1

The sky was clear save for three suns, golden fruits on a blue field. Zedd watched as the suns orbited one another, each time exchanging tracks so that neither was left un-circled. The suns began to move faster, their heavenly bodies coming close to crashing into one another. Zedd could only look on as the sky grew darker and explosions sounded on the horizon.

"The Seeker is no longer a part of his own journey," a voice cried out, pained and sorrowful. Zedd turned around to see it was Shota— it was always Shota, wasn't it?

"What do you mean?" Zedd asked. Shota was naked, save for the sand which covered her legs and hips. She looked as if she hadn't eaten in days.

"He will come to you, but he will not help," Shota answered. "You must not give him the Stone of Tears, or all will be lost."

"He is my grandson… he is the Seeker of Truth… why should I listen to you?" Zedd shouted as another explosion hit. Sounds of fighting grew nearer, and cracks in the earth burst to the surface around them.

"I am on your side, Zeddicus. I am on the side of life. Please, listen to me," Shota begged as the sand crawled up her torso.

The one bonded with the blade shall invoke a decade of disaster. He will unleash a hidden evil to take the place of the other.

"Shota, I—"

As long as the Mother Confessor's pure heart beats, the Keeper is doomed to fail.

The ground fell apart beneath him, and Zedd was plunged into the verdant green Underworld.

Zedd awoke with a start. He struggled to catch his breath as he fearfully looked around. There was Kahlan, fast asleep, and there was Cara, staring at him like a hungry hawk.

"Wizard?" Cara inquired, not moving from her crouched position. She had been exercising while the others were asleep. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing… a bad dream. Old men often have them," Zedd smiled half-heartedly. "I'll wake up for my watch, now."

"I am fine with keeping awake," Cara declined. She stood up and turned her back to Zedd. He sighed and got up.

"I'm not going to argue with a Mord-Sith," Zedd told her, stepping beside her. He watched Cara for a moment as she stared right into the night, clearly avoiding any conversation with him. "There is something happening between you and Kahlan, isn't there?"

"Yes. I think."

"You think?"

"That's what I said," Cara doubled down. She always loathed these winding conversations she was trapped in with Zedd. He wanted to know too much, he wanted to understand more importantly. Cara didn't see why he needed to care.

"What about Richard?" Zedd asked. Cara shrugged.

"I suppose we'll figure that out when we find him."

2

Richard stumbled in the sand and fell to his knees, Merri rolling from his arms onto the ground. Bron slid forward and patted her face a few times, looking angrily at Richard.

"I'm sorry… I…" he barely managed. It had been four days since he'd last drank any water. The constant sun had turned his face a light pink, his skin felt like paper, and his eyes were blurry with sand. There was sand in his boots, in his hair, even in his mouth. Richard wanted more than anything to be back home, in Westland, surrounded by the dense forests of shady trees. He imagined cupping his hands beneath the stream near his childhood home and taking a cool drink of water. He could see the salmon leaping up from the water in delight. He could hear the twittering of birds and the calls of coyotes.

Bron tapped his shoulder again and pointed. There, over there, he told Richard in his mind. Bron had a good eye, there was a small cluster of clay homes just a mile out of reach. If Bron hadn't pointed them out, Richard may not have mustered the strength to pick up Merri and walk. He might have stopped his journey and laid in the sand until time buried and found his bones.

Richard walked like a man with atrophied legs. Brittle and stilted, but he kept pushing forward. Bron was trailing behind him, and Merri was still unconscious.

"Bron… keep moving… almost there…" Richard coughed, and the boy moved quicker. If there was one thing that Richard excelled at, it was giving people hope. Together they dragged themselves to the small village that would hopefully grant them haven. The customs of the Old World were unknown to Richard, and he assumed that whatever thousand year old knowledge Bron had would be just as unhelpful.

"Please… we need… water," Richard choked out, lifting Merri up to a young woman crossing the street. She wore a wide brimmed hat and a light cloak around her shoulders. The woman's careful eyes moved from Richard, Bron, and Merri's prone form in his arms. She moved closer to Richard, placed the basket she was carrying on the ground, and ran her hands over Merri.

"Come with me," the woman smiled, motioning for Richard and Bron to follow her. A few other folk watched as they all filed into one of the squared, clay homes. "Put them there," she ordered, and Richard obeyed, laying Merri down on a small bed attached to the wall.

"What happened?"

