Chapter 12

The Group Chats the Next Morning
Morning dawns on a fresh day. Minerva cooks at the upstairs kitchen. It is about an hour to dawn. She hums to herself as she works. After setting the table, she walks to all the doors and knocks on them, hoping to wake everyone up, believing them to all be back.

Elise comes out and sits at the table. Minerva places some toast and eggs before her. "Let me know how they taste," she says. Elise chews slowly. "Not bad. Could have used a minute less, maybe? But good. I like them."

Minerva smiles. "You can do the next ones, then. Let me know how they go." She returns to the other room and knocks louder. "Oren, Eliam, get up. We need to get going."

When she doesn't receive an answer, she returns to the table, taking a seat next to Elise. "I'm going to give them five minutes before I just kick the door in and shoot a fireball at the bed..."

"Is that safe?" Elise wonders aloud.

Minerva shrugs. "I mean, we've survived worse. Was Gwen up when you came out?"

Elise tilts her head. "Gwen wasn't in the room," she says. "I thought she was out here already."

"Oh," Minerva says. "Well, that's interesting. I wonder where she is."

Elise continues to eat. "We may as well wait. If she's not here, maybe Oren and Eliam aren't either, and that's why they're not answering you."

Minerva begins to eat as well. "I hadn't thought of that." The two continue to eat as time passes.

---

In a separate room, Eliam awakes with a start at sunrise. He tries to fall back asleep, but is unsuccessful. Half asleep, he nudges Gwendolyn's shoulder. "There's a plan or something... I think we have to go back to the suite.”

She stirs slightly, but rolls over and drifts back to sleep. Eliam looks quietly at the door, then back at Gwendolyn; sighing, he goes back to sleep as well.

---

At noon, Oren opens his eyes. After a moment, he hastily gets dressed, grabbing his things and rushing out of the room. He enters the common area to see Elise sitting near a window, dozing slightly, and Minerva sitting on a soft chair.

He runs over to Minerva, kneeling next to her and shaking her arm. "We have to go, what are you doing? Where's Eliam?"

She starts a little, then puts down the magazine she was reading. "Good morning. Afternoon? Good day. I'm not sure. I thought he was in the room with you."

"No, he's not. We need to hurry, we were supposed to go early, we should be home by now."

She turns. "Oren, we blew our plan by hours when everyone separated and didn't wake up on time. There's no point in hurrying, we're not going to be able to sneak in before it's light out. We may as well wait for evening at this point."

"When did you wake up?"

"When we were supposed to," she answers, looking somewhat irked. "I tried to get you all up, too, but no one managed it."

Oren frowns. "Did you even look for Eliam? And where's Gwen? "

"No, I assumed he was in the room with you, like always. I'm not sure where Gwen got to, but she wasn't in bed when Elise got up," she answers.

Oren gives her a look and leaves the room, heading downstairs to where they had had the dance before, searching anxiously as he goes.

As he reaches a hallway on the second floor, Eliam steps out of a room, closing the door for Gwendolyn to get dressed in private. Startled, Oren immediately rushes over to him.

"Where were you?" Oren asks accusingly.

"Oh! Good morning, Oren." Eliam smiles, smoothing out his suit. "It's... what time is it? The sun looks like it's up?"

"It's noon! Where were you?!"

"I... noon? Where is everyone else?" His face falls, and he looks sheepish. "I... that is, we ended up spending the night elsewhere. What about the plan? Will the, er, medicine still be effective?"

"I don't know, probably somewhat. But the whole plan was to attack while they were really groggy and before they noticed. Now Minerva is saying we need to wait until tonight. When did you wake up? She and Elise have been up since dawn just sitting around waiting for us to wake up naturally, I guess, and didn't even bother to look for Gwen."

"Ugh... tonight? I woke up a bit ago... Gwen is okay. She's back in the room."

"Well, good, at least you two aren't dead. But we should be home by now,” Oren frowns. “I really wish she had woken me up."

He grabs Eliam's arm and begins to drag him upstairs, and Eliam follows him after looking one last time at the door. As they reach the base of the steps, Gwendolyn walks out of the room. Immediately, Eliam stops, and Oren stops with him.

"Oh, good morning, Gwen," Eliam greets her.

She looks back and forth between the two of them, confused, but smiles. "Good morning, Eliam,” she pauses. “And Oren.”

"It isn't morning! It's noon, we're late,” Oren insists, going to Gwen and gently grabbing her arm instead. "We have to hurry."

“Oh... okay?” Gwendolyn allows herself to be lead back to the suite, followed by Eliam.

"So now what are we supposed to do?” Oren asks quickly as he opens the door to their floor and ushers Gwendolyn and Eliam in. “We can't just go now, they probably know something happened and are alert."

"Oh, you found them," Elise notes. "Where were you?"

"We uh... decided to find a different room,” Eliam answers, looking at Gwen.

"You should have told someone. I told her not to wander off,” he gestures to Elise as he chastises him, “but I didn't think you two would. You realize we were supposed to be back in Iquai before dawn and now we're stuck here for even longer?"

Elise bristles, but says nothing.

"Well, you'd gone to sleep with Minerva by then," Eliam rolls his eyes. "I didn't mean to sleep in that late. I thought worst case, someone would come get us."

"What? No I didn't," Oren says, blushing. He stops and thinks, looking confusedly at Minerva. “Right?”

She reddens and turns away. "Right."

"I didn't mean to sleep in that late, either,” Gwendolyn adds. “I must've been more tired than I thought, I'm sorry."

Oren goes to speak, then stops himself. "It's okay..."

"It's fine," Minerva says finally. "The sun will go down this evening and we'll steal our way in then."

"But now they might be expecting something,” Oren argues. “They know that people got sick and might be suspicious about why."

Eliam looks down at himself, noting his wrinkled suit. "I'm going to go get changed, if nothing else,” he says, leaving to his and Oren's room.

“I... think I'll do the same,” Gwendolyn says, and quietly leaves for the girls' room as well.

Oren sighs, and looks at Elise. "When they're done, please go open the window and see if you can hear anything, okay?"

"What do you want me to hear?" she asks.

"Just see if they're talking about us, or what happened. People being sick... see if they're still sick, that sort of thing." He gestures towards the girl's room. "Did you have a window that opens in there?"

"We do," Elise says. "I can go open it and listen."

"Okay, thanks," Oren says, sitting on the sofa and gingerly cradling his head.

"You seem a little on edge," Minerva says to him.

"Well, I thought everybody wanted to go home, though I guess I slept in too. I wish you had woken me up..."

She frowns. "I tried. It's not my fault you slept through your wake up calls and two of us wandered off entirely. I was up and cooking breakfast before dawn for us. You're welcome."

"Well next time people sleep in and there's a vital deadline, just throw water on them or something."

"Noted," she grumbles.

Eliam leaves the room, cleaned up and dressed, and sits down next to Oren, putting his arm around him. “So,” he says, looking Minerva up and down. “How'd you manage to mess this one up? I thought your date was going pretty well when you left together."

"What do you mean?” Oren asks. “I think everybody messed up pretty bad, to be honest, but I think I drank too much."

Minerva shakes her head and stands up to walk away.

"Wait,” Oren calls out before she can get to the door, “we need to make a new plan."

She stops, arms folded and clearly irritated. "Okay. What's the plan?"

"I don't know, you said we could sneak in. Do you know how to do that? Why are you mad? I'm sorry I was upset, it's not your fault. I just have a headache. I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "The drugs you put in the water should keep them off-balance for the day. Even if they're recovered by now, surely to Maker their watch schedule has been changed since so many people would have taken the day off sick. They probably have a bunch of rookies and newcomers on security. The darkness tonight plus the weird schedule should give us a chance to find a vulnerability." She stands and goes to get her things. "I'm going to talk a walk around and see if I can find any good places to sneak in. I'll come back this afternoon. You guys should get ready to pack up."

"Oh... okay,” Oren nods. “Is it safe?" He looks at Eliam, concerned.

"I'll be fine. Just a citizen, going for a walk around the castle. How bad can it be?" she asks.

"We got arrested for less in Meadowgrove... be careful, and don't mention any cults," Oren advises. "If they find out you're a cultist, they'll arrest you."

"You have something of yours blood marked so Oren can find you if necessary, right?" Eliam asks. Oren nods, and she leaves.

I um... I'm sorry I worried you last night,” Eliam says after she leaves. “I just assumed you slept with Minerva... sort of figured she could handle getting you into bed, but I guessed wrong? I did uh... sort of, sleep with Gwendolyn, though; we were talking about her possibly becoming queen, and well... It's kind of a long story. But I don't think she'll act crazy about it, so everything should be okay."

"Oh... no, I didn't. I mean, I wouldn't sleep with her. I mean I probably would but I shouldn't." Oren thinks for a moment. "Well, I hope you had fun and she isn't crazy. Or pregnant."

For a second, Eliam looks horrified. "I mean... that's not, that wouldn't happen. Don't even joke. She's definitely not crazy though; I told you she was nice. You should sleep with Minerva though, why not? She obviously likes you, even if she's in a bad mood today. And this is sort of our last chance before we go storm the Patriarch's castle."

"...You know, I was thinking about this whole king thing... I thought you wanted to be a healer?” Oren asks. “I liked that idea. I think you'd be better at that."

"I mean, that's kind of where I always expected to end up. But Gwendolyn was saying that being king is actually feasible with our family's support. I mean, I can't actually guarantee my family's support, obviously... but she sounded certain of hers. They have plenty of money and resources. And she thinks I'd be really good at it.”

"So... Gwendolyn wants to marry you and be Queen? Would she still marry you if you were just a healer living in a small town?"

Eliam sighs, thinking. "I mean... I'm sure the Queen thing is a good bonus. But she seems genuinely interested in me. Though it might not even come being a healer if it doesn't work out, with the money her family has at their disposal. She's their only heir, if I remember correctly."

"I don't know, I think you shouldn't marry someone for those reasons,” Oren says awkwardly. “You'll have to be with her forever. And she'll be the only person you can be with for the rest of your life. You need to be sure. And while I'm sure you could become king really easily, I don't know if you'd like it. It's probably a ton of work and the last king got murdered. You should come be a doctor with me like we planned, that was a much better idea I think. You knew best from the start, and the whole king thing is something I thought of when I was... y'know, before, and that's not a good sign." He snuggles into Eliam's shoulder, smiling at him.

"I mean... I was worried about that too,” Eliam answers, snuggling him back. “But even Minerva sounded relatively okay with it. I know you came up with it before, but so far everyone thinks it's a good idea. You said you had a headache, right? Probably a hangover. I can definitely relate to that one," he laughs. "It's hard to think about this sort of thing when your head is pounding."

Oren nods. "Minerva was probably just being nice. ...I'll help you if you really want this, but I wanted to be with you and be doctors. Unless you really don't want to anymore. I understand if it's more tempting to be rich and marry Gwendolyn. But maybe she'll marry you either way?"

"I mean... I still... I sort of assumed, if I became king, you'd be there to help me. No way I could do this without your help. You've always been there for me, especially with all that's happened here. No matter what we choose to do, you're still going to be my best friend, you know?" Eliam pauses. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to be a doctor, I think. It's the only useful thing I'm good at. You can't make a living as a blood mage, really. I want to be somewhat respectable and maybe we could have a place to live and work and everything. It's better than being homeless. I think living in Siraj and being important sounds way too stressful."

"Yeah, I can't imagine there's much call for blood magic in the average town. Hey, you could always be the royal healer though? No way we'll ever be homeless, though,” Eliam frowns. “I'll make sure of that."

Oren nods. "If you want me to. Do you think Minerva would want to... live in Siraj?"

"Maybe... she's leader of the Lyriad in Ushad or something, right? But who knows if she needs to be there for that. I would certainly want her to come join us. I mean, why not?"

Oren looks around quickly, making sure the doors are closed and Elise can't hear them. Satisfied, he leans in and whispers into Eliam's ear. “She kissed me!” He smiles brightly.

Eliam smiles back. "That's fantastic news! I told you she liked you. What did you do?"

"She left. We were dancing, sort of, and she put my hands on her, which was weird, and she was really close and she said she wanted to live with me, and then she kissed me and told me to go read my book and she went to bed. So I came up here to read and wait for you," he says, faking an irritated look at Eliam. "But I guess you had a good night too. Though Gwendolyn seems less virtuous than I expected..."

"It... was a bit easier to convince her to spend the night with me than I expected. I guess I just charmed her,” he claps him on the shoulder and smiles. "That's still great news, though! I guess Minerva wants to take it a bit slow... probably worried about being distracted for the fight coming up, I'm sure. But she said she wanted to live with you? I think after the fight, you'll have to be talking to her about how to make a living together... congratulations, though. She definitely likes you if she said that."

"I'd rather live with you. I like her but I don't think I'm good enough to have a wife yet. I'm not being insecure, I just mean... you need a house and things. We can go have a life and get things settled, then maybe she'll be impressed. I don't know if she wants to take it slow, though. That dress was very revealing. But I don't mind, I like girls who take initiative. Sort of a requirement, since I won't. So maybe it'll happen sooner than I expect."

"Well, she wouldn't turn down the royal healer. Or my royal advisor. And yeah, her being so... forward with that sort of thing will be good for you."

"Definitely. I'm glad you're a man, or I would have to choose between you. You're both very forward about that sort of thing, I guess." Oren looks over at the table. "She said she made me breakfast... I hope she's not mad."

"I mean, sometimes it works! And me being a man doesn't have to stop you, you know. But I know you already said you definitely aren't interested in me. She seemed a little upset, yeah... but maybe she just has a hangover too? I wouldn't worry about it."

Oren nods. "Maybe. And I like you... I just don't like guys like that, I guess. I don't know, I mean I never even knew that was a thing before you told me. And now you're engaged, so it doesn't matter!"

Eliam frowns and thinks before speaking. "It's fine. Most people prefer the opposite gender. ... I am still happy to share a bed with you, though. I mean, it's good to stay warm, and it's nice to not be alone, right?"

"Yes, I hate waking up alone. Sleeping with you is much better,” Oren smiles. “I know you're there, and that makes me happy."

---

Inside their room, Gwendolyn leaves the bathroom, her hair carefully put up in its normal style. She smiles at Elise as she sees her at the window. "Hear anything interesting?"

Elise tilts her head. "Not much... a few people complaining of feeling ill. Far too many conversations about time in the bathroom. The innkeep is sleeping with one of the musicians in the band last night; he won't stop bragging about it."

"At least the drugs seemed to work, then.”

"Yes, it seems so," she says. "Well, that's good, at least. It's too bad we couldn't get ready earlier. Why'd you sleep in so much?"

Gwendolyn shifts awkwardly in place. "Eliam and I were up late talking, after the dance, and decided to get a separate room so we wouldn't wake anyone up. And it seemed like Oren and Minerva might have been... together, so we weren't sure which room might be safe."

"Ah," Elise says. Under her breath she adds, "Thank Maker for walls."

"So what about you? Did you meet anyone nice at the dance?"

"No, not really," Elise says. "I just... you know... I thought about how lucky I am. I know our journey's not been all perfect and things went wrong, but... I went out and sat under the stars last night and felt the wind and it just made me feel... happy. I'm glad I met everyone and got to be here. I hope... Well... I hope I get to stay with Minerva and travel with her even after we get home," she says quietly.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind traveling with you. You two seem to get along well. Unless she wants to be alone with Oren, I suppose. I don't really know the whole deal with them."

"Yes," she says. "I'm... I'm sure Oren will tell her to get rid of me if they travel together."

"Get rid of you?" Gwendolyn frowns. "Why do you say that? You're a Child of the Maker like the rest of them, aren't you? It doesn't end once we get back to Iquai."

She looks genuinely surprised at this. "Well... they wanted to get rid of me once before. It's why Minerva and I went our own way from the group, and we got turned into Noctyr. I'm pretty sure Oren hates me. And that's... I mean, it hurts, but it's okay. It would have bothered me way more a while ago, but since coming to a new world, and losing Votig, and becoming fully human... what other people think doesn't really bother me anymore. I think that's what Heather wanted me to learn when she told me to come out here. To grow up."

"I can't speak for how you were before, but even from when we first met at the inn you've seemed to kind of... find yourself. Like you're more comfortable with your powers. Though I don't think Oren dislikes you. I think he just believes that you need protecting, and he's uncomfortable with being in that position. So you just to show him that you're strong enough to stay with the group. Like back at the prison. You didn't even have your magic, and you still fought. That was impressive."

She smiles warmly, and places a hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Gwendolyn... thank you. Really. I think I needed that."

She smiles back. "You're welcome. Let me know if you ever want to practice. I'm sure I could give a few tips."

She laughs. "I...uh... I guess I probably should, shouldn't I? I've never really been a fighter... What should I do?"

"Mostly you first just need to get a feel for the weapon. Build up your strength, until you're used to swinging it."

Elise picks up her staff from beside her bed and turns it over in her hands. She swings her staff in an awkward arc. She ticks the edge of a bedside candle-holder and it wobbles precariously. "M-maybe not in here?"

"Maybe not inside," Gwendolyn smiles patiently. "Once we're back in Iquai and are a bit more safe, I can show you some basics."

She smiles. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"I think we should go tell the others what you heard. At least enough that the drugs worked."

"Alright," Elise says, leading her to the other room. "Oren! Sounds like the drugs worked."

Oren looks at her and smiles. “Good."

Gwendolyn looks at them, and takes the spot on the couch on Eliam's other side. The four spend the rest of the afternoon chatting amongst themselves and preparing to leave, until Minerva returns shortly before the sun begins to fall. "I think I have our way in. Can we be good to go once the sun is down?"

“Yes, we're ready,” Oren answers, standing to help Elise put on her new armor.

"I believe so,” Gwendolyn says. “Let me just go put my armor on. Eliam, do you mind helping? It'll go faster with two. These straps can be difficult."

“Oh... yes, of course,” Eliam answers, following her to her room.

Oren raises an eyebrow as they leave. "I'm just actually helping,” he whispers to Elise after the door is closed. “It's not a ruse like that."

The party prepares over the next two hours until night has fallen and they are ready to set out.

The Group Infiltrates the Aqueducts
Minerva leads the party into the crisp night air. The streets are mostly deserted. A half hour's walk brings you to a path that takes you around the edge of the castle. As they walk around it, every few minutes, they pass a covered aqueduct that feeds into the castle. "Near as I can figure," Minerva muses, "the large aqueduct we fell into feeds into all of these smaller ones, which is good, because that means the flow and level of water in each of them is a fraction of the main one, and it means any of them should get us into the castle."

A few more minutes and she guides everyone beneath the shadows of a large tree. "Now," she says, "look up there." She gestures to the parapet of the castle wall. "Two guards, patrolling in roughly 30 second intervals, but they're young and inexperienced. You can just barely see: no facial hair, plus they're both carrying torches, so they can't see into the shadows down here at all. They're blinding themselves. As long as we're quick, they shouldn't be able to notice us."

Oren touches his own smooth face, frowning slightly. “I'm glad we have an expert with us."

She nods. "Fifty yards ahead, see that aqueduct? It's got a hole on the far side. Low water level, so we can walk, though we'll need to crouch once we're in. The hole is too small for us to go in together, so we'll need to run one at a time when the guards aren't looking. We'll have about twenty-five seconds to get from here into the hole before the guards will notice us here. Even being blinded from the torches won't help if they catch us on the top of the aqueduct. Sound good?" she asks.

"That could be difficult, with all our things," Gwendolyn answers, motioning to the bags the group carries.

Oren shrugs, and looks at her. "Can she fit with her armor?"

"She'll fit," Minerva confirms. "As for the backpack, pull it in after you or throw it down first."

"If you think it'll work, I'm sure it's fine," Eliam shrugs.

Confirming they're ready, Oren casts a veil of darkness in front of them. Opaque darkness surrounds them, and they move forward as far as possible without leaving cover.

"I can do that the whole way across, maybe..." he trails off, considering the distance to the aqueduct.

"Maybe halfway, to give us breathing room,” Gwen suggests. “But you should save your strength for what's inside."

He nods, and whispers to Minerva."You tell us when to go, I guess."

She nods. "Okay..." She creeps to the edge of the shadows, staring intently at the parapets above. "Eliam," she says, "You first. Ready... ready... Go!"

