Author's Note: Wow... I can only apologise sooooo much for not updating this sooner, guys. I've been super busy with work, and then I had a 2 month-long battle with writer's block that just took forever for me to get over. See, I had the first half of this chapter all written about a week after I uploaded my last chapter, and then the second half just would not work for some reason, so as a result it's been written and re-written and re-written some more. Hopefully it's all good now, though I'm still only about 90% happy. Still, I figure 90% is the best I'm going to get, so I really hope you all enjoy this extra-long chapter and I promise to try and be quicker at uploading in the future. The next chapter should be a bit more light-hearted and easy to write, so here's hoping it will be up quicker. Thanks for reading and please review if you feel you have the time! Oh, and this is the first chapter containing both Lowell and Syrenne's POVs. Hope you like it!

Lowell

Lowell rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he headed upstairs to the room he'd been sharing with the other guys. Dying really takes it out of you, he thought dryly to himself. Even before that had happened, he'd been through enough to leave him exhausted; reptids, golems and the Gurak, to name a few. Although the wound it had left was healed completely now, the spot where the sword had gone through his chest felt as though it were on fire, and there was a dull ache in his muscles; just climbing the stairs was an effort in itself. Lowell wondered suddenly whether this weakness he was feeling would be a permanent thing, or whether he would eventually get over it. He sincerely hoped it was the latter; Syrenne would have a field day taunting him about it otherwise.

Syrenne... He still found it hard to believe she'd actually apologised to him. They bickered and fought all the time, but not once had Syrenne been the one to admit she'd gone too far. Lowell had always backed down graciously (though sometimes he was actually the one in the wrong) and found ways to coax a laugh out of her, or teased her until they were trading mock insults over something else entirely, so that she'd forget whatever it was they had been arguing over in the first place. Apologies from Syrenne were as rare as long conversations with Yurick. Syrenne never apologised for who she was or the things she said, and that was just one of the things Lowell admired about her.

Still, it had been nice to know that she felt bad about the way she'd snapped at him earlier, Lowell reflected as he pushed open the door to his room. He didn't want to think that she might be angry at him for saving her.

As he stepped inside, he saw Yurick standing near the window. The mage was standing with his arms crossed, looking deep in thought; though Yurick rarely had any other expression these days. He looked up as Lowell entered the room and gave him a brief smile, though it faded from his face quickly.

"Hey," Lowell greeted him with a nod. "I didn't expect to see you up here; I thought you were still downstairs with the others."

Yurick shook his head. "It's too crowded down there," he answered shortly.

"I can leave, if you'd prefer to be alone," Lowell replied, but Yurick shook his head again.

"No, it's fine. I was just leaving anyway; I only came up here to pick up my things." When Lowell frowned, Yurick continued. "Zael offered me his old room at the castle, now that he'll be sharing with Calista. I was thinking of taking him up on the offer." He glanced down at the bed that had once been Dagran's. "There are too many memories in this place."

Lowell sighed, closing the door behind him as he walked further into the room and came to stand beside Dagran's bed too, gazing down at it. "Yeah," he answered quietly. "I know what you mean."

There was a pause as both men stood in silence, and then Yurick spoke up. "I still can't believe he's really gone... I keep thinking he's going to walk through the door at any minute."

"And yell at us for leaving all our stuff in a mess," Lowell grinned, and even Yurick had to smile. But neither of them could keep it up for long, and Lowell searched for something to say to break the silence again. But before he could think of anything Yurick was speaking again.

"I just... I don't understand it," he said, frustration in his tone. "Not any of it. Dagran was supposed to be our friend; our mentor. How could he just... use us all that way; how could he turn his back on us all for power?"

Lowell sighed again, taking a seat on his own bed. "Power's a very attractive thing, mate. I've seen it turn many a great man into a monster. Dagran's no different; it blinded him. Made him forget what was really important."

Yurick looked down at the floor, his face conflicted. "I want to hate him. I wish I could. But... but if it wasn't for Dagran, the truth is... I don't know where I'd be right now. Probably on the streets, scrounging for food again. Dagran convinced me that I was more than just some orphaned kid with no future. He taught me that I was someone. Someone with a life worth living."

"I remember," Lowell nodded, thinking back to when they had first come across the young fire mage. With the exception of Mirania, Yurick had been the newest member of their group. He had only been with them for a year, though sometimes it seemed like they'd all been together for a lifetime. At first, and for many years, it had just been Dagran and Zael. Syrenne had joined them about four years ago, and Lowell about a year after that. Then it had been Yurick, and Mirania followed about three months later. "You were living on the streets, trying to earn money by performing fire tricks."

"I'd never even considered working as a mercenary," Yurick added. "I didn't think I needed anyone; I'd relied on myself for so long that working with others just seemed like a hindrance. But Dagran promised he'd show me a better life... and he did." Yurick looked up at Lowell for a moment. "If I hadn't gone with him... I'd never have met any of you. I'd never have found out what happened to my father; I'd never have faced my fears... I probably never would have been anything more than that orphaned kid with no future. I owe Dagran everything... but I still can't forgive what he's done."

