Mount Gulug, Fifteen Years Ago

"Did you have a plan, my lady?"

Iris cried out, springing up from where she had bent over her bag, stowed in the bottom of the canoe. The river that circled the mountain lapped against the bank. The stones of the rocky shore she stood upon shifted beneath her feet at the motion, but Cedric's hand was behind her, steadying her, before she even came close to falling.

She hadn't heard him approach, his boot-steps as soft as his voice always was. When she turned what she hoped was an exasperated glare on him, he merely crooked an eyebrow at her. As much expression as a tame wolf, thought Iris. His leather coat was dusty - the slopes of Mount Gulug were nothing but ash, scree, and sand - but the filth only made him look travel-worn, a man of the road with his sword strapped to his back, seeking adventure and fortune. Her annoyance at being startled faded as she imagined him so, until she found she had to force back a laugh - he was no adventurer, was as much a child of the city as she was - but then he cocked his head in apparent confusion at the face she made, making her laugh after all.

"I thought I might wait by the boat," she said, brushing a bit of the dust off of her white robe, which did nothing for the mess. She didn't know if the volcanic ash would wash out, and resigned herself to the fact that the robe was likely ruined. "Really, Cedric, you can explore with the others. I'll be fine."

He shook his head, as she knew he would. She was the only reason he was here. Black mages swore an oath to use their powers "to build, to guide, and to guard," but she'd never known a black mage to take that last part so seriously. Of course, she'd never known another battle mage. No others had fled Cornelia with them, and there were none at Crescent Lake.

"Suit yourself," she said bending over her pack once more, digging out the spellbook she'd brought to study while the others sought the source of the disturbance in the aether that the Circle of Sages had sensed three days ago. The Circle wasn't taking any chances: Our death will come from that mountain. Her father's prophecy had said so, but did not say how.

Their three companions, only a short time gone, had already disappeared from view over a slope in the mountainside. The mountain rumbled, as it had often during their journey toward it from the Lake, more so in the hour since they'd arrived at its base, smoke billowing from its peak. The Circle claimed they'd seen no eruptions in their scryings of the future, but the ground shook and groaned in a way that made Iris look up at the mountain in apprehension. "Can you see where the others have gone?" she asked, unable to mask the worry in her voice.

Cedric nodded, looking in the direction the other black mages had taken. His eyes lit up blue-green, flicking back and forth across the mountainside as he read the aether. "Their trails are clear," he said. "Would you like to follow them?"

"No." She had nothing to offer here unless one of the black mages was injured, had only come with them to satisfy the Sages' superstitions: it was considered unlucky, tempting fate, to send out a research team without a white mage.

Cedric nodded again, but the corona remained in his eyes as he looked around them. She had a memory of him as she'd first seen him, standing in the foyer of the manor house in Cornelia when her brother Benjamin had brought him along on a visit from Black Hall. It was a Midsummer festival, and she had come down the stairs when she heard Benjamin arrive only to find Cedric, a low-born boy with no family of his own, looking about her well-appointed home in both wonder and apprehension.

That was not what he was feeling now, if Iris was any judge. He'd been less stoic back then, so she couldn't be sure. He's bored, she thought. Surely he must be bored. "Perhaps," she said, but stopped. Perhaps I'd like to explore after all, she'd been about to say, but that would have been a lie. She looked up the mountain once more, saw movement in the sky off to her left. "Perhaps we might go see what those buzzards find so interesting over there."

"Lead the way, my lady," he said.

"I'm not a lady," she said. Not anymore. "Not all the way out here."

He only looked at her, and this time she hadn't the slightest inkling what was on his mind.

They followed the water. It seemed the easiest path - away from the river, the ground sloped up sharply. She walked confidently toward the birds she'd seen, knowing Cedric scanned the aether as they went, knowing he would draw his sword at the first hint of danger. She didn't question him when he reached out and tugged her hand sharply, bringing her to a stop - she trusted him that much - but she did glance back at him, then followed the path of his still-glowing gaze to a spot farther up the mountainside.

She saw the body, then. A child's body, badly burned. She almost missed it, for it was so filthy it was as black as the stones it lay upon, but once she'd seen it she could focus on nothing else. Almost reflexively, she called up her soul sight, expecting to see nothing.

A tiny, blue flame seemed to call out to her.

"He's alive," she breathed. She pulled against Cedric's hand, felt some resistance there, ripped free of him. "Cedric, he's alive!"

"My lady!" he called out from behind her as she ran.

She barely heard him run after her, quiet as always, but she was casting the first Cure before her knees hit the ground. She worried it would slide off and away from him - it seemed to pool around his soul as if it wouldn't go in - but then the unconscious boy gasped in her arms as the spell seeped inside.

