Crescent Lake, Ten Years Ago

Cedric knocked once, pushing the door open without waiting for a response. "Iris?" he called. There was no answer. He sighed in relief. As much as he would have liked to see her before he left, he wasn't prepared to speak to her. That was why he had written the letter, after all.

The house - her father's - was quiet as he made his way upstairs to her room, stopping short in her doorway, worried he would find her there, but it was empty. He sighed again. Some battle mage I am, he thought. Afraid of a lady. ...My lady. He'd nearly broken himself of the habit of calling her that, but he couldn't stop thinking it, even though she insisted she was no longer a noble, even though the room's furnishings were simple and common. She had filled the room with color - the embroidered curtains, the ribbons hanging from a wreath of dried honeysuckle vine, the flowers in the vase on the dresser - but there was no dressing up the plainness of the furnishings themselves, of the house that held them.

No matter. Just leave the letter and go. He pulled it from his pocket, crossing to her bed, and stopped again, his hand and the envelope in it hovering inches above the quilt when he saw her and little Ben through the window. She wore her white robe with a butter-yellow scarf over her shoulders - she always had a scarf, always said white was too plain. The boy, named after Iris's brother, wore a long-sleeved tunic despite the early summer warmth, the better to cover his scars. Beneath the brittlewood tree behind the house, she was teaching him to dance - not the country dances the people of Crescent Lake performed during festivals and holidays, but a court dance from Cornelia.

She should be back there, at the royal court, instead of this village in the middle of nowhere, Cedric thought. He'd fallen in love with her watching her dance with her brother at the Midsummer festival when they were thirteen. He still hadn't told her. Twelve years since he met her, ten since they fled the city together, and he still hadn't told her. Watching her dance in the yard with the boy they both loved, he could feel his resolve slipping. The letter suddenly seemed foolishly inadequate.

He felt a shift in the aether, and knew without looking that Iris's father stood in the doorway behind him. "Is it true?" the old man asked. "You're really going?"

Cedric was surprised at the concern in his voice. I thought he hated me. He didn't turn around, kept watching Iris through the window. "I'm the only one who can, Lukahn. It has to be me."

"Don't give me that!" Lukahn snapped. "This has Torberm written all over it! If he's so keen on returning to Cornelia, why can't he do it?"

"You know why." Cedric didn't raise his voice. The aether got away from him if he was too free with his emotions, so he had learned to hold all of them inside. Anger, frustration… Love, he thought, dropping the letter on the bed at last. "We can't keep waiting here for this mess to blow over. Torberm's contacts say it's only getting worse."

"Of course it is! The prophecies-"

"You know how I feel about your prophecies," Cedric said, cutting him off. Our death will come from that mountain. Half the village believed that particular prophecy was about Ben, though the boy himself had been on the verge of death when Iris brought him home. Only two other white mages - two! Out of the whole village! - agreed to help her heal him, a long, grueling process that had taken most of a year to complete. Ben, perhaps five years old at the time, had endured it without complaint, without speaking at all - some sort of shock, Iris said. It had been many months more before the boy had said a word to anyone.

Even now, Ben was a quiet child who mostly kept to himself, spending his time with either Iris or Cedric. The other villagers were afraid of him, without even knowing what he was. They called him Ashward, as if his burns were somehow related to the prophecy. Cedric had been the one to explain to him that their fear had nothing to do with his appearance - oh, how the boy had cried to hear it. The suffering Ben had faced because of that stupid prophecy, on top of whatever had happened to him on Mount Gulug… A breeze stirred the ribbons on the wreath near the window. Don't think about it now. Cedric moved toward the door. "I have to go," he said.

Lukahn took up the doorway, intentionally blocking him in. "But… joining them, Cedric…"

"You know they're too strong for us. If we can break them from the inside-"

Lukahn scoffed, "Benjamin thought the same thing."

"Benjamin was a scholar," Cedric said. The breeze rattled the window, trying to get out. "I'm a battle mage. Let me pass."

