Thank you for everyone who is currently following and favoriting this story. It means so much to me both as a writer and as a long-time fan of the show. I hope that LotS and perhaps my story have brought you some of the same comfort it has brought me. I have many more ideas and many more chapters, hopefully most will be longer than in the past. I took a different approach to the formatting of this and future chapters, but I won't be editing past chapters to reflect the improvement.

Enjoy!

1

It had been three weeks since Richard had been welcomed to the Palace of the Prophets, and he was uneasy. He was a quick study, but he had never been good with reading or writing. He was a woodsguide, good with his hands and eyes, not necessarily with deciphering text. Considering the last book he read was the Book of Counted Shadows, Richard was past due for a literature lesson.

The Sisters of the Light had him working hard. He mopped floors, cleaned up meals, and did all the other grunge work which was expected of an acolyte. Richard was always ready to help, but even his role of Seeker did not excuse him from the seemingly childish tasks. Verna assured him it was all for his own good, to teach him the basics of magic, but Richard wasn't so sure. He had caught on to some contradictory truths while in the palace, and he was determined to get to the bottom of things. But first, morning devotion.

Richard pulled his white shirt over his head, stepped into his travelling boots, and picked up his grimoire. Upon opening his door he found Merri and Bron standing outside. Merri was speaking to Bron in a hushed but urgent tone, the young boy could only nod in understanding.

"Good morning. Is there something wrong?" Richard asked. Merri immediately shook her head. "Are you sure?"

"Bron just wanted to give me his sweets from dinner last night," Merri smiled. Bron gingerly opened his hands to reveal a delicately wrapped chocolate. "He doesn't care for the raspberry filled ones."

Richard laughed a little and nodded. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. The next chocolate is mine, though." Bron smiled, Merri laughed, then they started down the hallway.

In his three weeks of being at the palace, Richard had not once seen a wrapped sweet at dinner.

2

Time seemed to move differently in the Palace of the Prophets. Richard could have sworn he was here for three weeks, but then at times it felt like only one. Other times it felt like he had been there for over a month. Richard wouldn't mind it if Kahlan, Zedd, and Cara were with him, or if the world wasn't currently falling apart. There were cracks in the earth that made the Underworld visible, and he was here reading dusty books and learning about breathing.

Richard had gotten no answers either. Each time he asked Verna or any other Sister how long it would take, her answer was always the same: It takes as long as it takes. But Richard couldn't waste time. The group could not use the compass without him, and although he was fully confident in the three of them, the Seeker was a vital part of healing the rifts. If they were missing him and could not find the Stone of Tears, he would have harnessed his Han for nothing.

Three knocks on the door produced Verna, who squinted at Richard in confusion.

"How long have I been here?" Richard demanded, which earned a confused look from Verna.

"Richard, what do you—"

"No one seems to be able to tell me. But I think you know. So, Verna, tell me what I want to know."

Verna stared up at Richard, her sleepiness fading from her countenance. "Richard, it's difficult to explain. But you are not a young acolyte. Come in," she told him, opening the door for him to come inside. Although he was angry, he would consider Verna his friend, so Richard nodded and followed her into the small room.

He was surprised to see that Verna's room was just as small and bare as his. Richard was certain he had gotten a cramped room that could only fit a small bed because he was in training, but it was eye-opening to him to know that the Sisters lived like this too. The only decoration was a small embroidery of a white lily that hung on the wall.

"Did you make that yourself?" Richard asked. Verna smiled and shook her head.

"No. A friend made it for me, a very long time ago. When I was your age, actually." The two were silent, as Verna did not want to speak anymore on the topic, and Richard not wanting to stray too far from the point at hand. The silence broke the surface of the water after a minute or so.

"I will tell you this, but you have to promise to trust me." Richard nodded. "You really have to trust me. You are not going to like my answer, but I think it's silly to keep it from you.

"For every day that passes in the Palace of the Prophets, ten pass in the outside world. This is so that young wizards complete their training before they become too old. It might seem—"

"You can't be serious," Richard exclaimed. His heart pounded in his chest and blood rushed through his ears. The overwhelming thought that too much time had passed between him and Kahlan seeing each other, and of the rift to the Underworld growing stronger, was enough to render him speechless. "You can't be serious. You trapped me here— I have a quest, people depending on me. I don't have time for this."

