As she lay beneath the weight of the mystical net she began to whisper a prayer; a prayer she had last uttered more than two centuries earlier on an island in the Mediterranean. It was a prayer to an ancient god, long forgotten by most of her vampiric kind. She had used it, promising her fealty for power greater than what she had already possessed. It was a selfish prayer, but she had heard Laibach was a selfish god.

On that night so long ago, the great Old One had heard Scylla's prayers and bestowed upon her the power of the serpent.

On this night, she prayed not for power, but for salvation.

It was a truly amazing thing, she believed, to have one of the ancients respond to her prayers - but to think it would happen a second time was a foolish wish.

Their hands were upon her as they lifted and dragged her mass from the temple. She could feel the warm desert winds caress her fevered form beneath the net. The leader continued to praise his men, talking of the untold wealth of knowledge they would gain from the violation and dissection of her body.

She smelled the nauseating aroma of diesel fumes as she was hauled up and placed inside the back of a transport truck. "Take her to the citadel in Aswan," she heard the leader of the Sages say.

The voice she heard next was one she did not recognise.

"Come on, now, you uptight gits. That's no way to treat a lady."