*From November, 2014...

A bunch of things from the last chapter may have seemed a little ominous. If so, good. You've kept up with me so far. ;)

Also, I like to think that Shaaran, upon discovering that she can survive Death Mountain and swarms of Ice Creepers, decided that she was secretly a badass. And this inner badass doesn't have to come out often, but when it does… Even Bronden gets a little nervous.

Shaaran: "Hi! I'm Shaaran! I weigh 105 pounds, and paint silks for a living. Also, I will save your hateful ass by crying and being overly emotional. Problem?" 8D

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Chapter 11: Grave Explanations

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Rowan led the procession back to his house in silence. There was much between them all to be said, but not a word was spoken. It wasn't until the modest house was in view that Violet finally broken the silence.

"Annad and Norris will be unhappy to have missed this," she commented quietly. "Should we not send someone for them?"

"That won't be necessary," Shaaran answered before Rowan could. "They will know where to find us, and they will come. They always do."

Rowan stole a glance at his friend, stalking determinedly at his side. The slim, frail woman had to trot to keep up with them, but she had grown used to this. Her normally expressive face was set and unreadable. Her willowy body was as rigid as a soldier's, and her nimble hands were clenched into fists. There were so many feelings battling within her; it was hard to tell which one she was feeling most strongly. Overwhelmingly, though, Rowan sensed disappointment and deep sadness.

He didn't have to wonder long at either.

There was another moment's silence, before Jiller raised her voice from the back of the line.

"Rowan, my son, why exactly are we keeping a Zebak guard locked in our jail? You say he may still serve a purpose, but I can't see it."

"It's simply the way it must be for now, mother," he called over his shoulder. "Even I must admit, the worst thing he's done was end up locked in my coat closet overnight. Zan Garased hasn't done anything really wrong, and has actually been quite helpful. But I haven't brought you all here to talk about Zan. I've brought you here to talk about… Someone else."

He reached the front door and opened it wide, letting the procession file into his kitchen one by one. Shaaran remained by his side, though, refusing to leave him completely alone when he needed support and comfort more than ever. Once the last of his other friends had gone inside, he looked down at her gravely.

"You know where this is going by now, don't you?"

"I do," she answered. "You knew it would come to light, eventually. I always said it was useless to delay it."

"I know, I know. I couldn't see the point, then, in worrying them over something they couldn't change. I thought I was protecting them."

"Protecting people isn't your job, Rowan. Serving people is your job. When you do things that aren't your job, you make a mess for yourself. We've discussed this many times. When are you going to learn sense?"

"Apparently, never," he answered, stepping aside as she went in. She rolled her eyes at him, frustrated with his stubbornness.

It's best that she focus on her annoyance with me, he decided. It's as good a distraction as any from the sadness and fear in her heart. She has learned well to force a blank face, and I prefer that. If she began to weep now, I don't know if I could bear it.

He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

"I've asked you to join me because I know I can trust you with the information I'm about to share," he announced. "I'd rather it not be so, but I see no way to escape it."

"This is about all that babbling of magic and dragons, no doubt," Bronden grumbled, crossing her arms severely.

"I'm afraid so," he agreed. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small, thick book, flipping to a page he had marked and holding the place with his thumb. "This is also about a woman I know in vague passing. A woman I had hoped to never encounter again."

"Who is she?" Timon asked slowly. Perhaps, clever as he was, he had already guessed.

Rowan took a deep breath. "Zadina is her name. She is the Titan of Fire. She is also the one Zan called Queen and Dragon Lord."

All of his companions gasped, their eyes wide with shock. All except for Shaaran, who mostly looked unimpressed.

"You know her?" John demanded, sounding a bit angry. "How is this?"

"I've met her only once, briefly, several years ago, on the day she first came into her power and became queen. You well remember that day, though you may not realize it. It was that day when Sheba and I rose before dawn and sped to Maris on Unos' back. We returned that evening, as the sun was setting. You had asked us why we had done such a thing, so suddenly, without any warning; when we answered that it was all magical business, you left it at that and asked no more questions."