"I am sure you are doubting the talents and power of the Mother Confessor and First Wizard, Richard. Although the prophecies see it as such, the Seeker of Truth is not the only driving force of change in our world. They will find the Stone of Tears and seal the rift, I am confident in it," Verna challenged sternly. Richard's outburst was common but silly for a man of his age. However, the thought did occur to her that Richard, a grown man and the Seeker of Truth, had more to lose than the average 10 year old child who came to the palace. To children, time is a mystical plaything. For adults, time is the difference between living and dying, between success and failure. Stolen time is a knife in the belly.

"I need to get out of here, how long have I been here?"

"In our time, three weeks. In the outside world, thirty weeks."

Richard stopped, stared at Verna, and wordlessly sank to his knees. He had no idea what to do.

3

Cara insisted on staying out in the woods away from the others that night. Although Kahlan offered to stay with her she had declined. Cara needed to be alone for the time being because the energy had shifted between them. They were friends now, but Cara had an itching feeling that it had become more than that. They had a quest, and besides that Kahlan could kill Cara with a single touch. The constant threat of death wasn't fertile ground for a blossoming relationship.

But she kept thinking about the way Kahlan held her. The feeling of Kahlan's head on her shoulder made her heart feel fuller. It made the night feel clearer than it ever had. For a moment, her compass had pointed North. Without a sense of duty or blind loyalty, but rather with her heart. Cara wondered if she was going to be stuck like this forever now, introspective that was, and inwardly rolled her eyes at the prospect. Kahlan was rubbing off on her in more ways than one.

Kahlan wasn't all that different from Cara. She too had a storied past. The burdens Kahlan carried did not go unnoticed even from the first day they had met. Kahlan looked like a woman who held the world on her shoulders. Even with Richard as the leader of their group, Kahlan was always right there beside him, reasoning with him. Tempering the Seeker of Truth was not a task taken lightly, it was one of the most important roles in the world.

Cara realized she had fallen asleep thinking when her eyes opened to the bright sun overhead. Sleeping in her leathers had become a custom since travelling with the Seeker, however she was sweating a bit beneath the unforgiving material. Her leathers creaked as she sat up, brushed leaves from her hair, and rose to collect herself. Surely she should head back to camp now that it was morning, before they left without her. Something told her they wouldn't do that, at the very least not Kahlan.

The leaves crunched beneath her feet as she found their camp once again. Kahlan was bent over the coals of their fire in an attempt to cook something to eat- the last of their tomatoes, it looked like. Cara found herself mesmerized by the dark curtain of hair that covered part of the Confessor's face, and she wanted nothing more than to pull Kahlan into herself.

"Cara, there you are!" Zedd exclaimed, smiling and patting the Mord-Sith on the shoulder. "I'm glad to see you've come back."

"I'm not so stupid to walk off into the woods alone. And I am the only one who can work the compass," she retorted, without malicious intent.

"We won't need the compass anymore. Panis knows how to get the information we need," Zedd told her. Cara bristled a bit at the information but knew that in order to work together, she had to bundle up her feelings and store them away for now.

"There is a library tucked away in the Rang'Shada mountains that may have the exact kind of information we need," Panis piped up on his way into camp from a pocket of trees. "The only trouble is that it is a two week journey, and if we bring the stone there we potentially risk losing it."

"So what do you propose we do?" Cara asked. She folded her arms, stared, and waited for an answer.

"We are going to stay here, Zedd and Panis will go to the library," Kahlan told her, looking up from her cooking. "It makes the most sense, Zedd and Panis are the only ones who would be able to decipher that kind of information. You and I will be quicker on our own." Cara nodded in agreement after a moment. The plan seemed strong, and although she did not like Zedd going with Panis, she knew that they were right. Keeping the stone out of harm's way was all that mattered now.