Eliam takes off at a sprint. He climbs up the aqueduct and slides down the far side. He disappears from view. A guard pauses and holds his torch out over the edge and peers down, but after a moment, the guard walks on.

Time passes. "Gwen, get ready," Minerva says. "In 3... 2... 1... go!"

She sprints for the aqueduct. She makes it up the ramp, but stumbles upon clearing the lip. Her bag jostles, and a sack containing food supplies falls and lands on the covered top. She doesn't notice this in her haste, and slips into the hole.

"Shit," Minerva hisses, as one of the guards returns and peers down at the duct.

"Did he see Gwendolyn?" Elise frets.

"I don't think he saw Gwen, no..." Minerva says slowly.

They wait for the guards to return to their normal route. Time passes, and eventually Minerva nods, satisfied. "Elise, you're next. Oren, should she try to grab the bag Gwen dropped as she runs?"

"She's pretty quick, and small. If it's convenient."

"Okay," Elise says with confidence. "I'll do it."

"Did he mention it? Out loud? What he saw?"

"The guard? He's not said anything yet," Elise says.

"Then do whatever you want, I guess,” Oren tells her.

"Okay," Minerva says. "Get ready, Elise... Ready... Ready... Go!"

---

"It's been a while... hasn't it?" Gwendolyn asks Eliam, as they wait together in the aqueduct. "Do you think something went wrong?"

Elise takes off at a sprint. She scrambles up the ramp of the duct, scoops up the bag, and runs for the hole. She slides down the far side and lands in the hole. Her feet splash as she lands in water that rises just over her ankles.

“That answers that,” Eliam says, helping her steady herself. “Everything still okay out there?”

She holds out the bag to Gwen. "Here. You left this behind."

"Oh. Thanks." She puts it back into her larger bag, securing it tightly.

"Things are still good, I think," Elise answers. "Minerva thinks they spotted the bag on top of the duct but... I've got it now so we should be okay."

Eliam shrugs. "Nothing we can do about that now... I'm sure it'll be fine. It's pretty dark out, and they should be mostly blind, according to Minerva."

---

Outside, as they wait, Oren takes Minerva's hand.

She looks at him. “Um... what's up?”

He smiles brightly at her. "Um.. storming a castle. What's up with you?"

She offers a half-smile, despite herself. "I... Yes. Pretty much the same." She stares up at the parapet. "The guards are... hm."

The guard waves his torch over the edge of the parapet. He waves some other guards over, and she sighs. "They noticed something."

"I bet they noticed a bag that was just there now isn't,” Oren says.

"Damn it," she exhales. "Probably should have left it, but that could have been just as suspicious."

"Should we kill them?"

"No," she says. "Right now they're just on alert. We kill them and they'll be in full search mode. We might not be able to get back to them if they're all watching. Can you give us more cover?"

"We can just wait. How long do you think it'll take for them to give up and go back to patrolling?"

"A few minutes. That's assuming they give up and don't send someone down here to check.”

Oren shrugs. "At least we're not waiting in a pipe like them."

"True," she agrees. "Could be worse. I hope they don't panic since we're taking so long, though..."

"Elise can hear us."

"Can she?" Minerva asks. "We're around a corner from her... I wonder if the wind will carry our words to her." Minerva folds her arms. "We could just run for it. They'd start searching but we're pretty good at, um... killing things. Or we could wait. Or you can extend shadows again. I'm not sure. I'll leave this up to you."

"That spell takes a lot of aether. I'd rather save it for later... those blood spells are actually kind of hard. I'd be fine with waiting and catching up to them. It's not like they're going anywhere." Quietly, he pulls Minerva closer to him.

Minerva freezes as Oren draws her closer. "Um... Oren... what..."

"Come on," he says, stepping into the shadows under the trees.

She resists a little at first but follows. "What are you doing? We're going the wrong way!"

"We're waiting, we can wait over here."

"We might only have a narrow window. We should be as close as possible in case they stop looking briefly." She turns to go back to the edge of the shadow. Oren follows her, still holding her hand. When they reach the edge of the darkness, he stops for a moment, his eyes glowing blue.

---

"It's been a while," Eliam says. "Elise, can you hear anything?"

She shakes her head slowly. "This area is too covered. The wind won't carry them to me. I'd have to crawl out of the hole a little."

"I think if something was wrong, there would at least be some noise of fighting, right?" Gwen asks. "Or guards yelling?"

"Would you like to check?" Eliam offers to Elise. "I can help you up, if you need... maybe you can hear something."

Before she can answer, the waters around them begin to shift unnaturally. In the darkness, they can make out a “W” from water suspended in midair, before it collapses and things return to normal.

"W?” Eliam asks. “That must be Oren, then? ...That's a nice trick. I suppose they're okay? He would have tried 'H' for 'help' if they wanted us to go back, right?"

"I think you're right, Eliam,” Gwen nods. “We should probably keep waiting."

"It's a bit dark in here, isn't it?” He asks as they wait. “Do we want some light? I can cast a spell."

"We might want to move away from the hole if you want light,” Gwen smiles. “We don't really know what might be happening."

"Oh... true.” He leans against the wall, and they wait in silence.

After several minutes Gwendolyn grabs his hand, worried. He holds it, squeezing it to try to comfort her.

---

As they wait, Oren touches Minerva's arm with his free hand, moving it in a swirling pattern. "I wish we had woad, since we're going into battle."

Minerva turns and places a hand on him. "I... listen. About... last night."

"Eliam said we slept together, but I don't really remember that part. I can lie to him if you want, or pretend we didn't.  We didn't really, though, right?"

"I... let's... ugh!" she grunts. "This is so stupid. I can stab a hundred orcs but I can't... talk."

"That's how I feel all of the time,” Oren says with a small smile.

"We didn't sleep together,” she answers. “No. I kissed you good night. You went to read a book. I got up to make you dinner. You... slept. And I... like you. And this. But this isn't the time. Our friends need us to be together with them and we need to get home. When we live through this... then we can figure out whatever this is."

"I'm sorry, I drank a lot more than is good for me, I think. I would rather eat your cooking than sleep. I wish you had woke me up for that. Um... I like you! I don't want you to think I don't. But you're right. I stayed up all night thinking about you when I should have been worrying about this. It's probably better if we pretend everything is normal and we don't worry about romance. So I'll pretend I don't like you, if you want. For now."

"You don't have to pretend anything. Just... keep your mind on our mission so you stay safe. I don't... I want us all to go home together. You need to be attentive for that," she cautions. "Just... oh, Maker, whatever." She kisses him, then pulls away. "Survive. There will be more of that."

"I kind of hope Elise can't hear us after all,” Oren says after a moment, smiling. "Can we go?"

She turns her attention back to the guards, and Oren holds her hand, waiting for the signal.

Minerva looks up. "Okay. They're starting to talk to each other. They're distracted. This might be our best chance, assuming they're sending someone down to flush us out. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Good. We're running together since we might be running out of time. You're going in front and jumping in the hole first. I'm following behind you. No arguing. Run when I tell you," she says authoritatively.

"Okay," he answers happily.

"On your mark... get set... go!"

Oren sprints, Minerva hot on his heels. He flies up the incline and effortlessly slides into the hole on the far side.

Minerva glances up as she runs. She tries to keep an eye out for the guards as she runs, but this causes her to trip over the lip of the duct. She hits the covered section noisily, and the guards begin pointing at the source of the noise.

She pushes herself up bitterly as an arrow strikes the ground beside her. She rolls toward the hole and is about to slip in when an arrow catches her shoulder. Her armor prevents it from sticking but it pierces about a half inch into her flesh. She slides into the hole and disappears from the guards' sights.

As Oren falls into the aqueduct, Gwendolyn jumps slightly in surprise. Minerva follows closely after, and Oren helps her stand. From above, the sound of a horn splits the night.

"Shit," Eliam says, appraising her wound. "Can you run? I can heal you when we're able, but-"

"I'm fine," she says quickly. "They're on to us. We have to choose: run away and try another day, or press on right now and try to get home."

"Let's just go home, we're already halfway there,” Oren answers quickly. He tends to their wound as he helps her walk, pulling out the arrow and applying pressure to the wound and quickly suturing it.

“Thank you,” she says with sincerity.”

"We still have some surprise, and the main guards were weakened,” Gwendolyn states. “If we wait longer, they'll just be more heavily guarded next time."

"Let's go, then,” Eliam agrees, conjuring a small light and leading Gwendolyn forward by the hand.

As they travel down the aqueduct, Oren splits the waters before them, pushing them aside to make their walk easier. They continue onward, and the tunnel begins to narrow around them. Eventually, a light appears in the distance.

“Stop,” Elise says brusquely. "Voices."

They stop, and Eliam moves aside to let her creep to the front of the party. She moves forward and closes her eyes. "It's too faint from this far back around the corner but I hear something. I need to get closer to hear it clearly."

Eliam extinguishes the light, and they advance closer to the end of the tunnel.

"Okay..." she says slowly. "They're saying... '...long until we get water back in the castle?' 'Shouldn't be much longer. They're saying it was making people sick so they wanted to flush out the system to get fresh water.' 'So they're going to open the gates soon?' 'Another ten or fifteen minutes, I'd bet. Then the aqueducts will all be full again throughout the castle.' ... and they're walking away," Elise finishes.

"How long did it take you to make that hole, Minerva?" Oren asks.

"The one we just came through?" she asks. "I didn't. It was just poorly-maintained."

"Well, we should hurry and get out I guess,” he says, trying to look past everyone to see the exit.

When Elise signals that the way is clear, they advance into a large circular room, with empty tunnels ringing the edge. Several ladders lead to a raised walkway far above them. The wall is set with heavy stones, suggesting the area lies beneath the castle.

Minerva looks at the ladders. "This may be our best chance to go up... What do we think?"

"I think we should climb," Gwen answers. "I don't really want to wait down here if they're planning on opening the flood gates."

"Works for me..." Eliam agrees. "Sounds like there's some guards up there, but I'm sure we can avoid them."

Oren shrugs. "Okay."

Minerva grabs a ladder rung. "All right. Let's do this." She begins hauling herself up.

Oren lags behind, waiting for the others to go first. Gwendolyn follows Minerva, and Eliam climbs up after her. After Elise follows them, Oren joins them.

After a long climb, they arrive at a circular walkway, lined with a protective railing. Two sets of stairs lead up to the north and south.

"So..." Elise says, "Does anyone remember exactly what we're supposed to be looking for, again?"

"A glyph of some sort, but I'd be surprised if we're actually close..." Eliam answers, closing his eyes.

"Gwen, if your locket gets warm, let us know," Oren says.

"There's something north," Eliam points. "It's a bit far, but there's something."

"North, then?" Gwen confirms. "If it's right the locket should get warmer, right?"

"Yes, though in Fallowfield, it didn't really heat up until we were right on top of the glyph... but if it's invisible, you can I can probably find it together. I'm sure I can find the right room, at least."

She smiles at him warmly as they continue north. "Sounds good."

Beyond the stairs is a small stone room with windows, and a closed wooden door. There is a large desk and chair, and a sign on the wall that reads 'Aqueduct Control.' Outside is dark, and they can see the ground a few floors below them. Bodies can be seen moving around the courtyard in the distance. The main, tallest towers of the castle, where the Patriarch can presumably be found, are across the courtyard further north. A large, empty trench lines the inside of the heavy stone wall surrounding the castle.

Tentatively, Oren pushes the door open. Beyond it is another room with two flights of stairs, one leading up, another leading down.

"How do we control the aqueducts?" He asks, and they begin looking around.

Eliam feels his way around the room, sensing small traces of magic. He studies the desk in the control room and notes an engraved etching of glyphs, inert and dull, atop it.

"There's some glyphs over here that look like they use magic to control them,” he calls out.

"Can you open the flood gates and make the water fill those trenches?" Oren asks.

"I'll try.” Eliam places his hands on the glyphs and traces the lines with his fingers. He begins to push aether into the engraving, and the glyphs glow where his digits pass along them. When he has at last touched each line of the glyphs, they grow a faint white, and emit a low hum.

Outside, tiny white glyphs appear at various points in the trenches around the courtyard. From each, a small jet of water arcs up and lands in the trench, like a spring. The water fills the trench and begins flowing toward the tower.

"Whatever you did, it seemed to work. Look," Gwendolyn says, pointing outside.

Oren smiles, closing his eyes to sense the layout of the water. Quickly, he realizes there's not enough water to be tactically useful on a large scale.

"What now?" Gwen asks.

"We managed to sneak from the tree to the aqueduct... mostly without issue,” Eliam answers. “We could make it across the courtyard to the castle from here, possibly?"

"Maybe," Oren answers.

"As long as we're quiet, I think we could,” Gwen nods. “Even if they looked up, it should be hard to spot us in the dark."

They creep to ground level. Buildings dots the landscape. Resting against the shadows of the wall, they observe guards patrolling in relatively regular patterns.

They slip through the shadows to a small alley halfway to the tower entrance. A guard approaches, his footsteps echoing down the pathway, but Minerva finds an unlocked door and forces it open. They slip into a building that appears to house a storeroom.

Minerva strolls up and down the shelves to see if anything may be useful. The guard continues his patrol outside. Eliam helps her search, and after a minute, Minerva holds up three vials of a clear blue liquid. "I've seen some of our mages use something similar before. I think this is a potion to restore your magical stamina," she says.

Oren examines them and nods. “Probably.”

"This should be useful," Eliam says happily, distributing one each to Oren and Elise.

Elise peeks out a window. "The guard is gone. I think we're clear to advance."

The Group Fights in the First Tower
The party slips down the walkway on the way to the central tower. A guard's footsteps can be heard near the edge of the buildings, immediately before a large clearing that would lead toward the entrance. Minerva cuts at a right angle and heads for a large building containing a high roof and an open hall. She gestures for the party to follow, but Eliam and Gwen do not make it out of sight before the guard spots them.

The guard shouts for backup as he races toward the doorway. The party barrels into the hall, the guard and any nearby sentries hot on their heels.

Two knights and two squires race into the hallway, drawing their weapons. The on who called out raises a shield and points his sword at them. "I am Alofas, the Steadfast. Declare yourselves!"

Gwendolyn draws her own sword and shield in return, pointing it at him. "I am Lady Gwendolyn Oberle, Paladin of the Maker. Stand down, or face His wrath."

"The Maker stands with us," Alofas replies. "Drop your weapons and stand down, or be put down in their place."

"So be it, then," Gwendolyn says, preparing to attack.

Alofas charges her, his sword a blur in the air as it powers against the paladin. His sword flashes with a magical power as it collides with Gwen's shield, and the concussive mystical force blasts her back against Eliam, knocking him into the wall behind her.

Immediately she regains her footing and strikes at the knight, her sword answering his with a strong blow. He grunts as the blade cuts across him.

From beside them, Oren casts a spell and strikes. The shadow dagger flies from his hands and embeds itself through Alofas' armor. He clenches his teeth as the magics affect him. "Step forward, men!"

Eliam regains his footing, repositioning himself slightly. He casts a spell, and the arcane blast blows Alofas' shield away from him. He grits his teeth, blood dripping from his gloves to the floor. "What are you?" he mumbles under his breath.

"Sir!" cries one of the squires. "Don't worry, I've got you!" He runs forward and lays his glowing hands on the knight. A restorative aura surrounds him, and he stands a little taller. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Melkis," he replies, "I am quite well. Be safe and on guard. These foes are strong."

The second squire steps forward. "We shall be stronger ourselves, then!" The squire carries a staff, the head of which glows green. The green light bathes the knight, whose armor seems to shine with a magical luster. "My magics will shield you, sir."

"I am much obliged to you, Kalamar," he replies. "Keep yourself out of danger."

The second knight moves forward on Gwen. "Pah. Magics," he spits. "A real man doesn't need such things, Alofas."

"A real man protects his liege with every tool available to him, Savine," Alofas responds. "I advise you to do the same."

"Not needed!" Savine shouts as he swings and misses at Gwen.

Minerva moves forward to skirmish with Savine as Elise sends magic at Kalamar.

Alofas attacks Gwen, but she uses her shield to easily deflect his blow. "Kalamar! I may need some more power."

"Understood, sir!" He replies.

"Afraid to face me with your own power, Alofas?” Gwendolyn says, her shield glowing. “I'll show you what a true devout of the maker can do." A divine light spreads and covers her allies.

Alofas staggers back from the weight of Gwen's glow. His eyes look wild. "That... light. This... no. It's a trick. This is nothing but a trick!"

Oren draws water from the plants outside the building around them. The liquid gathers near him, floating in through cracks in the seals around the windows and doors. Oren ejects the water at Savine's mouth and nostrils. He moves to cover his face but his motions are slow, and about half of the assault moves into his esophagus first. Oren directs the water past his epiglottis and attempts to freeze it within his lungs. He clutches at his throat and chest and falls to a knee. With a free hand he gestures wildly at Melkis.

Eliam attempts to follow his attack with a firetsorm, but the concentration of water in the air from Oren's attack hinders his ability to summon and manipulate flame.

Melkis turns and runs toward Savine. He slides on the floor and slaps his hands onto his chest with haste. "It's okay. I've got you. Breathe, sir. Breathe." His glowing hands ease Savine's pain, and he stands and faces Oren.

Kalamar turns and lays his hand on Alofas' sword. The sword begins to hum with a magical aura as a red light overtakes it. "Divine Maker, bless this blade and curse those whom it touches," he chants.

Savine grips his sword tightly. He moves slowly, recovering. Elise blows him away slightly with a wind spell, but he continues his advance.

Alofas swings his sword at Gwen. His blade slips around her guard but is caught by her armor, almost repelled by the light she summoned.

"Our cause is holy!” She shouts, as she strikes him back. “The Maker Himself protects me from your sword!"

Savine's hands clench instinctively on the hilt of his sword, seeing the might of the opposing paladin. He steps back, despite himself, and turns to face Gwen. "Y-you... You must be put down."

Oren's magic erupts outward, a wave of heat boiling the blood of all the enemies within range. They scream and shriek as their bodies overheat from within. Just as Kalamar cries out for the Maker to end the heat, their bodies freeze in an instant. They slow as they stumble to the ground. The cold feels intensified on the heels of such a boiling sensation.

Savine and the two squires push themselves to their feet. Alofas does not rise.

Mendis struggles to his feet and places his hands on Savine. "Y-you are... our greatest chance." His strength is restored.

Kalamar leans against him momentarily and enchants his sword. It glows red. "All we have... we give to you."

Savine turns on Oren. "Mage. You killed our friend. In the name of the Maker, I swear I will end your life."

"But first,” he yells, “the wench!"

He launches himself at Gwen, his red sword screaming through the air. His sword is unstoppable. Gwen raises her shield but Savine's assault forces her arm aside, leaving her vulnerable. Savine lands a massive blow across her chest, denting her armour. A second blow catches her in the stomach, and with a final slash, he opens a wound in her sword arm and knocks her back a pace.

Minerva steps forward to try and force Savine back a few steps. Elise moves in and lays hands on Gwen. She is slightly restored, but the wound in her sword arm is glowing red and she cannot remove the aura.

"Wench?" Gwendolyn steps forward as she's healed, raising her blade. “I will bring you personally to His judgment."

She attacks with her sword, the blade moving in an arc that comes wide around Savine's shield. The blade catches the knight for minor damage. He grunts and steps back. As soon as the blow is struck, Gwen feels a sharp pain radiate from the wound in her arm up to her body.

Oren closes his eyes, and the blood pooled beneath Alofas begins to unsettle itself. With sudden speed, the blood launches itself towards Savine's face, and he stumbles as Alofas' blood invades his body. He coughs, but more rushes in. He waves in desperation at Melkis.

"Wench?” Eliam asks, as he shoots a blast of aether at Melkis to halt his support. “Bold words when you're this outnumbered."

His head snaps back as the spell collides with him, but he retains his focus. Melkis places his hands on his own chest. "We are outnumbered... but you... you are outmatched." A healing aura overtakes him and he stands gingerly. "I'm coming, sir." He moves toward Savine.

Kalamar attemps to bolster Savine's defenses but the knight thrashes too much to be aided. He manages to raise his shield to protect himself, but cannot bring himself to stand.

"Outmatched? No one can match the might of those blessed by the Maker,” Gwen rushes Savine, her sword in front of her. He blocks the blow but falls to the floor, coughing and sputtering further.

