Part Two:

To Vale

Saturos stood at the edge of the docks, cold sea breeze pulling at his face. It was a clear summer's day, and the trading cog had just arrived. Puelle stood on the ship, speaking quietly with the captain as men unloaded baskets and crates filled with all kinds of things; fabrics, metals, herbs and such. Saturos took in a deep breath, smiling to himself. The storms weren't near as bad this year as they'd been in years before. Nature seemed to calm down a little, and the erosion of Gaia Falls had been much slower than they had predicted. A good omen, so it seemed.

No one save Puelle, the Elder, and Saturos knew of the erosion. They had not even revealed their findings to Bihnde and Roken, and, incidentally, released the two from their duty. Saturos and Puelle now took the measurements, keeping their findings a secret. A few weeks earily, they'd planted a new stake in the ground, the first one hardly four meters from the shore, but better than it being already in the water, the Elder often reminded them. It seemed a good year was ahead, and the note from Vale's Elders would arrive any day.

Saturos sighed. Actually, it was supposed to arrive any day for two years now. He silently watched Puelle as the captain shook his head, checked his pockets and shrugged. Puelle smiled and nodded and him, and started down the ramp. He pointed as two men carrying a large crate questioned him.

"Over there," he told them as Saturos walked toward him. "And be gentle with it."

"No news?" Saturos asked softly.

Puelle turned, shaking his head.

Saturos sighed, folding his arms across his chest and staring out at the ocean. "I don't understand. We've sent a letter with every boat that comes in. The ones that have returned say they've sent the letters en route to Vale, yet there's no reply."

"Indeed…" Puelle murmured quietly. After a moment, he shrugged. "I only hope a solid response comes quickly. There's only one month left to summer… and once the waters freeze up…"

"They won't stay frozen forever," Saturos commented lightly. "Only seven months—"

"We may not have that long," Puelle sighed.

Saturos shrugged. "I'm sure we do," he murmured, falling in step beside the chieftain. "It seems Gaia Falls has been more kind than the elder predicted."

"I can only hope it lasts," Puelle said, tugging at his glove.

Saturos looked to the gray clouds on the horizon, tinged with violet and blues. At the end of his vision, a sharp line of red collided against the snow and sky. He nodded. "Mars Lighthouse still stands," he murmured quietly.

Puelle glanced up. "So it does."

Saturos smiled. "Do you need any more cause for faith?"

Puelle stared at the sky, before suddenly bursting into grin. He laughed. "How do you do it?"

Saturos frowned. "Do what—?"

"That?" Puelle asked, pointing at the horizon. "I look out there, and see the end of our people… you look out… and somehow, you manage to return with a single thread of faith."

Saturos shrugged. "I have been staring at the same sky as you…"

"Yet you see what I do not," Puelle murmured.

Saturos fumbled for words. "I… just…" He sighed. "See things."

"It isn't your sight I was commenting on," Puelle chuckled. "With that silver tongue of yours, you could convince the even moon to wane, the stars to fall, and summer flowers to grow in winter soil." He smiled as Saturos laughed nervously. "Truly, you would make a fine elder for a village someday." He suddenly paused, looking at the youth directly. "Speaking of the elder, don't you have training to attend to?"

"Not until later today," Saturos said, rubbing his hands together and smiling. "We're beginning training for the final trials."

Puelle nodded. "I'm sure you'll do fine. After all, the elder did a wonderful job preparing Agatio last year." He sighed, looking at Saturos tiredly. "Has time really gone by that quickly?"

"Not quite," Saturos smiled. "I won't be an Adept for some time. I still have a year left in my training."

"And yet, you seem more than ready now," Puelle smiled tiredly. He shook his head, eyes narrow on Saturos. "Are you certain you don't have your training soon. I thought the elder said at 'high sun.'"

Saturos shook his head. "I thought he said 'high-dusk.'"

Puelle couldn't help but laugh. "No, I'm quite certain it was 'high-sun,' because he was looking after Menardi first thing in the morning."

Saturos blanched. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Saturos started, glancing up at the sun, then back at the shadows on the ground. "Oh, curse it all," he gasped.

He took off down the main road toward the Elder's home, Puelle shaking his head and laughing. "Good luck, Saturos!" he called after the boy.

Menardi sat, silent and cross-legged on the floor, head bent and eyes shut. The markings on her face were clearly darker, even in the dark room. She felt her focus tremble slightly as she cleared her throat, suddenly impatient.

She opened her eyes, staring ahead at the unlit candle just in front of her. She had done such exercises before, setting fire to objects, but this test, the lighting of a candle, was somehow more difficult for her.

"Concentrate..."

Menardi jaw set. "I am."

"Not the right sort of concentration," the elder murmured, Menardi's eyes shutting as he began to pace beside her. "This sort is wild… erratic. If you focus any harder, the entire room might erupt into flames."

"I don't und—"

"Energy and focus are two separate things," the elder said, his voice soft and level. "Energy is always around us. It is a constant. But until you are able to focus, it is nothing more to you than empty space." His small hands rested on her shoulders. "Typically, I have a great difficulty finding a way to get my students to begin a focus. Any focus. Incidentally, you came with one."

"Then why are you—"

"Because your focus is like nothing I've ever seen. It's like gunpowder. Unpredictable and dangerous… powerful, but dangerous… to you and everyone around you."

Menardi sighed, dropping her hands to her sides and looking up at him. "Then what am I suppose to—"

"Close your eyes and concentrate," the elder muttered, grabbing her head and turning it back to face the candle. He sighed. A long moment passed in silence before he spoke again. "Now, listen carefully. Right now, all you can seem to do is activate the energy around you. What if you didn't force yourself against the energy, but took it inside of you?"

Menardi sighed. "I still don't understand."

The elder sighed. "Think of yourself as a shard of glass in the sunlight. Light is everywhere, in a sense, the same way psynergy is. But consider this… when it is focused into glass at the proper angle, it becomes a thin strand of heat. Until it is made smaller, focused into that glass, it has no power. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I have to make it smaller?" Menardi asked.

"No," the elder smiled. "You only have to allow the energy inside of you, let it filter through you, like a sieve, until it becomes small. Then, once you have that tiny beam inside of you…" He pointed to the candle as she looked up at him. "…reach out and touch the wick."

Menardi sighed, eyes focused on the candle. She felt herself growing smaller, and yet felt as though if she were to so much as sneeze, she would explode. She sighed, focusing on the wicked, slowly wrapping a mental thread around it. Shutting her eyes tightly, she released the energy inside of her and held her breath.

A moment later, a tiny flame sprouted forth atop the candle.

Menardi sighed in relief, as the elder chuckled quietly, walking toward the candle. "Well done, child," he laughed softly, wrinkles creasing into a large smile. "You're learning to focus." He picked up the candle, holding it out to her. "You didn't even burn the wax this time."

"Really?" Menardi stood, taking the candle from the elder. She examined the pale wax with pride, tiny lines streaking down the sides as it began to melt. She ran her finger through the flame with a slight laugh. "It's strange to know that I did that."

"It shouldn't be," the elder said softly, motioning for her to follow him as he started toward his library. "Your powers have grown since you tested last year."

Menardi nodded respectfully. "Thank you, Elder."