John and Jiller exchanged a look, thinking back and remembering.

"Yes, we remember now," she answered.

"Well, it was magical business, for certain. We had no desire to share the details with you, and you were uninterested; and really, it was better that way. A sudden, urgent call had woken us with a feeling like clashing symbols, summoning us to the east. Our brothers had felt the same call, and so we all went to meet. Because the Keeper can't leave his cavern, the four of us had to travel to him.

"We met at dawn, and the five of us linked minds, as we often do. This time, however, there was a new presence in our hive mind. That was Zadina, whose mind had been brought to ours by her talisman. Her power longs to become a part of ours, though she and her ancestors have struggled well against it. She came to greet us, all the same. Greet us, swear proudly to continue fighting against us, and attack us as best she could from afar."

"She attacked you?" Timon asked, curious in spite of himself.

"In our brains," Rowan clarified, tapping his temple. "Luckily, she could only do so much damage, because she was far away. If she had been with us physically, she might have killed me. She certainly tried. She recognized me, realized that I was the one who had invaded her city, and she lashed out with a vengeance. Sheba wasn't exactly safe, either. Even though a sea separated us, she hit the two of us hard enough to send us flying across the cavern. That was when our link to her was broken. We lost contact with her after that, and haven't heard from her since that day."

He recounted the story as simply as he could. It was still hard to believe at times that it had really happened, because it had been so fantastic and terrible. He and Sheba, Ogden and Mithren, and Doss had all pleaded with their wayward sister to give up her people's warlike ways, and join them permanently. It was to be the only chance they would have to do so. Instead, Zadina had laughed spitefully in their faces, and gone on to attack them with a horrible, malicious grin on her face.

Never would he forget that face. He recalled that Zadina was a beautiful woman. She was young, just his age, with fine features, flowing black hair, and eyes like perfect rubies. Somehow, her mark only made her more beautiful. It was part of who she was, and it highlighted her fine face. But the way those features had twisted with hatred and glee as she had turned on them had chilled him to the bone. It had removed all the beauty from her. Instead, she had been ugly and fearful to look upon.

"No wonder you didn't want to speak of it," Timon said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't have trusted anyone with the story, either."

"That was our thinking," Rowan agreed. "It only would have caused trouble, if we had made the whole truth known."

Bronden snorted. "I would have liked very much to hear of it," she stated. "All of us would have. I thought you had learned better by now than to hoard choice information to yourself, boy."

"It wasn't yours to know."

"Indeed! If you had told us that there was a Titan who calls herself Dragon Lord, who can teleport her own men into our village at will, we might have done something about it!"

"Exactly," he answered evenly, striding to the kitchen table. "If you people had known of this, your first reaction would have been to wage pointless war on her. And we can't do that. Part of the reason the Zebak hate us so is because they are taught to fear us. They are taught that we are the warlike ones, constantly plotting to destroy them; and that if they don't wage war on us first, we will surely be their ruin. But we know that this isn't true. In the past, we have had the moral high ground. I can't let you compromise that based on anger and fear. It is almost all we have ever had."

"Well perhaps it is worth the risk to get our hands a little dirty. If we had attacked when she was younger and less experienced, we just might have stood a chance."

Rowan coolly stared down at her.

"Would you like to die in vain, only for our people to be enslaved once again?" He asked. "Because if we started a war of our own, that is the only possible outcome of it. Zadina would lay us to waste. We would gain nothing, and lose everything. We can't stand against her, Bronden. We simply can't, and we never could have."

Bronden scowled back at him. Then she glanced at Shaaran, who was still silent and annoyed.

"You seem to be taking this whole thing in stride," the stocky woman commented coldly. "Why so quiet?"

Shaaran sighed huffily. "I'm only wishing that he had told you of this sooner. I've told him before that he should think on it, now that the incident is so far behind us."

Bronden gawked at her. "You don't mean to say that you knew of this?"

