Emmerel sat and pondered over the meaning of life as she ate a ham and cheese sandwich. It was simple - so simple that she was led to believe that everybody else was simple as well, for spending so many centuries trying to discover it. Birth, sex, death. It could be said in three words, each one syllable and no more then five letters long. Admittedly, she conceded, to make it grammatically correct, you had to put a couple of commas and a period into the statement. But, when said, it was a short, effective answer, and she decided that she would make it a goal to let everybody else in the world keep pondering so that she could gloat in silence.

This line of thought and her sandwich finished, she returned to bed, to continue trying to sleep off her hangover. She was the unlucky one out of all her friends - she was the only one who threw up and got hangovers, and who fell asleep after drinking coffee. And, along with the hangover, was the inevitable amnesia, drowning out the events of the previous night.

With a wordless grunt and an incoherent mumble, she hoisted herself back into bed and pulled the quilt over her head.

It was night again when Emmerel awoke and the room was faintly lit by the street lights outsider her bedroom. She frowned. She didn’t remember opening the curtains. She had been too sick and exhausted to do so. But she could definitely see the street light’s yellow glow reflecting off the white painting of her bedroom ceiling.

Again she frowned. White paint? Impossible. A month ago she had painted her entire room in varying shades of green and blue. A trick of light, she decided. Or else...

She bolted upright, but, after that one uneasy flash, she recognised the familiar lumps and sags in her old mattress. She had fallen asleep in her bed and she did not recall meeting any interesting men last night. She pulled a rueful grimace and added another word at the end of that thought. Unfortunately.

Leaning back against the wall, she curiously studied the differenced in her bedroom, transfigured by the dim, orange light seeping in through the window panes. The room seemed bare, shadows hiding the outlines of her bookshelves and desk, shading the hollow which surrounded her mirror. A sudden cold shiver ran up her spine, and she groped for the lamp at her bedside, in a desperate need to be surrounded by all these familiar objects. But, instead of meeting the smooth, ceramic surface of her lamp base, her hand pushed itself forward through empty air. Thrown off balance bye her miscalculation, Emmerel toppled off the side of her bed, her shoulder making painful contact with the hard wood floor.

"God damn it, Christ, shit!!" She yelled as loudly as she could, trying to dispel the nervous feeling that she was sitting on the floor of an empty room.

Shoulder throbbing, she grasped the side of the bed and pulled herself to her feet. The rough, quilted surface of the bare mattress rasped against the palm of her hand. Looking to the wall beside her bed, she saw only bare wall. Nor table, no lamp. Turning in a circle she realised that the shadows she had earlier studied so fondly hid only the smooth surface of her naked walls. Her art posters, her books, her wardrobe where her clothing had lain were all gone. Unable to comprehend this change, she decided she was dreaming, she lay down on the bed and forced herself back to sleep.

Emmerel watched the insides of her eyelids turn orange as the light forced its way through the thin skin. Heart pounding, she slowly opened them and stared in dismay at the stark white ceiling above her head. The satin surface of her bare mattress felt uncomfortable and sticky beneath her palms. Her thick hair stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. Sitting up, Emmerel lifted her hair, holding its red abundance draped over her forearm. Letting it slowly spill down her back, she dropped her arm and propped her chin on her hand.

The room was painted entirely white, even the doorknobs and the wood framing of the window. The mattress and its box spring were of the common quilted type, the satin a pale peach color. Empty of furniture and bare walled, Emmerel had to stare for many minutes to confirm that it was her bedroom.

But, indeed, it was. She remembered its bare state from when she was moving in. This was her bedroom. Her apartment. But, how? All of the explanations she could come up with were absurd. Sent back in time? She sneered.

Levering herself up from the bed, she shuffled in bare feet to the door. Resting her palm upon the knob’s smooth, cool surface, she faltered. Opening this door would remove any further hopes. She knew this, and yet, she didn’t want to let go of the fantasy that perhaps it was all some horrible joke and that her things would be piled up in the hall, a group of her friends there to surprise her. With a fearful tremor, she turned the handle, and flung the door wide.

Letting forth a sigh of resignation, she gazed upon the bare white surfaces of the hallway. The walls were white. The ceiling was white. Her lovely wood panelled furniture was gone. Her Persian rug, with its fiery colors.. gone. The floor was bare, dull wood, sanded but unfinished.

