Ansem wasn't sure weather to cope with his experience by reading more and solving his problem head on, or by burying it and trying to forget it altogether. So, he tried a little of both, and wrote the two dreams out on paper, then hid them in a deep corner of his files where theoretically he would someday revisit them, but secretly knew that he never actually would. Whatever works, right? He tried to write about what happened in the mirror as well, but lost his nerve every time he sat down to do it; Just imagine if somebody else found these papers! The dreams were bad enough, but alas they were just dreams, hardly credible evidence of madness...right?
Ansem didn't like having these kinds of secrets, he discovered.
They let him stop wearing bandages sooner than first prescribed, much to Ansem's rejoice. For some reason, the sight of raw scratches drew less attention than the sight of what was needed to properly care for them; Shouldn't people focus more on wounds that need treatment, rather than ones that have already had everything possible done for them? Or was a big white square just too tempting? he pondered moodily. Tender, pink scar tissue had already formed, so there was no doubt anymore about weather he might get lucky.
"They'll fade with time," his mother assured him, but that still didn't make him happy.
Funny, he didn't see any of these marks on the face of his 18 year old self in that one dream; Maybe that meant it couldn't possibly be the future, after all. In fact, this thought consoled Ansem more than any sympathy he'd received so far.
"And, uh, you know," started Hans, keeping his voice low, one night, "if you're going to be that way about it, there's always makeup."
"Thanks a lot," Ansem retorted with a pug-ish sort of scowl, childishly offended.
"Just trying to help," his brother said airily.
The next day, Ansem didn't see his brother hardly at all, which was odd since Hans particularly liked to socialize. But the next day after that, Ansem was suddenly surprised to see Noctis Lucis Caelum come running into the library looking for him.
"Hay!" said Ansem, putting down a favorite book to greet his friend. "When did you get here?"
"About 20 minutes ago. We're staying through till Saturday," Noctis exclaimed, meaning his mother and father and he. His father, Mort Aufero Caelum, was the archduke serving under King Freyr, Ansem's father.
Noctis was the same age as Ansem, 14, and since their parents worked together, the two had known each other literally since infancy. His hair color was an unusual "light black" that was really best described, rather, as graphite blue, and he tended to style this wild hair of his in short, feathery spikes, like he thought he was some kind of rock star. But the fact is, he really was that cool; He was an ace fencer, hated being popular but was anyway, and a daredevil to boot.
"Oh, and before I forget," Noctis said, straightening up like he meant real serious business, "Your brother wants us to meet him in front of the house with a big boat on its roof today after lunch." His pretense of pomp then melted away like a mirage of water in the desert, as Noctis shrugged and admitted that even though that's what Hans said, he had no idea what it meant or what Hans was up to.
"Well, if he's serious about the landmark, that meeting place shouldn't be too hard to spot. Can't say I've ever noticed it before, though," Ansem said.
"Dude, what happened to your face?" Noctis interrupted.
Ansem narrowed his eyes and frowned at him. "Harpies attacked me," he replied sharply.
"Ooooh," said Noctis, pretending like he believed him.
"Yeah, it was real nasty. I was eating a sandwich and one just flew down and tried to take it, right out of my hand!" continued Ansem, rubbing-in the absurdity of his fib; Anything to avoid giving the real answer. "So, uh, what have you been up to these past few months?"
"Oh, a lot of stuff! We had this guest come in in my sparring class last week and show us some stuff. I can show you while I'm here if ya like. I need to practice anyway, so I don't forget it all," he rambled, breaking out into a typical fencing pose and pretending to fight an invisible opponent through the library. He seemed to really be enjoying himself.
"Sounds awesome; Can't wait," said Ansem.
Learning to duel was a traditional requirement of the royal family from generations ago, namely because a sword was used as a symbolic gesture in many of the ceremonies a king had to perform. The premise was that it would be silly, even a dishonor, and above all dangerous, for a ruler to use a sword in such a way and not even know its proper use. Even though since the kingdom of Hollow Bastion's union with Tenebrae some-80-odd years ago, the only other remaining kingdom left in this tiny world at the time, there had not been a single war.
Noctis and Ansem spent the remainder of the morning in the courtyard trying to shoot each other with rubber bands, running about ducking behind the walls and hedges, until finally Ansem accidentally fell into a water fountain and they both got in trouble. Afterward, they grabbed some lunch, and then ventured beyond the castle into the city to try and find Hans.
