Veltom the 26th

"This was your stupidest idea thus far. How many times do you need to get involved with these guys before they kill us?"
Her voice carried all the ire and frustration it would have outloud, even though it was entirely in his head.

He didn't turn away from their prisoner even for a second, but responded using his mind entirely.
"They keep involving themselves with me, and I am more than happy to entertain them, since I owe them one for ruining my reputation... I intend to pay it back today."

She gave a hard glare but didn't respond. Excuses for stupid ideas.

A loud blaring noise peirced the air in the distance. Like a long and continous metalic scream. She recognized the sound immediately as the Royal Guardsman, probably the NightWing. The horses started, and the cart careened down the street. She braced herself against the walls. The prisoner, meanwhile, managed to remain handsome even while he blankly stared at her chest. She frowned.

"Exactly what pleasant visions is he experiencing right now?" She said aloud.

"Of course, my love." Vureel replied idlely.

She froze. The words awakening a host of memories.

"Exactly what.." she said louder, but was cut off by Vureel's response.

"My dear, you do look lovely, I wish you wouldn't fret." he replied, turning calmly and staring out the window.

She reached her hand out and swatted at him. For a brief moment she felt his tunic against her hand, but it rapidly gave way and her hand passed straight through his being. An illusion.

"What is the meaning of this!?" She cried out, first aloud, and then in her mind.

The image of Vureel replied as though the door was open, and he was speaking to someone outside of the carraige.

"Both of these will no doubt be of interest to you, Morgraine. Take them as my gift with my apologies." He said.

She stared in disbelief as the cart took a sharp corner too quickly, almost ramping onto two wheels. She focused inward, on her link, but her mind was more quiet than it had been in the last three months. She frantically drew her sleeve past her elbow. A ritual scar on her upper arm was faintly visible, but bore no fresh blood. A wave of sudden panic flowed from her stomach to her fingertips. She searched her mind desperately for options.

"Wake up you idiot!" she stood in the cart and slapped the prisoner across the face several times.
"WAKE UP!!" she cried, but there was no response in his vacant eyes.

She hit the roof of the cart several times, telling the driver to stop, but he was in no position to even notice, as he was shouting desperate cries to the horses to slow them down.

They passed over a sharp edge and the gallop of the horses changed distinctly. She heard a distinct repeated 'klack' sound come from below, as the wagon transitioned from cobblestones to wood. They were on the docks. She lunged for the door, but it was stuck.

A voice calmly filled her mind. "T'was a good run, love. Again, we part in less-than-ideal conditions."

"Damn you!" She cried, but there was no part of her mind connected to the source. She leaned down in the seat and started kicking the door desperately. She heard a slam, and a cry, as the cart bounced.

She found herself losing grip, and slammed against the ceiling of the cart, amidst the sound of a massive explosion, and the whinney of horses, and everything went black.