"You've grown as into a fine young female, and your markings are as dark as many of the adults in the village… your abilities almost mirror theirs."

"Thank you, Eld—"

"I think you're ready for your Adept's test."

Menardi reeled backward in shock. She blinked several times at the elder's grinning face, finally murmuring a minute, "excuse me?"

The Elder motioned for her to take a seat across from the one he began to sit in. "Menardi," he began, her head already aching. "I've had few students who have reached the level that you are at now, even at the time they reached man or womanhood."

Menardi swallowed. "Th-thank you… Elder… but I really don't think that—"

"I feel that you are ready for your final trial," the elder said softly, Menardi's interruption gone unnoticed as he pulled a quill from his inkwell and began scribbling frantically on a piece of prachment. "And I have just the one in mind… naturally, it won't be easy, but I'm sure you're up to the challenge…" He looked up. "You are, aren't you?"

"What?" Menardi stammered.

"Up to the challenge?"

She shook her head, searching frantically for words. "Well, naturally, yes, but—"

"Good to hear, good to hear," he sighed, folding the note in half, taking one of the candles on his desk and letting the wax dribble for a moment before slamming a seal atop it. He removed it, and pushed the letter aside. "Well, once Saturos arrives, I'll have him rush that to Puelle, and then we must disc—"

"The chieftain?" Menardi said softly. "Wh-why do you need to… aren't all trials cleared through you?"

"Yes, however there are a few things that need to be taken care of before hand," the elder explained softly. "After all, a women cannot leave our region without a male counter-part to escort her."

Menardi felt as though she'd been hit by something large. "Outside of our borders? M-my trial will be outside of our borders?"

"Yes," the Elder said softly. "Which means we cannot continue forward until Puelle gives us his leave." He paused sighing to himself. "Truth be told, you will be more of the escort than he will."

Menardi frowned a little, her eyebrows falling. "He? Who's he?"

"Master?"

The front door slammed shut in the other remove, clothes stirring hurriedly, boots clamoring on the floor as it grew closer. "Master, I apologize for being late. I was with Puelle at the docks awaiting word from the Valean Elders. So far, no response. I've been wondering if maybe they haven't been getting our letters. Then again, I couldn't count on all my fingers have many letters we've sent. They couldn't have all gone astray. Maybe the trade routes have gone askew again. In that case, they could have ended up in Vault instead of—"

The tall male strode into the room, freezing in position at the sight of a visitor in the seat across from the elder. He stared at her for a long moment, suddenly pale. He took a few steps backward until he was just outside the doorway.

Menardi bent forward in her seat to look at him. He was staring confusedly at the elder, pointing in her direction and mouthing something. The elder frowned, and Saturos began to repeat his gestures, but stopped when he saw her looking.

She let out a small breath, sitting back in her seat. She wasn't sure if she was flattered or insulted.

"Saturos, don't be rude," the Elder said, motioning him in.

The younger male stepped into the tiny office, swallowing hard and gesturing with shaking hands. "I-I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to interrupt. I thought there was no one else h—"

"No, no," the Elder said quickly, "you're the very person I needed to speak with. Take a seat." Saturos looked at the chair on the far side of the room, beside Menardi. He sighed, managed to move across the floor without stumbling, then slowly lowered himself into the chair. He glanced at Menardi out of the corner of his eye. She was looking at him. She swiped a piece of hair from her eyes and quickly turned away.

The Elder sighed deeply, shifting his weight as he leaned back in his seat. He drummed his fingers on the table, the silence almost suffocating.

Saturos cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry if I said something I oughtn't, Master," he murmured.

"No, no, Saturos," the elder hurriedly assured him. "Not at all."

"But I—"

"It is of no consequence," the elder said. "It is about time she knew…" He smiled sadly. "It is about time they all knew."

Menardi frowned. "Knew what?"

"Menardi and I were just discussing her becoming an Adept."

Saturos's eyes widened. He looked to Menardi and nodded. "Congratulations. That's quite an achiev—"

"I feel you are ready as well, Saturos."

Saturos rounded on the elder, letting out a sharp breath. Finally, he managed a tiny, confused, "what?"

The Elder smiled at the boy warmly. "I know it seems sudden, but you must trust my opinion. Both you and Menardi have excelled in any task I've given you. Your power is near overflowing, and you both are learning to control, and focus," he added with a glance to Menardi, "your powers. Not even Roken and Bihnde were this well prepared when they took their trials."

Saturos sat back in his seat, staring at his palms, struggling to breath. "I… I don't know what to say."

"That is because there is nothing to be said," the elder said, his voice grown soft. "And we have little time… Our situation has become more desperate."

Saturos frowned slightly, as Menardi asked, "What do you mean, 'desperate?'"

"But Gaia Falls," Saturos said hurriedly, "they've been eroding more slowly than we even had hoped. When we get a reply back from Vale—"

"We… have a reply, Saturos," the elder hardly breathed.

Saturos frowned. "We… we what—?"

"Not an actual… physical reply, per say," the elder continued. "At the beginning of this summer, when the first trader's ship came through, he gave a package to Puelle… inside were all the letters we'd sent from the last two years."

"But that would mean that they had been receiving our letters, wouldn't it?" Saturos asked softly. "If they had, then why would—"

"That was just it," the elder murmured. "Not one of the letters had been opened."

Saturos stared at him, jaw agape. "But… what does that mean?"

The elder sighed. "The only conclusion Puelle and I could come to is that the letters never actually made it into the hands of the elders… Someone is trying to sabotage us."

"What?" Saturos breathed. "Who?"

"That's just it!" the elder laughed dryly. "We can't even begin to imag…" His voice trailed off, gaze fallen on Menardi, her head bent, loose blonde strands fallen in her eyes. He smiled sadly. "I imagine you're very confused—"

"No, no," Menardi murmured, head snapping up. "No, it isn't that. It's just…" She swallowed hard. "It… as though… we've already had this conversation before, you've already told me all these things."

Saturos straighten in his chair, the elder leaning forward. "Come again?"

"I know!" Menardi gasped, standing and pacing frantically behind them, "but… don't… I-I know it must sound as though I'm mad, but I already know!"

"Know what?" Saturos hardly whispered.

She stared at the ceiling, rubbing her forearm from her wrist to the elbow where her scales started. "I…" She turned around, looking straight at the elder. "Sometimes I feel as though the world is about to collapse in on itself. That at any moment… it might… I might fall." She took in a deep breath. "The land is dying, isn't it?"

The Elder leaned forward, his brow draw tight, mouth open to speak, though he was silent for a long moment. "Yes… yes it is."

Menardi turned her back on them. "And the letters you've been sending… They are so we can try to fix everything… aren't they?"

Saturos looked from Menardi to the elder. In a hushed voice, the old male answered, "yes."

"But not everything has gone as planned."

"No… no it hasn't… if these events are to be set in motion, we must set them ourselves."

Menardi turned, head high. "What would you have me do?"

The elder shook his head. "This is not a quest for you alone," the elder murmured.

Menardi frowned.

"No," the elder continued. "This task is meant to be a trial for both my students."

"Then what would you have us do?" Saturos asked, standing from his seat.

Menardi stole a private glance at the boy. He was taller than she suspected, once he stood a short distance from her. His voice was deep and smooth, riverlike. And suddenly, he stepped from silence and shadows and she saw him the way—she supposed—the elder must have seen him.