"You'd think a boat on somebody's roof would stand out, or something," said Noctis, standing on top of a large wooden shipping create at the top of a hill to get a better view of the blue-gray stone-laid streets ahead.
"Maybe we're looking for a bait shop?" proposed Ansem.
"Nah, Hans specifically said it was a house," Noctis said, hopping down.
Just then, however, a loud, rhythmic commotion suddenly broke out behind them on the next street corner, down by the park. Spinning around, they found it to be a street performer with nearly a dozen different, junky-looking musical contraptions strapped all over his body. He was hopping around and kicking his feet, flapping his arms and tilting his head, every which motion that he made would somehow strike or compress a bellows to blow into one of his instruments-a one-man band! The performer himself was tall and skinny, with short dark hair and smudges of dirt on his face. He wore a casual black suit with its jacket unbuttoned and leather patches on its elbows, and old but still good black leather town shoes. His smile as he played for the gathering crowd was bright and above all youthful, reminiscent of someone who had grown older but never completely grown up.
The two boys drew closer before the crowd got too thick and they wouldn't be able to see. Though the instruments weren't very well tuned and mostly just clattered together while the man danced, he was so energetic and charismatic that one couldn't help but enjoy the show. Well, unless you were that cop standing way in the back by the park's entrance; But he didn't look like he ever enjoyed much of anything.
Ansem was particularly fascinated by the unusual rigging of the instruments themselves, and wondered if the man had designed everything personally.
Finishing his first song, the man then started another in which he also sang. And then, on concluding that, began to single out members of the audience and improvise rhymes about them. Spotting Ansem and Noctis, whom of course everyone in the kingdom could recognize on sight, the man suddenly beamed and said,
"Why, your Highnesses, this is an honor to be sure! Such guests, I can't say, I've had the pleasure to entertain before," as he tipped his newsboy hat to them, and made no delay to begin another fast-paced dance number. The crowd applauded when he finished, and the man bowed several times with his hat held out for tips while they dispersed.
"You young fellas lookin' fer some'n?" he asked, noticing that they seemed lost. He had a strong cockney accent, but was very polite.
"Uh, yeah, actually. We're supposed to meet my brother Hans at 'the house with a boat on its roof'," Ansem answered.
"Are yeh now?" said the man. "I know just the place you're talkin' about. Right this way, please. Just past the corner o' Cherry Tree Lane, it is. Not far from 'ere at awl." Even as he walked, the large drum and symbols on his back continued to strike, since they were each rigged to his legs respectively such that it could not be helped.
"BOOM...CRASH...BOOM...CRASH...BOOM..." they went, all the way down the street. Until, at last, the three came upon a sharp, whitewashed three-story manner with an obvious naval disposition, including full sails on its roof and even a small crew-in full uniform.
"Gentlemen, this 'ere is my good friend Admiral Boom," said the performer to the two boys. "How yeh doin' up there today, Admiral?" he suddenly bellowed at the men on the roof. "Lovely fine weather we're 'aving!"
"On the contrary, my good fellow. 'Storm's brewing in the East, temperatures declining in the West; It'll be hailing by tomorrow!" a blue-uniformed man in a white officer's hat bellowed back, leaning over a heavy, polished wooden railing that encircled his house's roof, which looked anyways like it had been built of parts dismembered from a fine old sailing ship. In fact, it even came equipped with a dinghy suspended over one side, which two elderly crew members were sitting in to wash the exterior of the house's upper-story window panes.
"T'anks for the 'eads up, Sir! Keep me posted! The Admiral keeps a close oye on the weather at awwwl times, 'e does," the man explained, emphatically. "Some o' the finest nautical instrumentation in the w'ole navy, 'e 'as. Admiral! 'Ave you seen Prince Hans around 'ere by any chance?"
"On the way now, I'd say! Just turning the corner of Brook Street and Fenrir Avenue. Estimated arrival in three minutes and twenty-one seconds!" said the sailor, peering through a brass spyglass and checking a chart that the three couldn't see from their low vantage point with a navigational compass.
The boys' escort tipped his hat appreciatively. "Bless yer heart, Sir," he hollered. Just then, Noctis spoke up, unable to hold his curious amazement back any longer.
