I opened my eyes and stared up at the stone ceiling. The oil lamps cast a golden, flickering light on the stones. From the tone of the light, it felt like it was early evening, although it was hard to tell, since there were no windows. I tried to roll on to my side, but stopped suddenly. I felt like I'd been thrown from a horse; like it was just yesterday that I woke up in that cave outside of Mulsantir. Everything hurt.

"Ah lass, you're a awake," a voice said. "We were worried."

I managed to sit up with a throbbing head as Khelgar wandered over to the bed. It felt like a thousand of Khelgar's clan were in my head, banging at my skull with their hammers. Had I been drinking? Must have been, I'd been having nightmares.

"What are you doing here? Did we have a party or something?" I asked.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He was speaking very quietly. Not like Khelgar at all. He loved to yell when you had a hangover.

"What a strange dream I had," I muttered, rubbing my knuckles against my eyes.

"Lass," he said, still quiet. "It wasn't a dream."

"What?" I shouted entirely too loud. It made my head swim.

"Casavir, " Khelgar said. "It does really seem to be him. Makes me feel like I've been bar brawling too."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat next to him. Khelgar's legs didn't reach the floor from here, but with his gruff voice, and imposing personality, he'd never looked so small to me before. He looked small now however, almost like a child. He patted me on the back gently.

Gently? Khelgar? What the hells was going on here?

"Where . . . how is . . what the hells Khelgar?" I asked. My eyes felt hot.

"I don't know lass, but I think we need to find out," he replied. "I saw him die. But he's here, as big as life. And as confused as you are. I don't know how he got here, but I think you need to go see him."

"If he doesn't even know who he is. . . ." I stuttered. "How could he . . . how could he even know to come here?"

"Lass," he sighed. "I don't have any answers. Aldanon is on his way, but I don't know if even he'll have any answers."

"Or if he does, I'll have no idea what in the hells he's talking about," I blurted.

Khelgar chuckled. "That's likely." He paused and gave me a sad, lopsided grin. "Good Luck lass, he's at the room the end of the hall. His old room." With that, Khelgar slid down off the bed and left me sitting there alone, staring at the door like I'd gone mad. After a struggle into a tunic and a ridiculous attempt at brushing the tangles out of my hair, I gathered my courage and headed for the door.

I felt more fear right now than I had when I faced the King of Shadows. But then again, I knew what to do with him. I was good at dealing death. But what I was going to do with this man who was wearing Casavir's face? I had no idea.

I wandered down the hallway to the small bedroom at the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly on the wooden door.

"Come in," the too familiar voice said.

My hands were shaking as I pushed the door open. There he was, sitting on the bed, staring at his hands folded in his lap. His hair was longer, and it fell over his shoulders in black waves. More silver wove through than before. It looked like he hadn't shaved in a while, and thick stubble shaded his gaunt cheeks. He looked up at me.

There was confusion in his eyes. But they were those perfectly pale blue eyes I never thought I'd see again. My legs trembled. Before I could fall, I knelt down as gracefully as I could in front of him.

"What . . . how are you here?" I asked him. 'We all thought you were dead."

He didn't say anything right away. He just stared at me. Tentatively, he reached out and brushed the back of his hand against my cheek. I closed my eyes, blinking away tears.

"You are lovely," he said. "And . . . and you seem so familiar. I feel better seeing you, but I don't know your name."

His words hit as hard as an orc hammer upside the head. Things looked blurry for a moment.

"And until you said it," he continued, "I didn't even know my own. But it sounds right. Casavir. That does seem right."

"You don't remember anything?" I asked.

"I remember . . . pain," he said. "I remember feeling so alone until I . . . ." He stopped and looked down at his hands again. Even if he didn't remember, I did. Casavir always looked at his hands when he was nervous.

"Don't," I said, reaching out and lifting his chin so I could meet his eyes. "I know you don't remember, but it took a long time for you to be able to look in my eyes. I don't want to start all over again. You can trust me."

He licked his lips and tried to smile a bit. "That," he said, "I remember. That's why I came here. When I woke up on the road outside of Neverwinter, I knew there was only one place I could go. I don't know how I knew that, when I can't remember anything else. I knew that Neverwinter wasn't my home. But it felt like this place was."