Again, she thought, casting another. Please, Lord Bahamut, let it work. He wants to live - I'm sure of it. But there was so much to heal: burns, infection, dehydration, exhaustion.

By the fifth spell, the boy didn't wake. "Please!" she begged aloud. I need more. She opened herself to the aether, sent her senses out fumbling blindly for it. She was no black mage, couldn't see it, but she had learned long ago that she could draw the aether in, painful though it was for her to do so. There's nothing here. She turned to Cedric, found him nearby as expected, but with his sword drawn, corona gone the color of starlight, a white flame, as he looked quickly from side to side. "Cedric!" she cried to get his attention. "I need more aether! Where is it?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you. There's none here. Something's wrong with this place."

"Can you draw any over to me?" she asked.

"Iris…"

"Please!" she said again.

He closed his eyes, one hand raising his sword so that the flat of the blade rested against his forehead, the other making a sign in front of him. His eyes still glowed when he opened them again. "Draw what's immediately around you. I'll tell you when you're running low."

She gritted her teeth against the pain as the free aether grated against her like a hot, searing wind. She felt the corona spring up like a dryness in her eyes as it passed into her soul. It wasn't enough. She choked on a sob. "We have to get him back to the Lake. I can't fix this!"

Cedric knelt beside her now. She hadn't seen him put his sword away, but he must have done so, for he put both hands on her shoulders. "Iris, you know what your father said. Our death will come from this mountain." His voice, as usual, was as calm as a night breeze.

She could not keep her own voice steady. "I don't care! He's only a child!"

He nodded once, acknowledging, accepting, then turned and slipped his arms beneath the boy, standing smoothly as though the burden weighed nothing. Cedric looked back at her, waiting.

She reached down, meaning to push herself to her feet, but found her hands full of feathers. She noticed for the first time the buzzard sleeping on the ground beside her. Another lay just beyond the first, and another past that. Now that she wasn't preoccupied with the boy, in fact, she noticed what seemed to be an entire flock of buzzards sleeping peacefully on the black stone slope.

Not sleeping, she realized. Drained.

Iris looked up at the boy in Cedric's arms. "Cedric… I think he's like you…"

She had no trouble reading the sadness in Cedric's face.

Elfheim, Present Day

Thad set his empty bowl on the tabletop. The long rectangular table was clean but plain, in the servants' dining hall across from the kitchen, near the door where they had entered the castle. That was the sort of thing Thad paid attention to - you never knew when you'd need to exit in a hurry. The kitchens were busy at this time of day - still cleaning up after lunch, already preparing the dinner meal - but the three of them had the dining hall to themselves. "Are you going to eat that?" Thad asked.

Lena yawned again, looking down at her bowl of soup as if surprised to see it there. "Hmm? Oh, no, Thadius. Help yourself."

He shoved his own bowl aside to pull hers over. It was nearly half full.

"Are you sure you won't have more, miss?" Elleth asked. "Or would you like me to show you to your quarters?"

"I wouldn't mind a nap," Lena said.

"Very well." Elleth stood, regarding Thad speculatively. "Will you be alright on your own until I get back?"

"I'm fine," he said, or would have, had his mouth not been full. It came out as a crude mumble, but Elleth seemed to get the idea.

When they were gone, he worked through the remains of Lena's meal, then checked Elleth's bowl for more. She'd left a few good spoonfuls behind. He waited at the table, looking about the room. The walls were hung with tapestries that might once have been valuable but appeared old and faded, possibly moth-eaten in at least one spot that Thad could see; they were likely castoffs from elsewhere in the castle, fit only to brighten up the servants' halls. One of them depicted a great tree that seemed to hold a whole world in its branches; another showed a beautiful elf woman in a golden crown, extending her hand to a human man with long blond hair. Thad wandered up for a closer look.

"That's Asura," said a voice near the door. Thad looked, and found the cook's apprentice who had brought them their meal, an elf boy no older than himself but taller than Lena.

"Who?" Thad asked.

"Asura, goddess of life, mother of the elves. And that's her husband, Erdrick," said the apprentice as he came into the room and picked up the empty bowls from the table.

"So, the father of the elves?"

"That's him."

"Huh." He looked up at the image of the smiling goddess. "Is it a happy story?"

"Sure," said the apprentice. "Right up until Erdrick died, being a mortal man and all. Asura chose to die with him."

"Oh." Thad hadn't realized someone could have a choice in the matter. In the picture, the man, Erdrick, looked almost worshipful as he reached up toward the woman. "How did she die?" Thad asked, but there was no answer. He looked behind him, but the apprentice had gone. These elves move too quietly, he thought.

