Lena splashed Thadius again, smiling at his sputter of indignation. "You're it!" she said, swimming away. She stayed in the shallows so he'd have a fair chance, given how poor of a swimmer he was. Redden, watching from the beach, shouted encouragement at the boy, laughing at their game. Farther on, Kane and Orin sparred bare-handed. The guard appeared to be losing, but with good grace, stopping the fight often to question the monk on his technique.

She heard thunder and looked to the east, where a storm was moving in. She wondered when it would arrive. When she looked west, checking the sun's position in the sky, she noticed Jack standing by the cave mouth, shoulders hunched and hat pulled low, but then a wall of water hit her in the face.

"I win!" Thadius shouted, running inelegantly through the water toward the shore.

"Cheater!" she said, chasing after him, but she laughed as she said it.

When they were all standing together on the beach, it wasn't so much that she could sense Jack's glum mood - he hid it well - but that she felt the absence of a better one. The good humor of the others seemed to form a wall of warmth even as the breeze chilled her wet clothes, but that wall had a Jack-shaped hole in it. "We need to be away from this cave before nightfall," the mage said gruffly.

"You're not serious?" Kane chuckled.

The mage cut him low with a glare.

"You are serious." The guard deflated a little, eyeing the distant clouds. "She isn't willing to put up with us for a single night?"

"It's not that," Jack said. "Your father was right when he told you you'd spent an hour in that cave. I've only been in there a few minutes myself - how long have you waited out here for me?"

"Ages," said Thadius.

Kane cuffed the boy's shoulder, but not hard. "Long enough. Some magical trick?"

"The woman is bending the aether to manipulate time," Jack said. "It's given her unnaturally long life, but if we spend a night here, we could lose a week. According to her, we need to be in Pravoka within three days."

"Pravoka? What are we meant to do in Pravoka?" Kane asked.

"No idea."

They were ready to leave soon after. The witch came out of her cave long enough to bid them farewell. "Remember what I told you!" she called. Lena assumed the remark was aimed at her, but when she felt a surge of determination from both Kane and Thadius, she realized the witch must have had words of advice for each of them. She considered focusing her senses on Jack to see what he was feeling, but she heard him muttering under his breath at the old woman and concluded that she wouldn't like what she found there anyway.

Kane led the way, speaking quietly with Jack. The two older men brought up the rear. Thadius walked in the middle with Lena, trying to read his new book as he went. He'd bumped into her several times, and tripped at least twice, but he wasn't deterred. "The witch said I had to read it," he explained.

Her own words from the witch had been simple: "Stop looking at souls and start looking at people." It seemed like nonsense; the two were inseparable. But Matoya had a point. Hadn't she and Sarah talked about mending Jack's broken soul? Hadn't she tried to counsel Thadius through his grief without being asked? Even when she met the witch, her first instinct had been to call up her soul sight in an effort to find the cause of the woman's blindness.

She only wanted to help. The White Mage's Oath was very clear on the concept of using one's power to help others. But then again, white mage philosophy had a considerable amount to say about the idea of loving people just as they were and not as one wished them to be. Guilt pricked at her heart, just as it had when she'd sat before the witch. Trying to change people, even if I meant well… I haven't been a good friend, she thought.

Thadius held up a page for her to review and asked, "What's this bit mean?"

She stumbled, not used to walking and reading at the same time, but recovered quickly. "'Black magic from without remains without, while white may pass from soul to soul, within yet stays within.' Goodness, that's a mouthful. How old is this book?"

"The Adept's Grimoire has been around in one form or another for nearly two centuries," Lord Redden supplied from behind them.

"It shows!" She read a bit more of the page for context, then said, "I think that line is just a poetic way to describe the difference between white magic and black magic. Black mages draw on some of the aether around them, or 'without', and use it to affect the rest of the aether around them. White mages use their own aether, or their own soul if you like, and usually cast it directly 'within' another soul. There are other differences, of course, but that's the biggest."

The boy squinted first at the book and then at her. "So you use up a little bit of your soul every time you heal somebody?"

