Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it. Terry Pratchett

The flickering, revolving shadows on the wall of the tent would not leave Lark be.

It was just a matter of the lanterns and candles, she knew. No steady mage-lights here in the tent— the power they required could not be spared this night, when so much was at stake just keeping the shelter secure and on the rock in the midst of the storm. Truthfully, Lark would have given every one of them up had they been supplied. Anything to make her student's dark task a little easier.

And yet, the shadows were still there and Lark could not take her attention from them.

They are just shadows! she told herself, firmly. But then, what was it Sandry was struggling so hard against as Lark sat here, waiting, if not shadows?

Lark almost laughed, exhaustion instead turning it into a bitter smile. How ironic. Because, after all, Sandry had been fighting shadows for much, much longer than this night. The fact that this great threat would come in the form of her greatest fear.... Lark couldn't imagine that it was not a twist of the gods. At the same time, she could not believe them to be so cruel.

Not so cruel as to force her Sandry to face the darkness yet again, when she had had more of the darkness than any child should in a lifetime.

Niko had taken Lark aside, one day soon after their arrival at Discipline, when the children were out, and explained to her how Sandry had been found. While Lark tried to feel relief that she had been found, Mila be praised, at the same time she was... angry. Angry that these things could happen to children, angry that it took so long, angry that she could do nothing to help her erase the memories and the fear of the little girl who was so strong while so fragile.

She met the Duke's eye from across the tent and she smiled encouragingly. He responded fractionally and went back to his pacing. One gesture had another Dedicate handing him soothing tea and encouraging him to sit near the heating rocks while he drank it.

Lark had told him that Sandry could do this. And now- now?- she was starting to get doubts.

It wasn't Sandry's strength, magically. She had no doubts about the strength of her student, already a liscenced mage at fourteen (the thought still shocked her, sometimes). She believed whole-heartedly that Sandry's magic was enough to control the un-magic in that tent, to do the job they had agreed must be done. Lark had no doubts about Sandry's strength of character, either—her stubbornness alone would get the job done, even if the fourteen year old hadn't also had bravery, dedication and her sense of duty to lead her through it. And so, why was Lark now staring at shadows on a tent's wall, worrying?

There can be too much darkness in one person.

And there it was, Lark's silent fear. Her fear was that, one day, the darkness would overtake the heart of her Sandry and the girl would be destroyed by it. Perhaps there was only so much time that could be spent with shadows before the light within the heart was distinguished? Perhaps Sandry, so touched by darkness already, was already on that thin line between darkness and light? Lark tried not to believe it, but in her heart, something in her told her this was true. The light in her almost-daughter would be distinguished by the darkness that surrounded her until she was destroyed or, worse, until she was changed, all the goodness that was to be found in her warped or extinguished by the shadows which would not—

"No," Lark said, softly. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the shadows on the wall. When she realized that, instead, she now stared into complete darkness, not even a bitter smile would come at the irony.

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Lark sat and waited at Discipline. She waited on news of Sandry, but all she heard was that her student was not seeing anyone.

Lark prayed that Sandry was not sitting alone in the darkness.

Comas skirted around her even more than usual, and Lark realized how much she had been sitting and fretting. She tried to smile, but it was forced. She knew it, and felt its pressure, even if her student looked relieved and smiled, shakily, back.

The days passed slowly, and the nights even longer. She wished Rosie were home, even if there was nothing they could do but hold each other until it was decided, one way or another.

And then, suddenly, Sandry was there, again. And perhaps she was some darker for what had happened, but Lark saw all the goodness in her, all the strength. More strength, perhaps for having to fight for it. More light, perhaps, for facing the darkness.

Lark held her almost-daughter tight and said a prayer.

May her light always outshine the darkness.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Martin Luther King, Jr.

A/N Thanks for reading! This is going to be a small multi-chapter, with each teacher in a key moment of the Circle Opens series. I'm not sure what inspired this, except that their interpretations of what they do plays a large role in Will of the Empress and I wonder if their teachers were ever as concerned as they were. And, let's face it; the four do a lot of pretty scary stuff. Well, that is my attempt at showing my thought process, not great, admittedly... I should stick with prose. Thanks to SSS, who, I am sure, looked this over (and to LunaSphere, who caught my mistake in a review {like old times, eh, Luna?})