No matter how much time that passed, Fenris would never be able to tell you what happened immediately after the flames engulfed Anna. The horror of the sight erased all memory from his mind apart from just that: Anna burning. It was an image that was to haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. How much time that passed, he would not be able to tell you either for he came back to himself sitting on an uncomfortable foot stool by a bed in the arena infirmary, staring in horror and despair at the bandaged body lying in it. She looked like a mummy, swathed in bandages from head to toe. He wanted to hold her hand, but did not dare for fear of hurting her. How she could possibly still be alive, he didn't know. But there she was; still breathing. The healers held her in a magical coma, and the healing sessions were around the clock. Even her mind was silent; he could sense the bond aching with dark grief and bright red pain between them, but he could not hear her thoughts. He ignored the healers as they came and went, unaware of the healing magic pouring into Anna as much as they dared. All he knew was that she hung between life and death, her golden hair burned away, her skin black and cracked. He dared not close his eyes, for all he saw was fire. He did not know how bad the damage was, as he did not recall seeing her before she was covered in gauze and he was too focused on the slow rising and lowering of her chest, but with every breath she took his heart stuttered with fear that it would be her last. His eyes burned with tears he was too stubborn to let fall, as he stared at the remains of his templar. She looked so small, so helpless, in that bed. And he could do nothing to help her. What sort of mage was he, he thought, furious at himself. What sort of mage was he, who could not ease his templar's suffering? The skin on his hands tingled. He looked down, and saw to his shock that they were glowing with blue light like that night on the street. A light he had not seen since then. He looked at Anna, then back at his hands, then at Anna again. She had told him he was a mage. He had a mental bond with a templar, had lost his heart to her laughing eyes, his soul was ensnared in her golden hair. He was her mage. And here was his… power, glowing as brightly as any light. And for once, he did not hate it, did not want it gone. Did not wish he had never received it. Maybe, he could use it to help Anna. His Anna, who lay still and lifeless, wrapped in so many cloths and bandages it looked like she was wrapped in a shroud. As if she was already dead.

He stood up slowly, reaching out to touch her with a shining hand. The tingle in his skin became a throbbing ache, and he laid his hand on her bandaged arm. He had no idea what to do or what to expect, but the humming sound that filled his ears still shocked him. The light grew in intensity until he had to close his eyes, and in his mind he saw Anna as she had been the first time he had seen her. Laughing, teasing, tempting, beautiful and irresistible. He wanted that Anna back. Wanted his Anna, their child, the freedom she had won them when she slew the dragon. If he had been aware of anything but the image in his mind and the throbbing in his hands, he would have seen the bright blue light engulfing Anna from head to toe like the fire had, slowly but surely sinking into her body and making it shake and writhe from the torrent of magic that swept through it, that healed bones and mended flesh. He could not hear Anna's shrieks of agony as cracked, burned flesh gave way to new, pink skin and hair grew from a scalp that mere minutes before had been so badly burned the healers feared for the state of her skull. All he was aware of was that he wanted his Anna back. He poured everything he had into that desperate wish, and as his legs gave out on him and he sank into exhausted unconsciousness, far away he could hear the giggling of an infant.

The healers crowded into the room, whispering amongst themselves in confusion and awe.

"A spirit healer" one whispered, "he is a spirit healer."

"Powerful, too powerful. Check the patient."

"Get a stretcher."

"What if he is burned out?"

"Then he will be useless."

"Look! Look at her skin!"

"Is that… hair?"

"Deep tissue?"

"No damage. Lungs working. Heart beating. Womb… mostly repaired. Amazing."

"Lasting damage though, even with a spirit healing."

"How?"

"They say love-"

"Don't be silly, he is an elf. And a slave."

"But still…"

"Where is that blasted stretcher?"

Fenris was unaware, sprawled on the floor in a state of so severe exhaustion he would not have been able to rise even if a dragon had set him alight. And Anna? Anna slept. And healed.

Time passes differently in the fade, hours seem to be mere minutes and days crawl by like years. Anna didn't know how long she had wandered in this red mist, where she was or how to get back. All she knew was that with each step her feet felt lighter and the pain increased. There was no path, no way of discerning if she was heading in the right direction, the wrong direction or just plain walking in circles. The mist was all around her and it did not thin nor thicken no matter how far she walked. She felt as if she had walked for an eternity that had passed in just a few seconds, and she wished more than ever she could just wake up. She tried to sense Fenris but the bond that had been so bright between them was frail and frayed, nearly burnt through and little more than a tether binding them together precariously. If she pulled too hard on her only current connection to reality it might break and then she would truly be lost in this nothingness, forever wandering. But she had to believe that she would find her way out, find the path back, back to life and sun and love and freedom. Back to her baby and her mage and a body wracked with agony, burnt so badly she wondered if maybe she had died and that was why she was here. But if she had died, then why could she feel her heart beat, still sense Fenris? Shouldn't there be nothing. And why was it red? Should she not be wandering in darkness, if she was dead? She tried to call out for help but it was as if the mist stole her voice, letting no sound escape her lips. Anna wandered on, through the red nothingness. Somewhere there was a path. And she would find it.

Fenris sat up slowly, feeling nauseous and dizzy at the movement but pressing on nonetheless. He lay in a bed similar to Anna's, in the same room she was kept in. If he turned his head, he could see her bandaged face. There were less bandages now than there had been when she was brought in, but nonetheless plenty of them. He had heard the whispers of the healers, how they had called him spirit healer and creator and said that he was powerful, dangerous, and unstable. Let them say what they wanted: they could not deny that he had saved Anna's life, that he had healed damage they had decreed permanent and unfixable. That he had saved the child within her, a child that was growing healthy and strong in Anna's damaged body, getting stronger every day. The problem was that although the baby grew stronger, Anna seemed to weaken at the same pace. As if the child took its strength from her, draining and slowly killing her. Fenris stood on shaky legs and slowly made his way over to her, desperate to touch her even if only for a moment. His legs immediately gave out on him and he ended up in an ungraceful heap on the floor. But that was alright; using his elbows for traction, he pulled himself across the floor until he lay, panting and whimpering from exhaustion, beside her bed. Slowly he pushed himself up, using the foot of the bed as an aid, until he could collapse onto the bed next to her. She lay immobile, unaware of the world around her. He moved as close as he dared, carefully placing his arm over her chest, his hand resting on the slight curve that was their baby.

"Come back to me" he whispered into her hair, thin and brittle and a whitish yellow now that it was growing out again. "Anna. Come back to me."