But Lukahn stood his ground, moving to block him once more. "Do you even care what it will do to her if you leave? She's already lost a brother to this useless war."

So have I, he thought. That had been part of the problem when they were teenagers, hadn't it? If Benjamin had been a brother to him, what did that make Iris? "I'm doing this for her. Her and Ben both."

"And who will train the boy? Who will teach him how to use this thing if you go?" His voice was calm, rational, but Lukahn couldn't keep from sneering when he mentioned Ben.

"I've taught him to control it," Cedric said, trying with the last ragged edges of his patience to stop the storm raging inside him from bursting out. The errant breeze tugged the hem of his coat, fluttered the curtains. "And he's a damn sight better at it than I am. I'll teach him to use it when he's older."

He cast one last glance behind him, out the window where they danced. He watched as Ben stepped left when he should have stepped right, bumping into Iris who laughed and threw her arms around the boy. Everything I love in all the world is under that tree, he thought, shutting his eyes against the corona forming there until he could regain control. When he opened them again, the old man was staring at him.

"I wish you'd give him a chance. We can't help what we are," Cedric said.

Then he tore himself away, pushing past Lukahn and down the stairs. The ship was waiting.

The Groves, Present Day

Kane tripped as Refial bumped into him again, hard, while cringing away from a rustling in the dense undergrowth. "Bahamut, man! It was only a bird! You can't possibly be this much of a coward," Kane said.

The thin pirate glared at him. "I am! I told you I was! I told you I should have stayed with the ship, but none of you listened!"

"Yes, well, you shouldn't have proven yourself so useful in that sahagin fight," said Lord Redden from a few paces behind them. "Skills like yours could come in handy on a journey like this."

"I myself enjoyed the rabbits you procured for our dinner two nights past," Lord Orin put in.

"Yes," Jack agreed from the front of their short line. "It's quite the hunting technique: casting Sleep at random bushes and seeing what sticks."

Refial blushed. "I can't help it. It's a reflex."

Kane laughed, glad to see Jack in such fine humor again. The mage had been rather glum when they set out from Elfheim two days ago, but Refial, heedless of Jack's mood, had kept up a stream of good-natured chatter that seemed to have lifted his spirits. By the time of the rabbit incident, just before they made their first camp, Jack had laughed as hard as the rest of them. He had even been willing to remove his scarf long enough to eat in Refial's presence, which spoke volumes about Jack's opinion of the pirate as far as Kane was concerned. And although Refial had stared at Jack's scars, he hadn't mentioned them then or since, making Kane like him even more. He clapped the thin man on the back to show there were no hard feelings. Refial nodded his thanks, and the two of them kept walking.

The woods were thick here in the area the elves called the groves. According to Kane's father, this land was supposed to be sacred to the goddess Asura, which all the stories called "Life Bringer," though the same stories all agreed that she was dead, having pined away for her mortal lover. Despite Refial's fears, nothing about the groves was reckoned to be particularly dangerous. Many elves traveled through them, living off the land for weeks at a time in a sort of religious pilgrimage meant to bring them closer to their mother goddess, but Kane hadn't seen a trace of another living soul since they'd left the city. Either the elves were skilled at leaving the land just as they found it, or they were far from those grounds the elves normally frequented.

As sunset approached, another sound echoed through the trees, a trilling "kupo-kupo" that Kane didn't recognize but that surely was not a bird. It startled him, but not as much as it did Refial. The pirate yelped. Another call seemed to answer the first. Kane tried to play it off, but his voice shook when he asked his father, "What was that? It sounded close."

"That's nothing to worry about," Redden said. Kane heard him tell Orin, "Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with such a city boy for a son."

"Maybe because you raised me in the gods-blighted city, old man!" Kane said. His father scowled, but Orin chuckled.

"Now you listen here, boy-" Redden began, but just then Jack cried out in alarm. Kane looked ahead, noticing that the tall mage was not as tall as he ought to be - he seemed to have stepped in a hole up to his ankles, a swampy sort of muck that closed up around his feet.