For a moment, the candlelight caught his eyes, and he appeared much older. And within the same moment, she felt much older. Her heart beat itself against her throat, and she felt herself blush.

She closed her eyes and look back at the elder. "We are ready to do as you would ask."

The elder stared at them for a long moment, lazy red eyes slowly searching their features. He smiled tiredly, slowly rose from his seat. His fingers twined within one another across his chest. "Now… now, I know that I was right." He nodded, both students standing in silence. In a tiny excited whisper, he murmured, "you are the ones I must send."

Saturos frowned. "Send where, Elder?"

The Elder looked at him, eyes flashing. "To Vale."

"I cannot allow it."

Puelle stood in the doorway to the library, the elder at his side. He stared out at the sparring room, Saturos mediating by the fire while Menardi sat on the long wooden bench that lined the far wall of the room, Melima and Karst beside her.

Melima was silently fussing over Menardi, licking her fingers and cleaning a smudge from Menardi's cheeks, rose-pale save the shock of red that crossed down through them. She protested to her mother's interference and pulled a few blonde hairs over her face.

Puelle looked back to the elder, shaking his head. "My Elder, they are but children—"

"They are ready to be Adepts, Puelle," the elder quietly assured him. "And no other pair would do so well."

"They hardly know each other," Puelle grumbled. "Menardi prefers to be surrounded with life, while Saturos would turn his eyes to his studies—"

"And therein lies his strength," the elder said. "He has a silver tongue and a sharp mind. Who better to convince the Valean Elders of our dire situation?"

"But—"

"And Menardi… brightest of her class," the elder continued. "Her wit and candor have won the hearts of many a student, but not a one would want to cross their blade with her… or rather, scythe."

Puelle raised an eyebrow. "You have taught her a weapon-class typically reserved for males?"

The elder let out a sharp laugh. "Traditions should not dictate the ability of a student. She wields it with more skill than any of our warriors. Perhaps more so than her father. Her physical strength is only matched by her spiritual strength. Whereas Saturos's focus creates great strength in small amounts, she could summon a storm of fire on will."

Puelle laughed softly. "Is he to be escorting her, or she, him?"

The elder smiled. "She is more than capable enough. And Saturos will need someone to lean on."

Puelle sighed, looking out over the sparring room. "There is no way to convince you to reconsider?"

"My dream cannot have been wrong—"

"The gift of prophecy is given to Jupiter, not Mars," Puelle quietly reprimanded. "What if your dreams were only that? Dreams?"

The elder shook his head slowly. "No, no… these are the ones."

Puelle took in a deep breath, rubbing his hands together. "Then I must accept your decision."

He walked briskly across the floor toward where Menardi and her family sat. Saturos's ears pricked up slightly, and Puelle motioned to him. He stood, walking across the room to where Melima sat, arms around both her girls.

Puelle rubbed his hands together, staring at the ground. When he finally looked up, he spoke in a tiny voice. "The elder has decided that Menardi and Saturos are ready for their final trial."

Melima's jaw dropped and her hand tightened on Menardi's shoulder. She let out a slightly squeal of glee and hugged the girl tightly. Menardi sat, unmoving, the ghost of a smile painted in pale shades across her lips. Melima pulled away, pushed the hair from Menardi's eyes. "Oh, Menardi, I'm so proud!" she whispered privately, eyes turning to Puelle. "When will the trial occur?"

"The Elder and I have discussed this," Puelle murmured. "Because summer is drawing to a close, we decided it would be best to have them leave by morning."

Melima's eyes narrowed. "Summer? Why should the seasons affect their training?"

"Their trial is to be a bit… unorthodox, for lack of a better term," Puelle said as the elder started into the room. "They will not be tested within the Northern Regions."

Melima sat up a little straighter. "I'm… not sure I understand you, Chieftain—"

"They are to travel to a small village called Vale, nestled under the great Mount Aleph."

Melima's eyes flashed. "Mount Aleph is a legend."

The elder shook his head. "Legends are but truths that have outgrown themselves."

Melima slowly rose, eyes focused on the elder. She turned to Puelle, letting out a sharp laugh. "This is but a rude trick… isn't it?

Puelle took in a deep breath, cupping his hands together thoughtfully. "Melima, I feel it would be best that you sit."

She folded her arms across her chest. "I can stand… now tell me."

Melima sat on the bench between her daughters, Karst dozing, head on her lap. Melima sat stroking the strawberry hair, staring at Puelle in shocked silence.

Puelle cleared his throat. "Melima?"

She started. The color had left her face, and her hands were cold. She swallowed. "Do you really mean to send my daughter out into the world?" she asked softly, looking up at the elder. "The dangers of the Lighthouses? You can't really mean for them to…?"

The elder sighed, leaning on his walking stick. "I am afraid we do. Unless the Valean Elders are awakened to our situation, we could all be in grave danger."

She looked frantically between the two. "But… she is only a child. Is there no one else willing to carry this burden?"

"There is no one more fit for this task," the elder explained. "Menardi and Saturos have been blessed with their power. Combine their skills, and they cannot be defeated."

"We must allow them to go," Puelle agreed softly.

"Alone?" Melima asked.

"No," the elder said. "They will be accompanied by five others, all adepts. To solve the riddles of Sol Sanctum, they will need more than two sets of hands."

Melima looked up at them. "Do they have a voice in this matter? They have not even come of age."

Puelle and the elder looked at one another, the chieftain slowly nodding. "I… suppose we cannot force them to go against their own accord…" He looked at the elder. "And neither have come of typical age to speak for themselves…" He looked at the young male leaning on the far wall. "Saturos?"

The young male started at the sound of his name.

"You are all that is left of your bloodline," Puelle said softly. "You alone must decide what you will do."

Saturos frowned. He looked at the Elder, who nodded gently. He swallowed hard, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth. His tongue offered no moisture, so rather than speak, he managed a nod, slow and unsure. After a moment, he looked up, eyes resolved and nodded again.

The elder let out a soft sigh as Puelle cleared his throat. "Well… that's one."

The gazes in the room were directed then toward Menardi and Melima.

Puelle shifted uncomfortably. "Well?"

Menardi opened her mouth to speak, but the elder lifted his hand, shaking his head. "I am sorry, my child, but it is not for you to decide… You are not of age. And with your father's passing, the family-right goes to your mother…"

Menardi looked at her mother, pushing the hair from her face.

Melima looked from face to face in slow worry. She let out a bark of bitter laughter, pressing her hand against her chest. "So it falls on me?" Melima gasped softly, all eyes upon her now. She tried to slow her breathing through quietly laughter, smothering out her silent whimpers. She looked up at the elder in awe. "You place the burden on me to decide whether or not my child is to be sent into the gaping maw of hell, or whether we all perish?"

"The task is not an easy one Melima," Puelle whispered softly, staring at the woman. She turned her face away, pressing a palm against her forehead. He sighed. "I could not blame you if you were to refuse her this quest. However, I can't impress the urgency of this matter anymore than I have…" He stepped toward her, crouching to one knee, taking her hand in comfort. "If we do not act quickly, Melima, our people... our race... may be doomed."