Shaaran shrugged. "There are many things Rowan keeps from the people, purely out of wisdom; but between the four of us, there are very few secrets. Zeel knew of this from the moment he returned. My brother and I learned of it that night. We were unhappy, also, but no thought of war ever dared to cross our minds. We are sensible, that way. We agreed, then, that it was best to keep the knowledge between us four. However, as the years have gone by, I have begun to think differently. I've had a bad feeling that something terrible like this was bound to happen, if we waited long enough. Better the people be prepared, I said. But someone has refused to think on it."

"The knowledge would do us little good, no matter how much time goes by," he insisted. "It would only be a burden to the people. They would only be anxious, knowing that a Titan bears us such ill will, and there's nothing we can do to stand against her. I know well what anxiety like that is like. It is exhausting. In this instance, it's better to keep that knowledge as close as possible. Inciting a war is the worst thing we could do now; and it is the first thing the people would do."

The gathering was silent, thinking this fact over. It was, indeed, the first thing they would have done. Perhaps proud, strong Bronden wanted to battle the Dragon Lord; but the rest of them didn't relish the thought. For all his power and even tone, Rowan was clearly terrified of her.

Violet cleared her throat and timidly raised her voice. "What is this book you have, Rowan?"

"Something I looked at before leaving to join the meeting. I had a few suspicions, and wanted to refresh my memory. Make sure I asked all the right questions of our captive before facing him, instead of rushing into the confrontation unprepared. Look at this, everyone."

He laid the book open on the table, and his friends all gathered around to look over his shoulder. The information on the page was neatly organized and thoughtfully written. They all immediately recognized it as Star's handwriting.

Element Fire

Element of Valor and Passion

Burdened by the sin of Greed

Strong against: Element Earth

Weak against: Element Water

High season: Autumn

Low season: Spring

Celestial Guide: Solaris

Host Dragon: Heomiri

Compass: South

Metal: Iron

Gemstone: Obsidian

Flower: Rose

Symbol: Star

Element Fire is characterized by fierce passion and emotion. It is the most volatile of the elements, easily swayed for either good or evil. Fire burns with all-consuming purpose; it also bears the creating light that makes all life possible. It is often said, therefore, that Fire is symbolic of the far-reaching ends of the compass points—extremes so far apart from one another, but equally important. Whatever its motives, Fire possesses the sheer will to accomplish its goals.

Fire manifests its true power mostly in mental capabilities. These include but may not be limited to telepathy, hypnosis, mind-control, and teleportation. Element Fire also has the capability of unveiling anything cloaked or hidden by the power of Element Earth, which is weak against it.

It is argued that these very potent abilities can be sourced to the Dragon Heomiri, who, according to legend, gifted his Titan not only with a talisman, but with his very blood. The legend also states that this bloodline is not limited to only the Titan, but to all the people of Fire. These men and women are today called Zebak, and are well known for their cunning and physical strength.

Those aligned with Element Fire will possess a keener intuition than others, though their tempers may be quite short. Their greater strengths may be either physical or mental; mainly, it will only be one extreme or the other. In either case, they will be people of tremendous will, and they tend to excel at fore-planning. Due to their passionate, volatile natures, they may or may not make good leaders, soldiers, or thinkers.

Element Fire is the most dangerous of the four World Elements, as it can easily overwhelm its brothers if it gets out of hand. Its only true undoing is Element Water, which naturally conflicts with it on the compass. However, their high and low seasons are also naturally opposed, so that Fire is strongest when Water is weakest, and Water is strongest when Fire is weakest.

"Teleportation," Timon murmured, thoughtfully stroking his beard. "You seemed so unsurprised, when the boy mentioned it. I had wondered at it, because it certainly shocked the rest of us. Now I understand."

"I had been aware of it before, though I had quite forgotten about it until this morning," Rowan added. "I had never dreamed that this power could be so potent, or so far-reaching. I had thought that this teleportation was limited only to objects—small objects—and could surely only reach across a few miles, at best. If it was like the talents of the other elements, such an act should be a tremendous strain, and leave its user drained to the point of exhaustion, even unconsciousness. Teleporting people ought to be a risky business; so many things could go wrong."