"Excuse me!" He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to direct the sound. "But, why not live in a real ship? Why go to the trouble of turning your house into one?" Anyone more prim and proper would have thought his questioning rude, but the friendly performer and whimsical old eccentric actually commended him.
"Your Highness, you may put your mind at rest. The sea I do love, but alas, the sea does not love me. When I was a younger man, it and I were on better terms. But now how am I to stable myself on the surf with a metal pin in my leg?" the admiral said, indicating one of his kneecaps. "Crushed by the weight of a cannon that broke loose in a typhoon, and reconstructed compliments of Dr. Sid of the Academy. As good a job as can be done by human hand, but not enough I'm afraid to send me sailing again."
"Oooooh," said Noctis, exaggerating his facial expression and body language so that the admiral could see his response. By this time, they could now see Hans walking toward them from half a block away.
"Well, it's been lovely meetin' you young sirs. Best be on my way now. Come aroun' this way again some time; I'll be 'ere," the tall man said, and tipped his hat to them again as he walked off, instruments still booming and ringing, then once more at Hans as the two passed on the street. Of course, Hans' first question as soon as he came within speaking range of the boys was,
"Who was that?" and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb.
Noctis just shrugged his shoulders, and Ansem shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Someone who happened to know the way. Jolly nice chap in fact," he added, impersonating the man's accent with a grin. Noctis and Ansem began to walk alongside Hans, and bid farewell to the Admiral as they left.
"So, where are we going?" Ansem asked his brother, who lead the way in a manner that was clearly keen on a particular destination.
"To meet someone. It'll all become clear when we get there," Hans said, nodding his head once to the side. "You've met her at lest once before, when you were still a baby."
"Is she pretty?" Noctis interrupted suddenly, having picked up on the feminine pronoun.
Hans laughed. "She's...a few years older than you," he said.
But Noctis insisted, jokingly, "That's ok; I'll get older! She's hot, isn't she..."
Hans rolled his eyes and smiled. "So immature," he muttered under his breath specifically so that Noctis would overhear. Noctis, falling silent, dealt the prince a glare so scathing that it could have roasted through a live fowl; Fortunately, Hans had not even been looking, but continued to smile slyly down the road.
He was a fair, wiry youth of 16 with sharp, gray-blue eyes and a long, diamond-shaped face. He conducted himself mildly and casually at all times, weather at formal occasions in the castle, or walking about and mingling with the commonfolk of the city; Being royalty, naturally guards would follow the two princes everywhere, be it to the ends of the earth, or simply waiting outside the door of a restroom, but they had orders to remain discreet and in disguise. When all other amusement failed, however, the princes would resort to testing them. Noctis, not technically a prince although still a son of one of the highest royals, did not regularly have this kind of guarded freedom in his hometown, Niflheim, and Ansem noticed that he, from time to time, gazed with evident wonder at the the small, homely shops that they passed.
In contrast with his spiky steel-blue hair, Noctis' angled, light brown eyes appeared almost yellow-ish, and so granted him a catlike deviousness whenever he smiled. He was thin for his age, probably due to a metabolism as active as he was! He wore a hooded, white, long-sleeved shirt with large, intricate, gray flame patterns printed across the tops of its shoulders, black capri pants with chord drawstrings at the ends of its legs, and plain white sneakers with red soles that fastened with velcro.
Like his brother, Ansem had a long, diamond-shaped face, except that his cheekbones were notably higher and his eyes a more pure blue. His straight, dark brown hair had been styled short in back, but left long in front his ears, with his bangs cut in an M-shape so that both of his eyes were visible. Since one week ago, however, Ansem had been brushing his hair more forward than usual to try and hide his new stigma. There were two bold, parallel scars underneath his left eye that slanted steeply towards the corner of his jaw, a smaller, horizontal one just under that eyebrow, three or four medium-bold linear scars scribbling every-which-way around his right eye, and one more small one that even crossed onto the right side of his nose. Indeed, it really did look like he had been attacked by something with claws. Ansem was still shorter than Hans, though it was an easy guess that, one day, he might even grow to be several inches the taller of the two. He wore a hunter green, long-sleeved button-down shirt, unbuttoned, over high-collared black tanktoop that was trimmed with royal blue and a small amount of white and yellow. His black jeans were actually a hand-me-down pair of Hans'.