Jack stepped back onto level ground, looking at his boots, at the thick mud he couldn't seem to shake off. "I didn't see it until I stepped in it," he said, looking down. There was no change at all in the path: the holes where he'd stepped - rapidly filling in now, as if the earth flowed like water - were the only sign that the ground ahead of him was not as solid as that behind. He lifted a foot, swiping at the sludge with his gloves, then nearly lost his balance as he recoiled from the smell. He gagged, coughing. "Ramuh hanulassa!" he said, muttering a rapid string of other Leifenish words.

"Lad, what did I tell you about using that sort of language?" Redden said sternly, stepping up beside him to look at the muddy patch.

Jack coughed once more, moaning in disgust as he wiped his glove on his leather coat. "Your own son just blasphemed in plain speech right in front of you!"

"Yes, but I've already given up on him. For you, I still have hope," said the bard, kneeling down, running a finger through the sludge and giving it a cautious whiff. He frowned, but otherwise didn't react to the smell that Jack apparently found so offensive.

"Is it the Rot?" Orin asked.

Redden nodded, wiping the muck off on the hem of his shirt, then stood. "Head back thirty paces. We'll camp there."

"There's still daylight yet," Jack said.

Redden shook his head. "We don't know how far this goes, and we don't want to camp in the middle of it. It could be only a few feet," he said, looking about at the trees that surrounded them as if trying to judge their condition. "Or it could go on for miles. Either way, we'll face it in the morning, with a full day's light ahead of us."

Jack nodded, turning back the way they came as if he didn't need to be told twice. Kane sniffed the air, but didn't smell anything. He looked toward Refial, shrugging, and only then noticed Refial's grimace. The thin man had gone pale, as if he might be sick.

By the time sunset came, though, when they'd built a fire and sat on the ground around it together eating from the rations they'd brought, the pirate seemed to have recovered; he was full of energy as he told them the story of how he left home. "They thought I was crazy, seeing things that weren't there! And grandfather, he turns to his wife and says, 'I don't know how all of these bastards keep taking after your side of the family!'"

It should not have been funny - the way his grandfather had kept him secluded in the manor to avoid the scandal of his supposed insanity, until he'd escaped - but Refial was a natural storyteller, and his self-deprecating wit had Kane and his father both laughing until it hurt. Even Orin had guffawed in places, and the old monk never laughed aloud at anything.

"And it never occurred to any of them that you were seeing the aether?" Jack asked, sitting beside the pirate. His face was uncovered again as they ate, and though his scars pulled at the left side of his mouth, his smile was broad.

"Not at all! The merchant class is notoriously light on mages in Gaia. They're viewed as, I don't know, unseemly, I guess you could say. Next step above servants." He wiped at his eyes, where he'd laughed so hard at his own tale that tears had sprung up. "Oh, if grandfather could see me now: both a pirate and a black mage? I think that vein in his forehead would burst. He'd die of blood loss before he'd lower himself to visit a white mage."

It didn't escape Kane's notice that at the mention of white mages, the smile on Jack's face subsided. The mage stared at the fire, covering his chin in one gloved hand as if suddenly self-conscious of his scars.

Refial, oblivious as always, elbowed Jack in the side, grinning and waggling his eyebrows. "Speaking of white mages, you seem to get on pretty well with ours."

"Lay off," Jack muttered.

"Oh, come, now! You're not still worried about leaving her behind, are you? Surely you don't think a lady like her needs to be out in these woods?" As if on cue, another "kupo!" came echoing out of the forest; the pirate flinched.

"She'd fare better than you have," Jack said. "I think she'd be safer with us. That's all."

Lord Redden finished the mouthful of dried meat he was eating, and said, "The girl's a soul reader, lad. The only danger she's likely to face in that castle is a bit of gossip and intrigue, and she's better equipped to play that game than any of us."

Refial sat up straighter. "That's not the first time you've mentioned soul readers. What does that mean, exactly?"