Unable to register the proper emotions - fear, shock, confusion, panic, etc - she walked down the short hall, passively glancing past doorways. Every surface, bar the floor, was painted white - every wall, ceiling, door, window frame and door knob. The floor boards were only roughly sanded, their uneven surfaces catching at her bare feet.

Something registered. Quickly looking down upon herself, Emmerel stared in dismay at her naked body. Breasts bared to the world, she had been walking around, past every window in her apartment. Ducking back into the hallway, she began to sit down, and then thought twice. She did not want her naked body to become dependant upon the graces of the jagged floor. She could live with splinters in her feet, but not in... other places.

Shock finally set in. Walking to the bathroom, Emmerel layed down in the bath tub, covered her face with her hands, and cried.

It was hours later and the room was dusky with the onset of night. Emmerel shivered with cold as she crawled out of the empty tub. The temperature had drastically dropped, uncharacteristically for this time of year. Frowning, she padded her way along the empty hall. Had she just heard a noise?

She had. Stopping short at the living room doorway, she stared in disbelief at a ball of light hovering a foot above the floor. Its surface was wrapped with a myriad of brilliant colors, giving the impression of a spherical rainbow. From the ball, faint voices could be heard, but the words were unintelligible, drowned out by a loud keening. The sound closely resembled that of a group of crying women.

Even as she watched, the ball slowly expanded, spreading like pouring water over the floor, in her direction. It rippled and shimmered, rising even as it widened. Her living room was slowly transformed into....? Somewhere else.

A group of people stood in a circle. Most of them were dressed in long robes of pure white. Two regally gowned and crowned persons - assumedly a king and queen - stood beside one another, holding hands. Every person in the circle cried.

All attention was focussed on the center of the wailing circle - for what, in passing, Emmerel had noted sounded like a group of crying women, was, in fact, a group of crying women. The gleaming women were all rocking back and forth, holding each other’s arms and sleeves.

Assuming she was invisible - as people usually are in their own dreams - Emmerel walked forward to peer curiously over one of the crying women’s shoulders. Unfortunately, she was not invisible. The white-gowned woman stared at the naked apparition standing at her shoulder and shrieked. Running for the protection of the door jamb, Emmerel managed to hide before the rest of the crowd looked.

The shaking woman pointed towards the open doorway. "A young woman, my Queen. She was unclad!"

The Queen raised her distressed face and stepped forward. "Ah," she said, "we have reached the Place."

Confused, the woman forgot her place for a moment. "Place, Majesty? What do you mean, reached the Place?"

The Queen gave the woman a sharp, hard look. She spoke slowly, in low tones. "You forget your place, Lady. Do not speak to your Queen so." The Queen adopted the ‘royal We’. "We do not appreciate the tone in which your voice spoke. We shall send you away if We hear from you again." She paused, letting the stern words settle. "Is this understood?"

The stunned Lady nodded, tears again welling in her eyes. She and the Queen turned back to the center of the circle. As the Lady was receiving the Queen’s words, she had stepped back, allowing Emmerel a view of the surrounded area.

A low cot lay close to the floor, bearing the tall body of a heavily muscled woman. Beside her, facing Emmerel, a young man of about Emmerel’s age knelt. He held the hand of the inert woman, as they whispered to each other in rapid tones. The conversation was cut abruptly as the Queen stepped forward.

"Elvara," the Queen’s tone was brisk. "We have arrived. Please," with a softer, sadder voice, "do not force yourself to endure any more. You have made your peace with Gras and may leave with our love. Stop torturing yourself. I can feel it." The Queen lay a gentle hand on the woman’s breast. "Stop holding back the blood. I love you dearly. I can not stand your pain."

The young man had been watching the Queen with increasing horror. "Mother! You might as well tell her to bury herself! What awful words to use at such a moment!" He glanced tenderly at Elvara, and then back to the Queen. "I am disgusted at your lack of feeling."

The Queen’s mouth twitched dangerously, but before she could deliver a rebuke, Elvara spoke. "Lasceus, that is quite enough!" This was said with loving reproach, softened by fatigue. "However harsh your mother may seem, it is not your place to question any statement she makes. It is for me to react to what she says to me, not for you. Do not forget that." Elvara’s head moved in the Queen’s direction. "As for you Nataya, keep your damn mouth shut. Don’t give up on me yet, woman. I’ve still a bit of life left in me."