Yes, even princes sometimes had to wear hand-me-downs. The king and queen were reasonably frugal people. Queen Zoe particularly, because she had been raised in a small beach town on the far side of the western mountains, known as Haruka Town, where importing goods was not without some difficulty. In fact because of its seclusion, Ansem's great-grandparents had built a vacationing home on a hillside very near there, which was eventually how Freyr and Zoe came to meet. The house had grown old-fashion as times changed, but was kept in good condition for even Hans and Ansem had stayed there many times throughout their lives. Fortunately, somehow, nothing in Haruka Town ever seemed to change, which allowed Zoe a potent nostalgia of her girlhood whenever they returned. Her sister, Ivy, even still lived there, raising her own family.
At long last, Hans finally came to a stop some ten or fifteen minutes of walking later, in front of a gray-white stone building that looked like it could possibly be a prestigious elementary school. It was hard to miss, but the rout there had been so full of twists and turns that Ansem and Noctis couldn't even tell where they were anymore, save for the position of the castle itself, for it was visible from every point in the city it loomed over. Most notably, the elegant complex before the three had around a broad tower in its center a giant, huge, enormous floating, golden ring of metal, smithed not unlike the elaborate front gate of an old mansion. How it managed to remain in the sky, unattached to any support, and slowly rotating to boot, was a mystery to Ansem entirely. He had seen this building before from windows in the castle, but never up close until now.
Hans explained that this was the esteemed Radiant Garden Orphanage, headed by Edea and Cid Kramer.
Well, Ansem for one had never heard of it, but he thought it was a beautiful place. Hans still wouldn't explain who it was they were going to meet here.
There was a high cement wall that encircled the property like a C, forgoing an entrance gate for a wide paved walkway that lead straight in through the glass front double doors. Hans lead Ansem and Noctis in, and then talked to one of several blue-uniformed women who were seated behind a long, bowed service desk. The young woman seemed shocked by their presence, even flustered, but kept her cool and paged an escort for Hans.
Getting to know new people was tough enough as nature would have it, but when you're something of a celebrity and everyone you meet already knows you, but you don't know them, not only is it creepy, but automatically turns even the simplest engagements into all kinds of awkward. You were really only safe with other celebrities, who could at least empathize, was how Ansem felt. Not that he was snobbish or anything, just thought that maybe exchanging autographs with one another, if dealing with them at all, was better than only giving yours out. (Especially when a young girl would ask for his autograph, Ansem wondered what people actually did with them later, and shudder as he reminded himself that he was probably happier not knowing.)
Presently, a teen in a similar blue uniform arrived and introduced himself, speaking extremely formally.
"We've been expecting you," he said, with a rigid chin and almost no emotion, but his flickering eyes gave him away.
"At ease, soldier," Hans said, saluting him. "You're scaring the kids."
Noctis yelled, "Hay!" and Ansem, too, scowled at his older brother, who wasn't even that much older than him.
The youth continued to speak formally, but relaxed more. He might have even been the same age as Hans, or possibly a year older, but no more. He lead them to an elevator, and took them all to the third and topmost floor. After depositing them in a spacious and vacant office, he was just about to close the door behind himself when he paused, and, completely breaking character, leaned his head back in to quickly ask if it was true there were ghosts in the castle dungeon; It was for a school paper that he was writing on urban legends and their origins.
"Well, if there are, then I've never met one," Hans told him, plainly.
"Hmm... Thanks," the teen said, his cheeks starting to redden, and finally left.
But, had Ansem been doing the talking, he knew how differently he might have answered, a sudden flashback of the demon in the mirror that night occurring to him.
"Hay, you okay?" Noctis asked, sounding concerned. "Maybe I should go get that guy before he gets too far. You're white as a ghost!"
Hearing Noctis and turning around to face them, Hans, too, started to look worried. He gave Ansem a long, hard look for a second, and then asked, sounding thoughtful, "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Ansem shook his head, striving to act normally again. "No," he said, easily, for it was utterly true; For good measure, he tried to make eye-contact, but that alone was a world of difficulty. "My feet just hurt," he complained, which was also true.
"They should be here any moment," Hans assured, not but semi-convinced as he went back to watching the door; Even for princes, it was only basic etiquette to not seat oneself before his host has arrived.
In the meantime, Noctis passed the time by telling them about another friend of his who recently broke his arm in a stunt that involved roller-blades, a diving bored, and a trampoline, and how many peopled had signed his cast with, "That was awesome!".