He sounded so horrified she had to laugh. "It isn't as terrible as it sounds. The power grows back. And I enjoy using my magic to help others. White magic comes from love, you know. You have to love people to be a good white mage."

"Even Father Todd? I don't think he loves people," Thadius said. Lena was surprised at the venom in his voice.

It was Redden who responded. "Father Todd is the best there is at relieving pain. He's the one they call when all other healing fails. When you have to watch people die as often as he does… It's hard on a healer. Surely you can understand why he seems angry."

"I guess," said the boy, though she could feel that he was sorry for his earlier remark. He turned his attention back to the book, though he was rapidly running out of daylight. Before long, he held up another page for Lena to see. "Here where it talks about the 'lifestream', is that supposed to be the aether?"

"I think so," she said. "It's probably a bad translation."

Thadius frowned. "What's it translated from?"

"Leifenish, of course."

"What's that?"

"Never heard of Leifenish?" Lord Redden said, sounding scandalized.

"Gods, now you've done it," Kane muttered in front of them, and suddenly began walking faster, leaving Jack behind.

Redden went on, "My boy! The Leifens were an ancient society of scholars and mages! Almost every spell we know today was perfected by them. Have you never heard the tale of the Fall of Leifen?"

Thadius shook his head.

The bard beamed, stepping up beside the boy and launching into an enthusiastic explanation. "Leifen was a great city, greater even than Cornelia! Now, according to the histories…"

Lena was distracted as Jack grabbed her hand and placed it in his arm as seemed to be his habit. The long-legged mage slowed his pace, and when the others pulled ahead a little ways, he said, "I needed to tell you something."

"And what if I wanted to hear the story?" she teased. His discomfort pricked at her, faint, like a whisper on the edge of hearing. "I'm only joking!" she said quickly. "I'm sorry. Please, say what's on your mind."

He spoke haltingly. "I wanted to apologize. For earlier. At the cave, I mean. It was wrong of me to eavesdrop."

She felt her face heat. How much did he hear? she wondered. "Don't apologize. Matoya was right."

He flinched as though her words startled him. "What? No, I…" he sighed. "I don't care what she said to you, my lady. What she said to me… She told me… Listen, I was only eavesdropping because I was worried… I mean to say…" He shook his head, sighing again, and lapsed into silence.

She smiled, giving his arm an encouraging pat. "Let's just catch up with the others."

He nodded, and she could feel the tiniest hint of relief from his as he resumed a more normal pace. All I've thought about is how to fix him, and he was worried about me! I really have been a terrible friend. She would do better. She was sure of it.

The forest was dark when they reached it, though Thad tried not to let on how uncomfortable that made him. The sun had not quite set, but the trees were full of spring growth, blocking out the fading light. The dark can't hurt me, he thought. Not with the others here. They made camp when it grew too dark to go on, somewhere on the northern shore of the lagoon they'd seen that morning. It wasn't bad once Jack had a fire going. The mage was good at fire - at least, he said he was - and this fire was big and bright and took the spring chill right out of the air.

Lena said, "Thadius, are you excited to be going back to Pravoka?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing for me there anymore."

"Nothing?" Kane asked. "You didn't leave any friends behind?"

"I didn't need friends. I had Pappy and Gram."

"It must have been hard for you when they passed," Redden said.

"I don't like to talk about it," Thad told him.

The bard nodded and quickly changed the subject, turning to his son to discuss the route they expected to take, studying the map.

He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said nothing was left in Pravoka for him. After Pappy vanished, his Gram had sold off most of what she owned bit by bit in order to keep the two of them fed. When she died, the captains' council had auctioned off the rest, including the house. Mayor Gordon had assured him he'd be taken care of, that she'd find him work on a ship when he was older and bigger, had even taken him into her home, but Thad had left at the first opportunity rather than watch some new happy family move into his Pappy's old house. That was more than a year ago, but even after all that time in Cornelia, the thought still stung.