He looked at some of the other tapestries, busy battle scenes that he couldn't make heads or tails of, and soon grew bored, wondering when Elleth would return, deciding at last that he would find his way back to Gollor's study on his own.

He hardly got lost at all. The castle didn't seem to be laid out in any sort of pattern, but that simply meant none of the halls looked the same, so it was easy to sort out whether he was walking in a place he hadn't seen before. When he turned a corner that he was sure led back to the corridor that held Gollor's study, he saw them ahead of him, Jack and Gollor, striding swiftly away. Gollor carried a bulky cloth sack. Jack carried a lantern. At the end of the hallway, Gollor looked both ways before turning left, motioning Jack to follow quickly, though neither of them bothered to look behind.

They're sneaking... Thad realized. He was a thief - he knew sneaking when he saw it. He wondered if he should follow them, then wondered what he would do if he didn't. Wait around for them to come back, I suppose, he thought. No, thank you!

Hanging back to be sure he wasn't noticed, he nearly lost them in the twisting hallways once or twice, but it didn't seem to occur to the two men that they might be followed, and they talked the whole way through the castle, making it easier for Thad to keep track of them.

"It's almost never used," Gollor said, standing before a heavy-looking door as he flipped through a ring of keys, holding first one then another up to the light of a torch set in the wall. "A few of the apprentices use it for practice, but we haven't had need of a real ritual since, oh, it must be fifteen years ago by now."

A ritual? They're planning a ritual? Thad almost gasped in excitement, but stifled the noise before he could attract unwanted attention. He knew all about ritual spells - there was a whole chapter on them in his book.

"It's still impressive," said Jack. "Even in Crescent Lake, we don't have a permanent ritual circle. Apprentices are expected to draw one in chalk every time they need it."

Gollor chuckled, finding the right key at last. It turned soundlessly in the lock. "If the masters at Crescent Lake want to stand over their students as they practice their drawings, that's well and good. Around here, we have other things to do with our time." The door opened with barely a creak, closing just as quietly behind them as they slipped inside.

Thad hurried to the door and held his ear against it. He waited until he was sure they'd moved on before trying the latch, but it seemed Gollor had locked it behind him. Thad sighed, checking his pockets. It never hurt to keep interesting things in one's pockets. Among the coins and cards and oddly shaped pebbles he'd picked up here and there, he found something that would work: the star-shaped pendant he'd acquired that morning had points just long and thin enough to serve as a reasonable pick. It took only moments of fiddling before he heard the tumblers slide into place.

The door opened onto a set of stairs, leading down into a basement so dark Thad almost turned back, but at the bottom of the stairs, he could see a long hall with many doorways, none with doors on them, and the closest of these was dimly lit. The lantern? Thad thought. The doorway wasn't far from the lowest step - he could always turn back later, and he could leave the door at the top of the stairs open for more light.

Quickly and quietly, Thad crept down the stairs. He was able to hear the mages again before he'd gone halfway, and that bolstered his courage again: he wasn't alone after all. Gollor asked a question Thad didn't completely catch, but he heard Jack's reply: "It's not dissimilar to something I did in Cornelia a few weeks ago. I had to track someone who had Teleported out of the city."

That was when they had rescued the princess. Now that Thad knew more about magic, he thought he understood what Jack had done that night, following the princess's aura trail. Lena had taught Thad about auras: every living thing had one, a bit of aether that they carried around inside them, and they left some of that aura behind on everything they touched and everywhere they went. But only a black mage could see the auras in the aether. Even weak ones who weren't good enough to cast real spells were sometimes sought out by people trying to find lost items and such.

Jack went on, "But you're right: this is an order of magnitude more complicated."

Thad edged up to the doorway, peeking into the room. It was plain, unfurnished, with bare stone walls and cobwebs in the corners, but the floor seemed like something out of one of Pappy's stories: an ornate mosaic of fine, tiny tiles that glittered in the lantern light, patterns of color surrounding, at the room's center, a circle of mirrored glass as wide as Jack was tall. The two mages knelt on opposite sides of it, arranging herbs in shallow grooves in the floor, like built-in bowls. There were two more bowls situated around the circle, making for one at each of the four compass points.

It was nicer than Thad expected. His book had described rituals as being messy, but the way the mages worked to arrange the herbs just so around that perfect circle seemed very organized to Thad. The herbs would give off the aether of the once-living plants when they were burned, and the aether of the room would be affected in different ways depending on the plants involved. The symbols in the floor were meant to funnel the aether toward the mage in the circle, allowing weaker mages to pull more aether than they could on their own. But Matoya said Jack was a strong mage, Thad thought. How much aether does he need?