"She was bit by a scorpion."

"How long?"

"Three, maybe four hours ago. It's hard to remember."

"She doesn't have much time, we have to get the ratchka out of her," the woman tsked, shaking her head as Merri groaned in her unconscious state.

"Ratchka?" Richard asked.

"What's making her ill," the woman answered. She hurried outside and called a name that was difficult for Richard to remember. "Haymun will be able to help."

"What's your name?" Richard asked, his throat feeling raw and dry.

"Ithil," she smiled, handing Bron a waterskin to drink from. He took a huge gulp before passing it to Richard, who did the same. "You have made it to Yanter'Rang, the Jewel of the Desert," Ithil said in an accent that was completely unknown to Richard. "It's good you found us, you might have died otherwise. What are you called?"

"Richard," he offered. "This is Bron, this is Merri."

"I am glad I have met you, Richard. And you, Bron," Ithil smiled. She looked down at Merri as Haymun, the healer woman, hurried into her home. "I hope to be glad to have met you too, Merri."

It was deep into the night when Merri awoke, her eyes fluttering open to a reality she wasn't quite ready for. She had been lost in the desert, barely any water in her mouth, and now she was covered in salves, stuffed with herbs, and doused in water. It was Bron who had both screamed in Richard's mind and stomped his foot on the wooden floors to alert everyone that Merri was awake. Although he was tongueless, Bron always got his point across.

"Richard… I saw something," Merri said, grasping for the Seeker's shirt as he knelt down beside her bed. "I saw something important to you."

"You had a vision?" Richard questioned. A handful of acolytes at the Palace of the Prophets had Impressionable Gifts, such as telepathy like Bron, prophecy, and vision. He hadn't known Merri was so special.

"Yes. Your friend, the Confessor… she is headed to the Pillars of Creation. And she needs you to get there soon. In two days time," Merri whispered, still weak from her sickness. She looked frail and gentle lying there, the happiness and cheer she once had was melted away. Here was the 3,000 year old grown woman, who had been trapped in the shell of youth. Richard was startled by her severity.

"The Pillars of Creation? I don't even know where that is. And what are they doing there?" Richard asked, frowning.

"They found the Stone of Tears without you. They need to place it near the Pillars to heal the world of its sickness," Merri told him. Her hand unclenched his shirt. "Bron…"

The boy hurried to her side. Her hand stroked his bald head, and they pressed their foreheads together and smiled. No words were needed, they were together again. A small tear dropped from the corner of Bron's eye and down his cheek, the world melted away around them. Richard's heart ached for Kahlan's touch, Kahlan's closeness, Kahlan's strength. He was alone in the presence of his friends.

"You're not well enough to travel," Richard told her. "I'm afraid to leave you here."

"I'm fine Richard… we need to get moving as soon as we can. The Pillars aren't far from here, but the road is best traveled at night. The Keeper's spies no doubt remember the old places, and seek the heroes there," Merri cautioned. She pulled herself up from the bed with surprising ease, even Bron looked perplexed. In silence she shook her head at her companion and pressed a hand onto his shoulder.

"All right. We'll say goodbye to Ithil, then we leave for the Pillars. Gather your things, and lead the way." With hope in his heart and an end in sight, Richard left Yanter'Rang seeking what he had lost.

3

Kahlan, Cara, and Zedd had arrived in the village of Calilian, a small settlement under a day's ride from the Pillars of Creation. Even from here, the looming pillars could be seen in a haze on the horizon, warped into waves from the heat of the desert. The whole world here felt dry and dusty, but Calilian was an oasis. Palm trees surrounded the village and even grew in the middle of the homes. The open courtyard in the center of town was filled with folk milling about, buying small luxuries like honey or topaz jewelry while listening to the bard call out songs and tales.

Bold and brave as the sun was bright

Her armor caught the afternoon light

Unsightly in battle, they held their own

All to protect that ancient tome

The Book o' Counted Shadows

'Twas promised to the Seeker

The Book o' Counted Shadows

No longer be read by the people

The group had decided to stay in Calilian as long as they could before the solar event, they had encountered a number of roving enemies along the way who were no doubt looking for them. It was safe to assume, at least for Zedd, that the more public they were, the safer.