A wind rises about the room, the still air reacting to an influx of aether that is summoned at Oren's call. Melkis shudders as he feels a dark magic grip him. The blood mage summons water and mixes it with the blood that has spilled throughout the room already. It swirls around, growing in force and severity until it sweeps the knight and squires off their feet, slamming them about the room. Eventually, after what feels an eternity, the waters subside and seep into the floor. Savine looks the worst for wear but none of them seem okay.

Years from now, the small building will sit barricaded and boarded up in the midst of the castle grounds. None approach it. None dare enter it, for the tales that surround that little room chill the people to their core. The first knights to stumble upon that grisly scene nearly died of friend on the spot. A dried, dark red crusty blood clings to the walls and floors of the interior; it is as though a hundred men were impaled and run through within its confines, and the sticky fluid of their veins was used to decorate the walls as macabre ornamentation. Whatever caused this, they believed, must surely have been a vengeful and angry demigod the likes of which the Maker would send only as a punishment for allowing His Judgment to be interrupted with such horrendous loss of life.

Thus did Oren begin the downfall of Ilemashi.

Gasping, Melkis lays hands on Savine. "We can't stop them. You can."

Kalamar lands hands on Savine's armour. "My last blessing. Please..." His armor glows with a green aura.

Savine pulls himself to his feet, and swings his reddened sword at Oren.

The blade cuts a lines across Oren's chest, leaving a glowing red wound.

"None can stop us,” Gwen answers. She grits her teeth as she strikes, knowing the pain that will be coming. Her sword bashes against Savine's armour, denting it fiercely in the stomach. In the place it has struck, she feels a similar blow connect on her own body.

Oren's follows with an arcane blast that explodes on the healer's chest, felling him for good.

"Melkis!" Kalamar cries.

Eliam sends a blast of fire down the hall. It explodes forward around Kalamar, Savine, Minerva, and Gwen.The flames roast each of them, but burns away all unwanted magical effects on their bodies. Savine's armor stops glowing, and Gwen's glowing red wound is luminescent no longer.

Kalamar screeches. "What are you? What are you?!" In rage, he launches himself at Eliam, bashing at him with a club.

Minerva steps behind him. "Hush now. Time to sleep." She raises her dagger and slits his throat. He falls.

"We are His chosen, sent to end your heresies,” Gwendolyn answers simply, continuing to fight.

A shadow dagger from Oren drops Savine finally to his knees. As Eliam prepares to finish him off with an arcane blast, Savine looks up at him. "The Maker will condemn you."

"I don't think He will, since we're the Children,” Eliam answers. The arcane blast strikes Savine's face true, and he falls lifeless to the ground.

The Group Continues to the Central Tower
Minerva wipes her daggers off and sheathes them. "Is everyone all right?"

Eliam nods. "A couple bruises, but I'll be fine."

"I am, thanks to Elise," Gwendolyn says, turning to the healer. "Thank you."

Elise smiles. "You kept all of us safe. I think I owe you more than the other way around."

Oren checks everyone's wounds. "Thank you," Eliam says, smiling at him. When Oren moves to the next person, he kneels beside Sevine's body, looking it over for anything useful.

"This should come in handy, I hope,” Eliam says, removing a key from a small keychain on Sevine's belt. “I guess we should keep moving, then?"

Oren nods, and Eliam stands and closes his eyes. "I think the glyph is in the central tower. There's definitely something over there... well, several somethings, oddly enough. But hopefully the glyph."

"That sounds as good a place to check as any. Maybe some sort of magical defenses?" Gwendolyn looks at Oren, hoping for an answer.

He looks pensive for a moment, trying to remember his time in the tower. “There's lots of different kinds of defenses... traps that can do all kinds of spells, set off by going near them. But they can be broken by overloading them with enough magic.”

They check outside, finding the path to the central tower mostly undefended. A large open archway faces them, seemingly open for anyone to walk into. Eliam closes his eyes, yet again, frowning slightly. “There's a trap that will drain our magic in the doorway. I think I can disable it from outside... the glyph that controls it is about two feet away from the door, inside."

Minerva nods. "Okay. Let's hope it goes quickly..."

Elise says, "I don't hear anyone nearby on our side. Now is the time to do it, Eliam."

"Good luck, Eliam,” Gwendolyn tells him.

He nods and sneaks forward through the shadows, reaching the arch uncontested. He attempts to overload the glyph by forcing aether into it, but he works too quickly. An unexpected burst of aetheric feedback rebounds on him, and he suffers some of the trap's effects, his own aether draining away slightly. However, the trap is disabled, and he signals everyone to follow him.

They step through the arch into a large foyer. A hallway leads forward to a table with several books piled neatly on it. A stairway to the right of the hall leads up, and next to is a closed wooden door.

Oren takes a cautious step into the hallway, eyeing the books curiously.

"There's too much aether around to know which way is correct..." Eliam trails off, checking the path Oren looks down.

"I think our best bet might be going up. Even if the glyph isn't there, I feel like that's where the Patriarch would be,” Gwendolyn suggests.

"The other glyph was in the library at Fallowfield,” Oren says.

"Elise, will you tell us if you hear anyone?" Eliam asks. She nods, and he continues. "The hallway is clear."

Oren goes ahead to the room with the books, looking around. Some paintings line the walls, but the room is mostly bare. Oren turns around and walks back, frowning. “Not a library.”

Minerva smiles.

"Maybe Gwen was right,” Oren says, eyeing the stairs.

"We can take the books, if you want,” Eliam offers. “There's a trap on them that will alert the guards, but we can try to disable it, if you'd like... the last glyph I sort of... well, it still activated a bit? It might not be worth it."

Oren shakes his head. "There's no need, we should hurry."

"Okay. Up it is then,” Eliam says, leading them. He stops them at the top of the stairs, disabling a glyph in the wall, and they continue onward.

On the second floor, a room opens up to a large window overlooking the courtyard. A long hallway leads to another set of stairs going up. Next to the hallway is another closed room, a table with a vase of flowers next to the door.

"Which way? Anything from the locket?" Eliam asks.

Gwendolyn removes her gauntlet and feels the locket. “No change.”

Oren walks to the window, looking down. He senses faint traces of magic from the room by the hall, and moves to the door to examine it. He opens the door with a small creak, looking cautiously inside. Eliam follows him and pauses for a moment. The room is entirely bare.

"There's definitely a trap in there. The glyph for it is back there," he points. "In Fallowfield though, the library and glyph were on the top floor, right? Do you think it's the same here?"

"What would happen if you activated the glyph?" Oren asks.

Eliam shrugs.

"Well, you may as well deactivate it in order to prevent us setting off the trap, right?" Oren continues. "It might be the kind that hurts you so... if you don't know what it's for, we could leave it alone, but.. I don't know."

"Is there anything in that room worth going inside for?” Eliam asks, closing his eyes and concentrating. “It can mess with our memories somehow... I think give us hallucinations, probably? The trap itself isn't here though; it's just the glyph. So... yeah, it might be worth disabling."

He walks inside and approaches the back wall, sending a burst of aether into the glyph. The trap is disabled, though a quick spark of feedback strikes Eliam. He stares at the wall for a moment, then shakes his head and returns to the group. “So... onward, then?”

Minerva nods. "May as well. Where to?”

Gwendolyn leads them to the stairs, and Eliam checks them once again, looking somewhat overwhelmed. “The stairs are safe.”

They stop at the top of the stairs once more. Another hallway leads to another staircase. In front of them is a large painting of a field of lavender flowers. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and a small end table is next to the stairs, some candles flickering on it.

"The stairs are trapped,” Eliam announces. “There's something crazy happening with that painting. There's a ton of aether there. There's some aether on the endtable as well."

Oren steps up to the painting to examine it; the mass of aether responds on proximity and throws him against the opposite wall. The painting explodes in a brilliant light that fills the hallway completely.

The light from the painting reflects against the chandelier, refracting and growing stronger until it becomes a wave of aether that washes over the party.

The aether envelops the room; there is no response to it and no defense. What begins as a blinding light that blocks out the hallway entirely quickly turns into a blackness. There is no sight; there is no sound.

Oren's Dream
Oren jerks up, breathing heavily and sweating slightly. The sun is bright, and beaming in through the tower windows. He blinks, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and looks around. This isn't Ilemashi. This isn't the floor with the trapped painting (honestly, who traps a painting anyway?). He looks around and sees only the familiar. There... the leather vest he was given by that villager in compensation for straightening his wrist. The warm cloak hanging on the wall, a gift for stitching up a stubborn cut while Adani was gone. This wasn't Ile... what was it? Ilemasho?

This was home.

Oren's mind spins backward. That adventure. That ... seed? The people he knew. That woman who kissed him. Minerv-- wait, no. Lily. Lily was the last girl to kiss him. And that man, his friend. Eli... no. He shakes his head. What an unusual and real-feeling dream.

He is home, a student, a scholar, a healer. Why, just last week he helped the mayor's daughter deliver a mostly healthy baby boy. Yes. Things seem... real.

There is a knock at the door.

Oren descends the stairs and opens the door to discover a pretty, lithe lady with dark brown hair. She looks at him with an expression he does not fully understand. "Brie," she says. "My name is Brie. I don't think I ever mentioned that... last week."

"Oh, hi,” Oren greets her awkwardly. “Nice to... meet you. How do you feel?"

"Somewhat sore," she answers rather brusquely, "but alive. And... grateful. May I come in?"

"Of course,” he says, holding the door open for her.

Brie steps lightly past the magical wards. Her dark hair trails softly in the air behind her, and a lavender scent wafts throughout the hall. "Thank you. For... for everything. If it weren't for you..." Her voice trails off, and both understand why she needn't finish her sentence.

Oren nods, shutting the door behind her. "This is a... lovely home," she says looking around. "I ... had somewhat expected it to be brighter."

He shrugs in response. She steps through the hall and spots a sofa in the next room. She delicately sits on it and waits to see what he will do.

He sits next to her, and she smiles. "So... um... What... what do you do all day here?"

"I read, and clean... there's a lot to do, sometimes I copy books that are old or repair them. That sort of thing. What do... you do? All day?"

"Oh, I... I clean as well," she says awkwardly. "I do errands in the market for my family. I have a lot of work to do at home, now, what with my new... er..." She looks at Oren rather severely and lowers her voice slightly. "My new baby brother."

Oren nods. Brie clears her throat. She looks around in silence as though searching for a topic of conversation. He looks at her as she looks around, smiling.

She shakes her head, causing the scent of her hair to drift about the room once more. "I... um... understand that you are alone. Often. Is that true?"

"Yes, about half of the time. He comes back for a month or so... then leaves for a few weeks, sometimes longer."

She sidles closer. "And so... are we alone... now?"

"Yes."

Brie edges forward. "That's... good. Perhaps I should thank you a little more... appropriately... for all you did."

"Oh, you don't have to do anything,” Oren says, looking concerned. “You should be recovering... your father can pay me whenever it's convenient."

She seems momentarily crestfallen but covers it well. "Yes, well... oh never mind." She moves forward and kisses Oren. He kisses her back.

Brie is shy at first, but takes the lead and after a time, fervently showers Oren with affection. Minutes (or longer?) pass, before she finally draws back and stands.

"...Nothing to say?" she says after a time. "I... suppose it's good to be able to leave a man breathless."

He blushes, nodding. After a moment, he takes her hands. "That was... really nice. Are you leaving? You can stay... if you're hungry or... something. How do you feel?" He looks her over, trying to ascertain her health.

She shakes her head. "I... I'm fine. I should probably get back to see my ch- brother. Perhaps I can... visit again? If you liked that? Maybe soon I can be more... adventurous?"

Oren blushes even further. "Uh... I... you should visit, if you want to. But you shouldn't... do other things... I mean, not for a few months. Not that you meant that, just in general..." He looks away from her awkwardly.

"Y-yes, well... um..." She stammers. "At least... it looks like we'll have plenty of time to ourselves." She walks slowly to the door. "I... I look forward to returning."

Oren stands to walk her out, and together they go to the front door. She departs, a final scent of lavender filling the space as she leaves.

He returns upstairs, and sits by the window. Outside, he catches a glance at Brie advancing down the winding road that leads back to the village.

---

A couple of weeks pass. Adani returns home one afternoon, and greets Oren warmly. "Well, the place looks like it's been kept well, Oren. Excellent work. Have you been up to anything in my absence?"

"No."

"Just working and studying hard? Excellent, excellent..." He sits down in his normal chair in the study, books at his side and a small brandy in the other. "Dreadful news from all corners. Orcs everywhere... the Elyde overlooking their more egregious transgressions. Well, things to be expected, of course, once a new faction comes to power. I'm glad you're here, Oren, safe and sound. Out there is..." He sighs.

Oren nods. "Yes, it's nice here."

The wizard sips at his drink as he works his way through his book.

Oren walks to the window, looking outside. Up the road, he can just barely make out Brie, walking closer down the path to the tower.

Wordlessly Oren leaves the room, hastily going upstairs to his bedroom to fix his hair and check his clothes. Satisfied with his appearance, he slips downstairs past the library to the foyer to wait for her arrival.

Adani notices his quick movements around the tower. "Hm?" he questions. "You're in an awful hurry. What's inspired you?"

"Nothing, what?" Oren answers. "I'm going to go... downstairs." He leaves slowly, desperately hoping Adani won't try to stop him.

He gives Oren a quizzical look, then says, "Could you fix me one more brandy before you go downstairs? The bottle is on the cabinet."

Oren pours the drink quickly, and Adani thanks him. He races down the steps to the front door, just as a knock is heard. "Oren, could you get that?" Adani calls from the library.

Oren checks his hair one last time, looking through the little window by the door to make sure it's Brie. He opens it casually.

Brie smiles as she sees him. "Hello. May I...?"

"Of course, come in," Oren says, holding his arm out politely and closing the door behind her as she enters.

She slips a shawl off of her shoulders, revealing them to be bare. "I haven't visited in a while, I'm sorry. Are we... alone?"

He leads her to the apothecary room adjacent to the entrance quietly. "No... he's upstairs. And don't be sorry, I'm glad I get to see you again so soon. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again after last time."

Her face falls upon hearing they are not alone. "Oh," she says tonelessly. She puts the shawl back on her shoulders and follows him into the room.

"Have you... been well?" She asks as he shuts the door.

He nods. "How do you feel? Are you recovered?" He looks her up and down.

"I'm... walking," she says. "That's a good start."

"Do you want to sit down?" Oren offers.

She seats herself in the softest chair she can find. "Thank you. What is this room?"

"It's where we make potions and medicine, things like that." He gestures around at various drying herbs and alchemy supplies. "And sometimes reagents for spells and rituals... but mostly just medicine, I think." He pulls over another chair to sit next to her. "I'd offer you a drink but I'd have to go upstairs to get it, and I'd rather stay with you."

"O-oh," she says. "That's... well, that's very sweet." She looks out the window, seemingly lost in thought. "Oren, have you ever thought of leaving this place?" she asks.

He thinks about it for a minute, then shakes his head. "Not exactly. It's nice to go outside... but I don't really want to go anywhere specific... I guess it would be nice to see some different places, though."

She ponders this for a time. "Perhaps we could... take a trip together one day."

He smiles. "That sounds great, but I don't know if I'm allowed to go anywhere. He doesn't even like for me to go into the village."

She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. "How old are you, Oren?"

"Nineteen or... um.. why? I'm a little younger than you, I guess."

"I mean... if you're nineteen, you're an adult," she says. "You can go... whenever. You're free to travel as much as you want."

"...I know that. I just don't think he would... want me to, so... I should stay here."

"Why?"

"Because he wants me to. I don't know. Where would I even go? It's much better here than anywhere else, so, why leave?"

Brie folds her arms. "How can you know this place is better than anywhere else without seeing for yourself?"

Oren shrugs. "I guess. Where do you want to go?"

"I-I don't know. Away. Anywhere. I just thought... if you wanted to go... together. You're... nice to be around."

"Oh,” Oren smiles. “Well, you're really... nice. I like being with you, so if you want to we can. I'll go wherever you want. If he lets us."

She sighs. "Oren. Oren, I..." She takes his hands and draws them up in her own. "You need to make your own decisions. I'll come back next week, okay?" She rises to leave, clearly disappointed by the short visit.

"Okay,” Oren says, raising his eyebrow. “I'll see you then." He stands and walks her quietly to the door. “Goodbye."

After she leaves, he takes one last look out the window, then creeps back upstairs. Adani still sits in his chair, sipping his brandy. He reads the newspaper, and scoffing occasionally at what he reads. "Hello, Oren. Who was at the door?"

"Um... a woman named Brie, she's the mayor's daughter. Brie Moss, I guess." He looks around awkwardly, trying to find the right words.

Adani doesn't look up. "Oh, the mayor's daughter. What did she want?"

"She's going on a trip. But, she isn't sure where yet. I guess. She said she wants to travel."

He looks at Oren with curiosity over his newspaper. "Those are her plans. I asked you what she wanted."

Oren walks to the other side of the room, examining some books. "Well, she wanted to tell me about it..."

He lowers his newspaper fully. "To what end?"

"I don't know, she was wondering if I would go with her, but... I told her I wasn't sure, and I don't even know where she's going? But she's leaving next week, I guess." He looks away nonchalantly, trying to hide his nerves.

Adani leans forward and presses the tips of his fingers together. "Why you?"

"I don't know,” Oren answers quietly. “She said she wants me to go with her. I didn't ask why, really."

"Are you certain?"

"I.. yes, I guess so,” he looks around nervously. “So, I don't know where she wants to go or how we'll get there, but I can ask her."

"You needn't bother," he replies, raising his newspaper again. "It's not as though you'll be going, anyway. Right?"

Oren considers this for a minute. "Well... I don't know where she wants to go. Maybe it's close. Ushad isn't very far. I think she just doesn't want to be alone. I mean, a woman like her shouldn't be travelling alone. Maybe she was just being nice, though. I don't have to go... I mean... if you don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't," he answers shortly. "The Rorgh are everywhere. Until things settle down, it's better to be here."

"When will that be? I can ask her to wait, but she seemed determined to leave soon..."

"Perhaps a few months," he answers cryptically. "Perhaps a few years. It is your life we are discussing; are you so quick to throw it away?"

Oren shakes his head quickly. "No, I don't want to do that."

"I rather thought not," Adani answers. "Next time she comes, please tell her that you are staying here."

"I will." Oren moves slowly the door, waiting to make sure Adani has said his piece. He remains silent, and Oren proceeds up the stairs to his room. He lies down on the bed and closes his eyes, trying to figure out how to explain his answer to Brie.

---

A week passes. Adani has left again, and Oren runs the tower alone. There comes a knock at the door.

He opens the door. Brie stands in the entrance in a light purple dress. The lavender scent again fills the hall. "Hello, Oren. May I...?"

He ushers her in. "Hi, I'm glad you're here. He's gone, so, if you want... you can stay here for a while. I mean, I can show you around. If you want. Maybe we can go see the garden, too. Would you like that?"

"I would... like to, yes. I would like to see other gardens, as well." She steps into the tower and follows Oren to the garden.

They walk the garden path together, and Oren shows her around, pointing out the different kinds of plants. Brie is uncharacteristically quiet as they walk, as though something is weighing on her. Oren guides her back inside the tower, and takes her up the stairs.

"That's a manticore skull, and that's a painting of an elf,” he points out, guiding her onward to the library. She follows Oren through the whole tour, then sits on the soft chair on the bottom floor of the tower when they are finished. She folds her arms. "Oren, that was very nice. You know this place well. Thank you."

"Do you want anything? Are you hungry?" He asks, sitting next to her.

"I do. I want to go," she says. "You're kind. And smart. And caring. I would... like to see what you're like, outside of this place. It's not good to be in one place like this, alone, forever."

"Then stay with me,” he answers. “Then I won't be alone. He'll be gone for weeks, nobody will know."

She shakes her head. "Oren, I'm sorry, but... Not like this. Not here. Come with me. Come see the world. Please."

He looks down, considering it. “Maybe... I guess. Where do you even want to go? I mean, where specifically?" He stands up, grabbing a map and setting it on her lap. He sits next to her once more, waiting for her answer.

"Anywhere," she says, smiling. "You choose. Let's just... let's be part of the world instead of sitting in a dusty old tower."

He sighs, looking at the map. "It's not that dusty."

She offers a half smile, and he points at a random town near Westbridge. "Have you been here?"

