that wait upon us are slaves; they have been bound to serve the nobility because they are of a depraved nature…"

"And how did this priest prove he was of a 'depraved nature'?" Sarah's voice was icy as she stared at the man with open contempt. He had no answer. "Free him, now."

That received a response. "My Lady, we cannot. Ancient magics bind him to this task; they cannot be undone." Another bitter remark from the woman next to King Coskit.

Sarah's jaw dropped; narrowing her eyes she spun on her heel, dragging the priest along as she stalked out of the dining hall. "Mother, I can't do this." She called, waiting for a response.

The response was the appearance of the Goddess herself; the slave in Sarah's hold was shaking like a leaf. She let him drop to a kneeling position, watching as he lowered his head to touch the ground. "This man shouldn't be a slave; these people shouldn't be so flippant. I've been here a day and already I know I don't even want to see the state of their shrines. I say let the others have their way; bomb the palace to hell or something, that'll make them pay attention."

A small gasp drew Sarah's attention away from the Goddess; she noticed the woman from the king's righthand side standing in the corridor, her eyes wide with fear and her hand pressed to her mouth. When she had recovered from her shock she dropped to her knees, looking up at Sarah and the Goddess, a plea in her eyes. "Please, Goddess, Messenger, give us another chance. This land is not as bad as it would appear-"

"You have priests as slaves; who minds the temples?" Sarah asked harshly.

"I- No one." The woman's face held a look of defeat. "We have forsaken our patron Gods. Great Mother, the king will make changes, if you give us this last chance. Please."

"Time is running out; he must institute these changes as soon as possible or my siblings will take their retribution. Work quickly, my daughters." With a flash she was gone, the forgotten slave with her.

Sarah gazed at the woman still kneeling on the ground through half lidded eyes. "Please, Gracious Messe-"

"I told you not to call me that." Sarah replied softly. "Call me Sarah. What's your name?"

"Wimargum, but please, call me Wima." The woman stood hesitantly. "I'm the king's chief advisor, but he doesn't listen to anyone. The Gods' have sent signs, portents that showed their displeasure; there were two lunar eclipses this spring. He said they were the Mother's way of reminding us of her presence and her favour."

"He's a fool." Sarah commented softly. "Why was that priest a slave? What had he done to be classed of a 'depraved nature'?"

"His Majesty heard that in Carthak the old Emperor Ozorne had stopped service to the temples, instead saying if people can afford sacrifices they can afford more taxes… He thought it was a good idea and enslaved the priests." Wima kept her gaze down, on the flagstones.

"And nobody told him what happened to Ozorne?" Sarah asked, her voice too sweet.

"He didn't think it had been the will of the Gods. He said that when an individual has too much power they think they can do whatever they want. He said that the Wildmage was the reason Ozorne had fallen, not the Gods, and that he had done nothing to anger the Wildmage so we need not fear retribution."

Sarah almost laughed at the insanity of the claim. Instead she shook her head. "Well he is an idiot, pure and simple. Come with me." She stalked back into the banquet hall, her eyes ablaze. She gazed upon the concerned face of King Coskit with open contempt before raising her voice to speak loudly, "You have forsaken your Gods. I have been sent to you as one, final chance. Tell me now; why should the Gods spare your country? Better yet," Sarah had had a thought. "Show me."

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Sarah glanced around the garden, her lip turned upward in a slight snarl. She'd never been to a place where there was no respect for the Gods, not in this dimension, but here proper reverence was considered a few hedges shaped as the immortals that controlled the fates of entire worlds. Most of them hadn't been tended recently, she could see. She glared at the hedge clipped to look like Mithros, shaking her head at the king who was watching, his face the very appearance of concern.

"My Lady, is this not suitable? We represent our love for the Gods with living statues…"

Sarah flipped a glance in his direction before moving to the bush in the appearance of the Mother. It had a fresh wreath of flowers placed at its base, but it was the only such hedge with any sacrifice by the base. "No, it's not suitable. It's pathetic is what it is. What is the state of your shrines?" She asked, but she knew the answer.

"Um…" He stalled for time. "Perhaps we should see, hmm?"

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Sarah looked around the palace temple for the Black God in disgust before turning to the king and his court who were staring, anxious. "Surely this is a joke." Her voice came out in nearly a whisper, her eyes were wide as she turned to the king. "I don't think you can fix this. You've done so much damage already…" The severity of the situation had hit Sarah with full force; she could honestly not see a way out of trouble for the country.

A strange look crossed the king's face. "I understand, My Lady. I understand the stories say you arrived in Tortall three and a half years ago from across the Endless Sea… perhaps the customs are different there? We have existed like this for many, many years without retribution from the Gods. Perhaps you are overreacting?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "If you believe that then I'll leave. I-" Sarah's voice caught in her throat as she saw the pleading expression on Wima's face. She sighed. "Things must change here."

"We shall see, My Lady." The king had a patient expression on his face, as though he spoke to a small child. "Now, mayhap we should have lunch?"