"Like what?" Jiller asked.

"For instance, what if Zadina exhausted her strength when her men were only halfway across the sea? What if her concentration faltered, even for a moment, and they ended up someplace she hadn't intended? Such as the mountain, or the plains?"

"Perhaps she has had plenty of practice," John suggested grimly. "The boy did say that all her spies were summoned back to their city, and that they all returned promptly. He also said that there were 100 of them, in all. How could so many people flee our land so easily, without us noticing? We should have seen ships on the horizon, or grach in the sky. We should have seen something."

"It could also answer the question of how there have always been spies in our land, though we've never known how they come and go so quietly," Timon continued. "Their Titans have probably been teleporting people to and from our land for hundreds of years. Shaaran, what can you tell us of this?"

"Nothing," she answered sadly. "I was only a girl when I left; and when I was there, I was only a slave. All I knew of Central Control was that they were in charge of me, and that they were allowed to beat me to death if I didn't obey them."

She paused, glancing at the ceiling. "In fact, I suppose few of the people know what goes on with Central Control. Like me, all they ever seemed to know was to fear and obey without question. And the boy was right—failure to obey immediately has always been rewarded with enslavement. The fields are a horrible place to be forced to work, and the salt mines are certainly a death sentence. What Central Control does has never been anyone's business but Central Control's, and so no one I knew ever dared to question them."

"The boy has a name, you know," Violet commented quietly. "It is Zan Garased. We all know it well by now, and we should use it. It's plain to me that few people ever have. We owe him nothing, but we owe him that, at least. He's still human."

"If you start doing that, you'll get overly attached to him," Bronden retorted. She looked back down at the book and frowned in puzzlement. "I can't believe that this whole slavery thing is real. For the people they wished to conquer, perhaps it is natural. But to turn on their own people like that? It doesn't make any sense to me!"

"Different people do things in different ways, Bronden," Rowan said calmly. "Of course we would never turn on each other like that; but we are a very small nation, and the Zebak are a very large nation. Once upon a time, it naturally suited them to enslave another people, so that their own could prosper the way they have. But then they made the mistake of separating us; they took their strongest slaves to war, left the weaker ones behind to work, and that plan foiled them in every way. The men and women we come from rebelled and won their freedom. Meanwhile, our missing, forgotten half languished and slowly dwindled away. They would have needed someone to keep up the work. The Titans began using the only reliable resource they had: their own people."

Shaaran shuddered. "By the time I was born, this practice was already bitterly common. I know little of what life was like beyond the compound, but I used to hear terrible stories from the people who were brought in to work in our place. Fresh workers would be brought in every other week, claiming that they had been condemned for crimes they hadn't committed. They said that things had been going terribly wrong in the city for many years, but were too afraid to elaborate when there were so many guards watching constantly."

Bronden snorted angrily. "Cannibals," she muttered.

Suddenly, Shaaran looked angry, herself. "I don't see how you can be so surprised by this. Norriss and I have been trying to warn you of this for years; instead, you complain that we're whining and being nostalgic. It's not my fault you always refuse to listen to us."

Not far away, John, Jiller, and Timon were all doing their best not to look at her. She noticed this and glared at them.

"Oh, don't look like that! You're all as bad as she is!"

"Who's as bad as Bronden?" called a gruff voice from beyond the door. Shaaran huffily turned to unlock it, and opened it to find Norriss and Annad waiting on the other side. Seeing the thunderous look on her face, they both looked startled. Maybe even lightly afraid.

"Well, someone has gotten on your bad side," her brother commented. "What's going on in here?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she said with a dangerous smile. "It's just that these people are for some reason taken by complete surprise by the rampant slavery in the east."

Norriss glanced at them all, looking unimpressed.

"Yeah, about that," he agreed flatly, letting his fiancée inside first. "The two of us were just having an unpleasant conversation about that."