"You knew what you were seeking then," said Gollor. "Now you're looking for an unknown quantity through five years of aether. I wouldn't think less of you if you backed out now."

"I would," said Jack. He finished arranging the herbs and stood, facing the older mage. "Are you sure you're willing to help with this? It won't be pleasant."

Gollor looked grim. "I've seen this ritual fail too many times already. I will lend you whatever power I can."

From inside his coat, Jack drew a knife that Thad didn't even know the fire mage had. "Let's get started, then." He held the knife in front of him in one hand, making a sign with the other. His eyes lit up red briefly as the contents of the four bowls began to smolder, but then the corona deepened into a wicked-looking purple, and when he spoke again, it was in Leifenish, in a strong, clear voice that Thad would never have thought his normally quiet friend was capable of.

Gollor joined him, speaking just as loudly, his own eyes glowing with the use of black magic. Thad had heard Redden use power words before - evoking something's true name to focus the aether around it - and he'd read about incantations, which came of stringing power words together, but this was bigger than that. The chant went on and on, and though Thad listened carefully, he couldn't detect any repetition.

Thad's heart beat faster. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, and a feeling that he was being watched. He looked behind him, up the stairs toward the door he'd left open and the cheerfully bright light of the well-lit hall beyond it, but there was no one there. He glanced at the other doorways in the basement hall, and their gaping darkness seemed to stare back at him. Anything could be hiding there. He forced himself to turn his attention back to the room in front of him. It shouldn't be frightening, he thought. It's only Jack and an old man. They weren't doing anything but talking, really, even if he couldn't understand the words.

He felt a breeze flowing past him, yet it didn't ruffle his hair. Not a breeze, he realized. The aether! He could feel it, so much of it, moving so fast, rushing toward the ritual circle like a charging beast. Around the circle's edge, the symbols in the floor began to glow with a ghostly shimmer, shades of blue and green and purple. Purple is the color of time, Matoya had said, and blue is the color of seeking.

Wait... Are they really glowing? Or am I seeing the aether? He couldn't tell. It was all so strange. The aether breeze rose in intensity, pushing him into the doorframe, as if it would blow him into the room. It seemed to pull at his skin and clothes, like a hundred pinching fingers, and he gasped at the sensation. In the circle, Gollor cried out, falling to his knees. Jack kept chanting, but his once-clear voice became strained. Flames shot up from the four bowls and immediately died, their fuel burned away.

Jack's voice gave out mid-word. The flow of aether slowed, making Thad feel a sickening lightness in the pit of his stomach, the feeling of waking up after a dream of falling, and then with sudden violence the flow reversed, a whoosh of power rushing out and away from the circle in all directions.

He'd closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the basement hallway was as boring and ordinary as any other, though his hands gripped the doorframe so hard he had to force his fingers to let go. It had been so quiet, but it had seemed so loud. His ears rang with the silence, so silent he worried that when he looked in the room, the mages would be dead. When he built up the courage to check, Gollor was as he had been, on his knees on one side of the circle, but across from him, Jack lay prone on the tiled floor, unmoving.

"Jack!" Thad cried, running to his friend. He shook the mage, and Jack groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

Jack sat up, squinting as though his head ached terribly, but then he noticed Thad at last. "Why are you here?" he growled.

"Because I was worried about you, dummy!" Thad lied. Well, he had worried, but that wasn't why he had followed them to begin with.

Gollor tried to stand, but he seemed too shaky to manage it. Thad went to the old man and helped him up. "Did it work?" Gollor said, focused on Jack. "What did you see?"

"A crown," said Jack.

It was dizzying. That was the only word Jack could think to describe the sensation. Before the ritual, he'd been focused on keeping the aether at bay, practically lamed without his staff. Now, it was as if the aether couldn't be bothered with him.

"Come on, grandpa! I can't carry you!" Thad said, assisting Gollor a few steps ahead of him. The old man had a hand on Thad's shoulder, leaning heavily on the boy as they walked slowly through the castle back to Gollor's rooms.

Jack swatted Thad in the back of the head. "Show a little respect," he said. His head spun even from that little effort; he leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes, waiting for the feeling to pass.

"Woven branches of gold, with three white stones. You're sure that's what you saw?" Gollor asked.

"Quite," said Jack, concentrating on his steps. It was like a great weight had been lifted from him, a weight he'd carried so long that it had become a part of him. He felt… less: less himself, less grounded, but also less limited, more alive than he thought he had ever been.