The room grew silent, not one of the Proxinians in the room speaking, unable to move or breathe. A thick stale silence hung around their heads, deafening them as the time passed until the only sound was the soft ticking of a clock in the far corner of the room.

A tiny shattering whisper came. "May I choose those who will accompany them?"

The elder and Puelle frowned..

Melima shut her eyes tightly. "If I may choose the Adepts that will accompany them… I will allow Menardi to go…" She looked up. "May I?"

The elder let out a long breath, Puelle smiling and patting her hand. "Yes," he said softly. "Yes, of course you may—"

Melima tore her hand away from the elder, standing. Her red eyes flashed. "I do not need your sympathy." She stood, startling Karst and nudging her to full consciousness. "Come… it's time we were leaving—"

Menardi stood, grabbing Melima's hand. "Mother—?"

Melima pulled her hand away. "No." There were angry tears in her eyes. "The fates have conspired against me. The Gods decided to take your father, why shouldn't they want you as well? If they've chosen you to be their… 'heroine,' who am I to interfere?" She cast a burning gaze toward the elder. "After all, I am just a mother." She started toward the door, shrugging on her coat, thrusting Karst's at her and bidding her do the same. She glanced back at Puelle. "When do you intend for them to leave?"

Puelle swallowed. "Tomorrow... late morning…"

Melima nodded. "Then I suppose I must wake the Adepts I've chosen."

"Wait," Puelle said, hurrying to the elder's Library and hurried scribbling on a paper. He reappeared in the room, extending his hand to Melima. "Show them this. It is an order direct from me. No one will deny you if you show them that."

She nodded slowly, started for the door again.

"And Melima?"

"Yes?"

Puelle stared at her. "No more than five."

Melima shoved the note deep in her pocket. "We'd best be going then..." she murmured, looking only once more at her daughter. She let out a bitter laugh. "After all, I'm sure you have much to explain to our new… saviors."

The Elder cleared his throat, glancing at Saturos. "We don't quite intend to send them in blind, Madame. Saturos knows many of the legends by heart and he's already—"

"Nevertheless," Melima murmured, "I don't believe Menardi is as well acquainted with them as the boy is."

Saturos soured slightly, but kept his tongue in cheek.

The elder had straightened slightly, staring at Melima with dark eyes. He crossed the room and put his hands on Saturos's shoulders. "Saturos knows everything Menardi will need to know. It would be more efficient to have him teach her on their way to Vale."

Melima stared at Saturos for a long while. He held her gaze with his own. A moment of heat passed between them and with a sharp scoff Melima turned away. "Are you quite certain that he can teach her?"

The Elder, calm as always, replied, "I have taught him much, and he has studied independently for nearly two years."

Puekke nodded. "He has been aware of this issue from the time it was brought to our attention."

Melima's eyes widened. She stepped away from the door, Karst quietly whining for her to stop. She marched until she was chest-to-chest with Puelle, eyes aflame. "You told him?" she hissed in a deadly whisper. "The whole Proxinian nation is at risk and you choose to tell this boy before you even reveal it to the Adepts!" Her words rang empty in the room, Melima's eyes flicking from one to the other. A short, virulent chuckle escaped her lips. She looked directly at the Elder. "I think you are all mad..."

She continued to stare at the Elder, her voice rising with each. "You tell this… child our world is coming to an end before informing anyone else… you keep it secret for two years, privately sending letters to the Valean Elders… and now… Now you are sending two younglings into the mouth of the beast, and they are not even Adepts!" She turned on Saturos, pointing furiously at him. "And he is to be my daughter's escort!" She continued before the Elder could speak, before Saturos could react. "How can you expect him to teach her all she needs to know? He's not even an Adept yet! He's but a child! A babe!"

The Elder frowned. "He is prepar—"

"Is he?" Melima continued. "Can you trust him? Can she trust him! The least you could do is send someone like Agatio, but instead, you send the child of a lunatic! His mother was proof en—!"

Saturos stepped forward. In a deadly voice, he hissed, "Don't you dare talk about my mother like that…"

Melima stared at him for a moment, took a cautious step backward. She opened her mouth to speak, but Saturos continued.

"My mother was not mad," he growled. "Nor am I… It is not the Elder's decision to send me. It is my destiny… as it is Menardi's. If you question the factuality of this, you question the will of the Gods, Something far more dire than relinquishing your anger on a mortal for your temporary loss of a daughter…"

Melima continued to stare. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, finding nothing to be said. Her eyes grew glossed as her cheek flushed in rage. She stepped toward him, staring up at him, finger jabbed at him face. "If you think for one moment—"

"He's right, Mother…"

Everyone turned to look at Menardi who was still sitting on the bench, her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyes were all that was visible over her knees. She looked straight ahead, never once looking to her mother. Unfallen tears stained her eyes.

"Mother, we can't pretend, anymore," she murmured, her voice eerily calm. "We just pretended like nothing ever happened after Father died, and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of thinking we can pretend like nothing will ever happen. The world is changing, Mother… and I'm changing with it. Karst is, too. Soon it will be her time, but right now… it's mine. I'm looking destiny straight in the eye, for once, and you're trying to tell me to look away…" Menardi's eyes shifted to look at her mother. "I won't, Mother… I can't."

Melima stared at her for a long moment. Her words too root, and Melima shook her head. "Menardi, no… you don't mean to—"

"Mother," Menardi hardly whispered. "I think it would be best if we don't speak for now…"

Melima's face slowly changed. The anger washed over her, a change in her pallor, her movement. Her eyes grew larger, moist. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. She glanced at Puelle and the elder, neither of whom could hold her gaze. She coughed slightly, covering the sudden sob. She glanced to Karst who stood by the door. Karst shook her head, opening the door and walking out.

Melima swallowed hard, turned to the Elder. She drew a shaky breath. "I should be going now…"

The door closed, but the wind continued to whisper through the house, high, shrill, screeches. No one spoke a word, for there were none to be said.

"I'll tell the men to prepare a ship," Puelle said softly as he began toward the doorway. The Elder accompanied him to the door, the two men's voices grown soft.

Saturos swallowed hard. He glanced at Menardi, unmoved, staring out at the soft falling snow. He slowly walked toward the Elder's study, shuffling to the fire and pulling off the kettle. He picked up two tiny cups from the top shelf, setting them onto desk. He carefully poured the tea into each of the cups then replaced the kettle onto the fire.

He shuffled back to the main room, watching as the Elder closed the door behind Puelle and shouldered past Saturos to his study.

Saturos slowly approached the girl, cautiously. She didn't look up as he silently set the cup of tea beside her. He swallowed. "For you," he said softly. He leaned back, waiting to see if she said anything.

She stared at the floor in silence.

He cleared his throat, giving himself a short nod. He excused himself and started toward his room.

"Thank you."

Saturos frowned, turning to face Menardi.

She hardly glanced up over her knees. A moment more and her chin appeared. She pushed the blonde hair from her face, eyes red and swollen. "I said th—"

"I understood you," Saturos murmured.

Menardi lowered her head, flushing. "I meant no offens—"

"None taken," Saturos murmured, turning away from her.

Menardi cleared her throat, sat up straight. "Not many Proxinians do that…" She waited for him to stop before continuing. "Standing up to my mother," she said. "No one does that…" She let out a slight sigh. "I don't…"

Saturos glanced over his shoulder. "It was… nothing." He swallowed hard, quietly muttering, "Just repaying the favor."

