Milori woke up in Dewey's library. "Where am I?" He groaned, sitting up.

"Be careful." Dewy shook his head, sitting next to the ruler of Winter. "Your bird managed to grab you before the avalanche crashed down on you. He brought you back here. You are lucky to be alive. The sheer amount of power you had to use should have completely drained you."

"It did." Milori held out his hand, trying unsuccessfully to summon even a tiny bit of frost.

"Well, almost. If it had drained you of everything, you'd be dead… er."

Frowning, Milori rolled his eyes. "Wow, thanks Dewy. I'm not dead yet, I still have a lot of life in me." Standing up, Milori's knees buckled and he fell to the ground with a groan.

"Hm." Dewy turned away, rifling through a book.

Glaring at his friend, Milori growled, "Not. A. Word."

Shrugging, Dewy attempted to put on an innocent expression. "What? I didn't say'a nothin'." Turning back to his books Dewy grabbed one with a triumphant, "Ha!" Grinning, Dewy held the thick tomb up. "Found it."

"What?" Milori rubbed his temple with one thin hand.

Ignoring him, Dewy flipped the book open, tracing his hand down the page. "Hm, this might help." He muttered and sat next to the Lord of Winter.

"What?" Craning his neck, Milori glanced behind himself as Dewy grabbed the base of his broken wing. Yelping, the lord of Winter leapt away. "What the heck was that for?!"

"Try summoning frost now."

Holding up his hand, Milori gasped when he was able to bring frost onto his palm. "How did you do that?" He asked in excitement.

"I shot some of my power through you. It won't heal you, but it should help your body to start rejuvenating your own magic."

"Thank you Dewey, you are a good friend." Milori tried to stand but immediately, his legs buckled and he fell back down.

"You shouldn't be a'movin' Lord Milori." Dewey frowned. "You are still far too weak, rest here for now."

"I can't Dewey, I must check on the girls, make sure they are alright."

Sighing in annoyance, Dewey made a strange gesture with his hand, dust flew out of his palm hitting the Lord of Winter, who fell unconscious. "One of the benefits of being the Keeper of all knowledge: I know many tricks." Dewey shook his head and lay a blanket over Milori before walking out of the room quietly.

Periwinkle ran into Dewy's library, her face streaked with tears. "Dewy!" She screamed, "Dewy, come quick!"

"What is it?" The old fairy exclaimed as he hurried out from behind a pile of books.

"It's Lord Milori! I think he's dead!"

"What makes yah think that?"

"He stopped an avalanche from killing me, Gliss, and Spike, but it fell on top of him! He's buried." Tears ran down Peri's cheeks and she buried her face in her hands.

"Don't yah worry," Dewey sighed, he's fine. His bird saved him."

"Is he here!" Peri's eyes glinted with hope, "Is he alright?!"

"Well… no, he is very weak. Stopping that avalanche almost killed him."

Bawling, Peri choked out, "It's all my fault!"

"No, it's not! And don't you be a'thinking that!" Taking her hand, Dewey pulled her into a separate room and pointed to where Lord Milori lay fast asleep on the ground. Pei gasped when she saw him. He was much paler than normal and a blanket was thrown around him.

"He's alive." She whispered, being careful not to wake him.

"Yes, he was insisting he go and check on you girls, but I made him rest. No need to be so quiet, he won't be a'waking up any time soon."

"When he was keeping the avalanche from hitting us, he could have flown away but didn't… Why?" Peri looked at the Keeper curiously.

"Now Periwinkle, don't you be a'repeating this," Dewy said carefully, knowing that she deserved some sort of explanation. "the Lord Milori has been very sick for hundreds o'years. By right, he should be dead by now, it's only stubbornness that has kept him alive. It is because of this… sickness… that he flies a bird. It is not your fault that he almost became buried in the snow. It is the fault of the sickness."

"It makes it difficult for him to fly?"

"Erm- in a way."