He called up his aether sight. The aether was still there, he could still see it, but he no longer felt the sensation of it rushing toward him. I've struggled half my life to control it, he thought. One ritual? That was all it took? He doubted the effect would last; it seemed too good to be true.

"Asura's crown… It's not possible," Gollor said. "That crown has been the symbol of elvish royalty since the founding of the kingdom! Surely if it was cursed, someone would have noticed!"

Jack saw the aether swirling at the end of the hall moments before he heard the rushing footsteps that indicated someone was coming. Elleth turned the corner, breathless from hurry. "There you are!" she said, stomping up to Thad, stopping right in front of him with her hands on her hips and a glare in her eyes. "You said you'd wait in the dining hall! Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

"I thought you forgot me! You were gone forever!" Thad whined.

"I was gone ten minutes! At most!" She seemed to notice for the first time how much her grandfather leaned on the boy. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

"Only a little empty, dear one," Gollor said, standing a little straighter. "Jack was helping me with a spell, that's all. As soon as we get back to my study and I can prop my feet up, I'll be right as rain."

Elleth shook her head. "You can't! That's why I was so worried about finding the boy! Cotto's there, waiting for you."

Gollor almost winced at the mention of that name. "The king's advisor. We can't trust him not to report back to Eldarin. He didn't see Lena, did he?"

"No, I took her to my old room already."

The old man nodded. "Good. That's good." He seemed to think for a moment, then said, "Why don't you take the boy there as well?"

"But I want to stay with Jack!" Thad said.

"I'll go with you," Jack said to Thad.

"No," said Gollor. "Cotto is a black mage of some skill. If he's come looking for me now, it's because he felt the ritual. He knows I can't have cast it on my own - it's too late to hide you from him. But he doesn't need to know anyone came here with you." The old man nodded toward Thad, then turned back to his granddaughter. "Take the boy and stay with him. I'll send for the two of you later."

He sagged as soon as Elleth and Thad were out of sight. Jack moved in to support him, hoping his own dizziness had passed.

"I take it you'd never done that sort of thing before?" Gollor asked.

Jack shook his head. "You?"

"Once," he said. "With a friend. When I was much, much younger." He took a few tentative steps with his arm around Jack's shoulders. The two were of a similar height. "His name was Morn. We were apprentices together. He told me a bit of what it was like for him. That's how I knew you for a… for what you are."

He didn't say the words; neither of them said the words. "Where is he now?"

"Dead," said Gollor. "He lived lavishly - fond of food, and women, and drink. If there's one certainty I've noticed in all my years, it's that no one who lives life so fully ever lives long."

Jack nodded. Too much to hope he'd still be around to answer some questions, he thought.

"Your Leifenish is remarkable. I have to say, I doubted your ability to memorize such a long incantation in so short a time, but you did well," said Gollor.

Leifenish had been his best subject, as easy for him as ice magic, but focused as he was on putting one foot in front of the other, he only said, "Thank you," before the two of them lapsed into silence.

They were several minutes more making their way to the corridor that contained Gollor's study, and before they turned into it, Gollor pushed away from Jack to shuffle forward on his own, putting on a show of strength he could not possibly back up. At the end of the hall, near the study door, an elf man waited. With thinning blond hair, and dressed in a black mage's robes, he was short for an elf - perhaps as tall as Kane - but stocky, a solid-looking man in his middle years. He spoke with an edge of irritation to his words, as if he was scolding an apprentice rather than addressing an elder.

"What in Asura's name were you up to at this time of day, Gollor? You know he's worse before sundown than…" His eyes skimmed over Jack, standing quietly behind Gollor, but then snapped back to him, seeming to realize he was not an elf mage. "What is this?"

"I didn't want to disturb you in case it didn't work," Gollor said. "Cotto, this is Jack Ashward of Crescent Lake. He has been kind enough to consult with me on our predicament."

"Consult?" said Cotto. "How much have you told him?"

"I have told him everything pertinent to the prince's condition," Gollor said.

"This is dangerous ground, Gollor! The Divine Right-"

"Hang the Right!" Gollor snapped, but his exhaustion sapped the heat from his words. "Listen, we need the crown. Can you get it to us?"

Cotto appeared startled, confused. "No! And I'll not say another word to a… a human stranger. We'll discuss this later. If you'll excuse me, I must attend on the king." He walked past them, bumping Jack roughly as he did so.

"We've completed the ritual, Cotto!" Gollor said, his voice ragged with desperation.

The shorter mage stopped cold, turning back slowly. "What?"

Gollor nodded. "It's true. The crown is tied up in this somehow. We need it!"

