Damien lay sprawled out upon the cold stone floor. His head ached, and every single one of his body parts was sore. He felt weak, beyond reason. He could not move, for he used up all his energy to perform the body switch with Laura, even though it had only been a temporary one. And so he lay, sprawled out and naked up on the floor waiting for something to happen, or for Laura to rescue him.

Light then began to penetrate the dark room. Damien painfully turned over to see that it was coming from a steadily opening door.

"Shh. Be quiet, he is sleeping. We need to take him out of here as quickly as possible" said a soft voice.

"Laura?" Damien managed to moan under his breath. He was given no reply, other than the feeling of soft hands gingerly picking him up off the stone floor, and taking him into the light. Damien drifted back to sleep.

He didn't know how long he had been there for, but he woke up to find himself on a bed, in a stark white room.

His head was spinning, and he could barley make out the figures of two people standing over his bedside.

"He's running a fever" said one, a male most likely, putting his hand on Damien's forehead.

"Then give him the cold juice potion. I can't have him sick, you know" said the other, probably a male also. One of the men walked away. Upon his return a few minutes later, he appeared to be holding something in his hands. Damien figured it was probably a beaker of some kind, but couldn't quite make it out.

"Drink this" the man said, pressing the beaker against Damien's lips, and supporting him with his arm. Damien reluctantly took the foul tasting drink down.

"Get some rest. We shall make use of you later" the same man said, placing his hand once again on Damien's forehead. Damien obliged, and went back to sleep.

When he awoke this time, he was still in the white room. But this time, h didn't feel nearly as weak, and his vision was much better. At the bottom of the bed, lay a new set of clothing. All black. Damien didn't mind, for he was accustomed to wearing all black on a ritual basis.

Figuring the clothes were for him, Damien got out of the bed, and began to put them on.

"Ah, I see the young one has awakened" said a voice. Damien stopped what he was doing a turned around. In the corner of the room, a man sat in a chair. Like Damien he wore all black. The lines on his face made him out to be in his fifties, and his hair was entirely gray.

"My name is Aghorn. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, young Damien" the man said, smiling.

Damien stood shell-shocked. Here right before him was the man he had been searching for, the man wanted by the white wizards.

"How do you know my name?" Damien asked after some time.

Aghorn shrugged. "I have my ways," he replied, "But we have more important things to discuss".

"Like what?" Damien asked.

"We'd like to initiate you into our clan" Aghorn replied, getting up. "We shall discuss this in the front parlour" he said walking out the door "but you need to finish getting dressed first" he then said, looking at Damien in dismay.