The only companion in their party who barely attempted to reap the benefits of the oasis was Cara. She had grown tired of being hot in her leathers, but she refused to acknowledge it to Kahlan or Zedd, and furthermore refused to take it off. As Kahlan and Cara walked through the market to buy and purchase a lunch meal which fit into Zedd's careful parameters, something called habalag which was meant to loosely resemble shepherd's pie, Cara's face and neck were drenched in sweat.

"Cara, we have enough coin to buy you new clothes," Kahlan insisted. "You look out of place here anyhow. Everyone is staring."

"They would stare either way, clothes do not make a Mord-Sith," Cara protested. "I'm not going to wear a dress simply to appease you."

"Why do you think I would ever put you in a dress, Cara?" Kahlan frowned. "Just because I wear them doesn't mean I expect you to."

Cara was silent for a moment as a few young children sprinted past them, all chasing a hoop down the street. "I haven't had a choice in what to wear in a long time."

"You have the choice now. Anything that catches your eye," Kahlan offered, pointing to a stand nearby. "What about that black tunic, and those green trousers? Simple, subtle, still able to hold your agiels." Cara pursed her lips, looked at Kahlan, and nodded in defeat.

"Fine. It's hotter than dragon's breath here."

Kahlan had been right, these clothes fit her much nicer. The tunic was sleeveless, the fabric soft, and the trousers were a menace to lace up, but nothing Kahlan couldn't help with. The man, seemingly slightly afraid of Cara and Kahlan together, had even offered them worn, black leather boots at a reasonable price. It felt different.

"Does it feel good?" Kahlan asked, adjusting the last knot on Cara's pants before backing away and drinking her in. It felt safe to look at Cara now, even if strange eyes were cast on them. Something about Cara's still form was mesmerizing. Kahlan's eyes flickered to a large scar that cut vertically down Cara's arm, but she did not ask questions.

"It's strange," Cara answered after a moment. "Do I look different?" Kahlan nodded.

"Good. I wish to be different."

"You are nothing like who you once were, you've shown that to me," Kahlan smiled. "Let's find that food, we'll return to a skin-and-bones Zedd if we don't hurry up."

"If only we'd had the foresight to have placed a pint of beer from Ambrosia's Tavern at the Pillars of Creation, he'd get us there in the blink of an eye," Cara said plainly. Kahlan couldn't help but laugh.

Kahlan went to pay the tailor for the clothes while Cara traipsed over to another merchant to look at some pins. She had never owned anything valuable, even though the Mord-Sith were treated well in their Temples. Much like monks, Mord-Sith didn't need nor wish for material possessions. All things were insignificant, or so Cara had been told. She held the pin in her hand, a circle with a straight pin to clasp it to a cloak, and imagined what it would look like on her. A new symbol, cut off from who she once was. Cara did not wish to be the person who had killed Kahlan's loved ones, who had tortured and killed, who had taken young girls and did to them what had been done to her. She did not wish to be someone who had killed her own parents, knowing now that they truly did nothing to wrong her.

"Thief!" called a voice, and Cara looked up.

"I'm only holding it, I didn't want it anyway," Cara remarked, tossing the clasp on the table and turning away from the insolent merchant.

"We know your kind, sticky fingers," the merchant retorted. Cara slowly turned to him, and it was only then that the merchant laid eyes on the twin agiels on her right hip. Cara was a new kind of dangerous without her red leathers on, a more insidious one.

"What exactly are 'my kind,' desert crawler?"

"Entitled D'Harans. You came across the mist and took our lands, took our people, and now you come here to steal?"

"The war is over, and I wasn't stealing your low-quality wares. I wouldn't recommend trying to fight me," Cara told him plainly and clearly, her eyes locked onto his. The man stopped in his tracks.

"Get out of here. Get out of Cailian," the merchant said, and bit his thumb at her. Cara knew exactly what that meant. She could feel the blood swelling in her veins, her heart beat faster, her hands felt like they were on fire. Cara needed something to tear into.

I said, get out.

Get out, Cara.

"Cara," said a new voice, and everything went still.

"Get me out of here," Cara said in a low voice, and Kahlan took her hand. "Please."

It was evening when they had all finally settled down at a table in the local tavern. Cara had been in a quiet rage all afternoon, and while Zedd was compassionate toward what had happened, he was too busy with his habalag to give any wise, wizardly advice.

"You haven't said a word all day, Cara," Kahlan acknowledged, watching as Cara simply stared at her drink.

"I don't have anything to say," Cara told her. "I cannot undo the trauma that thousands of people across this land faced under the hands of Darken Rahl. I cannot undo the fear I have brought to their lives."

