Remus sat at the large desk, going through the dossier in front of him quite thoroughly, line by line, word by word. He'd read it enough times over the last few months that he nearly had it memorized, but he needed to make sure nothing was missing. Every detail would be crucial in the forth coming confrontation. The slightest slip and she'd be lost to him. With a determined sigh, he began again, translating raw data into narrative prose.

What if you woke up one day and learned that everything you knew, everything you loved, and everything you counted on was a lie?

Would you give up?

I almost did.

Almost.

However, when everything began to unravel, when nothing made sense; when up was down, right was wrong, in was out; that's when I found myself and discovered an inner peace and strength I'd never known before.

As usual, it all started with Adrian. Just like it ended. Who is Adrian? He's the one who seduced me, taught me, supported me, saved me, rejected me and, ultimately, redeemed me.

He's been in my life, thoughts, heart and prayers in some form or another since I was 16.

Gabriella stared at herself in the closet's full length mirror, studiously avoiding making eye contact with herself. She stood naked in the warmth of the hotel room her hands planted on her hips as she considered her reflection.

This is my first NaNoWriMo project. The continued story of my character from Ben Langdon's Dawnstars game. The Dawnstars campaign has closed, but it's glory lives on in my head. 

Disclaimer: This story is an attempt to expand and resolve hinted at plot threads from the campaign and to answer questions that were raised at the time of her creation. 

Silver Hawk/Ted Langham - Admelior
Brainstorm/Damien Alexander - Darren Woods
Dragoon/Percy Miller - Andy Mathews

Life couldn't have been better for Ted Langham, his Silver Hawk armor had performed better than he had expected in the field and after only a week he was responsible for stopping eight crimes on his own. None of them had been more than a simple mugging but it had felt good just the same. The only downside to the whole week was the armor had developed a glitch and he would have to spend at least part of the day tracking it down.

“I'm truly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Laurent, but there's nothing more we can do,” said Dr. Fred Patterson, Chief of Medicine at Port City Memorial Hospital. He frowned as he stared down at the Laurent's son lying comatose among a nest of wires and tubes. “Nathan's injuries are too severe. We repaired what we could, but his lungs, heart and liver are failing. With total life support he'll probably last another two weeks, maybe three. Right now it's a question of when, not if.”

Evelyn Laurent choked back a sob as she turned her face into her husband Thomas' broad chest. She clenched his jacket in her fists.

“That's not acceptable,” Thomas Laurent shot back. His eyes shone with repressed tears. “If you can't save my son, I'll find someone who can.”

 A scream shattered the silence of the night. The shrill peaks and gasping valleys of the wail twined through the darkness. The sounds of pain and terror filled the night winds. The cry echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Walden Park held its trembling breath between the agonizing screams that echoed through its wooded depths.

Nathan Laurent swiveled his head. The night sounds came alive for him. His heightened hearing sorted through the music of the night like scanners. This motion gave his silhouette a predatory cast as he ran. He liked that.

He drew in a deep breath and allowed the park's 'Parfume de noir' to settle across his palate. He could taste the cold and bitter fear. The pain was sharp and acrid.

“I am truly sorry, Mr. And Mrs. Willoughby, but there is nothing more that we can do,” said Dr. Fred Patterson, Chief of Medicine at Hudson City Memorial Hospital. He frowned deeply, as he stared down at the patient lying comatose among a nest of wires and tubes. “Mason's injuries are too severe. We repaired what we could, but his lungs, heart and liver are failing. With total life support he'll probably last another two weeks, maybe three. Right now it's a question of when, not if.”

Evelyn Willoughby choked back a sob as she turned her face into her husband Thomas' broad chest. Her hands clenched tightly in his jacket.