But, even while Hans still had a hand over his face and was shaking his head in dismay, the door of the office opened and a young couple stepped in. The man wore a red sweater-vest over a white collared shirt and tie, brown slacks, and black dress shoes. He had wavy brown hair parted in the middle, and an incredibly big chin. The lady, whom he held the door for, wore a modest black dress and black low-heeled shoes. She had long ebony hair down to her waist, and wore black evening gloves that nearly came up to her shoulders. She was extremely pretty, (which Noctis seemed to notice), and appeared to be about 24. There were one or two slight oddities, though, that made the back of Ansem's neck prickle: the woman's fingers were inhumanly long, and came to sharp points at their tips. The long gloves made this more difficult to notice, which he figured was probably why she wore them. There were also silver-white markings at the corners of both of her eyes that looked like raised veins, or bolts of lightning, or maybe burn scars that had long healed, except that the patterns were identical on each side. Though normal-seeming enough at first glance, after a moment she started to seem, rather, a very strange creature. The slow way she walked, as well, was fairly unnatural, with her footsteps making utterly no sound at all.
"Sorry to keep you boys waiting," said the man, smiling at the sight of them and then whispering something to his wife, who smiled too and nodded her head.
"Not at all," said Hans, who walked over and shook hands with him, then with a curt bow kissed the lady on the back of her hand, completely ignoring its frightening skeletal likeness.
"Ansem," Hans called. "You probably don't remember them. This is Cid and Edea Kramer."
"Uh, how do you do?" said Ansem, coming forward and nodding to each of them.
"I don't know if Mom and Dad ever told you," Hans continued, "but Edea is our godmother. She's a sorceress."
That's it! Ansem thought, now able to explain what his senses were telling him. He could tell it was true; He didn't need to hear about it twice. What surprised him more was actually the first thing that Hans had revealed.
"We have godparents?" Ansem asked, suddenly turning his head toward his brother.
"Uh, yeah," Hans laughed. "But, uh, he he, I forgot who our godfather is. You'll have to ask mom for that info."
Noctis, probably feeling like a 'fifth wheel' by this time, had made himself comfortable in a chair against the wall. He kept silent as he fidgeted, but continually smiled to himself with a dreamy look in his eye.
"Your brother has told me you were injured recently. If you will let me see, I think I can help," said Edea to Ansem, her black, pointed hands folded gracefully in front of her. "I have some [magical] healing ability."
"Golly," Ansem caught himself saying, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head. ("So this is what you've been up to!" he mumbled at Hans.) Suddenly Ansem felt a warm feeling begin to rise in him like a new sun, outshining yet a second feeling that also crept in like a mist: apprehension. But why should he dread such a favor? It felt like there might be something he was forgetting, but alas he could not put his finger on it. "Uhhh, thank you! I'd really appreciate anything you could do. ...I was starting to forget who I was."
"No kidding!" Hans interjected. "He's been acting strange all week."
The sorceress laughed gently. "Is that so? Then, we haven't a moment to loose," Edea said, extending her clawed hand in an invitation to follow, "Please come with me, Prince Ansem. I require more light."
They stepped outside the office and followed the hallway a short ways until the two came upon a balcony. From here, one had a magnificent view of the Castle, as well as mountainous views, for few buildings in the city below were more than two stories high, of either the sunrise or sunset depending on the season of year-sunrises in winter, and sunsets in summer. The shape of the orphanage itself also allotted for a strong breeze, even on windless days, through the third floor when its windows and balcony doors were left open. Now that they were outdoors, the sorceress, who was fairly tall, stood very near to Ansem and gently lifted his chin with her left hand so that he had to look almost straight up at her.
"Now, let me see," she said, softly, using her right hand to stroke his hair back over the top of his head and so out of the way of his scars. A sad, motherly look entered her deep brown eyes. "How awful," she mused, barely above a whisper.
Ansem had surely thought he would shiver if those hands ever touched him, but Edea's hands were as soft and warm as her very heart seemed to be. He could tell just by how she cradled his face-if there was anything sinister about this woman, then, by George, Ansem's dad must have been Kermit the Frog!