"No... No I haven't. But I would like to, with you."

"Okay... we can try that,” he nods. “I mean, it's not that far... I'm allowed to go to Westbridge, this won't be any different. Wait here." He rushes upstairs, hastily grabbing a cloak. He changes quickly into travelling gear, carefully folding his nicer apprentice clothes and putting them away. He removes his earrings, and returns to find Brie still waiting for him downstairs.

"Are you ready?" Brie asks.

Oren nods, and leads her to the entrance. He opens the door to see them both out... and finds Adani standing on the other side, having just arrived home.

"Well," Adani says. "Isn't this pleasant?"

"Hi! I didn't expect you back so soon,” Oren greets him.

"I can see that," he answers. "Is this what you do when you don't expect me? Sneak out on your own?"

"No, not really,” he shakes his head.

Brie bristles. "He's an adult. It's not sneaking."

"Oren," Adani says, slowly and clearly. "I will not permit this at this time. Go back inside."

Oren nods, and obediently steps back into the doorway. Before he can get far, Brie grabs his arm, holding him back. "W-wait! Just like that? That's it? You just... obey?"

He nods, looking torn. "Well... he said to... go inside. I'll see you another time, I guess. Unless you want to come in?"

"No," she says. "No, I really don't." She turns and glares at Adani, then walks away in silence.

Oren sighs, and meekly enters the tower, staring at the floor. Adani follows him inside, closing the door behind them.

Thus did Oren remain at the wizard's tower and continue his studies alone. He would eventually discover the blood lotus seed, and begin his journey to see it sprout in Thirshalon. His travels would bring him, eventually, to Ushad, to a little pub called the Grainhouse.

He traveled for weeks, finding companions, learning about himself, growing stronger...

Until he would one day end up on the third floor of the central tower of a fortified cities named Ilemashi... and he would open his eyes to see Eliam, Minerva, Gwendolyn, and Elise on the floor around him.

Eliam's Dream
Eliam jerks up, breathing heavily and sweating slightly. The sun is bright, and beaming in through the mansion windows. He blinks, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and looks around. This isn't Ilemashi. This isn't the floor with the trapped painting. He looks around and sees only the familiar. There... the fine suit he was given by his grandfather on his eighteenth birthday. It's been altered a few times to make it fit as he grew. The bow on the wall, which brought back all the memories of playing on the yard with his sister. This wasn't Ile... what was it? Ilemasho?

This was home.

Eliam's mind spins backward. That adventure. That ... world? The people he knew. That woman who kissed him. Gwe-- who? And that man, his friend. Or... no. He shakes his head. What an unusual and real-feeling dream.

He is home. A nobleman, a son, a Westmonte. Why just this evening his family will be entertaining the Talstons. Some dreadfully boring business affair or another.

There is a knock at the door.

He closes his eyes, willing the visitor to leave, knowing it won't work. He stands and opens the door.

Cyrus is at the door. He eyes Eliam up and down. "Good. You're up. That's a more passable start to the day than I expected. Our guest will be arriving soon. Make yourself presentable and meet us in the great hall downstairs."

Eliam rolls his eyes, somewhat taken aback. “Fine.” He closes the door on him quickly, and gets cleaned and dressed. He begins to walk downstairs to the foyer to wait with the others. Just as he is going to turn onto the last stairwell leading down to the hall, he runs into Shera, clothed in a fine lavender dress. She smiles and takes him by the arm, pulling him away from the stairs. "Quick, in here, in here," she says quickly, pulling him into a side room.

"What is it? If you have a plan to get out of this, please share."

She sighs at him, somewhat overdramatically. "No, there's no getting out of this. This is for Dad and for our family. We're stuck. But he's... Dad is rather cross today. Mostly at you. He's watching super close to make sure you... ah... 'toe the line,' as he put it.

"I'm worried for you, Eliam," she continues. "I overheard him telling Micah that they both needed to be watching for 'any signs of impropriety,' and... and that this was it. No more chances."

She looks at him anxiously. "You... you're the only brother I get to really have any fun with, you know? I mean, I get along with everyone else, yeah, sure but... Please, please don't mess today up for Dad. I'm scared he'll kick you out and I'll lose my ... my only real friend in here."

"Whoa, okay, okay. Calm down. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Eliam says, trying to reassure her. "So, um... thanks for the warning. But I mean... Okay. I'm just going to sit there at dinner, and do nothing and be polite. Okay? So stop panicking."

She looks at him, moderately reassured. She takes a moderate steadying breath and says, "Okay. You promise?"

"I promise, yes. I will be as boring as possible. Let's go downstairs and prove that I can be a proper nobleman, okay?"

She nods. "Very well. I'm counting on you, Eliam."

She leads him downstairs, to where the family is standing. Rolan bristles slightly upon seeing his youngest children descend together. "You were very nearly late, the both of you. I do hope you will be more attentive to our guests than you are to the timepieces."

"Entirely my fault,” Eliam answers quickly. “I'm sorry. When will our guests be here?"

"Mere minutes, should they be more punctual than you," Cyrus replies. "Shera, for all your many gifts, I do hope you'll spend your time more with Arlan. He can read a clock."

Shera bristles slightly. "Eliam already apologized. For all your many gifts, I hope a kind heart and forgiveness will show through to the Talstons. It is not showing right now to me."

Rolan scowls at his youngest. "Your words are unwelcome and undeserved. Apologize."

Shera looks back at her father resolutely, noting his lack of admonishment toward Cyrus, but wilts under his stern gaze. "My apologies, Cyrus. I meant no offense."

"Then none is taken," Cyrus replies. He walks behind Eliam and whispers, so his father can neither see nor hear, "I, of course, did." He continues walking toward the main door.

Eliam stops, raising his eyebrow as his brother moves away, but decides to say nothing. His family makes smalltalk as they wait, and finally a servant arrives, bearing a card of introduction to Rolan. "They have arrived," he states. "Form up, look sharp. Good posture. Today is an important day."

The Talstons arrive. Weylon Talston steps forward confidently and shakes Rolan's hand. "Rolan! Such a pleasure. It's been too long. I barely recognize your children now."

He smiles. "Yes, they've all grown up wonderfully. I'm very proud of them. If I may..." He gestures at Arlan.

He steps forward and extends his hand. Weylon shakes it. "Good day, sir. My name is Arlan."

"Fine stock, this one," Weylon says.

Micah steps forward. "Greetings, sir. I am Micah, his younger brother."

Weylon shakes his hand as well. "A pleasure, Micah. I look forward to conversing with you over the course of the evening."

Cyrus reaches out, saying, "Hello, sir. My name is Cyrus. I could take your coat, if you should like."

Weylon chuckles pleasantly. "How very kind. Thank you, Cyrus. One to keep our eyes on, hey, Rolan?"

Rolan makes a sharp, jerking gesture that is imperceptible to Weylon, but obvious to Shera and Eliam: 'Shera next.'

She hurries forward gracefully and curtsies, a model of etiquette. "The pleasure is all mine, Master Talston," she says.

Weylon takes her hand and kisses the back of it. "Such a lovely daughter, Rolan! You must be very proud. She is the spitting image of your beautiful wife."

Weylon turns his eyes to Eliam.

Before he can move, his father steps between them. "Please, never mind Eliam. He's been sick, his voice isn't quite strong today. Another fine son, I assure you. Shall we move on?"

Weylon seems slightly taken aback. "Ah. Well, that's too bad. Eliam, I hope you recover soon."

Eliam raises an eyebrow at his father.

"As do we all. You'll likely not hear much of him tonight as a result, I'm afraid," Rolan says, with a meaningful glance at Eliam.

Eliam nods slightly, looking extremely annoyed. "Thank you for the well-wishes, sir."

Weylon gives him a quizzical look, but moves on. Their introductions done, Weylon offers greetings on behalf of his own family. The names rush past Eliam, until he gets to the last: his daughter, Lyra.

Lyra wears a low-cut dress, a muted yellow that reminds Eliam of sunshine and warmth. She catches his eye and blushes furiously, turning away and making a pointed effort to study a stone bust near the wall.

Eliam smiles at her warmly, eyeing her surprisingly immodest dress when he's sure no one is looking. She turns from the bust and notes that the families are beginning to walk into an adjoining hall. She turns to follow, and makes eye contact with him as she does so.

Shera sees this, and moves to Eliam. Grabbing his shoulder, she says, "Come, brother. We're all moving on." Under her breath, she hisses, "Don't. Don't, don't, don't."

"I won't. I promised, remember? Just... Don't start panicking again. I won't even talk to her or anything, okay?"

She looks at Eliam slowly. "Okay..."

Lyra steps over to the two of them. "Um... hello," she says shyly, speaking more to Eliam than to Shera.

"Hello, miss Lyra," he answers, smiling at her politely. "Would you like to walk with us to the dining hall?"

His sister glares at him, but doesn't comment.

"I would love to, thank you," she smiles. She brushes hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. "It's so difficult, being so much younger than the others," she says quietly. "I don't often find people around my age when we have family business meetings."

"Yes. It's certainly nice to have someone to talk to. At least, about something that isn't business." Eliam offers Lyra his arm, and smiling, she takes it. “We should hurry to the hall. I'd hate to be chastised for being late again."

"Right you are," Shera says.

Lyra tilts her head. "You... get chastised often, as well, I take it?" she asks.

"Hm? Oh, not often, per se. Usually just because of a misunderstanding. Or because I'm taking the blame for being late to wait for guests for someone else," he says, glancing at his sister as she rolls her eyes. "But, 'as well'? What could you possibly do to get yourself in trouble, miss Lyra?"

"O-oh," she says, awkwardly blushing furiously. "I... that is to say... um..."

Shera actually laughs. "It's okay. Anything you've done, I'm sure Eliam has done worse."

"I find it... difficult... to live under all the pressure my father places on us to be perfect representatives of the brand," she admits. "Sometimes I sneak out. Go for walks. Break curfews." She lowers her voice to nearly a whisper. "Indulge in... in a drink on occasion.

"He hates it, of course," she says, smiling sadly. "But it really is my life and I need to live it sometimes away from the pressure of my father and his company. I'm sure that must be... difficult to understand or believe, being the well-raised family that you are."

Eliam puts his free hand on her arm. "No, I emphasize. It is a little absurd, how we can be expected to be always perfect, always the model of proper behavior... My brother manages it seemingly without effort. I wish I had his talent. I just... Sometimes you need a break from such things, I guess..."

Shera looks at him somewhat sadly. "Well... It's not all that bad. We never want for anything. That's worth some tradeoffs, surely."

"Fair enough. Better than going hungry or having to sleep in the cold,” Eliam says cheerfully.

Lyra nods assent as they enter the dining hall. Their families sit at the table, mostly seated. A buttered pheasant is served as soon as the assembled guests have found their seats.

Lyra chooses a seat to the right of Eliam. Her eyelashes flutter at him whenever their fathers are not looking.

The meal continues mostly uneventfully. Just after dessert, Weylon leans back in his chair and says, "Marvelous! You really have outdone yourself, Rolan. What a magnificent feast."

"Not at all," Rolan replies. "We are only too happy to join in meal before we join in business."

Weylon smiles at him. "Quite. Perhaps now would be a fitting time to begin discussing some of the finer details. May I recommend we retire with our trusted eldests?"

"This seems wise," Rolan agrees. "Arlan, would you join me, please?" Arlan nods and rises, along with Weylon and his eldest son.

Weylon looks at his children. "Can I assume you will be respectful and manage yourselves appropriately as we do business?" His family nods their assent.

Rolan says nothing to his children, but stares long and hard at Eliam, his meaning clear. Eliam gives him a bright smile in response.

After they leave, Shera taps Eliam on the shoulder and beckons him to follow quickly. She steps to the far end of the hall, near an ostentatiously large window.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, joining her.

"Did you see? The look he gave you?" she says nervously.

"Yeah, of course. He's been giving me looks like that all night. It's annoying, honestly. I have no intention of messing this up for him. ... Hey, are you okay? Seriously. You're not normally this anxious about things."

She frowns. "You're not normally in this much danger.”

"Hey, come on. Have a little faith in me. I've made it this far, right? Honestly I'm more insulted that Father's still so upset. I mean, normally he's a lot more... level headed, I guess. It's strange. Not letting me introduce myself? Coming up with some weak excuse for it? It's far more weird and off-putting than to just let me shake the man's hand. How could he have thought I'd possibly insult him doing that?"

"That's what I mean," Shera says. "He's upset and cross with you. Don't give him reasons to... oh, no."

Lyra walks over to them and says by way of greeting, "That meal was delicious. Thank you so much."

"Oh, of course. The best part of having guests over is the food,” Eliam answers. "I hope you're enjoying your visit so far?"

"Yes, very much!" she says. "I particularly enjoyed the bust of the nobleman in your entrance hall. I have a soft spot for statues. Do you have any more about the mansion? I heard the Westmontes have a sizeable art collection."

"Of course. I'd be happy to show you around." Eliam thinks for a moment. "Though, we should have someone come with us. I'd hate for anyone to get the wrong idea."

"Oh," she says, quietly. "Yes... Yes, of course."

"I'd be happy to join you, if you're interested,” Shera offers politely.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Eliam says politely, leading them out of the hall.

Lyra follows them and listens as Shera begins to recount the history of some of the stone heads that line the hallway.

After a few minutes, she studies a larger statue. She stands on the opposite side of Eliam and bends over to inspect the craftsmanship, leaning on her knees with her hands, seemingly unaware of Eliam's staring. "The craftsmanship on this statue is fascinating, isn't it, Eliam?"

"Huh? Oh... yes, of course."

"I find it so fascinating how much of our history can be told through art," she continues. "The rise and fall of civilization after civilization... the rise and fall of culture after culture."

Cyrus appears at the top of the stairs suddenly. "Oh, there you all are. Shera, Father is looking for you. He's in the dining hall."

She looks helplessly at Eliam, then back to Cyrus. "Ah... er... right this minute? I was just in the middle of a tour..."

"Oh, it's quite all right," Lyra replies. "Please, don't let me stop you. I'm certain Eliam will be more than capable of showing me around."

"I... no, of course,” Eliam answers distractedly. “We're uh. Just about done, anyways, I think. I can escort you back to the dining hall when you're ready."

Shera goes on ahead. "Eliam... I'll see you soon." She goes to Cyrus atop the stairs, then looks back. She draws a deep breath, takes a moment to flatten her lavender dress, then descends the stairway and is gone from sight.

Lyra begins walking slowly down the hallway in the opposite direction. "So... where were we?"

"I mean... we should be going soon, I think. Right? Everyone will be expecting us fairly soon."

She turns to a door and tests the doorknob. It opens. "Soon? Perhaps."

"Lyra..." Eliam shakes his head, failing to follow her. "You're very... I mean. If you'd just come any other time... I don't really know what's going on with everyone today. I've never seen my father or my brother acting so aggressively... and Shera gave me a pretty alarming warning earlier. I just... I think he's really, truly dedicated to making sure this deal goes through between your father and him. But... maybe after things have settled down and the paperwork is signed, we can spend some time together. They'd probably encourage it between us, I'd imagine. I mean... Shera was saying they might even kick me out.

"I don't know if I believe that, honestly, she's been acting uncharacteristically worried about everything today. But I mean... if she is that worried... her fears might have merit. I don't know."

Lyra walks up to him and grabs his shirt. "Then stop talking and be fast." She kisses him hard before he can answer. "We can use that room. Five minutes."

He tilts his head at her, thinking. He closes his eyes, as though willing himself not to act, and looks back up the stairs one last time. "...Okay. Five minutes."

She nearly drags him into the room. They close the door with what seems to be too much force. Fingers fumble, kisses are exchanged. And before Eliam can finish removing her dress, the door opens through neither of their own doing.

Both Weylon and Rolan stand there, staring at their children, caught in the most improprietous of acts. Rolan has turned a shade of red that Eliam did not know existed.

Weylon and Rolan make excuses to placate the other, but both seem far more embarrassed than anything. Eliam and Lyra are separated, and Eliam is sent to his room... with a guard.

An hour later, Eliam hears a voice at the door. It is Shera, talking to the guard. "I just want to talk to him, surely that's... Please?" Silence, then Shera's sigh. Her footsteps move away, down the corridor.

Half an hour after that, the door opens. It is Rolan.

"I know this looks... it wasn't my fault. I mean, she kissed me first, and-"

"And nothing. You're a man. You have control of yourself, or so I always told myself." His voice is low, and cold, and furious, and tinged with disappointment. "I have given you every chance for your entire life, and how have you repaid me? With laziness, and sloth. You have never applied yourself, truly applied yourself, to anything."

"I don't... that's not true. I've tried. Even if I haven't always been successful, surely that has to count for something?"

"It counts for nineteen years worth of care," he says. "But not twenty. Get your stuff. Get out. Eidrick will see you out."

"I... what? No. This is insane. You can't..." Eliam shakes his head in disbelief. "Let's talk about this for a minute. This is a snap decision. I mean... how can you expect to explain this to anyone? You can't do this."

"The explanation is simple. My youngest son was disowned for failing to live up to the expectations placed on him by the family of Westmonte. He took every advantage he had and gift he has been blessed with and has squandered them. He brought shame upon his parents and for that he lost everything that he knew." Rolan spoke quietly, calmly. Nothing in his voice felt rushed or impatient. Nothing felt like a reflexive decision. He has thought about this. He has planned this, and he has told Eliam nothing of it until this moment.

"That's..." Eliam closes his eyes, thinking, and looks down at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry means little now. You nearly cost me a million gold deal from your recklessness," he says. "No more disappointment. Get out and make a man of yourself. Maybe once you learn to be a man you can say hello once in a while."

Thus did Eliam leave the Westmonte mansion and begin his travels alone. His wanderings would bring him, eventually, to Ushad, to a little pub called the Grainhouse.

He traveled for weeks, finding companions, learning about himself, growing stronger...

Until he would one day end up on the third floor of the central tower of a fortified city named Ilemashi... and he would open his eyes to see Oren, Minerva, Gwendolyn, and Elise on the floor around him.

---

Quickly, Oren stands and checks the people lying on the floor. Satisfied that they're alive and only asleep, he walks over to Eliam, sitting against the wall. Oren joins him, and they sit together in silence.

After a moment, Eliam leans his head against Oren's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, are you?" Oren asks, examining him for any sign of injuries from falling on the floor. After he's sure Eliam is okay, he hugs him.

"Yes. That was... weird. Are the others okay?"

"They're still out," Oren nods. "They're probably dreaming. Did you have a good dream?"

"Sort of... it was weird. Like a memory, but everyone acted off. How about you? What did you see?"

"Similar... Like something that happened. But everything was different from the way it really happened."

Eliam nods. "We'll have to be more careful next time... who covers a place in this many traps, anyways? Who traps a painting, of all things?"

"Sorry," Oren answers quietly. "It was nice seeing my home again. Even if it wasn't real. And I saw my master, though he was acting a little different, I think... The real him probably would have let me leave, honestly. I mean, if I said I really wanted to..."

"Oh, no, it's not your fault," Eliam reassures him quickly. "Don't worry. ...I guess whoever set these traps up has no idea what they're doing. I hope the wizard's tower wasn't like this, though."

"There were no traps really, they weren't needed. Nobody can enter who isn't welcome. I guess there could be traps somewhere but I never saw any."

Oren moves over to Gwendolyn, carefully holding her head so she doesn't jerk awake. "Gwendolyn, are you okay? Wake up," he pats her cheek lightly. After she offers no response, he looks concernedly at Eliam, and checks the others similarly. A few minutes pass with no sign of any movement from any of the three.

On the wall, the painting glows with a dim purple light. Oren walks up to it carefully, and tries to lift it gently from its spot. It remains secured.

"Do you have a knife?" Oren asks.

"I... I think they're trapped," Eliam says, examining the painting as well. "But I can disable the trap, maybe... but I don't know what it'll do." He unsheathes his sword, and hands it to Oren.

"Okay..." Oren says, making a face.

"Sorry, closest thing I have."

Eliam steps back, and Oren slices at the edge of the painting. However, it fails to cut through.

"Would have been nice if that had worked... should we keep waiting?" Eliam asks.

"We should do something," Oren hands the sword back. "They didn't wake up normally... we can't just be like Minerva and give them all day."

