Author's Note: For real this time - last chapter for a few days. My housemates are under strict orders to flick me if they catch me doing anything but schoolwork until Thursday.

Guiding a nervous Sara with her arm tucked in his, Erik made way through the palace as the only person among them with sight intact.

Sara was blindfolded and had been since before they left her apartment, but had yet to overcome her fear of sightlessness. "I'm going to trip on something I know it! I'm clumsy enough as it is!"

"I doubt if you're as clumsy as you say, and even if you are I am the one guiding you and my vision is just fine. I knew a blind man once who insisted on being guided like this because it was the least likely way he was able to trip."

"But –"

"For the hundredth time, I'm not about to let you fall or run into thing. Trust me, won't you?"

"I do trust you," Sara insisted.

Erik laughed. "Then stop complaining and start acting like it. We're practically there," he explained stopping and fussing with something that made a soft sliding sound before continuing just a bit further. Erik slipped free of her grasp and sliding sound repeated behind her. After only a moment, he returned to her side reassuringly. "Alright here we are. You may take the blindfold off

Doing as she was instructed, Sara untied the strip of fabric from behind her head and pulled it away, her eyes needing a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness in the room. She gasped at the sight before her – thousands and thousands of trees spreading out in every direction, like a perfect forest. Had Sara not known she was still in the palace, she might have thought they were truly in a forest.

"This is your forest of mirrors isn't it?" She breathed, and Erik nodded in a way that was almost a bow.

"It is. Do you like it."

"Erik it's stunning," Sara praised, walking around the room. "May I borrow one of your gloves? I don't want to smudge the glass," she explained, and Erik approached her to hand her a glove as she had asked.

The woman ventured away from the center of the room with a gloved hand outstretched jumping some and laughing in delight when the tips of her fingers struck glass before she could even see herself. "This is incredible! I have to be right up against it to see my own reflection!" She exclaimed, stepping only just closer and finding her reflection.

"I've come up with a few additions, would you like to see?"

"Yes of course."

"Look up," Erik directed.

As soon as her head tilted up, Sara laughed in astonishment and delight. "There are clouds and blue sky between the trees!"

Erik nodded. "Every six hours the sky turns to night, clear skies full of stars. From the outside, I can make it rain. The temperature even changes with the time of day. I played around with adding sounds for ambience, but I only know the way the forests sound in Europe. It might sound odd here."

"I'd like to hear it," Sara promised, and Erik nodded his agreement before considering for a moment.

Suddenly the quiet hum of a far-off cicada filled the air, and Sara grinned. The sound was replaced by crickets, which in turn were replaced by the persistent drill of a woodpecker. The sound of a crow cackling so close to her head actually made Sara glance up into the tree canopy as if the bird might actually be above them. There was the sound of leaves rustling, soon replaced by the sound of a babbling brook nearby.

"Alright, I will buy that you are responsible for all of those sounds except the stream," Sara exclaimed and Erik chuckled, immediately stopping the sound of flowing water. "Why on earth would you learn to imitate a stream?"

"I lived with Gypsies for years, and it became useful. Often times sending them scurrying off in hopes of finding water was the only chance I had to be left to my own devices for a while."

"Why Gypsies? I thought you were French?"

"I am. I ran away from home when I was a boy and wound up traveling with Gypsies," Erik explained, although it was not much of an explanation for Sara.

"Wait, you left your home in France to travel with Gypsies?" Sara tried to reason, unable to imagine how a home in France could be improved by such a nomadic lifestyle as the Gypsies led.

"It's a longer story than that," the masked man admitted, gesturing toward the tree at the center of the room. At its base, tucked into the roots was a rolled up blanket and a basket. "I'm going to need a bit of alcohol before I tell it, though. Are you hungry?"

With Sara's smile and nod, Erik moved to the tree and unrolled the blanket onto the ground at the base of the tree, sitting to unload the downright feast he had packed before pouring himself a large glass of wine and taking a long drink.