Cotto looked at them, his eyes scrutinizing Jack. "You mean to tell me that for five years we've been trying this ritual - trying and failing - and all you learned from it was that the curse is somehow related to the crown?"

"I know it's not much, but it's more than we had before!" said the old man.

Jack held Cotto's gaze, focused on keeping his emotions calm.

Cotto looked away first, wiping his hands over his face in a gesture that spoke of abiding weariness. He took a deep, calming breath. He was more composed when he spoke again. "The crown is missing. Has been since… since before the madness set in… nearly five years ago now."

Madness. The behavior Gollor had described had seemed mad enough but he hadn't outright named it as such.

Gollor gasped. "Missing? How did this happen?"

The king's advisor grimaced as though the words were sour on his tongue. "The king himself has hidden it away."

"Surely you could ask him, given the circumstances," Jack said.

Cotto chuckled bitterly, casting an amused glance at Gollor. "You really did tell him as little as possible, didn't you?" To Jack he said, "No one speaks to the king except under direst need. Anything could set him off. He claims there are spies everywhere trying to usurp him. Even the lords of Elfheim, his closest friends, have been imprisoned or worse, those who haven't fled to the countryside. Do you honestly think it would go well for me if I ask him where to find the royal crown, the symbol of his rule?"

It sounded worse than Gollor had led him to believe. The curse weighs heavily on the mind of the king, he had said, but this was no trifling, fickle mood. It was true and genuine madness. Jack could feel his anger rising and fought it down, only to realize there was no need: the aether hadn't moved.

The shorter elf stopped suddenly, gasping, as if struck by a thought. "Astos…" he said.

Jack looked toward Gollor. The old man said, "The king's cousin. He was a scholar."

"Was?" said Jack.

"One of the first the king turned against."

Cotto spoke breathlessly, as though excited by something. "But did you ever hear why?"

Gollor shook his head.

"He was asking about the crown. I've only just remembered. He'd… I think he noticed Eldarin hadn't been wearing it. He seemed to think it was important. It could be that he knew something, had found something in his studies."

Gollor sighed. "But Astos is dead. The king ordered him killed."

Cotto shifted from foot to foot, looking guilty. "No… the king ordered him killed on sight. No one… no one has seen him alive these past few years, but he lives. Fled. I can't speak for the other lords of Elfheim, but Astos is only in hiding."

"Why have you said nothing about this before?" Gollor asked.

"You know how the king is! It could be that he's forgotten about Astos altogether. If he knew, he might rephrase his orders. No one can resist the Divine Right - you know that!"

"Then you've been in communication with him all this time?"

"Only intermittently, when I can find a willing human messenger. No elf can be trusted with such an errand." Cotto paced, seeming to quiver with excitement, his earlier weariness apparently forgotten. "Do you understand what this means? We have a lead! A genuine lead!" He ran his hands over his head, raking his fingers through his thinning hair. He asked Jack, "Will you go to him? If I tell you where he is?" then turned suddenly to Gollor asking, "Can I trust him with this? Do you trust him?"

"I do," Gollor said.

"Wait a moment," Jack said, facing Gollor. "I can't go anywhere right now. You know I have my reasons for staying here." One short, red-headed reason, he thought.

"I know you have reasons for wanting this curse broken as badly as we do," Gollor said.

Jack scowled, again making no effort to control his emotions. It felt good, he realized, not having to rein himself in, to let himself be angry, upset, and frustrated - Free. - but at the same time he recognized the need for a cool head, for rational thought.

When Gollor said, "Perhaps we could step inside and discuss this further?" Jack reluctantly followed them.

It was dusk by the time Kane and Refial reached the castle gates. The guards looked at them suspiciously, but Kane showed them the letter Gollor had given him with the mage's seal affixed in the corner, and they were allowed to pass. "Thank you for coming with me," Kane said. "It would have been boring to walk back alone."

"Of course," said Refial. "Though I didn't come along for your company. No offense."

"None taken," Kane said, laughing at the pirate's honesty. He himself had been less than thrilled at the prospect of walking back to the ship with Refial. Kane hadn't had a real conversation with him in their short acquaintance, and his initial impression of the man was not a flattering one: vain, vapid, and cowardly. But Kane had been pleased to find that - once he got Refial out of the city, where there were no women around to pose for - he was actually a decent fellow, not vapid at all, though there was no denying he was both vain and a coward. Still, Kane had been surprised when Refial offered to walk back to the city with him after their business in the harbor was done. "Why exactly did you come along? I hadn't thought to ask before."

"Oh, lots of reasons," Refial said as they crossed the castle yard toward the service entrance nearest to Gollor's rooms. "For one thing, who stays aboard ship when the legendary city of Elfheim lies just off the gangplank, waiting to be explored?"