After Orin portioned out food from their supplies, Thad pestered Kane into guiding him through a few sword training exercises. He paid special attention to everything the guard told him. The witch had said he'd need to know how to fight. When at last they finished and joined the others around the fire, he once more brought out the book she had given him. He'd no sooner sat down than thunder rumbled.

"I suspect this is going to be an uncomfortable night," Lord Redden said.

"Why? We have a tent, don't we?" Thad asked.

"We do, but it won't help much. Never camped in the rain, boy?" the bard said, pulling his pipe and tobacco pouch from his pocket.

"I've never camped at all until last night, sir."

He thought that perhaps Redden would light his pipe magically, and was disappointed when instead he lit a twig in the fire and set it to the pipe's bowl, puffing it alight. When this was done, the bard said, "The tent will keep the rain off our heads, yes, but the ground will be soaked by morning, and us with it. Mark my words. You can't stop water from flowing where it will."

"What about my book?" he asked. His very own book! He'd hate to ruin it so soon after acquiring it.

Lena smiled. "Most spellbooks are warded against water and fire. I'm sure yours will be fine. It's a variation of the Protect spell. Quite simple, really."

Protect… he'd seen that in the book. He flipped to the page that talked about it. "You know that one, right? You used it in the temple."

"Yes. It's a very basic spell, one of the first ones I ever learned."

"But…" He looked at the drawing on the page, a representation of the aether flow at work during the spell's casting, but to him it merely looked like a bunch of swirling lines. "But if you can make it protect a book from water damage, couldn't you make it keep the rain off of us too?"

Lena's eyes grew wide. "That's brilliant! Why hasn't anyone thought of that before?"

"They have," said Redden. "Mages have been trying to make it work for years. It's difficult to key it to something so specific, especially when a little rain is essentially harmless."

"That's… Excuse me. I need to try something." She pushed to her feet and walked off into the trees, her hands already glowing with white magic.

"Try not to empty yourself again!" Kane called after her. "I don't want to carry you all the way to Pravoka."

"I doubt she'll get anywhere with it," said Redden. "Better mages have tried and failed."

"Possibly none of them have spent as much time in the water as she has," said Orin. "Let her be."

Thad looked down at the Protect illustration again, trying to make sense of the description, but Redden said, "Come, put it away, boy. I'll show you how to set up the tent."

"Can I hear more about Leifen when we're done?" he asked.

"Of course," said the bard, seeming pleased by the request. "Anything you want to know."

Thad nodded, wrapping the book in one of his spare shirts and securing it in his pack. He was glad being a Warrior of Light wasn't all walking through the countryside and sleeping on the ground. Magic lessons, sword fighting, ancient legends from an actual court bard… this might be the best day of my life, he thought.

Kane felt a drip on his shoulder and rolled onto his side, trying to squeeze as much of himself as possible into the flimsy shelter without touching Lord Orin, who was already asleep. The monk could apparently sleep through anything. The oil-cloth tent, draped over a rope between two of the taller pines and secured by additional ropes at the corners, was not as large as the guardsman would have hoped. While it was ostensibly big enough for the six of them, Kane didn't think he knew any of his companions, including his father, well enough for the closeness it would have required to keep completely dry.

Jack obviously agreed with him; the mage had claimed the spot on the tent's opposite edge. Lord Redden lay beside him, with Shipman in the middle. Between Shipman and Lord Orin, an empty space waited for Lena, but the white mage was still in the trees a few feet away, experimenting with her spell. Occasionally, a white flash lit up the forest, but his father assured them these were perfectly normal effects considering what she was attempting to do.

The rain was light and gentle, pattering against the tent in a steady rhythm. It would have been a pleasant way to drift off to sleep, if not for the constant drips on his left shoulder. That, and Shipman's prattle. He'd been asking questions about Leifen for more than an hour.

"But how is it a dead language if so many people still use it for their spells and things?" the boy asked.

Lord Redden sighed. "Because they only use it for their spells. No one speaks it in their homes or businesses. Really, there are quite a few terms that we don't even know the Leifenish words for. Anything that doesn't come up in spellwork, for example."