Sara rolled a grape between her fingers as she watched him, her curiosity piqued. Upon seeing the picnic he had prepared, she had thought his request for alcohol was only a ploy to get her to join him for lunch. Now it seemed he was entirely serious.

Seeing that Sara was watching him, and surely expecting an answer by now, Erik began. "I left home when I was eight years old, to spare my mother the burden of continuing to raise a son as… unusual as I was. That is a story in and of itself. Having been confined to the house I was born in for my entire life and having only dared venture out into the small village the house was located in on several occasions, I was entirely unprepared for life on my own. I had no idea where I was going or how I would get there, only that I could not possibly take the main roads without risking capture and that was not an option. Fortunately, my village was not far from a forest very similar to this one," Erik explained, gesturing around them. "Tall, well spaced trees with a thick enough canopy to keep the rain from being too terrible in places and a soft mossy floor. Water was easy enough to find, but I had no idea how to hunt or what produce the land offered would be safe to eat and what might kill me and very soon found myself starving and desperate. As it turns out, forests like this one are also favored by Gypsies for their access to water, wide trees good for horses and wagons, and cover from the sun during the day, among other things. Being an arrogant child as I was, stealing food was not enough; I decided once I'd put away a few apples and pieces of dried meat that I would try to steal a horse, which of course I had never ridden in my life. I was caught, and of course the mask upon my face did not go unnoticed. The mask was ill fitting at the time, and some of my scars were visible around the edges… they knew I was hiding more than my identity, and as soon as they saw what I was tossed into a cage."

Sara's eyes widened and she spoke for the first time since Erik's story began. "A cage? Why would they toss a little boy into a cage?"

"They were traveling with a French circus performer turned entrepreneur. He had started a freak show no carnival in France wanted to be responsible for, but found asylum with the Gypsies. If he could make them money, they were willing to turn a blind eye to the atrocities in his freak show," Erik explained matter-of-factly, as if he had only heard the story and not been a part of it.

"How long did this go on?" Sara demanded.

Erik shrugged gently and picked up a piece of flatbread with jam. "I'm not certain; four years or so, but that is when I lost track of time. My master when I was studying architecture guessed I was about thirteen when he found me, and I had been free of the Gypsies about half a year by then so four years seems right."

The forest was quiet around them for a long time while Erik ate, but Sara seemed to have lost her appetite. "I've never told anyone that story before," Erik admitted after a while. "I didn't realize how much it would bother you, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Erik," Sara insisted. "I'm glad you told me. Truly," she promised.

Again she spoke. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that happened to you. I know I had nothing to do with it and have no reason to apologize… but it seems so wrong that I was living here in paradise at the same time you were living in a cage and being treated like an animal, and I'm sorry."

"The Gypsies treated their animals better than they treated me," Erik corrected. "But… thank you. It's worth more than you think."

"Your face causes you a lot of grief," Sara noted. Erik's nod was barely noticeable. "Erik… I've known you for months now without ever having seen your face. Truly, in my mind that mask is your face. It was frustrating at first, but I feel like it is just part of who you are now. The way I feel about you is completely separate from anything you are hiding under the mask. I don't need to know your face to know how much I care about you. You do realize that, don't you?"

Erik was silent, his gaze deep in his wine glass as though he were divining some fortune from his reflection. "I do. You wouldn't have kissed me otherwise," Erik reasoned. "But Sara, accidents happen, they have happened. If something happens and I'm forced to be around you without my mask… I would never recover from the heartbreak that would cause."

"Fear comes from facing the unknown, doesn't it?" Sara asked, and when Erik was silent she pressed again. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does."