"It is," I said, my voice catching in my throat. "At least, I thought it was going to be once everything was over. But then things didn't go the way I'd planned."

"It looks like you did well," he replied, gesturing to the room. "But then again, for all I know, you might have come from a grander castle than this one."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "My first home was hardly more than a trapper's shack. In a swamp."

Casavir stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. He was searching my face for something familiar. His eyebrows drew together in concentration or pain. Although he'd never been very good at hiding his feelings, there was something different about him now. Yet, it was him, no matter how different. It was still Casavir sitting right in front of me. It took everything I had to not leap up and take him in my arms. But it didn't seem right; or fair to do that to him.

"I remember shadows," he continued, trying very hard to not look away. "Then light. Brilliant light. And I feel . . . I should have been happy there. But I wasn't. Part of me was missing." He paused. "I think you are right."

"About what?" I asked.

"I think I was dead. I remember dying," he said. "But that's all. The rest is blank."

"I don't know what to say," I blurted after a long pause.

"Just tell me what happened. The whole story," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I need to know."

"I'm not sure." His hand felt like it was burning a hole through my tunic. "It's a lot to take in all at once. I don't know if . . . if you could handle it."

"Just go slow," he said. "And don't skip anything."

"I don't even know where to start. I mean, if you don't remember your name . . . I don't even know much about your life before we met," I said and I sadly realized that was true. Other than the little bits and pieces I'd managed to wrench out of him about Old Owl Well and his service to Neverwinter, I really didn't know anything. Not even where he was born. I knew his parents were dead, but I didn't know their names.

"Then start when we met," he said. "I think that's all that matters anyway. I think that's why I'm here and not somewhere else."

"Well then," I said. "It starts with orcs."

#

I'd been talking for hours. By now, I was sitting on the bed next to him, his hands cradled in my lap. My hands were clammy, but he held on tight. He seemed unperturbed by the whole thing. His initial shakiness and confusion seemed to wash away as I spoke, detailing each bloody step from Logram's death to my battle with the Faceless Man, the Betrayer.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered.

"Anything," I replied.

"Can I see your scar?"

I blushed unexpectedly. I remembered the first time Casavir saw my scar. The only time he saw it. Considering it ran between my breasts, it wasn't something I showed off. He was looking at me expectantly. It was very strange. Without speaking, I started to unlace the sides of my tunic. My fingers fumbled around like I'd forgot how to work a knot. I wriggled it off over my head and set it on the bed beside me in a crumpled ball. It took all of my courage not to try to cover myself with my hands. But then again, even if he didn't remember, I knew he'd seen the sights before. I looked up and Casavir was starting at me. Unflinching.

I was blushing, but he wasn't.

That was probably more shocking than my half nudity. He blushed when I told him about Bevil and me in the hayloft as kids that night we camped outside of Ember. He blushed when I kissed him at the Ruins of Ahrvan to shut Bishop up. And now, I was half naked and he looked cool as ice.

He reached out and traced his finger delicately down the puckered flesh of my scar, but gently, taking care not to touch anything but the scar. His eyes traced the scar as well, but didn't roam. Not at first anyway. My blush spread from my cheeks, down my neck and on to my chest, making the white flesh of the scar stand out even more.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, meeting my eyes finally.

"Not any more," I replied. Even my ears were hot now. Casavir continued to trace up and down the scar with his finger.

"Wait . . . ," he said, his finger stopping abruptly, right between my breasts. " Wait, I think . . . I think . . . ."

"You think what?" I asked. A slow smile spread across his face. Almost a smirk. I'd never seen that look on his face before.

It almost didn't look like Casavir sitting there; just some scruffy, but handsome stray I found. There was a part of me that realized something was terribly, terribly wrong here. This man with the perfectly blue eyes was certainly in Casavir's body. But I wasn't sure it was really Casavir, at least not the paladin I knew, inside of there.

"I think, I don't need to remember, to know why I loved you. Why I still love you," he said as he leaned towards me, pushing my shoulders down against the bed. His lips brushed against mine. I expected the same soft kisses I knew from my memories, but that's not what I got. He kissed me so hard, my lips felt bruised. But I didn't mind. He could have drawn blood and I would have only pulled him closer.

I didn't worry about who he was for a while. It was Casavir's familiar body. Right now, that was enough.