"Okay... I'll try to deactivate the trap, then. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Oren looks at him, slightly concerned. "Alright..."

Eliam takes his hand, and closes his eyes. He senses a string of aether connecting Gwendolyn to the trap. Holding Oren's hand in his, he uses his other hand to clench the string.

The world instantly begins to blacken as the walls swirl around Eliam and Oren.

Gwendolyn's Dream
Gwen jerks up, breathing heavily and sweating slightly. The sun is bright, and beaming in through the abbey windows. She blinks, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and looks around. This isn't Ilemashi. This isn't the floor with the trapped painting. She looks around and sees only the familiar. There... the pile of texts she was loaned by Prilla as a welcoming gift. Her armour, hanging neatly on the wall, which brings back all the memories of her journey and her faith in the children. This wasn't Ile... what was it? Ilemasho?

This is home.

She is home, a student, a believer, a knight. Why, just last week she arrived in Fallowfield and met the kindest woman she's ever seen in her life. Yes. Things seem... real.

There is a knock at the door.

She rises from her bed and answers it. Holy Seat Prilla stands there, smiling warmly. "Good morning, Gwendolyn. I am so very sorry for bothering you before you had come out to join us."

She smiles back. "Oh, it's okay, Prilla. I was already up, I think. Good morning."

"Ah, splendid," she answers. "I know you were reading that book about the legend of the Children. Did you find it helpful in your quest?"

"I did. The Children...it's still hard to believe the legends were true. I hope they'll be able to help you restore peace to Iquai."

"As do I, Gwendolyn," she says. "As do I. Though, I had actually wished to speak to you on this matter. Could you perhaps meet me in my study in an hour's time? I have some tasks that require my personal touch and won't be able to speak at length until then."

"Of course, Prilla. I'd be happy to,” she smiles. “Have you seen Abigail? It feels like forever since I've last seen her, and I'd like to catch up in the meantime."

"Abigail is reading in the garden out back, I believe," Prilla answers.

"Thank you. I'll be there in an hour then, Holy Seat."

Prillla nods and smiles as she exits.

Gwendolyn closes the door after she leaves, excitedly changing into her clothes and pinning her hair up. Once finished, she rushes outside to meet with Abigail.

The garden is in full bloom with lavender. The scent floats on the air, welcoming Gwen as she approaches. Abigail sits near a patch of them, reading quietly.

Gwendolyn scans the garden, calling out to her as she sees her. “Abby!”

Abigail looks up from her book and smiles warmly. "Gwen!" She gestures for Gwen to sit next to her. "Good morning. What brings you out here today?"

She sits next to her happily. "I just...wanted to see you is all. I had such a bad dream but...I feel like everything is okay now. I don't know. I think I'm rambling, I'm sorry."

Abigail tilts her head slightly and looks curious. "A bad dream? Tell me about it."

"I dreamed that the church was destroyed. That everyone was killed. It felt so real."

She studies Gwendolyn slowly. "That qualifies as a bad dream, yes. What happened?"

"I don't really remember. It feels kind of hazy, like its skipping away. But I think it was some sort of attack from the Rorgh."

"The Rorgh?" she asks. "Here? Attacking us?" She rubs her chin delicately. "I'd like to say it's impossible, but... the world is becoming a strange and deadly place. Have you mentioned this to Prilla?"

"No, I haven't. She wanted to meet me in her study soon, so I think I'll bring it up then. I...I hope it doesn't mean anything."

She rests a hand reassuringly on Gwen's shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing," she says. "Dreams usually remain so."

"Thanks, Abby,” she smiles. “I needed that.”

"Mention it to Prilla when you see her. I'm sure things will work out," she says.

"I will. Would you like to meet up after I talk to her? I feel like we haven't had any time to ourselves in awhile. It'd be nice to... get away for a bit."

"Yes, that would be lovely,” Abigail smiles warmly. “Perhaps some tea later on?"

"I'd like that. I'll see you then." Gwendolyn looks around to make sure they're alone, and embraces Abigail farewell. She returns to the church, navigating the halls until she reaches the door to Prilla's room.

"Prilla? Its Gwendolyn,” she calls as she knocks.

The Holy Seat's voice comes from the far side of the door. "Gwendolyn! Please, come in."

As she opens the door and enters, Prilla smiles and gestures to a chair. In the corner of the room stands the most magnificent suit of armor Gwen has ever seen. It is a reflective steel that is tinted with the faintest tinge of lavender.

"I need a few minutes of your time," she says. "I have a proposition for you."

Gwendolyn looks at the armor, momentarily taken aback before taking a seat. "Of course Holy Seat, you know I'll always have time to talk."

"Your quest for the Children... you know that there are none more interested in it than me," she begins. "I believe in them, and in you.

"Yet the world in which they will be born is... dangerous. Powerful. And our abbey is... well. It is ill-equipped for that, as it always has been."

Prilla rises and steps around her desk. "Gwendolyn. I should ask you something important. Difficult. Please give it thought.

"I would ask you to abandon your quest for the Children."

Gwendolyn looks at her, confused. "Abandon...? But why, Prilla? I know we're ill equipped, but they could help change the world, more than we ever could."

"Very true," Prilla says evenly. "But we have a entire world to search and five of them to find, and not even a whisper to go on... and in the meanwhile, an abbey sits here devoid of protectors or defenders. And that is what I need."

She walks to the armour and rests a hand on it. The faint purple gleans in the sunlight from the window. "Gwendolyn. I would have you abandon your quest and remain here. I would have you be Lady Gwendolyn Oberle, First Knight of the Abbey. You would be responsible for training squires and knights to protect our walls and see us safe should... should the orcs ever come for us."

Gwen flinches at the mention of an attack. "I... I had a dream last night. Abigail told me I should tell you." She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, looking for the right words. "In it, the orcs raided the abbey, they...they killed everyone. It was horrible. I don't ever want that to happen... I know it was just a dream, but...I would like to train our people. I couldn't bear for such a fate to truly happen."

Prilla walks to Gwen and makes direct eye contact. "This will mean abandoning your quest and accepting a new life's path. Gwendolyn... Do you accept?"

"I... I do. It seems like the safer choice. We could always search later if there's more leads to go on, right?"

Prilla nods. "Absolutely. I would love nothing for than for our pride and joy, the Maker's own Knight of the Abbey, to welcome the Children to Her sacred home."

The Seat gestures toward the armour. "Would you like to try it on?"

"I'd be honored, Holy Seat." Gwendolyn rises and dons the lavender armor. She looks in the mirror and sees a pious, but confident Knight of the Maker.

---

Prilla calls an abbey mass that night to introduce Gwen and explain her role. There are immediate volunteers.

Over the next months, Gwen works tirelessly to strengthen the abbey and make it a stronghold of light, faith, and the Maker's goodness.

She never meets the Children, and they never visit Fallowfield. Perhaps they were never born at all

Yet the abbey is never attacked, save by common thieves who are repelled by Gwen's finest. Gwen lives a long and happy life, and when she finally passes on at the age of 73, it is as a renowned and celebrated Knight Commander of the Abbey, who oversaw the growth of the most devout and dedicated knights on the face of Iquai.

Oren and Eliam Wake Up Gwen
Eliam and Oren open their eyes. The world around them has materialized into the Abbey at Fallowfield. They are on an upper floor.

A door opens near them as soon as they arrive. Holy Seat Prilla steps out, followed by Gwen in a suit of shining lavender armour.

Before they are noticed, Oren pulls Eliam behind a pillar, remaining out of sight. "I guess we're in her dream," he whispers.

"Makes sense, I guess... we can wait until she's alone, and wake her up."

"When I was in my dream, I was almost taken away from the tower too soon, but I stayed, and then everything else happened like it really did. So... we need to help her do whatever she really did, and not be distracted. Right?"

"Yeah, mine was pretty much the same," Eliam nods. "Makes sense."

Prilla holds her hand out to shake Gwen's. "Again, Lady Gwendolyn, I cannot tell you enough how much it means to me that you are willing to do this for all of us. With you as the Knight of our fair Abbey, we stand positioned to protect our faith and the highest, holiest seat of the Maker for years to come."

"It's an honor, Holy Seat, and one I'd have been a fool to turn away," Gwen smiles. "Do you think there will be many volunteers?"

Prilla smiles with genuine affection. "Oh, plenty, I'm sure. The chance to exercise our faith and our bodies at once? I'm sure many will be intrigued. And..." she lowers her voice conspiratorially, "I'm sure the fact that a pretty young woman is leading will inspire some of our order as well." She laughs innocently.

"Well, I guess that couldn't hurt," she blushes. "If you'll excuse me, Holy Seat, I'd like to go tell Abigail the news. I'd like her to hear it from me first."

Prilla nods. "Of course, of course. Be proud, good Knight, be proud."

Gwendolyn bows her head slightly in respect, and turns to leave. Eliam nudges Oren, and starts to move, but Oren grabs his arm first. "Wait. What if we can talk to Prilla? Maybe she can tell us things we don't know, or we can check out that library! We can learn a lot before we wake up Gwen."

Eliam looks at him, concerned. "I mean... we don't know what's happening outside. Shouldn't we be fast about this? ... Maybe there's a library in the tower back outside the dream we can check?"

Oren rolls his eyes. "But the real Prilla is dead, right? This could be our only chance. She might know more about the glyph and why it's in Fallowfield. And that kunalchoozy guy."

"Okay, well... what if you talk to Prilla, while I talk to Gwen?"

"Okay, that's fine," Oren answers, giving him a stern look. "Don't seduce her. I know she's young and foolish now, but don't do it! Deflowering her once should have been enough." Before Eliam can answer, he scampers away, getting Prilla's attention.

"Excuse me, Holy Seat? Right?"

Prilla turns around before she steps back into her study. "Yes? Hello. I'm sorry, I've not met you before."

"Oh, yes, that's true. I had some questions, maybe you can help. Um..." Oren looks at her, his eyes flashing blue as he draws upon the aether. Prilla steps back fearfully. "I'm a children of destiny, can we talk?"

Prilla grasps her chest. "O-oh my heavens."

"Right," Oren nods, "So, can you tell me about Kunalchoozy?"

She leans back against the wall in shock. "G-Gwendolyn! Gwendolyn!"

"No, wait! Shhhh," he takes her shoulder, trying to move her.

Alarmed, she immediately attempts to push his hands away and shouts louder. "LADY GWENDOLYN!"

"Stop it, don't call her, she can't know," he begs, pulling her into the study "Calm down, please don't tell anyone, it's a secret." He looks around nervously, closing the door behind them. He begins to hear footsteps moving quickly up and down the hallway.

"Damn it, even in dreams everything goes wrong," he says quietly. Turning back to Prilla, he asks again, "Tell me everything you know about Kunalchoozy, please."

"W-who are you? What do you want?"

"What? I'm one of the children of destiny. And I want you to teach me."

Prilla sits down heavily. "A-all these years." She shakes her head. "No. No, I'm sorry, but no. I cannot take this on your word, there is too much at stake." She stands eye to eye. "If you would make such a bold claim, I would have you prove your words, child."

"Sure, let's go fetch those fancy orbs," Oren says happily. "Except, you can't let anyone know. Not even your most trusted friends. The Elyde has spies all over, nobody can know. Even this conversation is risky!"

Prilla regards him curiously. "How... How do you know about the orbs?"

"Because... I'm from the future."

Prilla's lips draw back into a tight line as she walks around her desk and sits down. "And tell me, magic child from the future. Why have you come back here and now?"

"Because, in the future, if Gwendolyn trains those knights... like you were just talking about? The Elyde gets angry and sends an army to destroy Fallowfield. It's complicated, but you need to send Gwendolyn to search for the children, and when she finds them, we can save you all. ...And I can't tell you where they are because of time magic reasons, sorry."

"Destroy Fallowfield...?" Prilla says softly.

"Yes. So, you have to send her to find us."

She stands. "Bring me your other friend. I will gather the orbs."

Oren nods, and leaves to find Eliam.

---

While Oren talks with Prilla, Eliam follows Gwendolyn down the hall, and after they're far enough, calls out to her. "Gwendolyn?"

"That's Lady Gwendolyn," she answers, stopping to look at him. "And you are? I don't believe I've seen you around here before."

"Uh... sorry, Lady Gwendolyn. Um... I don't really know a good way to put this, but... you have to go back and tell Prilla you can't accept her offer."

"And why would I do that?" She asks, sizing him up and looking annoyed. "Furthermore, how do you even know what we talked about?"

"I... shit. Okay. It's... kind of a long story." Eliam shakes his head. "Um... what if I told you two Children of the Maker were here, and needed your help?"

"I don't have time to entertain such nonsense. There has been no sign of their return, and the idea that even one is here is a bold claim. But two? Good day."

She begins to walk away, but before she can, Eliam grabs her hand. "Wait! I can prove it. Maybe. I mean, Prilla has a way to prove it for sure, right? I can uh... well, I got sort of the worst domain for proving I'm a Child. But... I can block people's magic? And stop time, but that's not really... visible. My friend can control water, though."

"Water magic is not unheard of," Gwen answers, pulling her hand away. "I assume many mages have control over it."

Oren rushes down the hallway, and Gwendolyn places her hand on the empty sheathe on her armor, looking annoyed. He takes Eliam's arm when he meets with them, and tries to pull him away. "Thank you for finding my friend he is crazy bye," he explains breathlessly before dropping his voice to a whisper. "Prilla's going to give us the orbs, do you think we can take them with us?"

"What? I'm not crazy. What are you doing?!" Eliam frowns, and begins to whisper as well. "We're trying to get Gwen out of this dream."

"We can get the orbs and books, and whatever Prilla knows. And we'll save her too, I promise."

Eliam thinks, speaking loudly again. "... If we get the orbs, it'll prove who we are. Okay, Gwen, can you come with us for like, five minutes? Prilla can prove we're who we claim to be. Sorry," he corrects himself, "Lady Gwendolyn."

Oren smiles, pulling his arm again in the direction of the study. Gwendolyn stiffens. "I'm sorry, but I really do have somewhere else to be."

They watch her leave, and Eliam sighs. "Okay... well. If we can get Prilla on our side, she can't ignore that. We'll get her later."

Oren ushers him down the hall, stopping at the doorway. "Prilla? Or, Holy Seat?  This is my friend, he's a child of destiny too.  Do you have those orbs...?"

Prilla is seated. "I have asked a monk to retrieve them for us. Will you sit?"

The two of them sit where she indicates. "Thank you, Holy Seat," Eliam says. "It's an honor to meet you."

She tilts her head. "And I, you. Are you from the ... ah... future, as well?"

"Oh, ah... yes," Eliam answers.

The monk knocks on Prilla's door. "Pardons, Holy Seat, I have brought what you requested. A familiar chest is in his arms.

Oren stands immediately after he sets the chest down, trying to open it. "Beg pardon, sir," the monk says. "That job is only for the Holy Seat."

Oren steps back, looking impatient, and Eliam takes his hand. "Hey, relax," he whispers. "You'll give us away."

"Oh, by all means, he may have the key to do it," Prilla smiles. "If he's lying and he's not a Child, when he grabs the orb he'll simply die."

"I really hope I don't," Oren smiles back. "And, when I touched the wrong orb last time I didn't die, so I'm not sure if that's even true."

Her eyes narrow at him as she works through possibilities.

The monk gives Oren the key to the chest and he grips Eliams hand, excited. With the other hand he opens the chest. Five coloured orbs rest within. Quickly, Oren takes his orb, and Eliam follows suit. The light from them fades, and Prilla gasps.

Oren puts his orb in the pocket of his coat and smiles. "Okay, now, I need you to explain some things to us..." he gives the monk a suspicious look. "Can he leave?"

"Get me Gwendolyn, please," Prilla orders the monk. He nods, bows slightly, and leaves. Prilla moves until she is standing in front of them and takes each of their hands in turn. "I... have waited my whole life, believing that one day you would arrive. It is a pleasure and an honour, Children."

Oren smiles at her. "Do you know anything about Kunalchoozy?"

She tilts her head. "I'm sorry, I've... not heard that name before."

"Like an evil Maker? His enemy?"

She thinks. "I will need some time to research. Spend the night," she offers.

"Can we use the library?" Oren asks. "We don't have... much time, I think." He walks over to the desk, takes a pen and a spare piece of paper and writes 'Saloria, 1 Lora 7430'. "Can you make sure Gwen is in Saloria on this date? Otherwise, everyone in Fallowfield dies. And don't tell everyone that part, I guess. Just make sure she goes."

"You may use the library, certainly, though I am afraid I will need more information before I send my Knight of the Abbey so far away."

"What year is it? You have time to prepare her... teach her everything about Thirshalon and The Children, and the un-maker and orc-slaying.  And teach her about vampires, too."

"Well... perhaps she could travel with us, and we'll make sure we're there at that time?" Eliam offers. "We can teach her those things, too."

Prilla nods, sitting back down at her desk to think.

---

Outside the church, there is a small field overlooking the sea. Large stones have been carved into benches and seats around the space. Abigail waits, watching the ocean, then smiles and waves as she sees Gwendolyn approach. She examines her, momentarily stunned by her attire. "Gwen! Wow. What are you wearing?"

"It's armor Prilla had made for me!" Gwen smiles brightly, taking a seat on the stone bench. "She wants me to be the Knight of the Abbey, and train protectors of the Church."

Abigail looks with astonishment at Gwen. "That... oh wow. That's amazing. I can't believe that! Congratulations!" Abigail sidles closer to Gwen. "So what does this all mean?"

"Isn't it? Thank you! Well, she wants me to stay here to train anyone who volunteers. I guess I'll be pretty busy, pretty soon. But I hope...well, that eventually there will be enough knights here to protect the Abbey. Maybe then we could go on an adventure?" Gwen looks out at the water, laying her head on Abigail's shoulder. "Traveling Iquai, helping people wherever we go. Of course we'd have to come back, but still...it'd be a little freedom, for you. For us."

Abigail takes her hand. "That sounds perfect... And we'll have all the time in the world together here in the meanwhile. I'd like that." She gets up and inspects the armour, eyeing Gwen up and down. "So... full plate armour, but no sword?"

"It would be," Gwen nods. "Well, I still have the one I've been training with. It's not perfect, but it should be fine for now."

"Hm," Abigail muses, smiling at her. "I should be getting back, but... would you like to come over to my room later for tea? We could talk about this more, later tonight."

Gwendolyn nods, blushing slightly, as Abigail returns to the abbey. After a few minutes, a monk comes running toward the field. "Lady Gwendolyn! Lady Gwendolyn!" He doubles over upon reaching her, breathing heavily.

"Yes?" she asks, quickly composing herself.

"The Holy Seat seeks you," he says, breathlessly. "I believe she has found two of the Children."

"Impossible. Could they really have been...?" She rushes back to the abbey, hurrying to Prilla's study.

---

In the study, Prilla writes some notes, her pen moving across the paper excitedly. Oren and Eliam stand near the window, Oren craning his neck to look out to the side.

"Anything interesting out there?" Eliam asks.

"I can almost see the seaside. We didn't see it last time, but I guess it's on the other side of the building. Have you ever seen it?"

"Oh... that's a shame. Yeah, a few times... maybe when we save everyone and get home, we can go. I'll take you."

Oren smiles. "Not if you're king..."

Gwen arrives at Prilla's study. "Ah, Lady Gwendolyn," Prilla states. "Thank you so much for coming. May I introduce you to the Children... ah... er... Oh goodness, you never did give me a name, did you?"

"No names, it's a secret!" Oren says quickly, giving Eliam a look. "You'll find out soon."

"Holy Seat, do you really believe them?" Gwen asks. "I find it hard to believe."

"It is no longer a question of belief, dear Gwendolyn," she replies, shaking her head. "The Children's Orbs have been kept by our order for generations. They glow with the Maker's power, and can be released only by a Child. Each of them claimed an orb and the aether within was released to them. They are two of the Children."

"That's fantastic news, then," she says, looking at them with surprise. "Do you know where the other three are?"

"Possibly... we have a hunch," Eliam answers.

"They're in Saloria," Oren adds. "You need to go get them."

"My duty is here, Child," Gwendolyn answers resolutely. "If the Children are already found, I have no reason to leave. I need to focus on the training of the Abbey."

"The Rorgh are trying to destroy the wellspring and kill the children," Oren says anxiously. "You need to go."

