Apparently my grandfather had to go off on his own in order to complete his "personal matters." He left me with a set of directions on a map and only what I had on my back. I'd packed only one change of clothes and a few pictures of my family among other such things. We had explained to my parents what happened who were surprisingly not surprised. Apparently my grandfather had been telling his stories longer than I expected. But as I walked along the dreamy field of the midlands near where the boundary used to be, where we traveled through, I saw that the stories were so much more than that.

I eventually reached a small village, like on the map. All the people whispered and stared as I walked by. A few people went as far as falling to their knees. I started to regret wearing my new confessor's robes my first day on the job. But I was proud of them. According to the stories, the robes had been passed down from the mother confessor Kahlan Amnell herself. She had been the confessor to the Seeker Richard. I liked to think that a part of her traveled with me in the soft fabric of the robes, making me stronger.

Just beyond the village I found the little house atop a hill. Looking up, I saw a young man working in a garden which ran down all sides of the hill apart from the pathway with deep ruts from horse drawn carts. I walked up the pathway, easily making it to the top and straight up to the man who was working without crushing his plants. He had a strong build, wearing only his pants. He had blond hair that hung around his face and bright blue eyes.

"Are you Warren?" I asked. He looked up at me and smiled when he saw the robes.

"You must be Lydia," he said merrily. "Marcus told me all about you!"

He dropped his tools and ran over, pulling me into a tight hug. Then he held me at arm's length, looking me up and down.

"I always knew that his granddaughter would be the confessor," he said. "From all the stories he's told me, you're perfect for the job!"

"So you are the Seeker?" I asked him.

"Yes, and you're my confessor. It's so wonderful to finally meet you! Please, come inside. We have a lot to discuss."

He led me to the inside of his home where I was sure that my grandfather had been. Every shelf had some kind of containers, wooded or glass that emitted the strong smell of his tea leaves. The place was only as decorative as a single bed, a dining table, and two chairs by a darkened fireplace. Warren gave me one of the chairs and sat in the one opposite me. I couldn't help being slightly intimidated by his cheerfulness which was more pure than I was accustomed to.

"Tell me, confessor, how long ago were you granted your abilities?" Warren asked eagerly.

"Less than a week," I said. "I really didn't know what was in store for me until…I was attacked. My attacker was the first, and so far, the only person I've ever confessed. But from my grandfather's stories, I know everything there is to know about this world. It used to be that I couldn't fall asleep without dreaming about the great Seeker Richard and the Mother confessor, always on a new adventure."

Warren smiled and folded his hands.

"I suppose the next Seeker will be dreaming about our adventures together."

I nodded and looked down at my hands, remembering the feeling of confession. I wondered how many more people's souls I would destroy for this Seeker. Twenty…a thousand? I supposed it would take some getting used to—doing anything to help the Seeker on his quest. I just hoped destiny didn't make a mistake in thinking I was strong enough for the job. But hopefully there was something that would help light my way, as grandfather said it would.

"May I see the sword of truth?" I asked. "I've heard so much about it…it would mean so much to know that it is not just a story."

He leaned back and sighed heavily.

"Marcus hasn't named me yet. Until then, not even I have been able to hold it. But I know what it will be like. Marcus has given me many dreams about it and through them I know the sword better than my own soul. And now that I have my confessor, I can be named and the people of the midlands will have their hero. Well, now all we need is Marcus…"

"He said he would be back in a day or two. Until then I'll protect you—but I'm afraid I won't be too good at it."

"I have faith in you, Lydia." He reached out to take my hand, but I flinched away on instinct. "Sorry, I forgot that confessors aren't used to being touched. I can't imagine how hard it is to hold in such incredible power all the time. I do not envy your burden, but hopefully the present company will ease your pain."

"Thank you, Seeker. But there is something I must ask of you. It's essential if I am ever going to be of use to you."

"Anything," he said.

"I've never learned to fight with weapons, but I'm sure Marcus has taught you."

* * *

The clashing of metal rang out in the still night air as the fight wore on relentlessly. I stabbed, sliced, and cut at every opportunity, spinning to avoid Warren's attacks while he dodged mine just as easily. We had been practicing for hours, ever since the sun had gone down. I was surprised how quickly I caught on, once coming dangerously close to winning. It was well past midnight and we still fought as powerfully as warriors and graceful as doves. At one point, Warren managed to free a dagger from my hand which I used to reach up to his throat, not making contact with his skin. He froze and smiled. In the light of the outdoor fire pit he looked like a madman.

"You've got it," he said proudly.

"But to use my power would be cheating," I frowned.

"No more than a dragon using its fire." I lowered my hand and we both relaxed. "Confession is a natural gift that you should use at every opportunity you find in battle. Your foe will instantly fight for you instead of against."

"What about when the battle is over and they're free will is still lost?" I asked. "What then?"

"Then you can order the person to start a life of honest work. Confessors are not evil, Lydia, neither are their powers. The only accounts of darkness would be male confessors and one hasn't been born since Dennee Amnell's child."

"Still, I don't want to end up addicted to the power and go around confessing anyone who gives me a second glance."