Menardi frowned. "Come again?"

Saturos turned to face her. "You don't remember me, do you?"

She shrugged, tossing the blonde hair from her eyes. "You're Saturos… the elder trains you…"

Saturos sighed, starting to his room again. "Yes… yes, I am."

"What do you mean?" Menardi asked, a genuine interest in her voice.

Saturos started back toward her, holding his tea in one hand, motioning with the other. His fingers drew a fine line up her arm. His eyes met hers. "Do you remember getting that?"

Menardi frowned at him, placed her hand over the scar and pulled back. "A scuffle with some boys in town," she said. "It was nothing."

Saturos raised his eyebrows for a moment, saying nothing. He took a step back. "It wasn't to me."

He began toward his room, stopped on a word.

"You…" Menardi frowned, her feet sliding from under her back to the ground. "You were the boy—"

"At one time you saved me," Saturos said softly. "I only wanted to return the favor."

Menardi stared at him. "Why didn't you—"

"I didn't feel much like talking to anyone after that," Saturos said, turning away. "Besides… one learns much more when their mouth is closed than when it is open."

"You should speak more often," Menardi said quietly. "You have a lovely voice."

Saturos could feel his cheeks heat. He didn't glance up at Menardi, only smiled slightly and murmured, "Thank you."

She leaned back, staring into her tea cup. "You are different than what I imagined."

Saturos looked up. He raised his eyebrows. "And what did you imagine me to be?"

Menardi swallowed. "Well…" She took in a deep breath through her nose. "Not like this."

Saturos's mouth pressed into a fine line. "You expected me to be half-mad?"

Menardi stared at her tea in silence.

Saturos took in a deep breath. He stepped toward her, sitting down on the floor in front of her. She looked at him in slight shock as he set his tea on the floor and stared at her. "Alright… let's hear it. All of it."

"What?"

"Don't," Saturos said flatly. "I know what the people in this village say about my family, so go ahead. Ask me anything."

Menardi shifted her weight, fully facing him. She held his gaze, red eyes as steady as his. "Did your mother try to kill you?"

Saturos swallowed silently. He didn't look away, not even a glance. He took in a deep breath and murmured, "Yes."

Menardi leaned forward. "What happened?"

Saturos held her gaze for as long as he could bear. Finally he looked away. His hand reached out, casually brushing the rim of his teacup. "It was just after my father, Saturno, died… It happened during the Long Winter. He was lost in the Northern Wilds during an excursion to one of our sister villages. One of the other Adepts brought home his…" Saturos motioned across his forehead. "His sash… the ones they give the Adepts, and Arine, my mother…"

Saturos cleared his throat and continued. "She was…" He shook his head. "It was like watching death. Her skin was white, she never spoke. Our table was covered in snow lilies, the ones that had been brought to his entombment. The day she…" Saturos motioned slightly with his head, unable to form the words they both knew he meant. "That day… she took the lilies and burned them and…" He paused. "No… No, she didn't burn all of them.

"She took me out on the lake, when it was frozen over. We each had a flower, she carried a pack with her. She asked if I would like to see my father again. I was young. I didn't understand that she meant…" He looked at Menardi. "I told her I would."

Saturos sighed. "It was then that she opened the satchel. She took my father's sword and slashed out against the ice. It wasn't very thick. Maybe two swings, and the ice gasped open." He cleared his throat. "I remember… I was so very cold. I was flailing about wildly, too young to swim… She held me close, both arms around me, pulling me down." Saturos reached up, scratched the corner of his eye. "I… just kept kicking. She was screaming at me, telling me to stop, but I didn't. It felt like forever, but she eventually went quiet, let me go… slipped into the water." He swallowed. "I… don't remember what happened then, the elder…" He shrugged. "I woke up in his home… I have been here ever since."

Saturos looked up at Menardi. "Well?"

She frowned. "What?"

He let out a dark laugh. "Was my mother mad? Yes. Did she try to kill me? Yes… But," he murmured, gaze slipping to hers, "the final question is yours to answer… Am I mad?"

Menardi stared at him. She slowly shook her head. "I don't think you are."

Saturos raised an eyebrow. "Then ninety and nine other Proxinians must be wrong," he said with a slight grin.

Menardi smiled slightly, opening her mouth to speak when the elder walked out of his study. "I don't suppose you will be returning home for the evening, Menardi?"

She shook her head. "I don't think I dare. Mother would… only complicate the situation more than it already is."

The Elder nodded slowly, a frown creasing the lines on his face as he continued toward them, arms filled with woven blankets and animal skins. "I suppose you're right... however," he said, promptly setting the blankets beside her, "you are welcome in my home."

Menardi smiled, reaching out a stroking one of the blankets. "Thank you, Master."

"You'd best be getting rest as well, Saturos," the Elder said as he started from the room. "Both of you need to be awake and ready tomorrow morning. We want you gone before sunup. It will lessen the commotion our village will no doubt be abuzz with tomorrow. It would be better if you were gone before we tell everyone why."

"But…" Saturos started softly. "What about the…"

"Lessons?" the Elder finished as Saturos fell silent. "You can tell everyone on your way to Vale. It will take a good day's sail to get there, weather allowing. More than enough time to tell them everything they will need to know."

Saturos looked at the ground, nodded and slowly stood.

"And now, we should all get some sleep," the Elder said softly as Saturos started toward his room. "Menardi, you can take that couch over here in my study. We'll be waking you early, so I want both of you asleep as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Sir," Menardi murmured and began to lay out the few blankets on the couch, keeping the warmest to cover herself.

Saturos began down the stairs toward his bedroom, pausing as he saw the Elder begin wrapping a scarf around his neck, a warm overcoat already on and a hat covering his head. "Where are you going?" he asked, turning back and standing on the second stair down.

The Elder turned, looking at Saturos. "Puelle wanted to speak with me. We have to ask Melima who your men are going to be."

Saturos frowned. "My men?"

"Of course," the Elder said shortly. "You will be the commander of these men. You know the most of the mysteries of the lighthouses. Naturally, you would be the leader."

Saturos scrambled up the stairs, grabbing for the elder's arm as he neared the door. "Master, you can't honestly believe they will listen to me, I-I am no leader, I'm not even an Adept…"

"And that is the other reason I must talk to Puelle," the Elder said. "Now, don't concern yourself with such things. You need rest. Menardi is already sleeping."

Saturos looked over his shoulder to the study where Menardi slept peacefully. He turned back to the Elder, "But I—"

"Saturos," the Elder said warily, "to bed."

Saturos sighed deeply, then murmured a quiet, "Yes, Master."

He shuffled across the room, down the stairs and into his room. He stripped off his shirt, blindly tossing it on the ground somewhere, and crawling into his bed. He closed his eyes, but sleep never came. He tossed and turned in silence, unable to shake off a feeling as though he were half-dead, half waiting to be born.

Soft candlelight fell on Saturos's face and he blinked his eyes open.

"It's time," the elder murmured.

Saturos sat up rubbing his eyes, which quickly adjusted to the faint light of the candle. The Elder set it down at his bedside and walked out of the room. Saturos blinked once, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again before shooting out of his bed.

