After some rest at a Darkshore inn, Victorie and Wink found a ship sailing to The Exodar. From there, Victorie made her way back to Bloodmyst Isle, remembering that the stranded people who populated the area where always in need of aid of some sort. At Blood Watch, the small settlement, Victorie was tasked with going to a remote island to collect a rare species of mushroom known as Ysera's Tears. Off she went, happy to have such a benign task, until she arrived on the island. It was littered with giant bones and crawling with those strange snouted, winged creatures she'd seen in Redridge!

Taking refuge where she could, she ran over to an old ruin half-submerged in the sea. But in her path appeared a figure -- not one of those winged creatures, but an elf who seemed ethereal, insubstantial. She stopped running, stunned by the sight. The vision began to speak, its deep voice weaving through her mind. "I am a ghost -- a cruel reminder of a civilization that has long ceased to exist -- anchored to a land that I failed to protect. Long ago, ten-thousand years past , I was flesh and bone, just like you. I was prince of this land and a dragon rider, blessed by Ysera of the Dream."

Victorie stared in shock that a ghost was talking to her. She gulped down her fear and asked, "What is Ysera? And how were you blessed?"

"Have you not heard of Ysera? Guardian of nature? Aspect of the Dream? She is the matron of all green dragons!" exclaimed Prince Toreth. "Aye, it was Ysera herself that gifted my kingdom with her brood. We stood shoulder to shoulder with the noble creatures and they allowed us to ride them into battle against our enemies. All was well for many centuries... until... " he trailed off, looking into the distance.

"Until what?" prodded Victorie, unconcerned that she should be more polite to a Prince.

"Deathwing's brood ... Ysera's benevolence raised the ire of Deathwing, patron of the black dragonflight." At the black patron's name, a menacing chill skated down Victorie's spine. The Prince continued obvlious to her discomfort. "They attacked us in our sleep! Many died on the initial surge but the greens rose to protect us." He heaved a great sigh and pointed around the island. "The bones are all that remains of the once great dragons. None were spared."

Victorie looked over her shoulder at the giant bones rising up from the ground. She turned back to the elf, confused. "So why are you still here?" Her cat Wink meowed, as if also asking the obvious question.

"I was the last to die. As I felt my spirit leaving my mortal shell, I swore a blood oath," said the Prince, shaking his head passionately. "A pact was made between this land and I. My blood for this world. I became the sole keeper of the history of my people. I cannot rest until I am secure in knowing that the story of the dragon riders of Loreth'Aran is not lost in the passages of time."

"Well, I suppose you could tell me," said Victorie, clearly torn between a desire to know more and her wish to leave the island altogether.

"Not long ago, the once tranquil owlkin of the region appeared on the shores of this island," he said to Victorie. "One by one they would come to steal the bones of the fallen dragons. I do not know what would cause these creatures such distress or why they would want the bones of the deceased, but the spirits of the brood have grown restless due to this sacrilege."

"Owlkin? Dragons?" Victorie asked, confused by the unfamiliar names.

"To the west, across the Crimson Reach, you will find Ragefeather Ridge. Venture to the owlkin encampments and recover the pilfered dragon bones." he said simply. She nodded, glad for any reason to leave the island. She and her cat swam back across the channel and watched the creatures that lived in the ridge from behind a tree. "These look like big owls to me," she whispered to Wink. "They must be the owlkin the elf spoke of. And those bone things sticking in the ground, they must be the dragon bones I am to collect." She watched as the owlkin moved about their business, then stealthed among them, quietly stealing their treasured bones. She quickly stashed each bone in her pack, for when she held them with her bare fingers, an echo of those strange feelings swirled about her wickedly. "If these are dragon bones, then those dreadful flying things ... are ... dragons?"

She swam back to the island, giving the little dragon creatures a wide berth. Locating the elf again, she handed him her pack full of bones to avoid touching them. He accepted them, then looked at directly in the eyes. He explained, "The whelps that you see on this island are the agitated spirits of the green dragonflight. Like me, they are bound to the land, unable to ascend to their final resting place in the Dream." His gaze shifted to the green-hued dragons in the distance. "Recovering the bones of the fallen has settled them somewhat but you must take further action. Destroy their ethereal manifestations. I cannot leave this place until it is done. They must be released!"