"That's what I said!"

"Right? Secondly, did you see Gollor's granddaughters? The twins?"

Kane shook his head. There'd been a girl with Lena earlier, but they hadn't been introduced.

Refial smiled. "I think I have a chance there. I might as well act on it, if we're going to be here awhile. Thirdly…" He trailed off as they stepped into the castle, looking about the stone-walled entryway fondly. "Thirdly, it reminds me of home."

Kane flinched - the statement so perfectly mirrored his own feelings. "Home? The castle? Why? You're not some sort of lordling, are you?"

Refial snorted. "No more than you. Less so, in fact: bastard son of a bastard daughter of a wealthy merchant. I grew up in my grandfather's mansion. I wouldn't go back to it, but I miss it sometimes."

"Huh," said Kane. Steeped in luxuries that will never truly belong to you, he thought. I know how that feels. As they walked the castle corridors toward Gollor's study, he asked, "Where are you from, anyway?"

"Gaia. Ever heard of it? It's a huge city."

"Can't say I have."

"Really? It's at least as old as Cornelia. 'The City on the Hill'? 'Jewel of Titan's Crown'? No?" He seemed disappointed when Kane shook his head. "That's alright. We Gaians can be a bit self-important about it, but I've only met a few people since I left who even know it exists."

As he turned the corner from one hallway to the next, heading toward Gollor's rooms, Kane heard raised voices. Refial stiffened in alarm, but Kane only sighed. "Oh, good. Father's back." Ignoring Refial's weak protest, he pushed forward into Gollor's study to find his father and Jack standing across from each other in front of the fireplace.

"-only clue we have to this thing! I don't care how long it takes us to run it down!" Lord Redden was saying.

"Four days?" Jack said, louder than Kane had ever heard the mage speak before, waving what appeared to be a map in one hand. "Four days' journey? We don't even know for sure that this Astos knows anything about it!"

"No, we don't know that," Gollor said. He sat slumped in a chair just behind Kane's father, with his head in his hands. "But Cotto was right about one thing at least: Astos was heard asking about the crown before he and the king had their falling out."

"What did we miss?" Kane asked.

Lord Orin sat serenely in a chair on the other side of the room, his hands folded delicately around a full tea cup, a fresh pot steaming on the table beside him. "Welcome back, young master Carmine, master Fortem. It seems Jack has found the cause of the curse."

"But that's great news!" said Refial.

"No, it isn't," Jack snapped. "The spell told us nothing of where to find this thing, and the only elf who might know about it is an exile confined to some run-down keep west of the groves!"

"West of the groves?" Kane said, motioning for Jack to let him see the map. "Father, didn't the half-elf say that area had succumbed to the Rot?" He flinched at his father's sharp glare.

"When were you planning to mention that?" Jack asked, loudly, on the verge of yelling. Kane waited for the mage to lose control again, for the room to grow colder, but the temperature didn't change. "How many days do you suppose that will add to the journey?"

Gollor stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. His voice was quiet yet sharp. "Not as many days as my people have suffered because of this curse."

Jack shut his eyes, but didn't otherwise move. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper, hoarse and desperate. "I can't leave her alone. Not again."

"You needn't," Gollor said, reaching out to pat Jack's shoulder. "I could keep the boy as well. I've been saying for weeks now that I needed to hire a page for myself - half the castle staff has heard me say so. It would be the perfect cover."

"This is a most excellent plan," said Orin, sipping his tea.

"It's the way it has to be, lad," Redden said. "If we're out of the castle, out of the city altogether, there's less chance our presence here will draw attention to hers."

Jack nodded but said no more.

The prince's window faced the castle gate. Lena stood there, watching them go until she lost sight of them in the busy city, then kept staring long after, gazing west through the tops of the trees before she shook herself free at last. They have their job to do, she thought, and I have mine.

She turned toward the sleeping prince, picking up the skirt of her floor-length dress as she did so. It was a servant's dress, green and gold livery; on an elf maid, it would perhaps have reached mid-calf. She sighed at the feel of the smooth stone floor against her bare feet - any excuse not to wear shoes was a good one, in her opinion. I should be comfortable as I work, she told herself. And no one will see my feet anyway.

Thadius, leaning his chair back against the wall beside the door, looked up at her as she crossed the room, but then frowned, turning back to his book. It wasn't really his book - his book was back on the ship, along with several other things neither of them thought they would need for what was supposed to be a short stay in Elfheim - but Gollor too owned a copy of the Adept's Grimoire, and had been happy enough to lend it to the boy.