"But why? Did the Leifens just disappear when the city was destroyed? Did they all die? How do we know what happened if they all died?"

"For Ramuh's sake, go to sleep, Shipman!" Kane hissed.

"Kane's right. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. You need your rest," said his father.

"Lena's still awake. How come she doesn't have to go to sleep yet?"

"Because she's not keeping the rest of us awake with her chatter!" Kane said.

"I'm not talking to you!" Shipman snapped. "Besides, I'm not sleepy!"

"I know the Leifenish word for sleep," said Jack, his voice quiet against the rain. "Would you like to hear it, Thad?"

"Oh, yes! That would be great! I ought to learn Leifenish, you know, if I'm going to learn magic. The witch told me-"

"Gahluhdi," said Jack, a green flash accompanying the strange word. There was a tiny thump, as of a small boy falling back against his blankets in the dark, and then the gentle sound of Shipman's snores.

Kane sat up, looking over at the mage just as the green corona left his eyes. "I'm afraid that will wear off well before dawn," Jack said.

"That was amazing," Kane whispered.

"If you tell Lena about this, I'm spending the next one on you." The mage rolled over, turning his back on them.

"Hush now, both of you," Lord Redden said, chuckling.

Kane smiled, pulling his pack in for a pillow, and moving ever so slightly closer to Orin to escape the rain. "Goodnight, father," he said, closing his eyes.

His mother stood between him and the creature. Jack could still hear its laughter, sharp and piercing, could still see the way the firelight reflected off the swords it carried, could still smell the smoke. "Fool woman!" it hissed at her, its voice rasping like a thousand coiling snakes. "You cannot defeat me! The time of prophecy has come! You will die first!"

Don't, he pleaded with himself. Don't make a sound. Don't. But the dream played out exactly as it had in reality: the boy he had been shouted, "No!"

His mother turned at the sound of his voice - I should have stayed at the house, he thought. I shouldn't have followed her - and the creature rushed toward her. She faced it again at the last possible second, her hastily erected Protect taking the brunt of the charge. The spell shuddered as the creature fought against it, pushing his mother to her knees.

It's my fault, he thought.

"Jack?" another voice said, somewhere in the night.

The creature laughed that whistling laugh again. "You're weak, witch! What makes you think you can defeat me?"

My fault.

"Jack, wake up!"

He started awake, panting as though he'd sprinted a mile. The scarf smothered him and he clawed at his face, ripping the cloth roughly away as he took great gulping breaths. He saw a woman in a white hood leaning over him, and he let out a strangled cry, too shocked to move. His heart thudded in his chest like a wild thing in a cage.

"Jack," she said, but it wasn't his mother's voice. "Please, you're dreaming. You're only dreaming."

"Lena," he said, remembering where he was. The tent made a crude sort of roof above him, open to the forest on the sides. Beside him, Lord Redden stirred, but didn't wake. It was raining still, lightly, the steady drip of it drumming across the tent cloth and rippling the lagoon. The moon hung above the water, turning the gray clouds silver.

"I'm here," she said softly. She reached out to him, her hand pale in the moonlight, but he pulled hastily away.

He didn't trust himself to speak, only shook his head. Grabbing his hat from where he'd left it, he rolled out of the tent and made his way to his feet. She didn't follow. He walked toward the lagoon, slipping a little on the wet ground, trying to control his breathing, feeling his heart pound.

It had been a long time since he'd had the dream. Before he'd left the Lake at least. Four months ago? Almost five? He wasn't sure. He knew it was because of his conversation with the witch that day, stirring memories he usually left alone. The witch said I have to tell them, he thought. I have to tell them all of it. But with the dream so vivid in his mind, he could barely breathe.

He sat below an old pine near the lagoon's edge, watching the rain drip off of his hat brim. He shivered, even with his coat on, and summoned up just enough of his power to keep warm as he focused on not feeling the fear the dream had recalled to him.

