Finally! Christobel flexed the hands of her new body, looking at the worn nails and dryness of the skin. She lifted a hand to toss her hair back, then realised "her hair" was too short. Looking in the mirror (a better, bigger looking glass than she'd ever seen, full-length, as broad as it was tall) she saw a diminutive woman with large green eyes staring back at her. Her brownish hair was cut short like a man's, even shorter, Christobel remembered these several centuries later, than the men she'd known and loved. The clothing was quite revealing and mannish, too, comparatively. The breeches were odd, going all the way down each leg and being quite fitted on her rump. Altogether she supposed it would do, but it didn't come near to her own beauty. With a sly and wicked grin, she waved a hand at her reflection and said, "Keep thee still and I might free thee!"

Hearing voices in the hallway, she carefully crept over to the door. It felt so good to finally be out of that tower, to have a live body to inhabit. For years and years she'd struggled, searching everywhere for a suitable host and for the echoes of the music she once loved and played. The music she destroyed and for which she was destroyed. Her rage had grown stronger and stronger until she was able to take over a live person. Now, she would find the tune which had killed her; her very soul, gone and grown so cold, so long ago.

As the voices moved down the hallway, she took a deep breath and slowly, slowly opened the door. She could sense great evil - like attracting like - nearby somewhere. She must find it. She would destroy anything and anyone who got in her way.

As she started down the hallway, one of the men at the other end gave her a casual glance. He was slightly disturbed, wondering why the cleaning lady seemed to be slightly off-kilter. Maybe she drinks on the job, he thought with a shrug. He turned away, unconcerned, for the moment, at the approach of the small figure. Probably just coming for supplies.