"Reading scrolls in a dusty room in the mountains doesn't appeal to me much," Cara said simply, which Zedd and Kahlan took as an emphatic agreement with the plan.

"We will leave as soon as we can, and we will meet you in Oakhurst, near Kelton. From there we will determine where to take the stone and how to use it. If we fail to return in two weeks, seek shelter in Aydindril. At the very least, Kahlan's power as the Mother Confessor should help you both," Zedd said firmly, directing his words to Kahlan. The group rarely split, but now with Richard gone it seemed to have been happening more and more. Cara welcomed the break from Panis, however, and saw it as an opportunity to focus on the task at hand— protecting Kahlan and the Stone of Tears.

Cara pulled Zedd aside as he was packing up to leave. "Are you sure about this? Travelling with Panis Rahl?"

"I knew Panis a long time ago, when there was still some nobility in him. I can see it in his eyes now just as clearly as I could then." Cara stood there and stared at him, unconvinced.

"Don't make me say it," Cara warned, and Zedd rolled his eyes.

"I won't, because I have grown to care for you. If it makes you feel better, Panis was only half the wizard I am, and I am not even sure he can use his powers anymore. They seem to have gotten rusty," Zedd smiled, nodding and putting his pack over his shoulders. "Stay together, you and Kahlan. You might become our last hope."

They watched Zedd and Panis head down the trail and into the woods towards the Rang'Shada Mountains until they were long gone. Cara could sense that Kahlan was worried too, so she wrapped her hand around the Confessor's arm to comfort her. Kahlan had no idea Cara could be so physically affectionate, but regardless of the surprise she needed that anchor now more than ever.

"We have two weeks to get to Oakhurst, then. We'd better pack now," Kahlan sighed. Usually they were off to their next adventure, running around the Midlands and beyond in search of the stone. But it seemed that all they were to do now is sit and wait. And that made Cara and Kahlan uneasy.

"Wait," Cara said suddenly. "What about the tomatoes?"

Kahlan looked up and smiled after a moment of realization. "Oh… yes, let's have breakfast." She took the pot off the long burnt out fire and got a bowl for herself and Cara. Kahlan carefully portioned out enough for each of them before handing a bowl of fried tomato to Cara and keeping the other for herself.

"Thank you," Cara replied, taking her fork and idly picking at the tomato. "Last night. Did you mean what you said?"

Kahlan ate a bite of her tomato and nodded in response. "I always mean what I say. I take a soft approach, that's all."

"So we're friends," Cara said, and when she did there was a swelling in her chest.

"Yes, Cara. We're friends," Kahlan nodded. She smiled at Cara and then ate the rest of her tomato in one last bite. "We're going to have to figure out something to do while we wait out here for Zedd and Panis. We need food, shelter, and most of all to keep out of the way. We're going to need to get provisions without being spotted, and…"

Kahlan was spiraling, suddenly lost in a sea of being alone. With Richard and Zedd gone, everything felt so unknown, so unfamiliar. She should be in Aydindril now. She should be performing the duties of the Mother Confessor. Not eluding the Keeper and sustaining the hope that the Seeker would return. This was unsustainable.

Cara saw this all unfolding. She stood there for a moment, thought of what to do, and then reached out and held Kahlan by the shoulders.

"Before all of the decisions you are making in your head, we are going to hunt for food. We are not going to talk, we are not going to think about anything but rabbits, deer, and maybe if we're lucky, a nice, big bear," she told Kahlan, looking at her with intense green eyes. "And yes, I am going to make you carry that big bear."

"You're staking a large claim, now I'll be hungry and eager for bear," Kahlan told her after a moment of recovery, her Confessor's mask sliding over her face. Yet Cara had seen it enough times to notice the gentle cracking of a smile underneath. That was enough for her.

4

The devotion hall stank of smoke, the snakelike trails it left in the air no longer excited Richard. When he had first come there was a true sense of hunger within him. Although he had gone to the palace under the pretense that he would kill the Sisters of Light and himself if he did not control his Han, he tried his best to see the benefit. Richard thought he would work tirelessly, read as much as he could, learn ardently, and leave a wizard. Perhaps it would better him to be both the Seeker and a wizard.

