Daemons see the world rather differently from dragons, demons, and even humans. Dragons and demons see the works of the gods in their lives and magic; humans see the whims of fate or the higher powers of the dragons. Daemons, who recognize the beings who fashion themselves as gods yet do not worship the, see invisible lines of power that, whether they were laid down by the gods of the dragons and demons or existed before even they, are available for the use of any who can see them. The presence of the magical dragons and demons strengthens them to make the power usable for great works rather than the slow, steady, often imperceptible magics of nature itself, but even without such strength, they are still there, running through and across the world, holding it together and giving it life.

It may have been these, more than any spiritual assistance, which drew me to the hidden cave. As soon as I entered it, I could feel the connections of power beneath the surface, wrapping around the cave so that one within was surrounded nearly on all sides by the magic of Avengaea. Such strength of the magic, even the strange locus of it protecting this place, led me to believe that dragons were likely behind it, perhaps as a hiding place of their own during storms such as this. Rather than being guided by an unseen force like a named or unnamed deity, it was much more likely that my mind had unknowingly felt the power of the place and been drawn to it. That we had been so close to it was inexplicably good fortune. Perhaps I had somehow felt it and known I had to stop the train of horses within a reasonable distance. Perhaps the gods of the dragons or the fate of the humans had interfered. I knew not, but I was glad of it. Only in a place with so much unaligned, primal elemental magic could I hope to heal my cubling.

Even here, though, there was danger-- not a danger of too little, but of too much. Despite what many believe, magic is not the first or best answer to everything. Power demands a price, whether of your own strength, your heart, or your mind-- most commonly your strength, as it can and will be replenished with time. Powerful magic, for those not gifted with the strength and will to focus it, might even claim one's life or spirit. I am not a master mage, not one gifted with such a strength of will and soul to handle such powers. The subtle magic of ground and sky and the things between are what I work best with, slow and gentle and in need of only subtle touches, not powerful commands-- but we had no time for my own small strength to take effect. Daynoren and Catame, perhaps, might have the gift of power, but the former was raw and untrained, the latter the life we needed to save.

So I feared what I had to do, while I knew I had to do it. I could not let young Catame die without trying everything. God-touched meant nothing to me, nor did his position as one of the first two mages in his house, nor his eventual standing as a candidate to bond with a dragon. I wanted to save him because, despite my father's scorn and our differing species, I loved Catame and his brother like my own cubs. Any mother of any species would do whatever was in her power for her offspring, whether they be of blood or spirit. And such was I.

Daynoren's relief when I told him I was to at last resort to magic reminded me that he did not understand many things. "Do not look so cheered, cubling," I told him as I approached Catame slowly, searching over the cave with my gaze for sources of elemental symbols. "Even magic is not an answer for everything. I could fail, and Catame could die. The power could burn me dry and leave me unable to do a thing. I could cause a shaking of power so as to bring the cave down around us. It could kill us both." Though I doubted the last few, it was good to make the cub aware of the dangers of disturbing magic that might be warped and stationary for a reason.

A glance to Dana, who had heard the warnings and looked alarmed, told her such. She subsided, her gaze going back to her nephew. Despite her pride, she, too, was worried for him. The woman had no magical strength or healing expertise; she had done the only thing she knew to do for Catame, which was get to Sanctuary with its warm dome and healer dragons. Daynoren did not understand that, but he was as proud as she and would not be easily convinced, so neither of us did try.

"Go outside and bring me a double-handful of snow," I told Daynoren. "Melt it over the fire." Confused but obedient to me, at least, the boy hurried to do what he had done many times over the past two days. I, myself, moved among the horses, who had long since lost their fear of me, towards the back of the cave. The animals had not yet completely denuded the walls and corners of what little greenery there was, but they had come close, and it took me some moments to find a bit of cave-moss and pluck it away, taking a bit of soil away with the root. Water and Earth, Air surrounding all, and Fire beside the boy. Light in my love and Daynoren's, in Dana and Ruther and Jameth. Hopefully that would be enough focus and stability to keep the power from flying out of my meager control.

By the time I returned, Daynoren's snow had melted and was cooling in the bowl I kept for such purposes. Motioning Daynoren closer with the hand not holding my symbol for Earth, I lay beside Catame, who stirred and murmured in his uneasy, fevered sleep. His senses were raw and open, I guessed, sensing the presence of power and companions and mixing them in his confused thoughts. As if delerium were not bad enough alone, the poor cubling had to deal with the images his magery formed for him and try to make sense of them.

With free hand, nose, and Daynoren's help, once he understood what I wanted, I freed Catame of his blankets and rolled him onto his back. He tried to fight me, but had no strength. Daynoren took his hand and he relaxed again, shivering in the suddenly colder air.

"I will need your strength, Daynoren," I told him. "You have the power of will which I do not. I have not led you through such spells before, and I can only ask that you do your best to keep what I summon steady and follow my lead precisely." Swallowing, his usual arrogance supplanted by fear for his brother, Daynoren nodded.

"Lady," I said, turning my muzzle to face Dana. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Please, stay back. If you can withstand part of an hour in the snow, that would be better." Dana shook her head mutely; she was not strong of body, though she was not as weak as Catame. Jameth and Ruther, however, nodded and rose, taking their heavy tunics and cloaks and trudging out into the storm, giving me more room and less interference.

The only preparations I could make, thus made, I turned and focused again on the human cubs. Daynoren's mouth was firm, and though the fear was still in his eyes, his nod told me he was ready and willing for whatever I needed of him.

"Good," I breathed, turning my eyes to Catame but my senses to the power around me, in the walls, ceiling, and floor, and radiation from the young boy who held his brother's limp hand. "Let us begin."