Warren was about to answer, but a loud cracking in the distance made him freeze. A few birds nearby took off in flight.

"You may have to put you new skills to use sooner that I thought," he whispered.

I gripped my daggers with as much courage as I could muster. "Is there any reason for someone to come all this way to harm you?" I asked.

"Feidae's followers try," he said. "A few of the more devoted ones have come close."

He slowly took a step forward. I stepped to his side and in front of him. In a glance I told him that I was protecting him, not the other way around. But then everything was so silent. After a moment I had begun to think the noise was just the product of sleeplessness. But then an arrow whizzed through the air, headed for me. Warren pushed me to the side and leaned the opposite way himself so that the arrow passed between us without harm.

A tall man stepped out of the shadows and ran at them, swinging a long sword. I instantly raised my weapons and crossed them so that the oncoming sword was caught. Warren tried to get at the man, but he broke away from me in time to block him. He fought the both of us, back and forth, only being able to defend himself. But Warren was able to knock away the sword and tackled the man, holding him so that his arms were useless.

"Lydia, NOW!" he shouted.

I dropped my weapons and reached out, grabbing the intruder's throat. I felt my power leak from me into the man and his eyes turned black as his soul was herded into a cage. The connection was cut and I fell to the ground, suddenly feeling very weak and tired.

"Command me, confessor," the man whispered.

"Why did you try to kill the Seeker?" I asked, attempting to rise to my feet and failing without Warren's hand.

"I wanted to make the wizard proud," the man said. "He has helped me so much…but I see the error of my ways now, confessor. Can you ever forgive me?"

"We'll see," I said quietly.

"Let's go inside," Warren suggested. "I happen to know that neighbors here have trouble keeping their eyes forward."

I nodded and the three of us walked inside after putting out the fire and gathering our weapons. We had the man sit in a chair while Warren closed all the shades on the windows. When he finished he came over to stand by my side.

"Tell us," he said, "where did you come from?"

"The People's Palace in D'hara," he said quickly. "Feidae has been working had to make the ruins as strong as they once were. From there he commands his armies and all those who are loyal. The numbers are massive."

"Numbers mean nothing to me," Warren said lowly. "It just means that his human barrier is thicker than I expected. If there's any information that would be useful to me, you'd better tell me."

The man looked up at me expectantly. "Tell him," I ordered.

"Feidae plans to recreate the setting created by Darken Rahl with the legions at his command and a feared reputation, but Feidae plans to fix his mistakes by killing the Seeker before he is named. After that he will redouble his efforts."

Warren nodded to me and walked away.

"Leave this place," I ordered. "Leave this village and find yourself a new home far away from D'hara. There, you will start honest work, which means no killing. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, confessor," he said, bowing his head. he stood up and quickly walked out of the house. I looked to Warren who was standing silently in front of the fireplace, staring into it intently. His mind was hard at work.

"I must take up the sword," he said after a while. "With a tyrant such as Darken Rahl as his guide, Feidae will only become crueler and more powerful. I must kill him before he gets a chance to come into full power. As soon as Marcus returns, I will tell him all that happened. I'm confident that he will see things my way."

I nodded my agreement just before yawning tiredly. All that fighting plus a confession took a lot out of me.

"Take my bed," Warren said. "As soon as our quest begins there won't be many of those. You might as well enjoy it while you can."

"What about you?" I asked.

"I can't sleep," he shrugged. "Go ahead."

He got up to grab a bucket of water which he used to drown the fire. It died with a loud, angry hiss as the steam rose through the chimney. I got up from the chair and crossed the room over to the bed. I put my confessor's robes to the side which I had removed to practice in the black under dress. The second my head touched the pillow, I was asleep.

* * *

Marcus returned the next day and agreed with Warren, trusting his judgement. He began making preparations to name the Seeker immediately. At sundown, we gathered outside the house at a spot on the pathway that Marcus had chosen with care. Quite a few of the villagers stood at the base of the hill, eagerly watching. As the sun fell, Warren stood tall where Marcus told him while the wizard walked in a circle around him, chanting in a foreign language and scattering his tea leaves.

I gently grasped the sword of truth which Marcus had given to me to hold during the ceremony. As the wizard continued, Warren did the best he could not to smile at me. He could feel it as well as I could—the overwhelming excitement in the air that made the rest of the world slightly less important.

"Warren Godrick, though the road will be long and the outcome unknown, do you undertake this journey?"

"I will," said Warren.

"Will you leave behind all that you have known to face your quest?"

"I will."

"Though the bringing of your death has been sworn by the forces of evil, still, will you go on?"

"I will."

Marcus came over and took the sword from my hands. "Then will you accept the name of the Seeker?"

"I will," Warren said confidently.

Marcus lowered the blade into Warren's hands. As his skin made contact with the steel, a kind of absolute sureness quieted the excitement in the air.

"Then I, first wizard, Marcus Cypher, so name you!"

He lowered his head and his hand in a kind of bow and the circle of tea leaves that he had dropped caught fire, circling around the Seeker. The sun had completely disappeared and the storm clouds that had been created were barely visible except for the cracking thunder and lightning which bolted down to the sword of truth. I watched in awe fascination as Warren was named the Seeker.