On second thought, Ansem's face began to tingle slightly, more, and more, like a million tiny electrical shocks such as one receives from shuffling their socks along a carpet. It worried him, not because he didn't trust his godmother, but because he didn't understand her power. Still, he tried as hard as he could to hold as still as possible, lest he flinch and himself cause her to make a ghastly mistake! In fact, Ansem almost wouldn't even allow himself to breathe.
This went on for several minutes, or so it seemed to him, waiting with his eyes closed. Then, at last, the tingling phased briefly into a searing-cold sensation, like when mouthwash spills on skin-which made Ansem yelp and jerk away in spite of himself-before fading away entirely. When the prince opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the sorceress smiling, as though satisfied.
"Is that it? Am I back to normal?" Ansem asked, reaching up to feel his cheek with one hand.
"Come and see," Edea said, offering her strange hand to him once more. His former prejudice dashed, Ansem took it and anxiously returned with her to the office where the others were waiting. Entering, the pair found Noctis and Cid sitting deep in conversation with one another, about what Ansem could only imagine, with Hans leaned against the wall just casually listening in. Cid and Noctis continued, merely glancing up at them, but Hans strode over to meet them.
"So, how'd it go?" he asked, bending over Ansem to get a better look in the low light. "Nice... Really, very nice," he said. "You do good work, milady."
Ansem, being made to feel like a spectacle, mumbled, as low as he thought he could and still be heard by someone six inches from his face, "Your breath...smells like eel. (And don't get me started on that expired cologne.)"
Hans chuckled, ending in a small cough that sounded oddly like the word, "Cheeky."
Toward the back of the room, there was a large, gold-framed oval mirror that hung on a wall above a narrow wooden table, which otherwise sported nothing except a bronze vase of red roses. Edea pointed it out to Ansem, and then fell back into his wake, with Hans, as her patient took over the lead.
The first thing Ansem noticed in his reflection, however, and to the effect of some minor shock, was that his hair had stuck the way Edea had stroked it. He tried to pat it down again, and succeeded reasonably, but now it seemed that its natural direction had changed, giving him a widows-peak where he hadn't before if he insisted that his bangs come down. This wasn't too bad a glitch, because, as a mater of fact, Ansem kind of liked this new look. At any length, Edea had done a fine job, and all of the scars from that horrible night were wiped clean. Ansem could still find a few very, very old ones from years ago that yet remained, now slightly more faded than before, but he considered those 'natural' and thus could live with them. It wasn't cosmetic value nearly as much as Hans seemed to think.
"Wow..." he breathed, running his fingertips over where the wounds had been. "This is amazing. Thank you very much, Edea!"
"You are most welcome, my dear prince," she replied, graciously. "But have more care next time. Please do that for me; I would rather not see you hurt again."
"Oh yes, absolutely," Ansem said, turning about to face them. Wondering how she knew the cuts were his own fault, as opposed to, say, having had his head glommed onto by a frightened cat, he began again, "But...has Hans told you what happened?" Edea and his brother exchanged glances.
"Only that you'd had a nightmare, and don't like to talk about it," the sorceress said, sounding sad again.
"Why don't I just let you two talk?" Hans said, excusing himself and heading over to where Cid and Noctis were still engaged.
Edea waited for Hans to be out of earshot, and then said, "Ansem, if you would like to talk, as a sorceress I have an expertise in dreams. And, to be honest, I'm worried if you saw something strange in a mirror."
Ansem suddenly went pale, apparently more than enough confirmation for Edea, who's countenance saddened all the more. He couldn't verbally answer, although he desperately wanted to divert the subject.
"If you don't want to tell me, I can also read your mind," she suggested.
"No thank you," Ansem managed to say. He had lost all taste for knowing what any dream meant. It was a hard lesson learned. But, he did have an idea.
"Very well," said Edea, "I understand."
Ansem doubted that, but ventured to propose a different favor she might be able to help him with. "Umm, do you think...maybe...can you stop me from dreaming ever again?"
This surprised the sorceress, who even gave a quiet laugh and shielded her smile with a floating, gloved hand. "Surely you don't mean that?" she asked him.
"Oh, I think I do," Ansem said, dropping his gaze to the marble-tiled floor. "If you can..."
"I don't know, I've never tried," Edea said. "Nor am I about to, but I will give you my blessing, which should none the less help if ever you find yourself in the dark."
Ansem shrugged, not even trying to hide his disappointment, not that he actually expected she would have done it. "Sure, if you like," he told her.
His godmother laughed again. "That I do," she said.