Victorie gasped and backed away, agitated. Like so many times before, she was being asked to kill, to murder. Only this time, she wanted it. Turning to look at the whelp nearest to her, she allowed that now-familiar rage to bubble to the surface. She could smell the acrid stink of the creature. She could see its bulbous, orange-hued eye roving over its field of vision. She could hear its high-pitched screech, completely drowning out the mewing of the cat at her feet. Then the bubble of hatred broke over her and she charged the whelp, hands out as if to rip and tear the wings. The whelp turned as she flew herself at it, screaming in anger at the interruption. Before she could reach it, the dragon spit a bolt of poison at her, knocking her back. Shaking her head, she charged once more, and again it hit her, and she felt the toxin spread through her veins. At her feet, her cat Wink meowed incessantly, pawing at her boot. Again the whelp threw its poisonous bolt at her, and this time she fell back, stunned. The cat pounced on her chest, scratching Victorie on the cheek.

Victorie's gaze switched to the little white kitten. Then, behind the cat, she saw the whelp take aim again, and this time she knew the poison would hit Wink as well. Quickly she rolled over, sheilding the cat, and scrambled to her feet. As luck would have it, the whelp's bolt missed both Victorie and Wink as they ran away toward the river. Above her, Victorie spotted for the first a giant dragon soaring high. Spurred on by fear and rage, she sprinted to the other shore. The whelp followed for a short time, but lost interest as Victorie gained ground. Victorie ran and ran, holding the now silent Wink closely to her breast. She ran until the island disappeared completely from view, then dropped in an exhausted heap beside a rock. Hugging the cat in her arms, she wept.

Victorie had found Ysera's tears.

"This way, little one," Victorie called to the small, white kitten. Victorie set out walking out of the city, her little cat following her. About ten minutes into the journey, the feline began to meow plaintively. Victorie kneeled to pet it, asking "Are you hungry? You must be starving ... my belly is so empty." She spent her last few coppers to buy a jug of milk and loaf of bread in Goldshire, which she and her kitten ate ravenously by a lake. As she watched her kitten lap up the milk, she said, "I don't know what to call you. I wonder, do you have a name?"

Together Victorie and her cat walked into the neighboring region of Lakeshire. She was here to see someone about lockpicking, hoping a new skill might put more coins in her pocket. After working up the nerve to speak to the shady dwarf on the dock, she was sent off to an old abandoned mill with a set of thieves tools. The dwarf directed her to open a lockbox and return the contents to him, but on the way back from the mill she encountered something she hadn't expected.

Victorie stood stock still in the road, staring at the winged creature in her path. It looked just like the foul little beast she'd seen her father with days ago in the jungle. It flapped its dry, leathery wings rapidly, looking this way and that. When it turned its beady green eyes toward her, she slipped into the shadows, effectively disappearing from its view. A well of hatred for the creature coursed through her body like a toxin, and she struggled to keep her breathing steady. Compulsion to maim and murder the beast flooded her mind and soul. She could visualize the little brown body on the ground, its wings broken and still. Taking a deep breath, she silently unsheathed her swords and poised to attack the creature with all the fury she felt inside.

"Meow."

Victorie blinked. She looked down at the cat. It looked up at her and meowed again, it's eyes winking at her as if in warning. "What? What am I doing?" she asked aloud, aghast. She looked at the weapons in her hand and shame filled her, pushing aside her rage. She put away her swords and scooped up the cat, holding it closely to her. "Come, little one. We must leave this bad place." Victorie slinked back into town, still cradling the cat. "Well, at least I know what to call you now ... you shall be my Wink."

When they arrived back in Lakeshire, Victorie collected her reward from the dwarf and quickly returned to the city. "Let's take the boat to Darkshore, Wink. I fancy a long walk on the beach right about now."

The chapel proved to provide no haven, as it was filled with soldiers talking of grand plans to kill and conquer. Disgusted, Victorie quietly returned to the city. Here, she sought refuge in simple tasks, like a visit to her storage locker and a tradesman, who gave her a few silvers in exchange for some odds and ends she'd collected in her travels. She had very little money and it was getting difficult to sc##@* together enough for beds and meals. Slipping through the busy streets, Victorie roamed about the city, frustration and desperation mounting high. In her misery, she spied a small boy walking near the river, a little white kitten following at his heels. Victorie's depression lifted at the sight, and she ran ahead lightly to catch up with the kitten.