But just as the rays of light were caught in the sliding wisps of smoke, so too was the ruse of the Palace of the Prophets revealed to him. Richard began to see more and more children and teenagers who were forbidden from speaking, and those who spoke still would not give up any information. The only confidant he had was Verna, and she was not willing to break rank to help him escape. Not yet, he hoped, but he could not survive off hope alone. Richard craved action and progress, two values that seemed to be lacking in this place. So he resided in being cunning, listening intently, and keeping his intentions secret.

First, he had noticed that Bron always washed the dishes. The other acolytes who had taken vows of silence, known as Ocaan, - thoughtful ones - took turns and sometimes had days off. The second thing he had noticed was that others cycled into the kitchen often once Bron was there. The third were the wrapped sweets. The Palace of the Prophets received no outside provisions, they grew everything they needed in the greenhouse. There were desserts, but always fruit, pies, or cakes. Chocolates, caramels, and wrapped sweets did not exist. However, Merri always seemed to have one in her mouth when the Sisters weren't looking. Kieran, Ollie, and Sage had wrapped sweets in the past week as well, now that Richard's eyes were keen to it. So there had to be a way in and out of the palace that Bron, or someone else, took advantage of.

Richard did not dare open his eyes during devotion, even if he wanted to see if Bron or Merri were sneaking away or signalling to each other. If he was going to get out of the Palace of the Prophets without alerting the hundreds of Sisters, he would have to do it carefully and without suspicion.

That night at dinner, Richard made sure to be the last one to clean his plate. He had taken a book on healing spells for broken bones with him and acted as though that was keeping him from finishing his meal. The buttered fingerling potatoes had been delicious, so it was hard to not eat them all at once, but Richard knew better than to spoil his discipline. All he thought of was seeing Kahlan again before too much more time had passed. It had already been well over half a year, and he desperately did not want to make it any longer without laying his eyes upon her face.

Although he was the only one left in the hall, an older boy slipped in and out of the doors quickly. Bron had to wait for Richard to finish, no plates could be left in the basin overnight, so he knew he still had time. He could see the young man's tuft of brown hair just beneath the window into the kitchen, and saw him leave with something in his pocket.

Richard slipped into the kitchen and stepped towards Bron. "Tell me where you're getting the wrapped candies. I don't care for your excuses, I won't tell the Sisters, just tell me where you're getting them." If Richard would have had his sword with him, it would be glowing a hot, raging red. He was not angry at Bron, but at what Bron represented— a barrier between this life and his old life. Richard refused to waste even another day in this place.

Bron took a step back and put up his hands, afraid of Richard even without any true menace. The power behind his words were enough to startle Bron. Not many of the acolytes had such rage within them, and it seemed that Bron did not want to see how quickly Richard could ignite gunpowder. He motioned for Richard to come nearer and follow him, then he reached underneath the pantry to remove some baskets below. Inside was a hole wide just enough for one person, perfectly carved so as to be a smooth and slippery entrance.

"So you climb in here, or someone else climbs in here? Where does it lead?" Richard asked, pointing into the darkness. Bron shook his head and shrugged. "What do you mean you don't know?" Bron stared at Richard and put a palm to the Seeker's forehead. Instantly, Richard understood. It was not a vision, but rather it was a knowing. He felt Bron coming here and being told by an older boy of the passage. He remembered a small basket with a string and weight attached being pulled up the passageway, revealing treats and contraband books. He knew exactly where Bron kept all of his stash, but he did not need that. The only thing he could not find was who was on the other side, and where it would lead him.

"You have a Second Voice?" Richard asked, and Bron nodded. "Good, then you won't tell anyone that I'm here. Not even Merri," he added, and Bron confirmed once again. Second Voices were a magical power given to those who had lost the ability to communicate in other ways, or willed themselves the power through years of hard work and discipline. Richard wondered if all the Ocaan had a Second Voice. He had half a mind to ask Bron, but he had invaded the boy's privacy so much already. Instead, he patted Bron on the back.

"You're helping the Seeker of Truth get back to saving the world, Bron. Thank you."