On the small table on the far side of his room, neatly folded, lay a set of Adept's armor, the Mars Clan symbol embossed on the front of the metal chest plate, and the book he'd stolen all those years ago lying atop the pile. A small note was attached to the front. Saturos plucked it off, silently reading, "Not asking to borrow is synonomous with stealing."

Saturos let out a sharp laugh, smiling to himself and crumpling the paper. He tossed it aside, throwing the book on his bed and grabbing for his armor. He held up the breast plate to his chest, a little big for him, but not so much as to make him feel awkward. He frantically looked around his room until he found the place he'd tossed his shirt. He picked it up, slipped it on and hurriedly began to dress.

Saturos started up the stairs. At the top stood Menardi, speaking with a few men in armor, though not quite as ornate as Saturos's, he noted. Menardi, too, wore an ornate set of Adept's armor, a feminine style, of course; a simple yet elegant dress of scarlet and cremes, the skirt mainly the former color, the red in triangles pointing down at an complicated design that traced the bottom of her skirt. Her breastplate also boasted the Mars Clan Symbol, though hers was made from a vibrant gold metal—most likely orihalon— and his was a pale-silver.

Menardi noticed his arrival. She turned almost instantly, ending the conversation with a quiet apology. She quickly stepped to his side, following him as he entered the room. She swallowed. "Did you sleep well?"

He shook his head. "Hardly any at all… who are all these people?"

"Mother chose them," Menardi said as the Adepts looked up from their conversations, glancing at Menardi and Saturos with slight frowns, staring in almost disbelief at their armor. "They are to accompany us."

"Are they aware yet?" Saturos asked.

Menardi shook her head. "I don't think so."

Saturos frowned. "Then how do they expect us to—"

"Are we all prepared?"

The room suddenly quieted. The Elder walked into the room, his walking stick tapping a soft rhythm onto the floor. The Adepts looked up, quickly straightening themselves, pushing their hair from their eyes and clearing their throats.

The Elder nodded at one of the males, a massive man, as wide as Saturos and Menardi standing side-by-side, and an entire head taller than them. "Do you have everything you need?"

The male nodded. "The ship has been prepared, and we have enough food for trips to and from Angara. It should take no more than a week and a few days longer."

The Elder smiled. "Wonderful." He feebly shuffled across the room, nodding at the children. "You all know my students; Menardi, Daughter of Atreyn, and Saturos, Son of Saturno."

The Adepts murmured welcomes, and nodded in their direction.

"They will be coming with us then?" the male whom the Elder had addressed before asked.

The Elder lifted his chin. "On the contrary. They will be leading you."

The few males' faces of friendly pretense slowly faded into something along the lines of confusion, others into anger. Two of the males began whispering to each other while a third cast the Elder a wary look of question.

Saturos clenched and unclenched his fists nervously, suddenly sweating. His stomach turned. This would not end well. He licked his lips, but his tongue was dry. He couldn't speak as he stared at the murmuring Adepts. He swallowed hard, ready to step away when a strong hand grabbed a hold of his.

The grip was firm, warm and comforting. Menardi's fingers tangled in his, held behind their backs. She stepped closer to him, and squeezed his hand hard.

He stared at her for a long moment, blinking in shock. He swallowed hard, and turned to face the Adepts.

The Elder looked to the group, frowning as they continued to mutter to one another. "It there a problem, Roken?"

The Adept looked up from where he was whispering to the male beside him. "Pardon?"

"A problem, Roken," the Elder repeated levelly. "I worry that there is, considering that you are too concerned with words of your friend Binhde than my own."

"My apologies, Elder," Roken murmured, red lighting his cheeks. "I only… what I meant w—"

"You said a strong Adept would lead us," another spoke up. "These are children."

"Youth does not dictate strength, Bihnde," the Elder murmured. "And I do not lie."

"They are not Adepts," the first male the Elder had addressed said levelly.

The Elder stepped to where Saturos and Menardi stood. "They are ready, Siad."

The one called Siad shook his head. "This child is to lead a group of grown males?" he asked, motioning to Saturos.

"Saturos is ready," the Elder said calmly.

"He is not an adept," Siad murmured. "He has not yet reached manhood and still wears his hair in the fashion of a child."

"The same with Menardi," another one of the Adepts said. "They are both still children."

The others nodded, began to murmur again.

"Puelle explained this to you, did he not?" the Elder suddenly said, raising his voice to break through the noise. His red eyes searched through each of the Adept's own eyes, narrow and harsh. "They are ready to be granted Adepthood. Not only are they ready, they are the only ones who can lead this mission."

This quieted the men a little.

Bihnde frowned. "You… don't speak of—"

"I do," the elder murmured.

"The prophecy?" whispered another. "The end of days?"

The Elder paused a moment. He blinked lazily. "Yes... The prophecy."

Siad's eyes narrowed. "Impossible. It is a myth—"

"A myth that is too filled with truth," the Elder snapped. "Our shores are disappearing, my friends. It is not a coincidence…" His expressioned softened. "Gentlemen, we are looking at oblivion from where we stand. Gaia Falls is no longer our guardian, it is our boarder." He sighed. "The Northern Route is almost gone."

"The route to Imil?" one murmured.

"Can you be certain?" Siad asked, though his eyes betrayed no sign of worry.

"Too certain," the Elder said.

Siad frowned. "And these? These are the Adepts that will restore Alchemy?"

"It has been said that two born from Gaia herself shall restore light to Weyard," the Elder replied simply.

"I thought the prophecy mentioned Earth Adepts," one of the Adepts mentioned narrowly.

"Gaia is Earth as well as Fire," the Elder said with a smile. "The two are the same. From the earth was fire created, and from her ashes is earth born again."

Siad frowned. He stepped in front of Saturos, towering over him. Saturos wanted to step back, out of the massive shadow that fell on him. He felt Menardi's hand tighten again. Her heard her breathing quicken, saw her eyes narrow on the Adept.

Siad stared at him for a long moment. "Do you believe all the Elder has said? Do you believe you are the ones to restore alchemy?"

Menardi swallowed hard.

Saturos took a deep breath and lifted his chin. "I do."

Siad stared for a long moment. Saturos shifted his weight nervously. The silence was deafening. The only sound was his pulse, ringing in his ears. He felt Menardi's own racing heartbeat against his wrist, though her breathing was level beside him.

Siad slowly nodded. "Then I will stand with you."

The other Adepts stirred slightly as Siad turned to them. "Brothers, will you stand with me?" He stopped. "No… will you stand with this… Saturos, Son of Saturno? And this Daughter of Atreyn?"

Roken looked about nervously. He stepped forward. "I will."

Another stepped forward.

And the other.

Bihnde stared at them. He let out a bitter sigh and stepped forward.

Menardi's hand tightened on his one last time, gripping sure and strong, before slipping away from his. Her eyes were brighter, head high. Saturos took comfort in her at his side, and held himself a little straighter.

Siad smiled slightly, looked at Saturos. "It appears that all are in agreeance, Master Saturos."

Saturos swallowed. "This… is good."

Siad nodded. "Saturos, you shall have my hands and feet at your service, always," he said softly, a smile slowly surfacing on his lips. His gaze quickly ran over the group, and he added, "And the same is true for every man here."