He almost felt normal again when she sat beside him, holding out his scarf, not looking at his face. He took the blue cloth, but didn't put it on. He wanted to breathe free of it a while longer. She sat quietly, looking out across the water. She seemed to shimmer, and he realized he was seeing the rain hit her Protect spell and drizzle away.

"You've done it, the rain spell," he said.

Her eyes flicked toward him slightly, and she smiled as she looked away again. "Not quite. I can't get the duration right. It's only good for a few minutes. But I was getting frustrated with it. I was on my way to bed when I felt…"

When she felt my mindless panic, he finished for her.

"Anyway, I'll try again tomorrow," she said.

"I'm sorry you felt that," he told her, looking at the lagoon again rather than watching her try so hard not to look at him. "I try to keep such feelings to myself when I'm awake. I just… I'm sorry."

"Jack," she said, and he felt her hand on his shoulder. When he looked back at her, she was watching him, but her green eyes were full of kindness. "Don't ever be sorry for what you feel."

He held her gaze, waiting for her eyes to wander down toward his scars, but they never did. She thinks I've never lied to her, he thought, remembering what Matoya had said. If she asks about the dream, I'll have to tell her. Panic threatened to seize him again: he wasn't ready. Say something, you idiot. Anything! He twisted the scarf in his gloved hands and spoke the first thought that came to his mind. "Lena… Can you Cure my scars?"

She drew her brows together in confusion. "Has no one ever tried before?"

"They have," he said. "But there aren't many white mages where I'm from, and none as powerful as you."

She jerked her hand away as if he'd burned her. "You can tell how powerful I am?"

Strange, he thought. Perhaps her own power frightened her. He remembered Father Branford had said she was powerful enough that she might be a danger to herself. And others… She's afraid she'll hurt someone. "Any black mage who looked at you can. It's visible in the aether sight."

She grew quiet, and he looked at the lagoon again. Idiot, he thought, figuring he had said exactly the wrong thing. When she moved, he assumed it was to leave him, to head back to the tent without a word, but instead she knelt in front of him.

She looked directly at his scars now, extending her hand cautiously toward the left side of his face, resting it lightly on the uneven ridges of his jaw, her thumb grazing the crooked corner of his mouth. Her fingers were cold - the cool spring rain glistened on her white hood and he realized the Protect spell had worn off some time ago - but when she began casting, he could feel a gentle warmth spreading out from her glowing palm. She closed her eyes, concentrating, and then she was finished.

He knew even before she sat back, shaking her head, that it hadn't worked. "I'm sorry," she said. "They're so old, and so deep – it would take more power than I have."

"It's alright," he said, wrapping the scarf he still held back in its proper place.

"Maybe if I'd been there when it happened, maybe if I wasn't just an apprentice… I'm sorry." She sighed, seeming far more upset at the outcome of the spell than he felt.

"It's alright," he repeated. "Thank you for trying." She shivered in the rain, but stayed with him. "Hold still," he said, casting the warming spell he'd used on himself earlier.

"Oh!" she gasped when it settled on her. "That's a nice spell!"

"It's the least I could do. Shall we rejoin the others? Try to get some sleep?"

"Yes," she said. "Though, I honestly don't know if I'll be able to. Do you ever stay up so late that you're not tired anymore?"

He chuckled, helping her to her feet. "I know a sleep spell, if you like."

She brightened at the suggestion. "Really? Does it actually work?"

"Yes, my lady. I was thinking of using it on myself. I know for a fact that it will put you to sleep right away." He was glad his face was covered so she couldn't see his grin.

Author's Note: I was working on a novel, you know. A serious one, with an original plot that I actually made up in my own imagination and everything. I say "working on" rather than "writing" because no writing was taking place. I would stare at the empty document screen with my hands resting on the keyboard and think about what a horrible human being I am, lacking even the ability to string words together.
DizzyRedhead, my BFF, said, "You should write fan fiction. It's low pressure – no one expects it to be literature – and it has a built-in fan base." I dug out the ten-year-old notes for this Final Fantasy story that I NEVER planned to write and, well, just started writing. Now here we are, 15 weeks in. Just look at all the words!