"Bad memories," Annad said, hugging herself. "I'm glad I remember so little of it, and that what I do remember is faint. I do recall the situation being awful, but… I never realized it was as bad as Zan claims."

Norriss put his arm around her shoulders. She was clearly very uncomfortable, and needed a little support.

"Zan told us a little more on our way to the jail house, and it seems that I was right. Much has changed in the last 18 years," he said. "I had found his title curious, because he spoke of a division called the Night Watch. I had never heard of this before, and so I asked him what it was. Apparently, the queen learned well from your small invasion, Rowan. The Zebak once thought that there was no need to guard their defenses, because getting past as 50-foot wall of solid steel should be completely impossible. Yet four people did, somehow, and stole what she considers to be her rightful property. Therefore, her first mission as queen was to establish a guard at all times. There is a patrol for the day, and a patrol for the night—Day Watch, and Night Watch, respectfully. Zan's squad happens to belong to the Night Watch, which was part of the reason they were chosen. The assignment was for a night mission, and squad C-57 was already on duty. It just worked out that way."

"And he technically isn't part of his team, to begin with," Annad continued. "According to Zan, Night Watch members must be 16 years old, at least. But he is only 14 years old. A member of their squad was promoted recently, and squads must number ten in all. However, his older brother is squad captain, and so requested that Zan fill that position. He is only second-rank, because he hasn't graduated from his training yet; but as long as he is assigned to C-57, the squad is whole and functional."

John eyed them quizzically. "He volunteered all of this?"

Norriss shrugged. "He said again that we have a right to know. Also, it has brought him great peace to confide in someone. He seems to have led a sad and difficult life, and I can't say it surprises me much. There is more he shared with us."

"Speak, then."

Norriss blanched. "I always knew that Central Control liked to make sport of enslaving innocent people, but… I never knew before just how deeply it runs. According to Zan, Central Control is, at its core, an army of unwilling servants. Each and every one of its members is a slave."

"What?" the gathering exclaimed in unison.

Annad buried her face in her hands. "Oh, it is a terrible thing," she sobbed. "Long before our people came to their city, the whole establishment was enslaved by the Dragon Lord. Its members had begun to rebel against him, to abandon their posts, because they refused to do his evil will. And people no longer volunteered for it, because it had become cruel and terrible work."

Norriss tightened his arm around her. She looked ready to burst into tears.

"Therefore, the Dragon Lord enslaved what remained of his army, so that they could never escape," he continued for her. "And to rebuild what had been lost, he began a tradition of raiding the streets, snatching up random bystanders, and recruiting them. Whenever warm bodies run short, they simply haul the strongest looking people they can see off the streets and force them into service. Not even small children are safe from the snatchers, he says.

"And then, when it seemed he could humiliate them no more, the Dragon Lord took it one step further. To ensure that Central Control would stand for all time, he swore a solemn oath, bound by deep magic, that all their descendants would be enslaved, also. Any child born to an officer from that time forward would be doomed to be an officer, as well. And so Central Control would double—triple—grow to be ten times what it had been before.

"Zan said before that no Zebak walks free but the Dragon Lord. He did, indeed, tell nothing but the truth."

The rest of them were silent as they absorbed the story.

Finally, Rowan sighed. "He also said that he is the youngest son of the Garased family. No doubt, the Garaseds have been enslaved for many generations, now. So he was born to this fate, without a chance of escape. He really is just a victim of horrible circumstance."

"It hardly excuses anything," Bronden said loudly. "You can't go soft on him now! Not when—"

Annad interrupted her by stamping her foot hard on the wooden floor.

"It's not fair!" she wailed. "It's not fair that we can't help these people! No one should have to live like this. And Zan is only a child! He's just barely older than Star! How could anyone be so evil?"

It wasn't like her to be so sensitive, but these revelations had struck a tender place in her heart. She had narrowly escaped a similar fate, while thousands of people remained bound by enslavement. And this sort of injustice was something she could never tolerate. It baffled and hurt her that she had been so close to it and still so far away, and that there was nothing she could do about any of it.