Prilla narrows her eyes. "If the Rorgh are indeed trying to kill you, you would be safer here, with Lady Gwendolyn raising our defenses through recruits. We can send peaceful monks to Saloria if you believe they are there."

"N-no..." Oren trails off, looking frustrated.

"To be honest, we were hoping to meet up with them ourselves... but neither of us are that adept at combat. Perhaps Lady Gwendolyn could escort us," Eliam offers, and Oren nods.

"You said your friend could control water, didn't you? Surely that has some combat prowess," Gwen shakes her head. "And not even I could stand up to the Rorgh by myself, if they were marching on Saloria."

"Well... we're stronger together. If the other children aren't here in a week, the cathedral will be destroyed. And all of the people here will die. You need to go get them," Oren insists.

Prilla moves to stand beside Gwen. "Lady Gwendolyn... Should you choose to stay at the abbey or join them, the choice is fully yours. But in the event you leave, we cannot risk the Rorgh discovering your newfound position or our intentions before you've even begun to train recruits.

"Should you go, I ask you to renounce the title of Knight of the Abbey and leave the armour behind until such time as you are prepared to remain at the Abbey and fulfil the responsibilities of the post."

"There won't be an abbey, unless you go find the Children of Destiny and help them get here to save it," Oren adds.

"Prilla, I...I think they're telling the truth. It sounds so very similar to my dream. But I don't think we could make it to Saloria and back before the Rorgh learned of our intentions." Gwendolyn closes her eyes for a moment, thinking. "I think it would be better to evacuate. Take what artifacts we can."

Prilla shakes her head. "We will not evacuate. Our abbey has stood here for thousands of years. We will seek peace and negotiations and keep our faith in the face of death. But with the children... this may not be necessary. I say to you again, Lady Gwendolyn: the choice is yours. Leave the armour and seek the Children; or stay as the Knight of the Abbey."

"We wouldn't need to be long... we could simply go to Saloria, gather the other children, and return here," Eliam says. "We wouldn't need to face the Rorgh head on."

"I...I suppose I'll go with them," Gwendolyn decides. "Since they know the Children are there, it shouldn't take that long to get back."

Prilla nods. "Very well. We can discuss your role as Knight of the Abbey upon your return. For the time, please leave the armour here."

"Of course, Holy Seat."

The world blackens.

---

Gwen, Oren, and Eliam watch as the world lightens around them. They find themselves in the third floor hallway. Minerva and Elise are unconscious on the ground. Gwen stirs and begins to move.

"Gwen...?" Eliam asks, kneeling beside her.

"What just happened?" She asks, sitting up. "It...it felt so real."

"We all sort of... got trapped in a hallucination? It was just a dream," Eliam explains, helping her stand. "Oren and I managed to break free, but you three weren't so lucky, it seems."

"Oh."

Oren sighs. "I guess we need to do the same thing for them?"

"Yeah... I should be able to take all three of us in. Who next?" Eliam asks.

"Let's save Elise for last. Minerva can convince her. ...Though, Gwendolyn is always sensible and she wouldn't come with us," Oren rolls his eyes. "I doubt we can convince Minerva of anything. She's way more stubborn."

"Yeah, good idea. Are you okay, Gwen?" Eliam asks. "Would you be up to this? I'm wary of staying here too long. We don't know if anyone's been alerted by this trap"

"No, I...I think I want to be alone for a bit," she answers shakily. "I can guard the rest of you though. That seems safer."

"The armour was lavender coloured, and Brie smelled like the flowers," Oren says as he examines the painting again. "We just have to find whatever is manifesting in that way and get Minerva to go against its wishes, and she'll wake up."

Eliam nods. "Worst case, we drag her out of there by force... and alright. We'll be back soon, hopefully."

Hastily, Oren checks his pocket for the orb, but finds nothing. "I guess we can't take things out of dreams, it makes sense, but it's still annoying."

"Yeah... but hey, maybe the real ones will have ended up here somehow!" Eliam says cheerfully, holding out his hand.

"I don't believe they did, but I appreciate you saying that," Oren says, taking his hand.

Eliam reaches out and grabs the aether string connecting Minerva to the painting. Immediately, the world blackens around them.

Minerva's Dream
Minerva jerks up, breathing heavily and sweating slightly. The sun is bright, and beaming in through the house windows. She blinks, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and looks around. This isn't Ilemashi. This isn't the floor with the trapped painting. She looks around and sees only the familiar. There... the leather vest she was given by her father on her tenth birthday. The necklace with the green stone on her bedside table, a gift for that time she helped Old Man Farson herd his sheep when his back was acting up. This wasn't Ile... what was it? Ilemasho?

This was home.

Minerva’s mind spins backward. That adventure. That ... resistance? The people she knew. That man who she kissed. Ore-- wait, no. She hasn’t kissed anyone. She’s only 11. And those friends. Eli... no. She shakes her head. What an unusual and real-feeling dream.

She is home: a child, a daughter, a villager. Though… home doesn’t feel like the way her mother and father describe it.

Her parents always talk about home and communities and families like they’re warm and comforting… Like just being there is enough to make you feel like you can do anything.

But they remember a home and a childhood before the Rorgh.

Minerva looks at her hands curiously. They seem small today, for some reason. Softer. Uncalloused. She swings her feet off her bed and stands, stretching in the soft morning light. She lifts the necklace from beside her and studies it, her fingers pawing the smooth, cool surface of the stone. She shouldn’t like it, this necklace, what with its orcish hue, but it reminds her of a happy day and of the rewards of hard work and kindness, so she wears it still.

There is a knock at the door.

Minerva moves toward the door even as the knocking continues. “I’m up! I’m up. What, Mom?”

The door opens, and Cerena is there, smiling warmly at her. “Sleepyhead,” she chides her gently. “I thought you were going to sleep in.”

“I thought you were going to let me,” Minerva grumbles in response. “I guess I just wasn’t very tired.”

“Well, since you’re up,” Cerena answers, laying a pile of folded laundry on her dresser, “I could use a hand with the chickens out back. We need to collect the eggs and clean out the henhouse this morning.”

Minerva sighs but gathers some clothes. “Okaaay,” she assents, beginning to push the door closed. “But I want your famous omelette for lunch as payment!”

Her mother laughs, a jovial, almost entrancing sound. “One day, my dear Minerva, you’re going to have to learn to cook them properly yourself.”

Minerva shrugs. “Maybe one day you can teach me the way you do it? Yours always taste better than mine.”

“I can teach you today. Just help me get the henhouse cleared,” she replies.

Minerva wastes no time getting downstairs and beginning to work. She gathers a broom and begins sweeping the floor of the henhouse, depositing the detritus and excrement of the chickens’ daily life in a refuse trough Samson had designed along the edge of the shed. She hums to herself as she works, thinking of the lunch to come.

The work Samson has done to renovate the shed and make it easier to clean always causes the shed to remind Minerva of her father. Samson has been gone a week. He told Minerva nothing of his trip apart from that it was important, and that he may be gone a little longer than usual. Cerena attempted to hide her worry from her daughter when he left, but Minerva could see the concern in her face. For the last seven days, Cerena has laughed louder, smiled more brightly, but Minerva, being observant, could tell: the expression never reached her eyes.

Cerena, an amateur apothecary who specialized in making powders to reduce fevers, induce sleep, or numb pain, was a lover of life. She laughed big. She was warm and friendly. She greeted strangers, offered help whenever it was requested, and believed, with all her heart, that communities working together could accomplish anything. Watching the Rorgh slowly beat down their community and suck the life and spirit from their neighbours was heartbreaking for Minerva, who had watched the gradual decline over her eleven years.

Minerva takes a basket to gather the eggs, collecting them two at a time. She frowns as her hand closes over them. She was almost positive she used to be able to grab three at once when her hand was bigger… But that’s impossible, she thinks, shaking her head. I’m eleven now, my hands are bigger than they’ve ever been. Slightly irritated and confused, she fetches the rest of the eggs and brings them back to the kitchen.

Her mother doesn’t hear her enter, and she doesn’t call out because she sees her mother, facing away, sniffling softly. There is a letter clenched in her hand, and Cerena is shaking ever so slightly. Minerva places the basket on the counter gently and clears her throat the tiniest amount.

“Ahem.”

Cerena starts and whirls around. Her face is white for the briefest of moments before colour floods it. She buries her face in her apron momentarily to brush the tears away. “Oh! Minerva, you… you startled me, I was… I just had some flour in my eyes, I was…”

“Liar,” Minerva states. There is neither malice nor warmth in her tone.

Cerena purses her lips together. “Minerva, don’t you dare speak to your mother that way,” she answers sternly. “Did you finish in the henhouse?”

Minerva gestures toward the basket on the counter. “What does the letter say?”

Her mother hastily stuffs the letter into her apron pocket. “It’s nothing, just a how-you-do from a friend in Siraj.”

Minerva narrows her eyes, disbelieving. “Right.”

Folding her arms, Cerena leans against the kitchen counter. “That’s all. Now go wash up so we can get started on the omelette. If you still want to eat, that is?”

The girl nods, but her eyes trace a path over her mother’s apron. Something feels off.

Minerva’s chance doesn’t come for a few hours. Cerena keeps her busy practicing making a proper omelette (which she fails at miserably, but at least her mom still made enough for both) and then sweeping and cleaning the upper and main floor of the house. It is not until late afternoon when Cerena finally comes to Minerva with plans to leave the house.

“Minerva,” she says, “I need to run some errands to the market to gather some food for tonight. When you’re finished the cleaning, you can have the rest of the day to relax.” Cerena changes into attire more acceptable for outside, kisses her daughter, and steps out into the gradually dimming sunlight.

Five minutes later, Minerva has dropped the broom and leapt into action. She slips her hands into her mother’s apron… but it is empty. She uses some words that her mother would chastise her for… were she home.

Minerva spends the next half hour searching everywhere in the house that her mother would be likely to hide something. Under floorboards, behind mirrors, in the cover of her pillow… Nothing. Whatever the letter is, it’s vanished entirely. Exasperated and frustrated, Minerva throws herself onto her mother’s bed and stares up at the ceiling.

Her eyes fall upon a few loose tiles. The attic, Minerva thought. Surely if her mother were trying to hide something really important, she would choose the highest place in the house? The hardest thing for her daughter to reach?

Minerva pushes a small table beneath the tiles, then lays a chair on top of that. She scales the improvised contraption with trepidation… and determination.

Her hands push the loose tiles aside easily and she stands up enough to poke her head in the attic. There’s an entire crawlspace up here… She could easily fit her whole body up here, if she had to. She turns her head, and spots the letter right behind her, along with a necklace adorned with a small purple stone.

She takes both out of the attic, replaces the tiles, and sits atop her mother’s bed to read it."Dearest Cerena,""I’m sorry to have been gone so long again. The Rorgh have been causing no end of trouble in Ushad. We have increased our operations out here to try and fend them off from at least hurting people in truly severe ways, but things went badly.""Hiram and I were involved in a skirmish with a few officers almost as soon as we arrived. They managed to capture me, though Hiram escaped. By parading me about the town, they managed to get some townsfolk who knew me to give them my name before Hiram could free me. I’m so sorry. You and Minerva both are in danger, and you will be, now, as long as you are connected to me.""I’m including a lavender glyph stone. It’s something Linea has been working on for a very long time; she’s only ever made the one, but she agreed you needed it more than we do right now. There is a very good chance the orcs are coming for you. There’s a teleportation glyph that leads to a Lyriad safe space behind the henhouse. If you warm the purple glyph stone, it will trigger the teleportation glyph… at random. It will transport you, instantly, to any active teleportation glyph in Iquai… but if you do that, I’ll have no way of finding you, and you may not have a way to reach me.""I love you, Cerena. But I’ve put our family in so much danger that the right call for you… for Minerva… may be to cut ties and get as far away from me as you can. Go somewhere, anywhere, to a location I cannot know through the randomized grid. The orcs will come to our house, find it empty, and give up. You’ll be safe.""Know that you will always be in my heart, and I will never love anyone the way I have loved you.""Thank you. I love you.""Goodbye,""Samson"Minerva eyes sting. She reads the letter once, twice, thrice, but the words numb her. Her father… gone forever? Alive, but abandoning them? Telling them to take their lives and run?

She clenches the purple necklace in her hand and squeezes it, as if hoping she could erase it from the world just by crushing it. But as her anger ebbs away, she opens her hand to see the stone sitting there, staring back at her. Its lavender gleam shines despite the dimming light outside.

Minerva carries the necklace, and the letter, downstairs, and sits on the sofa near the front door. She removes her own necklace and holds it in her other hand. She stares at both, the green and the lavender, weighing them.

In her silence, she barely notices her mother returning home quickly. She barely notices Cerena’s breathless state, the haste with which she closes the door, or the fear in her eyes. It is not until Minerva looks up and makes eye contact with her mother, who just then notices what Minerva is holding, that she sees her mother’s face go fully white.

“What have you done?” Cerena says softly, more a statement than anything.

“Learned the truth,” Minerva says. “Dad’s fighting the orcs. And we’re in danger from it.”

“Yes,” her mother replies. She holds up a few travelling bags. “We… we need to leave. Maybe one day we’ll find him again.”

“I don’t want to go,” Minerva answers hotly. “We’ll never see him again. We’ll have no way of knowing if he’s still in Ushad, and he’ll have no way of finding us!”

Cerena’s eyes brim with tears as she looks back over her shoulder toward the door. She crosses the floor in a swift, sudden motion and takes her daughter’s hands in her own. “Minerva, sweetie, your father wouldn’t want you to be at risk by staying here, and neither do I. He and I both love you, and we both want to see what sort of amazing, incredible woman you will grow up to become. But this is too dangerous… for both of us. If we stay, we’re going to die.”

Minerva looks down at their hands, clasped together. She begins to shake. “But I’ll miss him.”

At this Cerena bursts into tears fully and draws her daughter to her breast. Wrapping her tightly in her arms and rocking with her, she whispers, “I know, dear. I know.”

When her mother lets her go, Minerva stands. She opens both of her hands to see the green stone and the lavender, shimmering in the candlelight of the house. “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry.” She puts the lavender stone around her neck, and drops the green stone on the ground.

“Don’t you want to take it?” her mother asks.

“I don’t want the memories,” she answers. “If we’re going to go, let’s just go.”

It takes three minutes for the couple to gather absolute necessities and scamper toward the backyard. Just as they cross the rear threshold, the front door is kicked in, and a platoon of orcs begin to file into the house. One spots the green necklace laying on the ground. He picks it up, snorts at it, and pockets it to sell later.

Minerva and her mother slip undetected behind the henhouse. Minerva warms the purple stone, and a glyph she’d never seen before springs to life, etched into the ground. She steps onto it with her mother, and in a purple flash of light, they are whisked away.

They appear on the outskirts of a town they have never seen before. In walking a short way, they discover a sign: “Welcome to Marblebrook.”

Over the next months, Minerva and her mother begin a new life among the dwarves of Marblebrook. Though they never feel fully accepted, they make some friends, and Cerena’s apothecary arts help them carve out a niche within the dwarven society.

Minerva never meets the Children, and they never visit Marblebrook. Perhaps they were never born at all.

Minerva and Cerena are never discovered by the Rorgh, but they also never find Samson. Every so often, whispers rise of a resistance headed by a strong man who hailed from Tezef, but never anything they believe enough to risk going back. Minerva learns her mother’s trades, and continues to live on in Marblebrook, even after her mother passes away many years later. Minerva lives to be 65, a long, quiet life of healing the sick and soothing the wounded.

Oren and Eliam Wake Up Minerva
The world lightens.

By the sun in the sky, it is mid-afternoon in Tezef. On a residential road, there is a small, isolated farmhouse. Inside, an eleven-year-old Minerva sits in her living room. She appears to be holding a letter in one hand, and has an object clenched in her other fist.

"Oh... wow. Okay. How long ago was this?" Eliam asks, looking around.

"She looks younger than Elise, almost," Oren adds. "Didn't her mom die when she was young?"

They walk up the road to a small, empty town square. A newspaper stand sits in a dusty corner, and the date on the paper reads '16 Nuvea, 7413.'

"Okay, so... we need to make sure her mom dies," Oren says quietly.

"I... guess so, yeah. I guess we should... go talk to her, then?" Eliam says awkwardly. "See what happened? She mentioned orcs killed her mom, but..."

"What if we just drag her to Ushad?" Oren suggests. "She can't stab us yet. We have experience dragging a child around, now. Maybe it'll be easy."

"You mean... kidnap her? I mean, it'd be easier than trying to make sure her mom dies, but..."

"Yea, definitely..." they look around awkwardly, but the square remains empty.

"Maker, this got weird," Eliam shakes his head. "Okay. Do you uh... how do you even do this?"

Oren sighs, leading him back to the house. "The second she makes the right decision, it'll end. It won't matter what we do.... though she'll remember, and probably be mad."

"Gwen didn't seem too mad at us. So maybe Minerva won't be either," Eliam says hopefully as Oren knocks on the door.

"I wish she had come with us. She'd be better at this.  And she's less suspicious."

Minerva steps to the window and peers out. Her face is impassive as she makes eye contact with Oren.

"Hello," Oren waves.

"No one's home." She turns to go back to the couch.

"Wait, it's important," He insists.

"Write a letter, then," she shouts to be heard through the glass. "It's the way all the important news is coming today, apparently."

"Miss Cosette, please open the door," Oren tries again. "It's... about your father."

Minerva freezes. She stares at the necklace in her hand, and walks back to the window. "What about him?"

"Your father is Samson, right? We need to take you to him."

Minerva steps away fearfully. She examines the letter more closely. "N-no, absolutely not. You're lying."

"Listen, have you seen anything Lavender?" Oren asks.

She closes her fist and places it behind her back. "Nothing. I don't know what you mean. Go away now."

"Minerva, if you see anything Lavender, don't trust it," Oren warns. "The Rorgh are trying to get you! If anyone wearing lavender shows up, they're bad people."

"You're lying," Minerva says. "Come back tomorrow when my mother is here, and we can talk."

"Did your father tell you about the Lyriad?" Eliam calls out. "We're a part of them, and we were sent to help you."

"The Rorgh are coming, and we're here to help," Oren begins pounding on the door.

A pair of gentlemen come walking down the street, looking concerned. "Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?"

"Possibly, yes," Eliam answers quickly." We're a bit lost, I'm afraid, and were hoping to get directions to the inn from someone?"

Oren looks annoyed, trying to inconspicuously peer in through the window.

The man raises an eyebrow curiously. "Up the road, two blocks, take a left. You'll be there. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"Oh, no, those directions are fine, thank you." He takes Oren's arm and guides him up the road, away from the house.

"This is awful. Gwen should be here to convince her," Oren says. "She's better with children."

"No kidding. Minerva couldn't have made it easy on us either, with this dream."

"What if we just kill her mom? It's not real, right?  I mean, she's already dead."

"Yeah... it's an option. That would change history enough to break her free, right?"

"As long as she learns to hate orcs and joins her father's cult she'll be on track. She just needs to reject the lavender thing," Oren sighs, annoyed. "What was yours, by the way?"

"Oh, the night I got kicked out. My sister was trying to get me not to get in trouble. I tried to sleep with that woman who was visiting us... got pretty close before we got caught, but get caught we did. Everyone was acting incredibly weird, though. These last dreams have seemed much more natural... maybe it didn't work as well on us because we're mages? What was your dream, anyways?" Eliam glances behind him as they chat, to see the men watching them closely from Minerva's house.

"In my dream a girl, who was acting very out of character now that you mention it, tried to get me to leave the tower with her. But my master told me not to, so I stayed home. It's weird because he's usually not so... direct. He told me explicitly not to leave. But normally he wouldn't have put his foot down in that way. I wonder if it was my subconscious protecting me. Since, after all, none of it's real. Prilla didn't know anything Gwendolyn didn't. Right?" He turns around, and glances at Eliam. "Who were those men?"

"Yeah... that would make sense. And no, I don't think she did, now you mention it. They were probably just neighbors of Minerva's, wondering why two strangers were banging on her door... we did look sort of suspicious."

"Well, we need to make sure Minerva doesn't die. Who knows what'll happen if she does," Oren frowns.

Cerena appears over a hill on the road, walking anxiously home.

"Isn't that the woman from the photo?" Oren nods in her direction. "Samson had it, remember?"