As Victorie knelt to pet the kitten, she heard the boy say, "I can't believe they won't let me keep your sister." Victorie looked up from her fascination with the kitten's soft fur and peered closely at the boy. "You can't keep this sweet little cat? But what will you do with her?" she asked. The boy said nothing, but stared at the river behind her. Victorie turned to look at the deep river, confused for a moment, then comprehension dawning. "No, no, nothing but that. I will take her! I will keep her safe." The boy simply smiled and said he'd need 54 silver for the kitten. Victorie eagerly counted her coins, realizing she only had 54 silver and 51 copper to her name. Without hesitation, she gave the boy nearly everything she had. He silently gave her a little cat carrier and walked off, the coins jingling loudly in his pocket.

Victorie looked at the cat carrier in her hand, and then down at the little kitten at her feet. "We don't need this silly box for you," she said softly to the cat. She set the carrier down by the side of the road, already forgotten, and resumed her affectionate petting of the kitten. "I will keep you safe, little one," she crooned to the kitten, who purred loudly in response. "Would you like to be my friend?"

Victorie stood quickly, scaring off the squirrel who had been watching her. She wiped her tears and took a deep breath. "Time to leave this place, I think," she said to the retreating squirrel. She hearthed back to the city and rode one of her beloved gryphons to Thelsamar. "No plagued animals wandering about there," she muttered to herself. But in Thelsamar, she found her father ... she'd have taken an infected bear over her father any day! He took her for another of his scary motorcycle rides, racing over every bump and speeding past monsters and horrors of all shapes and sizes. Through wetlands and highlands they rode, no words spoken between them. Her only consolation was that her father did not have that strange, winged creature with him that provoked such strange feelings in her. When they entered a diseased land where every creature seemed plagued, Victorie closed her eyes tightly. She wondered for the hundredth time what sort of horrible world she'd been born into ... and what her purpose could possibly be.

On and on they went for many hours, and Victorie saw the evidence of plague whenever she dared to crack open her eyes. Eventually the trees no longer appeared diseased, and Victorie risked a better look. They were in a rather pretty forest, but the creatures were strange to her. Before she could gather her wits, she was plunged back into the plaguedlands, as she had come to think of them. Her father rode hard, resolve in every move he made. In time, they arrived at a small chapel ... around it the plagued animals wailed, but the chapel seemed to be a beacon of hope to her young eyes. She slunk off her dad's motorcycle while he was busy speaking to a man who'd recognized him and took shelter in the small chapel. "Surely people of the cloth would not kill others," she said to herself in reassurance.

With a good night's rest and a warm muffin in her belly, Victorie resolved to visit a little village she'd discovered in her travels: Darkshore. She ran down to the docks and found a ship heading in that direction. When she landed on the foggy coast of Darkshore, she made a beeline for the warm shelter of the inn. The villagers were kind and welcoming. Several were eager for her help in understanding the corruption that infested their lands. Victorie eagerly helped those that she was able, proud that she might be able to play a role in healing this land. That is, until she met a man who called himself Thenariun Treetender.

Victorie looked across the village at Thenariun in rage, then back up to the squirrel in the tree above her. Her expression softened, but her anger still simmered. "I just can't believe that man!" Victorie said aloud, startling the squirrel, who ran to a higher branch and began chattering at her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Victorie whispered, soothing the squirrel. "It's just that he ... he ... he tricked me! When I first met him, he told me how some of the animals in the woods were sick , and how he might have found a cure!" Victorie paused, keeping her voice deadly calm. "He just needed me to bring him one of the infected bears, which I did ... I had to lay a trap for it an everything. But when I returned the bear to that man, he ... he ....' She gulped down a big breath, steadying herself. The squirrel was quiet again, but staring at her warily. "He KILLED the bear!" Victorie covered her face and cried tears of anger and remorse. "What have I done?" she whispered so quietly even the squirrel could not hear her.