Rowan had never liked it, either. And his sister's words gave him pause. While his own child had grown up happy and free, living a safe and comfortable life, someone else's child had been forced from birth to serve a cruel, evil master. It was strange and awful to think of.

"There was something else he mentioned, right before we left him," Norriss said slowly. "He told us not to be too afraid, because his brother already has a plan in place, and intends to take care of everything. I can't figure what he meant by that; but we had heard plenty for one day, and decided to join you as soon as possible. Even if his brother is captain of their team, I don't see how he has the power to take care of anything in particular."

Rowan was silent, thinking back to the previous night, making the connection. He had thought the boy's violet eyes had seemed familiar—he shared them with his brother. The captain of squad C-57, who had faced him with bitterness, and spoken with the barest hint of regret in his gruff voice.

There is nothing you can give us, now. We've already claimed what we came for.

The man who Zane had called Zamiel. Zamiel Garased, who apparently had a plan. And if he had a plan, then he had to have hope and defiance in his heart, no matter what he had been taught or told to do.

If this man could find hope, then Zeel could find it, too. Perhaps it wasn't much, but it was still there.

That will have to be enough for me, as well, he decided.

Another silence had fallen, while everyone absorbed this new batch of news, and he was glad of it. All the information had to be considered carefully, and no decision—even to do nothing—could be made lightly. At least his friends were taking it seriously, even though it was hard. It was a lot to ask from some of them, who were short-tempered, passionate, and quick to action.

John had never liked to stand around in deep discussion, carefully and patiently gathering information, when he could be busy forming a plan; he had always been much better at that. He was practical that way, always thinking toward the next step, and impatient to move to it as quickly as he could. He didn't like dwelling on present problems, when they could be solved with quick thinking and appropriate action. Being silent and patient in this moment was an obvious frustration to him. Having to rely so heavily on others for answers, realizing just how little he really knew, was also bothering him intensely.

Norriss was also impatient for action, and the day's many unsettling discoveries had nearly overwhelmed him. He suddenly had a lot to think about, and a lot riding on the decisions they would make in the next few days. His dear friend was in unimaginable peril, and that was bad enough; but he was also thinking of older friends, and the true bitterness they had known all their lives. He had spent years making pleas on their behalf, begging his own people to understand their trouble; and when his efforts had been met with harsh words, name-calling, and even threats, he had endured it gladly. After all this time, he was on the edge of validation.

And Bronden was just angry. All she really wanted was to punch something, and let a little of that rage out of her system. Her anger was almost beautiful, though, because it came from the very best place in her heart. For all her coldness, for all her insistence that there were no excuses, she felt genuinely terrible. Perhaps she even felt compassion. Without a practical way to act on it, she had no idea what to do with herself.

The rest of them were thoughtful and careful by nature, and so they found the silence an almost blessed relief. While there was silence, there was time for them to think clearly. Timon was a teacher, always looking for something new to learn and understand. Violet kept the books, and Shaaran kept the silks; they shared an appreciation for knowledge and truth. Jiller was wise and cautious, and would never allow her husband to act rashly or emotionally.

Together, they make an impressive and formidable team, Rowan decided. Many talents, one people. Whatever comes next, at least we will have each other.

At length, Jiller sighed and raised her head.

"So, what do we intend to do about all this?" she asked the gathering. "This news is all very grim, and it is still too early to make any real decisions, but we should at least have some sort of plan in place. And what if the Titan sends more men, on a mission to actually attack us? We must be prepared."

"If they attack us, we will fight," Bronden answered right away. "Or else, we can lock them up with their wayward friend. What more can be done?"

"She has a point," Timon agreed. "There's little else we could do, in that instance. Forming a plan is another issue, though. We've learned much of our enemy today, but little of it could be used to plan a rescue mission. I know the thought is in all our minds."

"We can't just leave Zeel to her fate," said Norriss. "Whatever the Dragon Lord has in store for her, it won't be pleasant. We have to do something. We have to get her back!"