"Oh, don't be so sour, Thadius. You know I can feel it when you are. You said you didn't want to go, remember?"

He blushed, and she detected a hint of shame. He had wanted to go, if only to stay with the others, but at the same time, he had leaped at the chance to stay in the castle, avoiding whatever dangers they might face on the road. She had overheard Kane giving him a little speech about staying behind to guard her, which she thought was sweet of him, but she could also feel that Thadius hadn't believed a word of it. "Sorry," he mumbled.

She smiled to take the sting out of her words. "If you're going to be sorry, you'll have to wait in the hall. I can't have negative emotions cluttering up the room while I'm trying to heal."

That surprised him, and he nodded vigorously. "I'll try harder." He closed his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath; she recognized Orin's meditation techniques, and felt his mind calm somewhat, before he returned to the book in front of him, his emotions dulling into a hum of concentration as rhythmic and soothing as ocean waves.

She settled into her own task, first opening her soul sight, and then reading the prince as she had the day before. Much of the previous day's work had been undone by the curse, but not all of it. Lungs needed clearing, blood needed to flow. None of it was complicated. Tedious, that was the word. She soon picked up a rhythm of her own, her mind wandering as she worked.

She had been at it perhaps an hour when she noticed the change in Thad's mood, a tingling buzz against her skin. "What are reading about that you find so fascinating?"

He startled at the sound of her voice. "I didn't mean to distract you!"

"You didn't," she said. "I can talk and heal at the same time."

"Oh," he said, relieved. "Well, I got to the chapter about time. It's really complicated."

"And have you learned how Matoya bent time around her cave?" she said, half in jest.

His answer surprised her. "Not yet, but I bet I can figure it out."

She chuckled. "You think so? Are you sure you don't want to start with something simple, like learning to draw on the aether?"

"I don't know," Thadius said, turning the book sideways. "This aether chart makes more sense than the Protect one…" As he stared at it, the hum of concentration resumed.

She left him to it, moving deeper into the healing, losing track of time herself as she flowed from one Cure to the next. Lungs and muscles and heart and…

A crash sounded behind her, bringing surprise and alarm. She felt her power brush against the curse as she pulled away, and she gasped at the pain of it. When she looked back, heart hammering in her chest, Thadius looked up at her guiltily from the floor, the chair he'd been leaning back in turned sideways beneath him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he said quickly.

"It's alright," she sighed. "Are you unhurt?"

"I'm fine," he said, pouting.

"Perhaps next time you'll leave all four chair legs on the floor?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I must sound like my mother if I'm "ma'am" now, she thought. She faced the prince again, then sighed, completely unfocused now, unable to remember where she'd left off. The light slanted through the window in a way that told her it was afternoon. Where had the morning gone? She became aware of another emotion, a niggling, gnawing, mosquito buzz deep in her belly, and then realized it was not entirely coming from the boy. "I'm getting hungry, Thadius. Could you run to the kitchens and see about arranging something?"

He nodded, brushing himself off, and rushing out the door.

Alone, she took several deep breaths to calm herself once more, returning her attention to the sleeping prince. She'd nearly done as much as she could do for now - like cleaning a house for company, every corner, nook, and cranny dusted and polished. If not for the curse, she thought, Aryon would be the healthiest man in the world right now.

She frowned, then, focusing. She probed at the curse, feeling the pain flare up when she did, but she didn't relent. If she could get a grip on it, just grab it and hold it and pull, like pulling a weed, maybe… She felt her heart beat harder as she struggled with it, her breath quicken.

She felt disappointment and boredom fill the room, a shout in her ears, and the curse slipped away from her like soap in a bath. She sighed. "Thadius, what did I tell you about negative emotions?"

Surprise. Confusion. And yet, silence.

She turned, but she was alone. Still not back from the kitchens, she thought. But the only other person here is… She looked down at the elf prince, asleep, face serene as his chest rose and fell with his breathing. "Can you… can you hear me?" she asked.

Confusion. Again, stronger than before.

It was him. That was from him. "Aryon?"

Joy! Relief!

"Oh, gods," she breathed. It wasn't a true sleep: he was trapped in there.

Author's Note 8/12/16: I never really got into Final Fantasy XI or XIV. One of the reasons I play Final Fantasy games (and console games in general) is because I'm an anti-social hermit who does not play well with others. Give me a single-player game that I can pick up when it suits me. Do NOT tell me I HAVE to be at my computer at 7pm on Saturday to tank the raid. Ain't happening. So while I dabbled in both of those games a bit, I wouldn't say I got the complete experience. FF XIV (which lent this chapter its title) has a gorgeous soundtrack though. And a gorgeous Thancred as well.