"I don't think any of us can ever forgive him," Lowell said after a moment. "But I think it's more important to remember the good things he did, not the bad."

Yurick considered that briefly. "Maybe you're right," he shrugged. "But... it's going to take some time." He leant down to pick up the bags next to his bed that contained his belongings and then straightened again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lowell."

Lowell nodded. "Aye. Hopefully we'll all feel a bit better in the morning, eh?" He gave Yurick a small smile, and Yurick returned it.

"Hopefully. See you then. Oh, and Lowell... it's good to have you back." Yurick inclined his head, and Lowell smiled before watching the other man leave the room. What had he been thinking earlier, about long conversations with Yurick being a rarity?

With a final sigh, Lowell closed the door behind him and looked around the room.

"Guess it's just me now then," he murmured.

Syrenne

"Couldn't let... any harm come... to a beautiful girl like you..."

"Lowell! Lowell please; no!"

Syrenne bolted upright, her heart thumping like a drum in her chest. It was a moment before she remembered she was in bed; her entire body was trembling and her skin was ice-cold, though her blankets were wrapped tight around her. She'd spent the entire evening fearing going to sleep; she'd known that as soon as she did, the nightmare of what had happened that day would be replayed in her mind, no matter how much alcohol she drank to try and block it out. Passing a shaking hand over her eyes, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. The nightmare had almost been worse than the real thing—almost.

Nothing would ever come close to affecting her in the way that Lowell's death had. It was as though every part of her body had turned to ice; she hadn't been able to feel anything but numbness spreading through her like poison. All she had been able to think was: that sword was meant for me. Not him. Please; god, not him.

Syrenne had always known she'd die a warrior's death. She hardly ever got sick, and it was fairly unlikely for people in her line of work to reach old age. Dying on the battlefield, fighting for every last breath, was how she'd wanted things to end. She wasn't afraid of death; at least, not for herself. Death was just what happened to you one day when you finally came up against that one person who was a better fighter than you were. It was going to happen to her eventually, so why be fearful of it?

When she'd heard Lowell's warning shout and turned to see Zesha's sword hurtling towards her, everything had seemed to happen in slow motion. The second or two that it took to reach her seemed more like an hour. In that never-ending second, Syrenne had made her peace with the fact that she was about to die. She was sorry, of course, that it would mean leaving her friends; the people that meant most to her in this world: Zael, all valiant and heroic, who had grown up in front of her when she wasn't looking; sweet and other-worldly Mirania, the closest thing Syrenne had to a sister; Yurick, stubborn and young but brave and loyal, and gentle-hearted Calista, who had not been with them long but was just as important as the others. And Lowell... Lowell...

When she realised that the sword had not hit her, she was momentarily bewildered. It had been heading straight for her; there had been no way of her avoiding it or blocking it. She should be dead, instead of staring blankly at the spot on her body where it should have struck her. Why wasn't she dead?

It had been the pained, choking noise, in a voice she knew so well, that had broken her out of her shock. She had blinked, and then had suddenly seen the reason she was still alive. Lowell, stumbling in front of her, with the sword buried deep in his chest.

She had screamed then, unable to do anything more than fall on her knees at his side and scream his name, tears streaming down her cheeks. That sword was meant for me.

Couldn't let... any harm come... to a beautiful girl like you...

Nobody had ever called her beautiful. Men desired her, of course; Syrenne was perfectly aware of that. But they were also intimidated by her, and though she might encourage their flirtatious comments every now and again, they knew not to go too far or they might regret it. Lowell was the only case where she'd allowed herself to break that rule, on multiple occasions. Usually it had been fuelled by a particularly hard-fought battle, when her blood was racing and her adrenaline was high. Then she'd drag Lowell away from the others on the pretext of 'going for a wander', only to pull him into the nearest alley and kiss him with a passion until they were both breathless and dizzy. Not that he'd complain, of course. Their kisses had always been passionate and desperate, but both Lowell and Syrenne had been wary of going any further. Going beyond kissing meant that things might get serious between the two of them, and that was terrifying for both of them. No; it was better this way.

But then Lowell had taken a sword to the chest for her, and called her beautiful. He'd died for her. And that had changed everything. Suddenly, Syrenne had known that her fate would forever be tied to his from that day on. If he died, it would kill her, too. Now that he had taken root in her life, she didn't know how it would be possible to live without him.

Going on to fight Zangurak, and then Dagran, and having to leave Lowell behind, had been agonising to the point of nearly killing her there and then. But if there was one thing she did before she died, it would be burying her sword hilt-deep in the demon that had been responsible for taking Lowell from her. When Zangurak had breathed his last, she had expected to feel relief, but there was still only numbness. With Dagran, there had been some sadness for the mentor and friend she had lost, but mostly anger and hurt. So much hurt...