"I don't think that is up for discussion; we all want to get her back. Our options are extremely limited, then. We can't teleport people across the sea. Flying would be dangerous, as we would have no cover and no protection, and would likely be shot out of the sky as soon as we were seen. And we clearly won't be able to sneak through the backdoor again, even under cover of darkness, as it is now heavily guarded at all times. I'm afraid that making a plan at this point would be pointless, Norriss. We can't exactly see the future, after all."

Annad looked up, her face alight with excitement.

"But we can, in a way," she exclaimed, and turned to her brother. "Rowan, speak to the other Titans. Speak to the sigil. Ask them for help. The Keeper can see all time clearly. And the sigil only speaks truth and wisdom. Surely, between all these things, you can come up with an idea or two."

Secretly, Rowan doubted this. The sigil hadn't failed him, but it had been guarding itself from his lately. The Keeper had admitted that the Crystal was giving him the same cold shoulder. And they still weren't sure where Mithren was, or what he was up to. If they were having so many problems with their own talismans, it was likely that the winds were being just as silent when their Titan called them.

Of course, he couldn't say this out loud. Not when his sister was so thrilled to have thought of a solution, and the others were all watching him with wild hope in their eyes. They must have been wondering how they could forget his very useful talents. He supposed that it was easy to forget, when he rarely used them, and lived such a modest, normal life.

Not one to disappoint, he forced an appreciative smile, hoping that his doubts weren't showing on his face.

"I shall do my best," he said.

"Don't look so sullen, boy," Bronden said gruffly. "Why, you of all people ought to be overjoyed! Oh, how could we not have thought of it, before? And how could you have forgotten to mention it, yourself?"

Rowan took the book and put it back in his pocket. "I hadn't forgotten," he answered, moving toward his study. "But the future is a precarious and fickle thing, always changing, never really set in stone. Perhaps knowing it could help us… Or we could meet it to find that it has already been changed by our actions, and is now quite different from what we had expected. You never can tell with the future. Trusting it is ill advised."

He stopped at the kitchen door to face his friends. "All the same, it will do us no harm at this point to try. I may need some time to do this properly, so if you have business to see to, by all means, go about it. We all need time to think over what has happened, and what we've learned today; and we each need to do so in our own ways. Take your time. Be sensible and reasonable. Sleep, if you can. Have faith, do not despair or be anxious. And don't let a word of this leave this house. We are angry and frightened enough; it won't help us if the people are upset."

His friends and family all nodded slowly, somewhat reluctantly. It seemed a poor place to end their meeting.

"We will meet here again in the morning," John said decidedly. "With luck, we will have at least some answers to our many questions. In the meantime, he is right. Not a word goes beyond that door."

He turned and fastened an urgent hand on his stepson's shoulder.

"Please tell me there is something I can do."

Rowan placed his hand apologetically on his, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. This is something I have to do on my own. Perhaps tomorrow will be different."

John was deeply disappointed, but kept it expertly hidden. "Very well then. I'm… I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I'll figure it out. I have to."

With that, John turned away and led the rest of the gathering out of the house. Everyone followed him quietly. All except for Annad, who lingered where she was, still hugging herself as if she were freezing.

"Annad, are you coming?" Norriss asked over his shoulder.

"No, I'll stay," she answered. "I should stay. Someone has to."

Understandingly, he nodded a farewell and walked out the door, closing it behind him. The brother and sister were alone.

"You know you don't have to do that."

"You need someone to spot you. It would do us no good for you to pass out and fall face first into a fire. And it doesn't suit you to be so alone, when you are so troubled. I'm glad to be here for you, brother."

Rowan offered her a tired smile. "That is true. Thank you, Annad. It means much to me."

She gave him a tired smile of her own, walked to put her arm around him, and led him down the hall.

"What are little sisters for, anyway?"

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Afterthoughts...

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Much like the compass, the sketch I made in my Word document of the Fire symbol doesn't translate well to ffnet. I will hopefully have it up on DeviantArt someday soon, along with other visual aids. ;D