Emmerel had felt a shock of recognition as soon as Elvara had begun to speak. Her voice carried resonances which Emmerel found to be very close to her heart. She felt as if she might cry from joy. And yet, she didn’t know how this could be. She was positive that she had never seen nor heard this woman before in her life.... And then she heard her name spoken from the very woman’s mouth.

"My darling Emmerel. You have finally arrived at your Rite. May you survive the Passage. I love you child, though I fear that you have no memory of me... I leave your charge with you now, for the period before the Passage, to guide you through. When you are ready, you will know how to complete it." This was all said in a quickly fading voice.

With a blink, Emmerel realised that the light was beginning to gather in on itself again. The ripples receded, joining in together as it gathered itself into a sphere again.

Elvara whispered her last words to Lasceus, taking a leather pouch from around her neck and pressing it into his hand. The light then sucked into one pebble sized spot, blindingly bright. With a sudden, brilliant flash, it disappeared. Alone, in the center of the room, Lasceus looked towards the doorway.

Emmerel stared in stunned amazement for what seemed like hours at the kneeling form in the center of her living room. Neither spoke - she, because she was too stunned, and he, because he could not see her.

Finally, he spoke. "Ehm, excuse me, but is there an Emmerel here? I don’t mean to be rude, but I really would appreciate it if you would show yourself." He grinned into the semi-dark, white teeth flashing. "Kneeling on hard wood is almost as uncomfortable as kneeling on stone."

The language he spoke was completely alien, sounding vaguely like Scottish Gaelic, as closely as she could tell. It was unearthly, with a faint, whispered echo after every word. She blinked with surprise - she realised that she was understanding it as perfectly as her own native English.

Surprising herself even more, she responded to him in that same language. "Um, well, yes, I am here." She looked down at herself. "Unfortunately, however, I am completely naked."

He considered this for a moment - Emmerel could see a wicked look cross his face, but it moved on as quickly as it came. Still kneeling, he finally answered. "You haven’t any access to clothing?"

She shook her head and then realised that he couldn’t see her. "No, none at all. I awoke to find my house completely empty."

Lasceus stood up slowly, still considering. "Well then..." He looked down at himself and spotted the strap to the satchel strung diagonally across his back. "I believe that is why Elvara gave me this." He pulled it over his head and tossed it her way. With a rueful grin, he looked around the now dark room. "I guess I’ll wait here." He turned his back to the doorway.

Emmerel quickly ducked out of her hiding spot and, grabbing the bag, dashed back down the hall. In the dubious comfort of her bedroom, she dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed. Spreading them out with her hands, Emmerel felt through the sack’s innards.

Her hand quickly found the smooth surface of a candle and she clutched it in her hand. But how was she going to light it? She felt through the rest of the things, searching for some means of fire. She couldn’t find one.

Walking back down the hall, she hid behind the doorjamb and once again spoke to the young man standing in her living room. "Um, excuse me again," the room was now so dark that she could only see his faint outline, illuminated by the street lights, "but I was just wondering if you knew of some what that I could light this candle?"

She could hear him shuffle forwards slightly. "I..." he seemed a bit confused. "You don’t know how?"

"No, I don’t. Do you have any matches? Something like that?"

"Matches? What..." He stopped, clearly deciding that it was an irrelevant question. "Tell it to light. You are a creature of the elements. Everything will listen to you if you ask it properly." When she made no answer, he continued on. "Look, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so..." She looked at the candle rather doubtfully for a moment, and then said uncertainly "Um, candle, could you light?" Nothing happened. She could hear Lasceus’ muffled laughter across the room.

"You have to believe that you can do it before anything is going to happen. Be confident. Let it come naturally."

"Naturally?" With a shrug, Emmerel held the candle before herself and said in a casual, nonchalant way, "Light." The candle flared into life, illuminating her bare skin. She gasped and stepped back, nearly dropping it. "My god! It worked! How?"

Lasceus shrugged, now standing just inside the reach of her light. "I certainly don’t know. Men do not work magic.. That’s just what Elvara has always told me. Considering who you are, I just guessed that it would work the same way."

"Considering who I am? What do you mean?" She was beginning to feel cold, and not just from the air temperature. A feeling of dread slowly spread through her body.

He suddenly became quiet. "I, I can’t say..." He paused, reconsidering. "Well, actually, I don’t quite know myself. I only know that Elvara said that you would come to know in time..." A pause. "I’m sorry."

"Well...." this escaped Emmerel before she actually thought of anything to say following it. She decided that she had nothing else to say, and wandered away.