"Oh... I don't think you showed it to us. Is it? She does sort of look like Minerva."

Oren shrugs. "So do we kill her? I think she's supposed to protect her from the orcs."

"Excuse me, are you Mrs. Cosette?" Eliam asks, smiling charmingly at her as she passes them.

Cerena tucks some hair behind her ear and smiles back. "What can I do for you, sir? Sirs. Sirs."

"I'm so sorry to bother you. I just..." Eliam looks around conspiratorially, and lowers his voice. "Could we speak somewhere more private? We're members of the Lyriad... I'm sorry, but it's urgent. We were sent to try to help you."

She regards him somewhat suspiciously. "I... The who?"

"Hiram sent us," Oren adds, stepping closer. "Do you know who that is?"

"I... I knew that man once. But that was many years ago. Before our great and kind Elyde ruled our fair land. Now if you will excuse me."

"Perhaps you know Linea, by chance?" Eliam adds. "I'm sorry we can't offer more concrete proof... our necklaces were lost on our travels."

She bites her lower lip and wavers. She lowers the travel bags she just bought to the ground and turns to look at them both fully. "Five minutes. Speak softly. Go."

"We need to take Minerva to Ushad, to her father. You should stay here," Oren insists.

"Absolutely not," she states. "Minerva stays at my side."

"They'll be looking for the two of you traveling together. It'll be safer and less obvious who you are if you're separate," Eliam explains. "We could meet up at a set place and time outside the town, to throw them off the trail, and get the two of you to safety."

Oren nods. "One of us can take Minerva first, and the other can wait with you until tomorrow. Then we'll go after them. It's less obvious that way."

"Listen," she says, "I don't know who you two are. You know names. That's a good sign. But we're talking about my daughter's life and this is not the day to come up with some harebrained scheme that separates us. My daughter and I stay together. If every plan you have involves separating us, then that is the end of our discussion right now."

"Maybe we can stay and help them fight? I'm sure having a child in the middle of an orc raid will go great," Oren says. "...Unless you have a safe place she can hide?"

"Listen," she says, "You may be..." She lowers her voice. "You may be... working with my husband. But I've never seen you before, you haven't even given me a name, and my husband never mentioned any of this. So right now, you can forgive my skepticism. I have a plan that involves her, my husband, and I. I see no need to add any further names to that list. I believe you have the best of intentions," she adds, "for some reason. But I'm keeping my lips, and my plans, sealed."

She stoops to collect her bags. "If that's all?"

"No," Oren says, frustrated. "We're not going to let you get Minerva killed. We have to get her to Ushad safely."

"How dare you?!" she snaps, her voice rising. "How dare you insinuate that I'm going to lead my beloved daughter to her death!"

"Well, not on purpose..." Oren says, looking nervously at Eliam.

"Okay... I'm sorry. My friend isn't good with people," Eliam tries to explain. "He didn't mean to say that."

The two men from in front of the Cosette house draw closer, upon hearing her raise her voice. "Cerena, are you all right?"

"I'll be fine," she growls, "so long as I never see these two again." She looks at the taller of the two men who were waiting for her. "Tell Samson his new recruits need a little work." She returns to the house, and the two men cross their arms as they study Oren and Eliam.

"New recruits?" one says skeptically. "Funny. I thought I knew all the newbies from Tezef."

"Ah, there's the problem," Eliam says, smiling brightly. "We're from the chapter in Saloria."

The shorter man shrugs. "Well, we can't know 'em all. You should be a little more careful than to piss off the boss' wife, though."

"Yeah... didn't quite intend that one. We were sent here to help guard them and keep them safe, but my friend here, well... he's not the best at talking to people. Any idea what we can do to help now?"

Oren frowns, seeing some orcs begin to gather at the end of the street. Wordlessly, he frowns and walks to the house, knocking on the door. Eliam shrugs at the men and follows him.

"Hey, wait," one of the men shouts, chasing after them. "What are you doing?!"

"Go distract them, please," Oren directs, pointing at the orcs.

"Why the hell would we take your orders?" the older one says incredulously.

"So that Minerva doesn't die?" Oren says frustratedly, raising his voice.

"It does kinda sound like they know what they're talking about," one of the men suggests. "Maybe we should be helping."

The other sounds more skeptical. "You go. I'm more scared of Samson than this guy. I'm not leaving his wife and kid alone."

The shorter of the two departs to distract the orcs, leaving the taller behind.

Through the window, Cerena holds Minerva in her arms. They rock back and forth, slowly.

Oren throws open the door, motioning for Eliam to follow.

"I-I don't think that's a good idea!" the man says.

"Excuse me!" Cerena snaps, turning so Minerva is behind her. "Get out!"

"There's orcs swarming outside. We have to do something now," Eliam says.

She scowls. "Stedworth?"

The man nods. "There's orcs up the road. No idea what they're here for yet though. They may not even be coming this way, but-"

She interrupts him. "They're coming for us. Minerva. Get what you need. You've got one minute. Then get back down with the lavender necklace." Minerva nods and runs upstairs.

Oren goes to follow her. Cerena makes a grab for him to stop him from being alone with Minerva but misses, and he takes off after her. Eliam puts his hand on her shoulder to stop her from following.

Upstairs, Minerva begins throwing some clothes into a bag. She sees Oren at the door to her room. "It's you. What do you want?"

"I'm just keeping an eye on you. There are orcs outside. It's dangerous. And your mother is acting hysterical. Where are you going with that bag? You need to hide."

"I'm not hiding. We're escaping. Move, please," she says, as Oren unwittingly blocks her from a dresser in his search for the necklace.

"There's no time, we're going to kill the orcs," he says, moving. "You want us to, right? You just have to hide so that they won't hurt you."

Minerva freezes, then looks him up and down. "You. You're going to fight the orcs. You."

"Sure, why not?" He says, crossing his arms. "I can pull the blood right out of their faces."

Minerva snorts. "Yeah."

"Well, I guess it makes sense you haven't heard of magic before. You'll learn about it when you join the Lyriad, though."

She zips up her backpack. "Come on. Let's get back downstairs."

"Uh... no, you need to hide."

"Minerva!" Cerena shouts. "Time to go! Get down here!"

"Coming, Mom!" Minerva shouts back.

"Wait. Don't you want to kill the orcs?" Oren asks.

She tilts her head. "I-I mean... No, not really. I don't like them, but... I don't... Why would I murder someone?"

Oren shrugs. "Don't you want to go live with your father in Ushad?"

"...Yes. I do. More than anything." She freezes and clutches the strap of her bag tightly.

"Then go hide, and let us kill the orcs. ...What's the necklace for? The one she told you to get? Is it a teleportation necklace, like the green ones?"

"I... yes. Dad sent us a letter saying that Linea made it. It activates a teleportation glyph and forces it to follow a randomized trail of magic. We would end up at a random glyph anywhere in Iquai. Dad would have no idea where we'd be, and neither would the orcs. He'd never be able to be coerced into giving us up, either."

"Well... you shouldn't do that," Oren smiles. "We can just take you to Ushad instead. That would be better, right?"

"Of course it would!" she exclaims. "But... they're so many, and so strong, and this is what Dad told us to do... I just... I want to see him again," she sniffles.

"Don't worry, we'll protect you. You should go downstairs and hug your mother, okay? Then say you forgot something and come back up, and you can hide. We'll kill the orcs and everything will be fine."

Minerva draws out the purple necklace from around her neck and stares at it. Then she removes it, places it on her dresser, and nods. "Okay," she says. "Okay." She runs downstairs.

The world blackens.

---

As the walls spin back into focus, Oren and Eliam wake back up, and Minerva stirs.

"W...what even was that?" She asks, rubbing her head.

"The painting trap dragged us all into some hallucination," Eliam explains. "Oren and I broke free, and got you and Gwen out. Just need Elise now, I guess... are you okay?"

Oren pats her on the shoulder, helping her up. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. That was just... quite the trip."

Gwendolyn stands from where she sat in a corner, and quickly wipes her eyes. "Welcome back."

"Thank you. Was everything okay out here while we were gone?" Eliam asks.

"Yes. No sign of anyone else."

"Thank you, all of you," Minerva says, kneeling somewhat sadly beside Elise. "Oh, Elise..."

"She'll be fine," Oren says. "She's probably having a better time than any of us."

Minerva smiles somewhat bitterly. "Oh, I don't know about that. I got to have my mom's omelette one last time."

"That's nice," Oren nods. "What's an omelette?"

"It's a type of prepared egg," Minerva answers.

"...Egg?" He continues. "...From... what... animal?"

"Chicken," she answers evenly. "So what do we do about Elise? How does this work?"

"I'll use the aether to go into the dream. Oren and I have been going in and sort of... messing with the timeline it presents, I suppose? It seems like the dreams give you two options: one to do with lavender, that traps you there forever, and another that continues your life the way it happened in reality. So we sort of... tricked you and Gwen into choosing the option that lead to the same outcome as what really happened."

"Lavender," she muses. "The necklace... that would have led me away from the Lyriad."

Eliam grins. "I sort of thought I got the worst powers for a bit there, yeah? But man, this is working out pretty well. I mean, I can do stuff like that this, and shut down other mages. I even stopped time once. No offense, but I think maybe I'm actually the one who lucked out."

"Definitely the best choice. Anyone can do what we do, but nobody else can manipulate aether," Oren agrees. "It makes sense since you're the best mage, though."

Minerva claps a hand on his shoulder. "You are definitely something else, there, Eliam. Way to go. Think you're up for one more?"

"Of course," Eliam says happily. "Do you want to come along? Gwen, would you like to continue keeping watch?"

"No, Gwendolyn should go with you," Oren says quickly.

"Why?" She asks.

"Elise likes her," Oren says, looking at Gwen. "Right? I mean, she might listen to you."

"I didn't really recognize either of you in my dream," Gwen points out. "I'm not sure why our present opinions of each other would matter in the dream."

"Because whenever I speak to her I want to smack her," Oren explains. "And these dream people are impossible to talk to. You're patient and can empathize with her, you'll have an easier time convincing her to do what you want. You're very trustworthy, unlike us."

"I...I suppose I'll go, then," she answers, somewhat taken aback.

"Fine with me," Eliam says." Minerva? Do you want to stay and keep watch with Oren?" She nods.

"Okay. We'll be back soon," Eliam hugs Oren, and takes Gwendolyn's hand. The world around them fades to black.

Elise's Dream
Elise jerks up, breathing heavily and sweating slightly. The sun is bright, and beaming in through the house windows. She blinks, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and looks around. This isn't Ilemashi. This isn't the floor with the trapped painting. She looks around and sees only the familiar. There... the leather-handed hairbrush her sister gave her on her tenth birthday. Beside her, the paintbrush and art kit her father bought her when she expressed a desire to paint the sky. This wasn't Ile... what was it? Ilemasho?

This was home.

Elise’s mind spins backward. That adventure. That ... nightmare? The people she knew. That man who she bit. Ore-- wait, no. Bit? Why would she bite anyone? And those friends. Miner... no. She shakes her head. What an unusual and real-feeling dream.

She is home: a child, a daughter, a sister.

She pushes herself out of bed, steps to the mirror, and begins brushing her hair with her comb. It has gotten longer now, and flows past her shoulder blades. As she untangles her hair, there is a knock at the door.

“I’m up,” she answers. “Come on in.”

The door opens and Heather pokes her head in. “Good morning, sis. Happy birthday!”

Elise puts her brush down and grins. “Thank you! Are you off to work?”

Her big sister shakes her head. “I thought I could take some time off today. It’s not every day your sister turns sixteen.”

The girl’s grin splits even wider as she gets up and hugs her sister. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

Heather pats her sister warmly before stepping back. “Ah, what are big sisters for? Now get dressed. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

Elise spends a brief time selecting a suitable silvery dress for the day and hops into the kitchen airily. She smiles upon seeing her family gathered to greet her.

“Happy birthday, Elise!” her father exclaims, wrapping her in a massive hug. Elise returns it weakly (her arms are perhaps too snug within her father’s grasp to be extradited to hug him back properly). Her father returns to the table, carefully fitting his potbelly into his spot. He runs a hand through his messy copper, greying hair and says, “Sixteen is a big day.”

“Indeed it is,” Elise’s mother replies, kissing her atop the head. She guides Elise to the table and sits next to her. “What was your birthday dream, Elise? I’m curious.”

Elise’s brow furrows as she thinks. Her mother’s superstition -- that you can predict how successful your year will be based on the dreams the eve of your birthday -- is one that she invariably brings up every birthday for all of them… but last night’s dreams felt… different somehow.

“To be honest, I don’t… fully remember them,” Elise says, her face reddening slightly.

“Oh, posh,” her mother exhales, getting up to get a plate of breakfast for the birthday girl. “That bodes poorly for the next year, I hope you know!”

Elise shrugs slightly. “Yeah…”

After breakfast, Elise goes shopping in the market with Heather. Heather buys her a new lavender dress and they sit together on the patio of a market restaurant over lunchtime, sipping lemonades and soaking in the warm sun. The din of the market surrounds them, but the busy noise and hustle and bustle is oddly comforting.

Heather catches her expression of surprise. “Copper for your thoughts, little sis,” she says.

“Oh,” Elise says, shaking her head a little. “I’m sorry, I got lost in my own head a little. I just feel… strange today.”

Her sister claps her on the shoulder gently. “You’re allowed to overthink a little. Sixteen is a big year.”

Elise folds her arms over her chest and slowly replies, “Yeah… Something just feels… off.”

Heather takes a sip of her lemonade and swirls it around in her mouth. “It’s not the lemonade. That’s just fine.”

Elise grins. “It always is, here. Thanks for bringing me.” She leans her head against her sister and for a moment, she thinks she catches a glimpse of her own hair shining silver in the sunlight. She gasps and draws her head back.

“What’s wrong now?”

She takes a lock of hair in her fingers and stares at it. Brownish blonde, like always. “Nothing. Eyes just… playing tricks on me.”''' '''

By evening, Elise’s parents have invited their neighbours over for a cake to celebrate Elise’s sixteenth birthday. Laughter and joviality fills the house as the guests shares stories about Elise.

“That time she fell over the fence into the mud puddle!”

“Remember when she brought you flowers because you got sick that one summer?”

“Oh, how about the time you took in that stray dog? She fell in love with it…”

Elise went from laughter to embarrassment and back with each new story that was shared. Finally, as the stories began to run dry, her father left the room and returned with a small box, wrapped in yellow paper.

“Elise, you know how much we love you,” her father said. “This is something your mother has wanted you to have for a long time.”

Elise held the small box carefully and delicately took off the paper. She opened the box slowly to see a fine hand mirror, with a smooth, jeweled yellow handle.

“Elise, our family has kept that dream mirror for generations,” her mother informed her. “It’s been passed down to the youngest sister of a family whenever possible. By looking into it and thinking hard, it reveals to you the desires of your heart.

Elise thought back to the way her mother asked everyone to concentrate on their dreams every night and realized now why dreams were so important to her. She got up and hugged her mother. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Momma.” Her mother kissed her head again, her blonde hair draping over Elise’s back as they caressed.

“Elise,” Heather said, with a sudden inspiration, “why don’t you go show them what else you got today?”

Elise nodded and walked to her room to retrieve the lavender dress Heather had given her earlier. She closed the door and looked at herself in her full length mirror. Her hair was a dirty blonde, just like it had always been. What a weird, strange day. She lay the jeweled mirror on the bed.

Elise took the lavender dress out from her closet and spun it around briefly. She truly did love the colour, and the look, and the cut of the dress. She was lucky to have such a wonderful sister. As she turned, she caught a brief glance of silver.

Startled, she sat down heavily and grabbed the mirror from the bed. Raising it to her eyes, she nearly shrieked. A girl with her face and smooth silvery hair was staring back at her.

She almost shattered the mirror by dropping it to the floor, but, fumbling it, she managed to clutch it to her chest and hold on. She looked up at the full length mirror in her room and saw her normal blonde hair looking back at her. “What… what is happening?” Again, the hand mirror showed her the girl with the silver hair.

Elise looked at the silver-haired girl, drew a deep steadying breath, and put it down. “No. No, that’s weird, and strange, and… no.” She donned the lavender dress, buried the mirror deep within her dresser, combed her blonde hair once more, and walked back to the party.

Over the next months, Elise and her family would continue to live quietly and peacefully in Saloria. The Rorgh mostly left the little hamlet alone, and they were never attacked by monsters from the Bramble.

Elise never meets the Children, and they never visit Saloria. Perhaps they were never born at all.

Elise marries at 23, and quietly raises a family in Iquai’s western jewel. Heather is a spectacular aunt all her days. Elise lives to be 67, long enough to meet her own grandchildren and give them all her love for the days to come without her.

Eliam and Gwen Wake Up Elise
Eliam and Gwen open their eyes as the blackness fades away and the world swirls back into focus. They stand on a street in Saloria. The daylight is dimming. A row of houses can be seen further down the road.

"You've known Elise longer than I," Gwen says. "Do you have any idea what her dream might be about?"

"Uh... to be honest, not really," Eliam answers sheepishly. "We never really spoke much. She was with Minerva for most of our trip, and she was always ignoring us to talk to Oren when she could, anyways. I know she was from Saloria though; she lived here with her sister. So I assume her house must be one of these."

"Well, we should start looking then, I suppose."

Gwen begins to walk down the street, her head on a swivel. Something about being in the dream world resonates with her, and she notices everything. Every blade of grass that rustles in the wind, every bird that flaps above her, every reflecting beam of light that bounces off of doorknobs and railings and mailboxes, she catches. Her intuition carries her forward, step by step, almost as if she's known where Elise was all along. Without even looking, she leads Eliam to the third house in a string of six. Within the bay window, she sees a slightly younger Elise.

She knocks on the door. A man with greying copper hair answers. "Hello?"

"Hello, sir. My name is Gwendolyn, and my friend here is Eliam. We're missionaries sent from the Abbey at Fallowfield. Would it be possible for you to grant us safe harbor for the night? Our mission has caused us to overstay the coin granted to us, so we can't afford an inn."

He opens the door wider. "Please, come in. Allow me to speak with my wife. It is a rather special day, you see... Our daughter's 16th. Wait here."

He allows them both in and closes the door, and gestures for them to wait at the entryway.

A minute passes, and he returns with his wife. "Ah, holy folk, you say?" the woman asks. Her arms are folded and she leans to one side, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. "We've got very little space," she says. "A couple of cots in the shed out back. It's a warm night, can you sleep outside?"

"Yes, ma'am, we are," Gwen answers politely. "And that would be most welcome. Thank you for your kindness."

She opens the door. "Take yourselves around out back then, please, and I'll send my daughter out momentarily to let you in the shed."

Eliam nods as Gwendolyn bows her head slightly, and they wait outside on a small lawn.

"Wow, you're really good at this," Eliam whispers. "If they send out Elise we can have this wrapped up in no time."

"Well, I've had a lot of practice."

The rear door opens and Heather steps out. "Greetings," she says. "You've come a long way."

"We have. And we're most grateful for your family's generosity," Gwen smiles.

Heather unlocks the shed and pulls out a pair of cots, which look surprisingly plush. "You can set them up on the porch or out here on the grass, whichever you'd like. Sorry we don't have a tent or a tarp or anything, but at least it's a warm night."

"That's fine, truly. Thank you again," Eliam says, smiling at her. Heather blushes slightly and heads back inside the house.

"Well...at least now we won't be trying to sneak in," Gwen says once she's gone. "Now we just need a reason to go inside and talk to her."

"We could ask for food, maybe? I mean they won't make us eat outside, right? Though if they're making us sleep outside, who knows."

"I think that could work," Gwen nods. "They seem nice enough... well, the father seems nicer."

Eliam knocks on the door, and Heather comes back, having not yet left the kitchen the door connects to. "Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you so soon," he says politely. "We were wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing your food with us, as well? I'm sorry to ask so much of you."

Heather turns slightly pink and says, "Oh... of course, I'm sorry. We hadn't realized you had nothing." She puts some breads, cheeses and fruit on a plate. "I'm sorry, we've little else as we're entertaining tonight. It's my sister's birthday."

"Anything is fine, miss," Gwendolyn says, offering a charming smile. "We heard from your father that it was a special day. If you'd like, we could give her a blessing from the Maker. It's the least we could do for such hospitality."

"That would be wonderful!" Heather says. "Why don't you eat first and Elise will join you shortly?"