The Elder sighed deeply. His eyes burned with gratitude toward Siad. "The confidence you've shown for Saturos and Menardi is overwhelming," he said, looking from Siad to the others. A few of the Adepts exchanged weary glances, but they remained silent.

The Elder turned back to Saturos and Menardi, reaching inside his cloak. "However, Siad," he murmured softly, "you are right. They still look like children..." The Elder withdrew two long sashes from his pocket, holding one in each hand. "The Valean Elders will be able to tell the difference between children and Adepts… and they will never heed the warnings of children." He held the two sashes to the Adepts; one was a creme with thick scarlet swirls painted on the fabric, and the other was a dark, shimmering grey material.

The Elder smiled, extending the grey one to Saturos, and the crème to Menardi. "However," he grinned. "We are not sending them children."

Menardi took in a sharp breath, grabbing for the sash in shock. Saturos took his slowly, frowning slightly. Menardi hurriedly began to tie the sash round her head, fingers moving with a practiced ease, as though she had prepared for this for days, now. Saturos, quite the opposite, took his time. He thoughtfully tied the sash into a firm knot at the back of his head. He freed his hair from where it had been tied back and it fell forward over his face, silver hair cascading over the sash and into his eyes, making him look suddenly older.

Menardi shook loose the massive braid, long blonde hair falling to her waist, dropping into lazy curls as she ran her fingers to smooth the locks.

The Elder stepped away with Siad falling in line behind him, beaming at the two.

"Now, my very young Adepts," he said, his sharpened incisors visible as the smile became continually broader. "Now, you are ready." He turned to the others. "Your ship has been readied, you have all been briefed, and the summer path is clear of ice."

"Even if it is not, Roken is a master at melting," Siad said to Saturos. "We won't have any trouble with glaciers as long as he is with us."

Saturos nodded at him. "An honor to have you, Master Roken."

"An honor to be had," the Adept replied, smiling slightly.

Siad stepped to Saturos. "What are your orders, Master Saturos."

Saturos swallowed. He stared in disbelief at the group of five Adepts, many years his senior. He felt the warmth of Menardi's arm, resting by his side. He looked at the Elder, who merely smiled and stepped away, slowly starting toward his study.

Saturos lifted his chin. "We leave for the docks," he said, nodding at the men. "If you have farewells to say to your families, say them now. We leave within the hour."

Siad turned to the men, his face suddenly firm. "You heard him," he said. "Prepare for disembarkment!"

He motioned broadly, and the Adepts began to dispurse. Siad turned back to Saturos, nodded at him firmly. "We leave in the hour."

"In the hour," Saturos said, smiling.

"It shall be so," Siad grinned, starting for the door.

Menardi stepped forward, following the others, but stopped. She turned to where Saturos still stood, staring at the window, at the Adepts now in the streets, walking toward the docks. She laughed. "Are you coming?"

Saturos sighed. "Yes, I was just… thinking."

"There will be plenty of time to think on the ship," Menardi said, stepped toward him. "Now, come. There's much to be done."

Saturos smiled. "Yes…" He looked at her, the smile broadening. "Yes, there is much to be done, isn't there?"

"Last one in's a vermin!"

"No fair, Felix! You got a head-start!"

"Hey, Isaac! Wait for me!"

"Garet, you slow-slug! Come on!"

Felix reached the edge of the river, dirt and grass beneath his bare feet. He felt his toes dig into the earth around them, power building in his legs as he crouched. He sprung forward, bringing his knees to his chest as he flew through the air. Then, as quickly as he had taken flight, there was an ice-cold sensation all around him, on his bare skin and under the ankle-long leggings he wore. He floated, weightless, holding his knees tight as he let the cold wash away the heat of the summer noon.

Finally, he gave one great kick with his legs, sending him upward in the weightless void. He broke the water's surface with a great gasp and laughter erupted from his lungs. He waded in the middle of the river, not too far a distance from his home, a little riverside cottage a stone's-throw from where he swam. The water had calmed since he had jumped in, but a large wave crashed against the side of his head as another jumped into the water.

Felix mopped the long, brown hair from his eyes, laughing as his best friend, Isaac, broke the surface of the water next to him, his blonde hair, usually wild and in the air, now flattened around his head.

"I win," Felix chuckled, wading away from Isaac.

"It's 'cause you have longer legs," he laughed, splashing him.

Felix splashed back, the two boys laughing wildly until a third figure rushed to the shoreline. The two stopped, looking up at the red-haired boy, standing over the water, breathing hard. Isaac frowned, starting to shore as Felix laughed. "Looks like Garet is the vermin of the day."

Garet cast him a dark glare, huffing and puffing, though Felix knew all too well the majority of it was show.

"You okay, Garet?" Isaac asked hurriedly, leaning on a rock near the shore.

Garet nodded quickly, his hazel eyes wide as though he would burst at any moment. "I... just wish..." he groaned as his hand groped for his leg. "My... ankle..."

"That's your knee," Felix said flatly.

Garet frowned, and his hand slid to his ankle.

Isaac made a face. "Did you twist it?"

"His ankle's fine," Felix said, swimming over to Isaac. "The only sore Garet has is the sore of losing."

Garet stopped the rapid breathing immediately, turning and kicking water at Felix. Felix cackled and ducked behind the rock as Isaac began to laugh as well. Garet was flushed with anger, mouth fumbling for words. "It's just 'cause you're faster and older, Felix!" he shouted. "That's the only reason you ever win."

"Isaac is younger than you and he beat you," Felix retorted with a smile. "You can't use age for an excuse."

Garet's face soured.

Isaac, ever the peacemaker, sighed. "Come on, Garet, it was just a joke."

Garet continued to brood in silence.

Felix shook his head and waded back out into the river. Isaac sighed, staring at Garet. "Are you coming in or what?" He nodded at Felix. "If we rush him, I bet we can take him."

Garet sighed. "Fine, but… don't rush me." He carefully settled himself on the ledge, extending his toe toward the water. "Last time it was like jumping into a tub of ice."

Isaac and Felix exchanged exasperated looks as Garet carefully dipped his foot in the water. He frowned, rolling up his leggings and repeating the process with his other foot.

"Today would be nice," Felix called from the middle of the river.

Garet frowned. "I'm a Mar Adept, Felix," he said imperiously. "I need time to adjust to the cold."

Isaac pushed away from his rock. "Garet, it's better just to jump all at once and get it over with." When Garet continued to slid his feet to the water, Isaac groaned. "Garet, last time you did this, it took an hour to get in the water."

"Did not!" Garet shouted. "It only took…" He paused. "Well… so what if it was an hour! One day, when I know enough psynergy, I'll just make the water warm enough to swim in."

"It's warm enough now," Felix groaned. "Besides, if we wait for you to go from moving pebbles with psynergy to heating water, both Isaac and I will be too old to ever swim again!"

Garet continued to ignore them, unknowingly. He was calmly dipping his leg in the water, this time allowing it to run all the way over his calf to his knee, looking quite deep in thought, when another child appeared.

Jenna slammed her hands on Garet's shoulders, sending the boy flying, head over heels, crashing into the river below with a splash. Felix, Isaac and Jenna burst into laughed as Garet broke the surface, sputtering and wide-eyed. He scrambled for the surface, staring at the girl who was now on the ground, holding her stomach as she laughed, tears running down her cheeks.