"It's the rarest sort of white mage there is," Redden explained. "There might only be two or three born in a generation. Lena is one of them. She can feel the emotions of others."

"Pain, too," Jack said, quietly. "I think she feels it when others are hurt in her presence."

"You never mentioned that before," said Kane, remembering Pravoka and how he had beat a pirate bloody while Lena worked to heal a man beside him. A man with a stomach wound that would have killed him, he thought. Had she felt that?

The black mage shook his head. "I only suspect it. I haven't asked her. But I believe I've seen it more than once."

Kane's father frowned, tilting his head the way he did when he was solving a riddle. "It's not beyond the realm of possibility. Cornelia's royal archives mention soul readers with similar skills, but no two soul readers have ever had exactly the same talents." He noticed Refial gazing at him blankly and explained, "For three hundred years, the Cornelian court has employed every soul reader to pass through White Hall. They're politically invaluable. One look at your soul, and they can tell nearly everything about you."

Refial's eyes widened in unmistakable horror. He licked his lips, but his throat sounded dry as he said, "That's what she did in Pravoka?"

"It is," said Redden.

"If she saw all of that…" Refial trailed off, shuddering slightly.

There was shame there, Kane realized, deep shame, something in Refial's past perhaps that he didn't want anyone to know. How bad could it be if she chose him anyway? he thought.

Jack looked at Refial in what might have been concern. The pirate smiled, albeit less brightly than before. He patted Jack's shoulder and said, "No wonder she prefers your company, friend."

The black mage shifted his gaze back to the fire, grinning, but then a voice said, "She doesn't. I'm afraid you're imagining it." Jack's head snapped up. Kane could read the shock in his eyes, the hurt, as he looked at Lord Redden across the flames.

"Father, don't," Kane said.

"He needs to know. As well tell him now when she's not here." Redden ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, but he didn't look at Jack as he spoke. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. "Soul readers don't have emotions. They only reflect the feelings of those around them. I know you care for her. I've seen the way you act around her. But she feels nothing for you, not on her own."

Jack's hurt expression was replaced with one of incomprehension. He shook his head, saying, "No, she feels things. I know she does."

Redden sighed, the same sigh he'd used when Kane was a child and hadn't done his chores, the sigh of a man forced to do his fatherly duty when punishment was in order. "This isn't speculation, boy. It's proven fact. Years of magical research in Cornelia's archives attest to it. If you try to love her, it may seem like she loves you back, but it would be an empty, meaningless love."

"You're wrong. I know her. How can you think such a thing after spending any time with her at all? She feels." Jack looked at Kane then, his eyes desperate. "Kane, tell him."

Kane felt a moment's panic at being put on the spot, his father on one side and Jack on the other, both looking at him expectantly. He didn't know what he would say. A dozen thoughts flooded his mind, clamoring for his attention, but the one that won out over the others was an image of Lena that day by the lagoon, smiling while Shipman was smiling beside her even though she had been as angry as Kane had been a short time before. Angry when I was angry, brave when I was brave. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I think Father is right."

The look of betrayal in Jack's face stung.

From Refial's other side, Orin said gently, "Lord Redden and I spent considerable time in the company of the king's last soul reader. What he's telling you is true."

Yes, Kane thought. Father would never have told me about Lady Aliana if it wasn't true.

Jack was breathing harder now, but his face had gone completely blank. When he spoke, his voice was as calm as a still winter morning after a night of frost. "I see. You're all of one mind on this, is that how it is?" He looked between the three of them, ignoring Refial altogether. Nobody spoke. "Tell me this, then, gentlemen: if she doesn't feel, why was she so overcome with guilt when she nearly stove that pirate's head in? Whose guilt was she reflecting then if not her own?"

She was alone when we found her, Kane thought, remembering how she cried in his arms, great wracking sobs so hard she could barely breathe. She was alone. He looked to his father, but Lord Redden was looking at Jack now.