"Of course. Thank you, once again." Gwendolyn carries the food outside with Eliam, and sets it down on the cot, sitting next to him. "I don't know how your other dreams went, but this feels like its going well. We seem to make a pretty good team. I'm kind of glad I got to join you for this."

"Yes! I'm really glad you came along. We do work surprisingly well together, don't we?" Eliam smiles.

"It makes me hopeful, for once. For the future of Iquai."

"Yes," he nods, taking Gwen's hand. She smiles and blushes, turning away and eating some of the food. "To be honest... I think we were given the powers of the Children for a reason. And you were sent to help us all the way out here for a reason as well... we've been given these gifts and opportunities. I don't want to just waste them."

"Waste them? What do you mean?"

"I mean... working together, in the future, I guess. We could do a lot of good for Iquai. That's what you meant, isn't it?"

"Yes. Leading our country into a new era of peace, together."

"Yeah. I mean, I don't really know how qualified I am. But I have these abilities, and you seem pretty good at winning people over."

"No one's ever truly qualified to lead. Even Prilla made her mistakes. You can only do the best that you can do."

The rear door of the house opens. Elise stands there, her parents behind her. "Hello?"

Quickly Gwendolyn pulls her hand away, and they get up to greet them.

Elise steps lightly off the back step, a puzzled look on her face. "Do... Do I know... you?"

"Hello, Elise. My name is Gwendolyn, and this is Eliam. We heard it's your birthday today; happy birthday."

She steps closer. "Thank you. Have we met?"

"Maybe," Eliam answers. "We go from town to town quite a bit. Perhaps you've seen us around? Or maybe you've been to the abbey before?"

"No... never. I'm sorry, forgive me, you looked familiar. I must be tired today," she says.

"Oh, it's fine, no need to apologize. Maybe you saw us in a dream?" Eliam smiles.

Her mother walks forward and rests her hands on Elise's shoulders somewhat protectively. "I'm not certain I follow your intended meaning, sir."

Eliam laughs. "Oh, sorry. Just making conversation. We're on a sort of quest for the abbey, and half the fun of it is meeting new people, I think."

"Yes, we're looking for the Children of Destiny, you see," Gwendolyn explains. "One of the ways of finding them is if they've had any sort of dreams related to the Abbey. A sense of deja vu, almost, of people of faith they have never met before. It shows a connection to the Maker attempting to manifest itself."

"Pah," the mother sighs. "An old fairy tale. A personal connection to the Maker is all one needs."

"It may be old, ma'am, but its no fairy tale," Gwen insists politely. "In fact, we have found two other Children so far."

"Nonsense," she spits. "Elise, Harold, let's go back inside."

The mother takes Elise's father by the arm and almost drags him inside. "Come along, Elise," she says. Elise wavers slightly.

"Hardly nonsense when I'm one of them, ma'am," Eliam adds cheerfully. "Child of Aether, in fact."

Elise's mother pauses at the doorstop, as though waiting for proof, and looks back at him over her shoulder.

Eliam's eyes glow grey as his magic swirls around him. He holds out his hand for Elise, who instinctively takes it. A moment later, time stops.

Elise looks around, her eyes wide. "Wh-what... what did you do?!"

"Stopped time!" Eliam answers. "Kind of a bonus of the job. We don't really have long, but we need to speak to you alone, later; it's important."

Elise runs up to her mother and looks at her closely. "H-how did you do this? It's impossible!"

"I know! It's awesome, right?!" Eliam says excitedly. "I can manipulate the aether itself. Normally it just lends itself to making other's magics stronger, or cutting their magic off, but then I figured this out."

She draws a steadying breath. "I think everyone will be gone in an hour or two. My bedroom window is over there." She points to the last window on the left side of the wall. "I'll come chat there when everyone's gone to sleep."

"Okay. Thanks," Eliam smiles. Around them, time resumes it's flow. To everyone else, Elise appears to have instantly teleported fifteen feet away.

Her mother shrieks. "What did you do?! What did you do to my baby girl?!"

"What did you do?!" Gwen whispers hurriedly.

Elise's mother grabs her and drags her into the house. "Go away! Get off our lawn! Devils! Demons! Fiends!"

Harold follows them hurriedly and slams the door.

"I... I stopped time for Elise and I," Eliam explains somewhat sheepishly. "I told her to meet us later. She said everyone would be gone in about an hour, and pointed out her bedroom window. She said she'd talk there when everyone was asleep."

"Stopped... time? That's amazing."

"Right?!" He answers excitedly. "I can't believe she called me a demon for it."

"Well, I wouldn't take it personally. She's probably what's keeping Elise here. For what it's worth, I think you're incredibly talented."

"Hey, thanks. You're probably right. I really don't want to have to deal with her more, though... But if we can talk to just Elise it'll be a lot easier."

"I'm not sure they'll let us stay here anymore. Did she say how long till we should come back?"

"About an hour, it sounded like," Eliam answers, looking around. "We'll have to sneak back in."

"Alright. Let's go, then."

They slip away from the backyard and wait. Night falls, and gradually the lights in the house dim... all except for the left-most window on the rear wall. Thin drapes are drawn over the windows.

Eliam picks up a small rock from the lawn, and smiles at Gwen. "Well, you ready to get her? Maybe if we convince her she's a Child and to come with us, it'll break her out."

"I'm ready," Gwen nods. "Hopefully that'll work."

Eliam throws the pebble at the window. It makes a "tac" noise as it bounces off. The blinds move aside to reveal Elise, wearing a new lavender dress.

She draws the window aside and looks down. "Hello. Everyone is asleep, but we should still keep our voices down. What did you need to talk about?"

"Hello," Gwen greets her quietly. "We wanted to talk about you, and the Children. We believe you're one of them."

She looks surprised. "Me? But I'm... I'm nothing special."

"The Maker works in mysterious ways," she smiles. "You might think that, but it couldn't be further from the truth. Your destiny will help change the world for the better. You say we looked familiar. Has there been anything else happening to you, strange things unexplainable? We're here to help you."

"What? N-no. Nothing." She looks away suddenly.

"No, really, we are here to help," Eliam adds. "I've been where you are right now, you know? If there's anyone to talk to about it, it's us."

Elise continues to appear indecisive. "What... would you describe as a strange thing?"

"Why don't you come down here?" Eliam says, smiling charmingly. "We'll take a walk, and we can talk about this stuff without having to worry about whispering and getting caught."

"I think I'm just fine up here, thank you," she says. "And you never answered my question. Would... you... like to come up here, though?"

"We could come up, if that's what you prefer," Gwen answers.

"With respect... I saw magic I didn't know was possible, Lady Gwen. I would like to speak alone to Sir Eliam for a time."

"Lady Gwen?" She shakes her head. "I don't believe I mentioned my title to your parents. This is what I mean."

"Oh, forgive me! Did you prefer Miss? I was only trying to be polite..." she says softly.

"Maybe you should go up there," Gwen whispers. "She seems to trust you more than me."

"Okay... I shouldn't be long," Eliam nods. "You can yell if anything happens out here."

"Do the same. And... maybe tone down the charm, a little."

He sighs. "I really, really don't want anything to happen here. Believe me."

Elise opens the window wider and throws down a bedsheet she's tied to her bedpost.

Eliam easily scales the wall and silently slips in the room. She has stepped away from the window and is sitting on her bed.

He stands by the window across from the bed, waiting for her to speak.

"So..." she says, nervously flattening her dress in her lap, "what did you say was a... strange thing?"

"Well... saying you recognized us, first of all. I expect you've had some strange dreams? Possibly of a life that just seemed to have gone sort of differently?"

She looks away and back nervously glancing at a jeweled yellow mirror.

He tilts his head and smiles. "Everything okay?"

"Y-yes. No, I've not had any dreams. You have clearly found the wrong person," she says. Her fingers nervously play with the hem of her dress.

"You are a terrible liar," Eliam laughs. "But honestly, we can't help you if you don't talk to us about this stuff. Is it something to do with that mirror?"

Elise starts and fumbles to push the mirror under a pillow. "Wh-what? No. The... it's... it's just a mirror. It's nothing. Really!" She has grown exceedingly red.

"This stuff... even if we leave, it won't stop happening. The weird dreams, the feelings of deja vu, they're only going to get worse. But if you come with us, we can teach you how to handle it. You can come home after a few months and not have to worry about things being strange anymore."

Elise, shaking, reaches over for the mirror and looks into it. She sees herself, silver-haired, looking back. She lowers her gaze. "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing difficult, don't worry. We'll visit the abbey. You can meet the Holy Seat Prilla herself, and she'll help you understand your abilities, and how to use them. Then you can come home."

"Okay. What... what will I tell my parents?"

"The truth, of course," he shrugs. "That you're a Child of the Maker, and you want to go to the abbey to better understand your abilities."

"Couldn't... couldn't I stay here for a while? And learn from you here?" she asks.

Eliam shakes his head, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry, but we still have to find the other Children... but it's not far, only about a week away from there. Even less if we can get a caravan. So you could visit whenever you wanted. Prilla has artifacts that can help you with your abilities as well, but they can't leave the church."

"I... I don't want to give up my home," she says, almost pitiably.

"I know... it's sort of frightening leaving home, right? But you don't have to think of it as giving it up. You can always come back. And I'm sure your family will be happy for you to learn about the world outside Saloria."

Elise smiles slightly. "It sounds nice." She looks back into the mirror. "What's wrong with me? ...The mirror. It doesn't show me right. Why?"

"It's... symbolic, maybe? Proof that you're not just some average village girl." Eliam shrugs. "I don't think anything is... wrong with you, though."

"SIlver hair is symbolic?" she presses.

"Gwendolyn knows a lot more about this stuff than I do," Eliam sighs. "She's been with the abbey learning about this stuff for quite a while. The Child stuff is a way more recent development for me."

She lowers the mirror. "Okay. I'll go. I want to understand this. All of this. ...Do you... really think I'm a Child?"

"I do. You should probably wear something else, though," he smiles. "I don't think that dress will travel well."

"You... you may be right. I'll pack up and... I'll leave this here. It'll be a treat for when I'm at home."

"I'll meet you outside then, okay?" He says, going to the window.

The world blackens.

---

As the world swirls back into view. Elise slowly pushes herself up. Eliam and Gwen are already standing.

"What... what happened?" She asks shakily. Oren stands up quickly to help her to her feet.

"We all got caught in some kind of hallucination trap," Eliam explains. "Oren and I broke free from it, but the rest of you weren't so lucky. So we used the aether to free everyone from their dreams."

"It was..." Elise softly trails off as she reflects on her dream. She pulls her hair in front of her eyes and stares for a moment at the silver strands.

"Sorry we sort of lied to you," he continues. "But it was the only way to get you back to the real world."

She nods but says nothing further.

"Are you all ready to go?" Oren asks.

"I am," Gwen nods. "Perhaps this time we can be a bit more careful?"

"Sorry," he winces.

Clearing the painting seems to have cleared the way, with the exception of a glyph that glows softly immediately in front of the stairs leading up.

Eliam examines it carefully. "This should take us somewhere... Gwendolyn, your necklace isn't heating up or anything, is it?"

She takes off her gauntlet, holding Prilla's pendant. "No, it's not."

"Okay... well, we can take the glyph either way. It does seem to lead up, at least."

Minerva looks down at the glyph. "Shall we?" She steps on the glyph, and in a white flash, she is gone.

Gwendolyn follows. Oren puts his hand on Elise's arm to guide her forward, but she shrugs off his hand and goes in independently. Eliam shrugs, offering his arm instead, and together they disappear in a flash.

The Fight at Ilemashi
The five reappear in a massive white hall. There is a massive rectangular wooden table in the center of the floor. Far beyond it, an ornate white-and-black throne sits atop a stage of steps. A few retainers stand around the perimeter of the room. Large grey tapestries hang from the incredibly high ceiling. And in the throne, across the room, sits a familiar man.

"That's the man from the arena," Elise says lowly. "The man Votig almost hit with a dagger."

"Kind of wish he'd succeeded," Eliam answers quietly.

"It... the locket," Gwendolyn says, putting the necklace back under her shirt. "It feels warmer."

"Maybe Elise can search for the way out while we kill him," Oren whispers.

"I think we might need all of us for this," Gwen answers. "She's quite the proficient healer."

The man on the throne leans against one of the armrests. He looks over them with interest. "Oh? That glyph hasn't been active in some time. Don't tell me you came from the lavender realm."

Oren takes a step forward, looking at the others to follow. Minerva walks forward with him, and the rest proceed across the large hall.

"Quite impressive, if that's where you were," he continues. "May I assume you tripped the lavender trap?"

"Sure. It wasn't even a good trap," Eliam answers, annoyed.

"Ohh. You must be something special, indeed," he says silkily, sitting up more. "Tell me," he says, "where do you come from?"

"Outside of Ilemashi."

"How wonderfully... specific." He answers. "Well, you may approach and kneel. State your business while you're at it. I always like hearing the whims of the people."

Oren frowns, his eyes turning red. Arceo's blood erupts about him, leaving a crimson cloud floating through the air to stain the tile below. He staggers, but is immediately surrounded by an aetheric aura. "Fools. You hasten your own demise."

The man descends the steps. "I am Arceo, the Patriarch. I rule this land. I rule you. Now bow."

The air shimmers, and he disappears completely.

"We should find the way out," Oren says, looking around. The retainers begin to advance, and he attacks him with a blast of magic.It strikes the retainer on the east side in the shoulder. He grunts, but presses on.

Eliam closes his eyes, sensing magic. After a moment, he points north, to the throne, and shouts back to Oren. "The exit is somewhere up there."

The air shimmers, and Arceo appears behind Minerva. A wave of aether crashes around them, throwing her to the ground.

Gwendolyn strikes at him with her sword, but he dodges away. Minerva rises to her feet, swinging wildly, but she misses.

Eliam fires a suppression bolt at Arceo, hoping to sever his connection to the aether and limit his spellcasting. Arceo catches the bolt in his left hand, but finds himself suddenly having to hold it in place. He struggles against the bolt, suspending it in midair.

He squeezes his hand on the bolt, exploding it. Some of the spell spills out onto Arceo, and he feels his connection to aether being weakened.

The air begins to shimmer, but Arceo fails to disappear. "What sorcery is this?"

"The kind that hastens your demise," Gwendolyn answers, attacking once more. He staggers back as her assault lands true.

The retainers identify Eliam as a threat, launching themselves at him, spears at the ready. He dodges one blow, but the other's spear connects with his side, slicing him across the torso.

Minerva attempts another attack at Arceo, but fails to connect. She looks at her daggers incredulously. "What is wrong with me?"

Oren's eyes turn red once more, and the retainers shriek as their blood boils. Arceo grunts but emits no screeching noise, holding his ground.

Elise moves forward to Eliam and lays her hands on him. "Moving this close is stupid, I'm sorry, but you're hurt."

"Hey, thanks," he smiles. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

The air shimmers, and Arceo disappears.

Oren fires another arcane blast at the retainers, and one of them falls. Half of his torso goes in one direction as the spell connects; half goes in the other.

Elise moves away from the group, getting distance from the other retainer. She fires her own arcane blast as she moves.

Arceo reappears behind Gwendolyn, but she raises her shield, standing her ground and blocking the worst of the magic. She immediately charges him, and he flies back to the floor. She follows up with a stab, but he rolls away to gain some distance. "You're becoming a nuisance."

The blood of the fallen retainer begins to shift as Oren concentrates. Blood pools around Arceo; it reaches upward in crimson tendrils; two clasp him around the wrists firmly. He resists falling but a third tendril bursts upward and slips into his throat. He is jerked roughly downwards by the interior tendril and slammed against the ground.

His magic dispels the effect of the tendril and allows him to stand. He looks slightly weary and incredibly upset. He disappears. In his place a translucent spirit appears.

Elise looks momentarily panicked.

"Don't worry, we're all here," Gwendolyn calls out, raising her shield once more.

"Thank you, Gwen," she answers quietly. "That makes me feel a lot better."

Minerva dashes at the retainer and spins her daggers. "You get one last chance, daggers," she mutters. The daggers split the air en route to the retainer. They sink into either side of his neck, splitting yet more blood onto the tile. The retainer falls, dead. Minerva withdraws her daggers. "... Good choice."

Oren takes her arm, pulling her quickly behind Gwendolyn. "I think it's going to possess us, or explode. Or both." He sends an arcane blast forward, and it explodes upon contact with the spirit. The spirit's form destabilizes into wispy gas. It vanishes into nothing

Elise looks at her staff and closes her eyes. "Okay... I've never tried this before, but I feel like I can..." A glow surrounds the head of her staff and radiates outwards in rings, restoring the party.

Arceo reappears behind Oren, and the resulting explosion of magic throws him to the ground.

Gwendolyn moves quickly. Divine light bursts around her as she erupts forward in a flurry of powerful attacks. Each cut of her sword digs deeper and deeper until Arceo staggers back, eyes ablaze with rage.

He spits blood at the floor before her. "You dare... You... I am the ruler of this world! And you will kneel and beg for my mercy!"

Minerva runs forward at him. "Yeah? Well, rule... this!" She misses.

She drops her daggers on the floor. "The Maker is telling me something."

Oren follows up, concentrating on Arceo, manipulating his blood. He staggers visibly, but disappears. Two spirits remain in his place.

Minerva throws a fire blast at one of the spirits and vaporizes it.

"Hey, maybe you should just do that from now on," Oren smiles, vaporizing the other spirit with an arcane blast.

She bows her head sadly. "You're not wrong."

"Try your new throwing daggers next time," he suggests.

As the spirit dies, Arceo reappears.

Eliam moves to avoid hitting his allies, and attempts to cast a fireblast at Arceo. The spell goes wide, hitting the wall behind him.

"... Maybe you should try the daggers instead," Oren says.

"Maybe that's not a bad idea..."

Gwendolyn charges forward, attacking Arceo again. He clutches his chest desperately. "You can't do this. You can't be this strong!"

She stabs again and her blade sinks true, straight through the center of his chest. It pierces his spine, and he falls limp to the floor. The life begins ebbing from his eyes.

"H-how... how did... you..."

He attempts to raise his hand to Gwen, but cannot move his fingers. His gaze darkens, and he dies.

Minerva reaches to the floor to pick up her daggers. "You disappointed me."

"Now Votig's spirit can rest, and won't punch us," Oren says happily.

"So that's... that's it? We did it? It's over?" Eliam asks.

"We should find the exit. Unless you want to rob him?" Oren suggests.

Eliam ignores him, hurrying to the throne. He searches, then calls out to the others. "Found the glyph, I think. It's back here."

Oren leans down, searching Arceo's body. He takes two golden rings from his hand, and puts them in his pocket.

Gwendolyn joins Eliam at the glyph, and he looks at her anxiously. "Is this the right one?"

She takes the locket, and nods, flinching at the heat. "I believe it is."

The others join them, and Oren nudges Elise forward. "Go through."

She raises an eyebrow. "Sure you'll follow?" she asks wryly.

He nods, and she takes a deep breath. "Let's go home." She steps onto the glyph, and is gone.

After she leaves, Oren turns to gwen, and points to her shield. "May I see that? You might not be able to go through alone, maybe we can carry you..." He thinks. "So... if you take off your armour... that might make it easier, then Eliam can carry you, and Minerva and I can carry all your things."

"Oh, alright," Gwen says, handing her shield to Oren. She undoes the straps of her armor, handing the pieces of it to Oren and Minerva.

"Now... Minerva, you try going through with the stuff," Oren directs, making sure she's holding it securely.

She nods. "Thirshalon... Can't say I'll miss you." She steps on and disappears.

"Okay, that worked. Now Eliam, try taking Gwen, that way if you disappear and she remains I can try to help her." He frowns, looking Eliam over. "...Can you lift her?"

"I'm not that heavy," Gwen answers.

"We should be okay," Eliam smiles. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready."

Eliam picks her up, placing one hand under her knee and the other around her shoulder. They step onto the glyph, and disappear in a flash of light.

Oren follows, and together, they go home.

---

There is a blackness. A darkness. There is no sense of having a body, though there is sense of having a consciousness. There is a sense of travel, of forward motion.

There is a glimpse, in the blackness, of a massive, graceful, beautiful bird, whose body seems to be made of the night sky and the stars themselves.

Chapter 13