"Jenna!" Garet roared, scrambling onto the mainland. "I wasn't ready! The water is freezing!"

"And the summer is hot!" Jenna managed, wiping her eyes. "Water and summer make a pretty good team."

Garet stared at her in horror. "But I wasn't ready!"

"At your rate, you would have been ready when we were old enough to be sages!" Isaac laughed, hiding himself behind the rock again to shield himself from what little wrath Garet might unleash. Garet looked ready to burst, his tan skin slowly turning red. He pointed a finger at Isaac, his mouth opening as though to yell at him when he was abruptly cut off.

"Felix! Jenna! Time to come in!"

Felix turned in the water, his sister now sitting erect on the grass by the river.

"Mom," Jenna said softly, beginning to stand.

Felix looked up at the sky. The sun was still high, indicating it was still around noon. "Why is she calling us now? It's no where near dinner time…"

"Isaac?"

Dora, Isaac's mother, entered the clearing wiping her hands on her apron. "There you are." She paused, smiling. "Oh hello, Felix. Jenna."

"Hello, Dora," the two children replied quietly. Felix lifted himself out of the water the same time as Isaac, Felix stepping over to wring his hair out over Garet, who promptly lunged at him.

"Garet, I thought you would already be at your home," Dora said worriedly, stopping the scuffle. "Your grandmother went looking for you."

"What?" Garet asked. "Why would Grandma be—"

"Dora!"

The group turned to see an old man hurrying up the path, waving his walking stick, panicking.

"Grandpa?" asked Garet.

The mayor of Vale, and Garet's grandfather. He was a strong man, one who didn't need the aid of a walking stick, but had one for effect, or so he professed. He managed everything in their little village; from food supplies to making sure the secret of Vale was kept within Vale.

Felix shifted his weight, drifting into his thoughts.

Psynergy. No one outside of Vale was aware of this strange power, the power of the elements. According to tradition, old as Vale itself, they had been sworn to protect Alchemy at all costs. If it were to ever be released, the fury of the elements would be upon the heads of the mayor and the town elder. Only once had someone accidently used psynergy in front of an outsider. The mayor managed to convince the man he had been seeing things, but the panic in the mayor's eyes had never been greater.

Until now.

The old man was practically running toward them, his face flushed from physical exertion, but eyes still wide.

"What are you all still doing out!" he wheezed, catching up to them. He nodded at Isaac's mother, smiling jovially, "Hello, Dora."

"Mayor," she replied.

The mayor's eyes returned to the children, urgency and anger in them again. "Don't you children listen to anyone!"

"What are you talking about?" Jenna asked.

Felix nudged her, and she let out a soft 'ow,' and rubbed her arm.

The mayor shook his head, his little wrinkled mouth forming a fine line. "Don't lie to me, Jenna of Vale," he said, eyeing her with suspicion.

Jenna glared back sourly.

Felix smiled. Jenna had once taken his walking stick to practice her fire psynergy on, hoping to light the top of it. When he found it, she had no such luck in lighting the stick. However, she had insisted it was Garet that gave her the stick, and she had no knowledge of it's owner. Even Felix knew she was lying, and the mayor hadn't trusted her since.

"No one told us anything, Sir," Felix said, pulling Jenna behind him.

"Felix! Jenna! Come home now!"

The mayor raised an eyebrow, looking down the river toward their home. Felix's mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking flustered. He raised a silver eyebrow. "No one?"

"She called us just when Dora came for Isaac!" Jenna snapped, her red hair rustling around her shoulders as she tried to push past Felix.

"It's true, Sir," Isaac agreed, wrapped in the cloth Dora had brought with her.

The mayor glared at them, before motioning frantically with his cane and hands. "Never mind who told whom what and why! Everyone in this village is in seclusion until further notice!"

"Seclusion?" Isaac asked.

Felix frowned. "Why?"

"You don't need a why," the mayor said. "They are already at the Inn!"

"Who is?" Garet asked, running a hand through his dark, red hair.

The mayor's face went red, as though at any moment, he would exploded. "Visitors!" he screamed. "A whole group of them! Wanting to talk with the council!"

"Visitors?" Jenna asked excitedly.

Dora frowned. "Council? Why would they want to speak with—?"

"Exactly why we have ordered seclusion," the mayor said flatly. He shook his head. "An odd looking group if you ask me... Pointed ears... Sharp teeth... Scales..."

"Scales?" Isaac said, looking suddenly worried.

"And pointed ears?" Felix said in the same tone.

"Sharp teeth!" Jenna gasped, hardly able to contain her glee.

"Where are they now?" Garet asked. "Can we see them—?"

"What?" the mayor gasped. "No! Of course not! These visitors are different than the others! They look... dangerous..."

"Neat," Jenna beamed, and retrieved another elbow and 'ow' from her brother.

Isaac frowned. "Why do we have to go into seclusion? Last time, we were in seclusion for five days."

"Isaac," Dora said. "Don't argue. I'm sure this is all for the best…" She looked up. "Right, Mayor?"

"Of course," he said with a nod.

Dora rubbed her son's shoulders. "We're both going home now."

Isaac looked back at her. "But Mom—"

"No buts," she said, looking at him firmly. Her gaze turned to Felix and Jenna. "You two should go home, too. We made too big a risk last time we allowed people to be out with visitors here. And who knows what would happen with these sort of... people here."

"Yes, Ma'am," both Felix and Jenna chorused.

Dora's arm draped across Isaac's shoulders and began leading him home. Felix grabbed for his sister's elbow, but she pulled out of reach, whining embarrassedly. "Fe-elix," she grumbled, stepping away.

Felix shook his head. Jenna always had to appear so perfect and independent around Garet. In any other situation, the two would walk home together arm in arm.

Garet looked at his grandfather who gave him a sharp clip in the shin with his walking stick before waving it around, and shouting. "What are you standing here for! Get moving! Home! Now!"

Garet followed his grandfather down the path with an overexaggerated limp, while his grandfather made some comment about being seven-times Garet's age, and being able to move more quickly before whapping him again.

Felix sighed, watching until the mayor and Garet were out of sight. He glanced at Jenna, putting his arm around her shoulders and leading her on the path toward their home. "I wish we could see those people," he said softly.

"They didn't sound much like people," Jenna said, kicking the dirt. "They sounded like..." She looked up, eyes suddenly bright with excitement. "Like they're some vicious... uh... trolls or something... Maybe vampires."

"Vampires?" Felix laughed.

"Sharp teeth," Jenna said pointedly.

"Do vampires have scales?" Felix shot back.

"Oh," Jenna said softly. "I forgot they had scales... I guess they aren't vampires."

"So maybe ogres..." Felix said with a grin.

Jenna smiled hopefully. "Maybe."

The two walked in silence a little way, Jenna looking at the ground again, kicking the dirt.

"Felix?" she said tinily.

"Yeah?"

"What if they're... dangerous?"

Felix looked at his sister, her terra-cotta colored eyes staring up at him, worry shining deep. He gave her a slight squeeze, she thrusting her arm around his middle as they fell into step, starting up the cobblestone walk to their home. He shrugged. "I'll protect you," Felix said softly. "I'll always protect you."

"You promise?" Jenna asked, looking up at her brother, smiling.

He smiled back, "I promise."