Jack stood. He took a deep breath, and with that even his breathing was controlled again. His face, his posture, his voice, nothing about him betrayed any emotion at all. "I refuse to believe it. She feels," he said, turning and walking off into the trees.

Kane watched him leave, started to get up and go after him, but before he could get to his feet, his father grabbed his arm, keeping him down. "Let him go, son," Lord Redden said.

"I don't see why you had to tell him," said Refial. "Even if it's true, with a face like that, he's not bound to have many chances."

"It's better if he knows," said Redden, but his grimace showed just how sour the words were in his mouth.

Is it better? Kane wondered, remembering Lady Aliana, wishing he didn't know the truth himself.

"Thadius saw the aether again yesterday. That's twice now," Lena said. Her hands glowed as she worked, clearing Aryon's lungs again. Soon she would move on to his legs, keeping the blood flowing, keeping the muscles from wasting away.

It was her fourth day at the castle, and she was developing a routine. In the mornings, while Thad received magic lessons from Gollor, Lena worked to maintain Aryon's health. It was easy work, though time consuming, and she talked as she did it, rambling on about whatever crossed her mind: her home, her life in Cornelia, her friends and the prophecy that had brought them together. The prince responded with enthusiastic interest - he'd been so lonely and so bored - but his improved mood did nothing to improve his condition.

In the afternoons, she shifted her attention to the curse. That was not so simple a task, like trying to untangle a skein of yarn that had been out in a hurricane. It took all of her concentration, so Thadius had taken it upon himself to keep the prince entertained. Gollor had lent him Aryon's favorite book, a collection of Leifenish legends, and Thad would sit in the chair beside the bed reading aloud from it while Lena worked. She felt she hadn't even begun to scratch the surface of the curse. If I had several months to work on it, she thought, or if I didn't have to spend so much energy healing him in the mornings... She shooed the thought away. "Anyway, Thadius is thrilled. He can't wait to tell Jack."

She could feel Aryon's amusement, a surge of it that she interpreted as a laugh, followed by confusion, something along the lines of "Why would Jack care?"

"Oh, he was working with Thadius on basic black magic before we left Pravoka. I don't think they made much progress before our ship was damaged - I told you about that yesterday - and then we were all too busy for things like that."

Understanding. She could almost picture the prince saying, "Ah, I see."

"I know I've mentioned how shy he is - Jack, I mean - but you should hear him talk about magic. He's like a different person. He… It's like he forgets to hold back." She started in on Aryon's right calf, kneading the muscles as the healing spell flowed from her fingertips. "Sometimes I think about what we'll all be doing when the prophecy of the Warriors of Light is behind us. I can picture Jack teaching somewhere. Not a classroom setting - I don't think he would do well with a crowd - but perhaps tutoring…"

She sensed mild interest from Aryon, something like a nod encouraging her to continue.

"Kane, though... I can't see Kane doing anything but returning home to Cornelia. He would never have left it, you know, if not for the prophecy. He aches for it sometimes, though he doesn't let on." She shifted her healing to the left leg, letting her mouth run as she worked away, needing to talk perhaps as much as he needed someone to talk to him. "I think his father knows... I'm sure I've never seen a man so baffled by his own son. The two of them don't think alike at all. I think Redden forgets sometimes that he's not at court anymore."

A thought crossed her mind and her power flared in response, the magical equivalent of tripping. "I'm…" She stopped, took a deep breath, continued. "I'm supposed to go back with them, when this is done. To the Cornelian court. It's all been arranged. I'll have rooms down the hall from the princess herself. I always thought I'd be going to... not back to Onlac, not necessarily, but a country village somewhere where I could do some good, somewhere near the sea… I hadn't planned to stay in the city forever."

He felt sorry for her, but it was faint, so faint. She was losing him again. Sometimes the bit of him that was Aryon pulled away deep inside, as if he were really sleeping. She sighed, trying not to begrudge him his rest. Even if his body was trapped in sleep, his mind needed it too. By the time she'd finished healing him for the day, she sensed nothing more from him, save for a faint hum that meant he was dreaming.