"No matter what situation," Sara continued. "Fear is always caused by the unknown. I would be afraid of a man coming at me because I do not know his intent, and if I do know his intent I do not know the aftermath. I would be afraid of a bear because I fear death and its uncertainties, not because a bear is unknown. I fear Reza's death because I have no idea how to live my life without him. Erik… I know you. I know you would never harm one hair on my head. I know you have a beautiful soul, no matter how you may pretend to be to entertain the Sultana. I'm not afraid of you no matter what your face looks like because the only unknowns you bring to mind are exciting ones."

"Talk is cheap," Erik said simply. "Instinct is real – if Nadir came at your with a knife you would still flinch even if you did not think he would hurt you."

"And then I would laugh and ask my brother what on earth had gotten into him," Sara countered, trying to coax his eyes up to meet hers with a smile. "A kneejerk reaction has nothing to do with my thoughts or feelings."

"Stand by your words, then." Erik challenged, suddenly meeting her gaze again with his head held high defiantly. "Take off my mask, have a good look at what I really am and kiss me if you find you can stomach such a thing."

"Only if you swear to let me react before passing judgment on me," Sara countered. "If I'm wrong and for some reason my mind is changed after seeing your face, I will tell you so, plainly and clearly."

"Very well."

"I want you to swear it," Sara pressed. "You have a short temper, and I know this is a tender subject for you; I want your word."

"I swear I will not react until you do," Erik promised, and Sara nodded her approval.

Carefully, Sara reached up toward his face and to her surprise found her own heart racing in the process. What if she wasn't as strong as she thought she was? Was she really so selfish and little that her feelings might change for him because of the way he looked? There was no way to know unless she tried…

A thin strap held the mask flush to Erik's face, the same color as his raven-black hair. By tracing her fingers along the edge of the mask Sara found the strap, using that as a pivot point to lift the black leather up off his face.

Even before she had removed the mask entirely, Sara's frantic heartbeat stopped for a moment in her chest. Erik's "scars" as he had called them were not quite that, but rather the opposite; it looked as though he had suffered some great injury that simply had decided not to heal. The Magician's flesh was thin and venous, as transparent as the parchment he had sent to Nadir only days before and tinged the same shade of yellow. His cheeks were gaunt and hollow, flesh held up only by his prominent cheekbones before sinking back down into the pits of his eyes.

The most alarming site was the chasm in the center of Erik's face where there ought to have been a nose.

Erik's anxiety went unnoticed as she covered her mouth with her hands in shock, her eyes welling with tears. "Did… did someone do this to you?" She breathed, her voice little more than a whisper although they were completely alone.

"No. I was born like this."

"Does it hurt?"

"The mask rubs it raw sometimes, and my skin is thin enough without the added friction," Erik explained fingering a sore just under his cheekbone. "But otherwise it doesn't hurt."

Sara raised her hand before hesitating. "May I?" She asked, and Erik made a small gesture for her to continue. The young woman traced her fingers along the sunken skin of his cheek, lightly as though she were afraid to tear his paper-thin flesh. It was the first and only time Erik had felt a hand other than his own across his bare flesh, and the sensation was overwhelming. He turned his head away from her touch and wiped fiercely at his eyes, and Sara immediately pulled her hand back to her chest.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't hurt you did I?"

Her voice was wrought with distress from both the sight of him and the thought that she might have harmed him, and Erik shook his head.

"No, I just…"

He could find no words to explain why he had pulled away so suddenly. "If you want to leave now I understand. You have been more than surprising already," he murmured, but Sara remained in her seat.

With great care, Sara leaned forward and placed a kiss on Erik's lips. Erik quickly pulled away, his eyes wide with surprise at the touch. Sara pursed her lips. "I can't win with you, can I? You have your mind set that no one will ever care enough about you to –"

Erik's lips captured hers, swallowing her words as he kissed her passionately. Sara hummed in surprise and delight as her eyes slid closed and her arms wrapped around Erik's neck to keep him close.

"I should have made you swear not to judge me without letting me react first," Erik teased as Sara nuzzled the place where Erik's jaw met his neck contentedly.

"Stop talking and kiss me again."