"You don't deserve to be treated like that, you know this, right?"

"I deserve every bit of it, Kahlan," Cara replied coldly. "I deserve it all. You must understand, I have only been a good person for a short amount of time."

There was shouting in the distance, on the streets outside the tavern. Kahlan, Cara, and Zedd all stood up at once. They knew they had to jump into action, something was wrong. So close to the Pillars of Creation, something was bound to go wrong.

The tavern door burst open and a man fell backwards onto the wooden floor, hitting his head and spraying blood everywhere. Another man was atop him, baneling, stabbing him with a serrated knife over and over again. Without thinking, Kahlan pulled the Sword of Truth from its scabbard on her back and swung it down upon the baneling, cutting it in two. As another baneling broke through the entryway of the tavern, Cara charged forward and drove her agiels into it's belly. The two women ran into the street and witnessed a masterpiece of chaos.

Blood covered the once delightful streets of Cailian. The bard was being wrestled to the ground by a screeling, which howled with pleasure as she screamed when it ripped the intestines from her belly. A man in a dark cloak was in the center of the chaos with two children, the three of them able to keep the banelings at a distance. Cara was already slamming her agiel across the face of another baneling, Zedd had pushed it back with a blast of wind. Kahlan sliced the hand off a baneling, then pushed the Sword of Truth into it's neck. The blood spurted out onto her face as she watched what was once a middle-aged woman fall to the ground. The Keeper, she was sure, had increased the boon of killing just to cause chaos.

Kahlan's eyes turned back to the cloaked man, the banelings closing in on him and his companions. She fought her way through baneling after baneling, cutting down bodies, feeling as though getting this man on their side would turn the tide of this massacre. It seemed that one dead baneling made three more rise up in their place.

Kahlan took her dagger from her boot and launched it into the skull of a baneling who was just about to grab one of the children. A girl, perhaps about 13, with curly hair turned back and stared. She looked at her as if searching for something, and then smiled. The man with the cloak was grappling with a baneling, a strange, old book on his back. The way he moved was familiar, and as his cloak fell from his head, the breath fell out of Kahlan's lungs.

"Richard," she said, as if she were praying.

The Seeker of Truth turned around and smiled. "Are you going to give it back?"

The Confessor took the Sword of Truth by the hilt and threw it, like she had done so many times before, into the familiar hands of Richard Rahl, the one bonded with the blade.

The one bonded with the blade shall invoke a decade of disaster. He will unleash a hidden evil to take the place of the other.

A crack of lighting erupted from the sky as the sword connected with Richard's hand. He held it up as it turned red, the power coursing through him was impossible to ignore. The righteous magic which had been beaten and melted into the very metal of the Sword of Truth was his once more, and Richard took no time in cutting down baneling after baneling. Kahlan turned her back to him, creating a circle with the four companions all facing outward toward the enemy, and began to cut too.

Nothing else.

Cut.

Nothing else matters.

Cut.

Don't think.

Cut.

Richard heard a scream inside his head and looked to see Bron on the ground, wrestling with a screeling. The horrid, emaciated thing drooled on his face with eagerness. Before it could think, Richard sliced the head clean off, then pulled Bron up from the ground. The young boy nodded in thanks, then turned around to shoot wizard's fire at another baneling.

Flames ate up homes as they fought, the smoke curling and billowing into the inky black sky. Zedd did everything he could to save them, but not all were lucky enough to catch his attention. Bodies lay dead in the streets, Cara's new clothes soaked in blood, Richard's sunburnt face drenched in sweat. He looked rougher than Kahlan remembered him, leaner, and harder somehow. It was only when the last screeling was cut down that Richard had time to look at how Kahlan had changed, too. There was a darkness about her now, one that he had only ever seen glimpses of before.

Their embrace felt like home. Richard dug his face into Kahlan's soft, brown hair and felt tears run down his cheeks. Kahlan couldn't help but grasp at his back as if she was unable to hold onto him. All the feelings of despair left her body, all she could do was be there. When she opened her eyes, she saw Cara standing behind them.

"Richard," Cara managed, her eyes welling up with tears. He turned around and pulled Cara into him. Zedd found them too, sobbing like a boy as he held Richard in his arms. Their lover, friend, Lord, grandson, and student was home. After a long departure, Richard Cypher was finally home.