Afterwards, she'd crouched protectively over Lowell's body as her friends implored her to leave. How could they ask her to go? Didn't they understand? She was going nowhere without Lowell. Nothing mattered anymore; if she was killed trying to get him out of here, then so be it. If she got him out and was still alive at the end of it, then she would be able to give him the burial he deserved, but her life would be over all the same. So why were they all yelling at her to move, when she no longer needed to care about her own safety?

That was when she'd seen it; a strange, red light spreading from Lowell's body, similar to the light of Zael's gathering power. She'd been enraged at first; was this another sorcerer's trick? Did they think they could take his life and his body away from her?! But then... then he was breathing, and moving, and she could do nothing but stare, hardly daring to believe her own eyes, as he got unsteadily to his feet and stood before her, joking even now as though nothing had happened. It had only taken another moment for her mind to process the fact that he was here, alive and unharmed in front of her, before she had thrown her arms around him and sobbed with relief into his chest.

Syrenne glanced over to Mirania's bed. The mage was fast asleep, as Syrenne had expected her to be. Mirania was a heavy sleeper; Syrenne had always envied the way she could seemingly fall asleep anywhere, at any time, and yet wake up and be instantly alert if she was needed. Knowing sleep was something that wouldn't come easily tonight, Syrenne quietly slipped out of bed and pulled the a blanket off the bed to drape it around her shoulders, tiptoeing to the door and stepping outside, closing it behind her. Then she crossed over to the door of the boys' room, listening for any movement inside. She heard none, so she gently eased the door open, grateful that it didn't creak as she did so, and moved into the room.

She'd expected to see two empty beds; one had been Dagran's, of course, and the other's would be Zael's, now he would be staying at the castle permanently with Calista. But when Syrenne saw that Yurick's bed was empty too, she frowned. It was unlike him to go wandering off in the middle of the night, so had he chosen to sleep at the castle now too?

Her eyes were drawn to the one remaining occupied bed in the room. Lowell was as carefree in sleep as he was awake: arms and legs stretched in all directions with the blankets tangled around him. He breathed deeply and evenly, a peaceful look on his face with just a hint of the usual smirk playing on his lips, even in unconsciousness. As she stood looking over him, Syrenne felt a flash of annoyance run through her; how was it that he could be this calm and serene, after everything that had happened? Why did she get plagued with nightmares and insomnia, yet he could sleep like a baby?

As fast as it had happened, the feeling of annoyance melted away. He must be freezing, she thought vaguely to herself. She reached down and found the corner of his blanket, pulling it gently and trying not to wake him so she could pull it back over him again, but he must have felt her tugging at it and opened his eyes slowly, sleepily adjusting to consciousness as he realised she was there.

"Syrenne?" he murmured drowsily, a frown on his face. She stared down at him, uncertain suddenly. They said nothing for a moment, silently asking questions of each other that neither of them wished to voice. Then Lowell slowly lifted the blankets and held them away from the bed in an unspoken invitation.

Syrenne instantly moved to slide into the space he had created. It was a single bed, but thankfully a large one, so there was just enough room for the both of them if they stayed close together. Syrenne pressed close to him, needing the intimacy, and Lowell wrapped his arms around her tightly. She could see the inquiring look in his eyes as he gazed down at her, but she was surprised when he was the first to break the silence.

"Syrenne—" he began again, but she raised a finger and placed it firmly over his mouth. Then she replaced her finger with her own lips, adjusting slightly so she could kiss him. The kiss started slow and sweet, but soon grew in intensity until she was breathing heavily. It seemed as though she couldn't get enough of him, as though he would dissolve into dust beside her if she didn't cling to him tightly enough. Lowell seemed to have the same fear, judging by the way he held her to him and kissed her back with the same fiery need.

It was Lowell who pulled back first, but only enough to speak, his breathing ragged and his voice husky. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

"Lowell, shut up."

"...Right."

That was all she allowed him to say before she was kissing him again, her hands roaming over his skin, enjoying the way his muscles felt under her fingers; the way he trembled when her fingers passed over a sensitive spot; the way his hair seemed to be made for her hands to brush through it. But then all of a sudden she couldn't concentrate anymore as Lowell's own hands smoothed over her thighs, tickling just behind her knees and going right down to her ankles before moving all the way up to her hips again. She arched into him and let out a soft moan at the tingling sensation running up and down her spine, and Lowell answered with a throaty murmur of approval. His kisses travelled down from her lips to her neck and shoulders as his hands travelled up to her stomach. She let out a gasp as he caressed every inch of her skin, his lips passing over any areas his fingers missed.

How neither of them fell out of the bed that night, she would never know. But that hadn't mattered at the time; all that had mattered was the aching need inside of her for everything that was Lowell; for everything she hadn't known she needed until he was almost ripped away from her forever.

And yet, the question in the back of her mind still taunted her, more prevalent than ever now...

What happens now?