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For some reason she had decided to stick it out, to try and convince the people of Ekallatum that the Gods were angry with them. It might have been the proof that not everyone there was an idiot; Wima. Sarah thought that at least some of the population of Ekallatum deserved the chance to change.

That was what found her being fawned over by two young knights of Ekallatum; they each fought to bring her fruitjuice and grapes as she glared at the king, who was dancing with his queen to a melodic tune. She was at a ball, ignoring the ambitious knights, fighting not to snap at the king again. It was a losing battle.

When the song ended, the king, laughing merrily as led his queen, Queen Justina, to a seat near enough Sarah for her to lean forward, over her annoying chaperones to speak with him. "Majesty, we really must talk again. Do not make me speak of the ruin of your land in front of your entire court." She allowed a hint of threat to enter her voice; that was okay, she never pretended to be a diplomat.

"My Lady, tomorrow we are going riding, if it pleases you. We will show you the beauties of the land, until then, relay your concerns to my advisor, Wimargum. She will take note and brief me later." He waved her off, taking a sip of his spirits before pulling his giggling wife back onto the dance floor. Sarah gazed across the room, meeting Wima's eyes and nodding. These people are about as disciplined as members of the Lower City. They're too indulgent, he isn't even willing to believe something is wrong.

She stood as Wima did, and apologized gruffly to the two male knights before following the advisor out the door and down a corridor. They walked in silence, but when Wima led them into a room and closed the door behind her it was but a moment before Sarah exploded. "How can he not realise what he's doing?! Let me tell you the circumstances behind my presences: I'm here because the Great Mother Goddess wanted me to try and convince you lot to change your ways. When I came here she was the only one left arguing for you in Mithros' court, and she didn't know how long the others would heed her wishes and leave this land alone. It could be next year, next month or even next week. Maybe sooner. You have to convince him."

"He doesn't listen to me." Sarah heard a resigned tone in Wima's voice. "He'll pretend to listen, murmur about making changes, and be back to partying tomorrow evening. Is it true? Is Ekallatum really doomed?"

The young knight scrubbed her face before meeting Wima's worried gaze with a determined one of her own. "Not if I can help it."

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The next morning found Sarah sat upon a finicky mare as they trotted down the road from the castle. Fighting to draw the mare to a halt Sarah turned in her saddle, glancing back at the palace for the first time. It was right upon a cliff face; from her vantage point she saw the cliff fell for quite a while before meeting crashing waves. The mare tossed its head impatiently; Sarah sighed and turned back around, following the procession, drawing even with Duke Darwin, a sour faced older man who, like the king and so many members of his court, liked to pretend nothing was wrong.

As they rode along the length of the cliff the older man sneered at her silently; it seemed he wasn't as funloving as his king either. Sarah ignored his aggressive attitude, preferring to watch the waves out to the distant sea as they crashed in a shower of white foam. Her lone ally, Wima, rode next to the king, talking quietly but urgently in his ear. Every now and then she'd glance backwards at Sarah before gesturing emphatically, trying to prove her point. The man laughed loudly after a few moments, speaking in a noisy voice. "My dear, you have become a doomsayer like the Messenger! Please, do not ruin this pleasant ride we are having with your talk of destruction and Godly retribution!"

Wima snapped. "I saw the Great Mother, Majesty! Just after Sarah found out about Shakith's priest being a slave, she was ready to give up on Ekallatum! The Mother asked her to stay, to try again! We are at risk of retribution, and you will do nothing to stop it!"

The king's response was cut off by the air brightening substantially; everyone turned to stare up at the sun. Bright rays streaked across the sky; large stars twinkled into vision, despite the bright day. And almost hesitantly the moon rose over the horizon, pale, silvery rays combined with her brother's as the Mother joined the display. Sarah dismounted slowly, pale and trembling as she realised what was happening. Others joined her.

"It's too late…" She whispered. With a hand that shook like a leaf in a gale she pointed to the sky. "These are the fruits your neglect has borne."

A golden finger of light struck the cliff in several different places; beneath the palace, along the base of the cliff, directly below their party. The rock face began to crumble, the ground shook and began to split apart. The palace fell into the ocean, condemning all who were inside. Sarah backed away from the edge quickly, as did everyone else. Half of them, Wima and Duke Darwin included, weren't fast enough. The king barely managed to get out of the way of the crumbling rock face.

It's too late to save this country. Sarah thought, distressed. I guess I've just got to save as many lives as possible. Mithros guide me! The last part was a call to the God as she dove headfirst off of the cliff, seeing rocks colliding with the water ahead of her. As her arms and head were submerged in the water, followed by the rest of her body, she had to fight not to gasp. The water had turned icy cold, despite the warm day.

Sarah heard a soft voice in her head as a stray piece of rock slammed into her right shoulder, making her exhale quickly. What is our Messenger doing in a condemned land?

She kicked for the surface as she answered silently. The land wasn't necessarily condemned; if you and your siblings hadn't been so damned hasty I might have changed their minds about how they treated you, Mithros.

The time for talk has long since past; we allowed their flippant nature to continue for far too long. Nothing you could say would have stopped this eventuality. Her head broke the surface as he finished talking; gasping, she ignored him rather than admit he was right. As she shook the water from her eyes she treaded water, throwing her head around as she searched for survivors. About twenty meters away there was a pale figure bobbing in the surface; Sarah struck out for it.

It took Sarah much longer than it should have for her to reach the floating body; the waves were crashing, causing her to lose her place several times as she got closer and closer. When she finally reached the figure floating in the water she turned it over, noticing Wima with a large gash on her forehead. The woman wasn't breathing.

Holding the woman's head above water Sarah set out for the shore, using side stroke. She struggled against the choppy sea; noticing that slowly but surely the shore was getting closer. The strain of swimming against such strong seas was weakening her limbs; Sarah put out a call to the Great Mother. Goddess, give me the strength to make it to the shore. As her call was answered and strength flowed through her muscles the waves intensified, hammering Sarah against the harsh cliff base, leaving her dazed. Her head dropped below the surface; Sarah didn't notice as a gentle current pushed her out of harms way, steering her towards the shore as she reeled from the strength of the battering she had just taken.

As Sarah felt her feet brushing the ground her head broke the surface again; she gasped and sputtered for air, coughing, barely noticing she had kept hold of Wima as she subconsciously hauled the woman's head above water. Sarah staggered through the surf, half drowned and pulling the king's chief advisor behind her as the water got shallower and shallower. Distantly she realised the Gods must have helped her to the shore as she pulled Wima onto the sand behind her.

She dropped to her knees, mostly from exhaustion, as she checked the other woman for a pulse. She found none. Desperately her mind flashed on a memory from before she had first come to Tortall. She started CPR; everyone at her school had been trained in the procedure, it was a compulsory course they had to do in grade ten.

Determinedly she pumped on the woman's chest, stopping only to give her mouth to mouth occasionally, trying to revive her. She didn't know how long she sat on her knees, trying to bring life to the pale woman who had paid for her king's mistake with her life. A black cloaked figure appeared before her. "No." Sarah said doggedly.

A soft voice, one so few mortals heard, replied from under a dark hood. "There is nothing you can do for her, Messenger. It is her time."

Sarah balled her fists, pushing herself to her feet as her knees complained stiffly; they were rubbery from the exertion. She kicked at the sand before her legs gave way again; she punched at the ground, ignoring the pain as it lanced down her arms. Yelling, she faced the Black God. "Why?! Why the hell did you have to do this! I could have brought the country around, if you'd just given me time!"

She turned away, trembling in anger, not watching as the Black God took Wima's soul with him to the Peaceful Realm. Before he disappeared she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, comforting, before it too disappeared.

She sat on the sand as the strength slowly returned to her muscles. Bodies, pale and cold, washed up onto the shore, spurring her into movement as she pushed herself to her feet and staggered up the steep hill. The cliff turned into a hill close to where Sarah had landed on the shore, and when Sarah reached the top she noticed a large crown gathered, whispering fearfully. Mithros' booming voice called out, forcing everyone except Sarah to their knees. "This land will not rise again for another century. It is a lesson to all others as to what happens when you disgrace your Gods."

He disappeared and Sarah shoved her way forcefully through the crowd. They moved aside, revealing the king's body, smoking from his chest, his eyes open and face contorted in terror. When Sarah spoke her voice was ragged with exhaustion. "Ekallatum has brought this upon itself. You all ignored the portents and omens, and now your country is in ruin."

She closed her eyes against the sight of the ruined kingdom, shaking her head slowly. "Mother, I am so sorry. I tried, I really did-"

"There was nothing you could have done. I acted too late to save this land." Sarah thought the voice was for her ears only; no one else seemed to hear her. "Thank you for attempting to save Ekallatum."

As Sarah stood there she was swept off her feet, landing in the dining hall at Greenstone. She fell to her knees, the strength gone from her limbs as chairs scraped against the stone floor and Kris and Richard rushed to her side. Sarah allowed them to bear her to her rooms, they stopped only to tell a footman to fetch a healer. Sarah was silent throughout the journey, her eyes glazed, and her head hanging limply. She didn't see the concerned looks her friends gave her as they made their way slowly to her rooms, or the way Kris patted her wet hair away from her eyes.

"Sarah… what happened?" His voice was barely more than a whisper as he took in her appearance; she had a long, shallow gash down her right shoulder. Her knuckles were swollen, and her back was covered in bruises and small cuts. She was covered in sand and her clothes were damp. She looked like she had been through hell.

Sarah's eyes focused slowly on his face. "Ekallatum has fallen…"

Richard was removing her boots gently when he asked, "Where did you get your injuries from?"

Sarah thought it over for a moment. When she answered she was entirely serious. "I dove off a cliff."

The two men shared a look while they waited for the healer.