She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep, knowing he couldn't hear her now, and the silence in the room was deafening. She said, "I wish you could speak to me. I know you've been lonely, and that you're enjoying the sound of another voice, but I would love to hear yours."

She heard a rattling from the hall and turned toward the door in time to see Thadius arrive bearing a tray for her. "Hello!" he said, smiling. He'd obviously had a good morning.

"What have you brought me today?" she said.

"Some kind of white fish," he said, setting it on the side table nearest her. "Hello, Prince Aryon. Are you ready for chapter seven?"

"He can't hear you right now, Thadius. He's truly sleeping."

"Oh." The boy eyed the book he'd left in his usual chair with disappointment - he was enjoying the legends - but then he smiled, growing excited. "Well, if he's asleep, we don't need to keep him company, right? Do you want to go swimming? I found a great place."

She nearly choked on her mouthful of fish. "Yes, I'd love that." She focused her power on Aryon for a moment, but found him deeply asleep. He wouldn't miss her. "Let's go."

"Uh-uh," Thad said, crossing his arms and looking reproachfully at her as he nodded toward her plate. "You eat it all. Kane said I had to take care of you."

She sighed, gulping down the meal as quickly as good manners allowed.

He led her out of the castle then. Thadius gave a friendly little wave to the guards on the gate, who smiled and nodded as they passed. "I met them earlier," he explained. "Segeth gave me a sword lesson and took me on patrol with her."

"Oh?" Lena asked. "What happened to magic lessons?"

"Gollor was busy," he said, shrugging.

He led her through the city, down shaded and tree-lined streets, to an area where the buildings were spread farther apart and then to an area where there weren't any buildings at all. The street became a path, and the path led to a gate in a short wooden fence enclosing what she thought must be a flower garden until she realized it was a graveyard. Headstones and statues of the same white stone as the castle glittered in the sunlight, the names and dates carved into them not at all faded though some of them had been there for centuries.

She hadn't realized she'd stopped to stare until Thadius grabbed her hand to pull her along. "Come on!" he said. "It's over here!"

She noticed the stream then, just to the south of a pillared tomb. The land dipped away from the monument so that the stream pooled there, deep enough to take a dip. It wasn't really swimming, she thought as she and Thad stripped down to their underclothes and settled into the water, but the weather was perfect for it, with spring edging into summer at last. She hadn't met many people at the castle, hadn't felt overwhelmed by the emotions yet, but still, it had been days since she'd been in the water. She ducked under, sitting on the bottom and holding her breath, watching the play of sunlight shimmering above her as the buzz inside her head began to calm at last, until it was just her again. She broke the surface with a gasp, or a sigh, feeling the water drip over her face.

Feeling better, she turned to Thad, who was on the bank, looking very intently at a frog. "How did you find this place, Thadius? You weren't wandering the city alone, were you?"

He shook his head, but spoke absently, focused on the small animal in the mud. "Segeth brought me. She thought I'd like to see Erdrick's tomb." He pointed at the monument above them. "I noticed the water and thought you'd like it."

"I do," she said. "Very much."

By the time they'd laid in the grass beneath the elaborate tomb and let the sun dry them out before they dressed again, by the time they'd walked back to the castle where the same guards were still on duty at the gate, Aryon was still dreaming. Thadius sat in the chair by the bed reading silently to himself while Lena worked on the curse once more, but the sun and the water had taken their toll. When she started yawning well before sunset, Thad led her to the kitchens, insisting again that she eat a proper meal, then accompanied her back to the room they shared, its two halves laid out almost like mirror images of each other, with two of everything in deference to the twins who had once lived there.

That night, she dreamed about Jack. The two of them walked together through the rain in Pravoka. The water poured over her hair and down her back, rinsing away the buzz in the back of her mind, the accumulated feelings of the people who lived there, leaving her only with her own. Beside her, the rain drops shattered into a fine mist against her rain-repelling Protect spell, making Jack blur around the edges.

That was very like how it had gone in reality, but in the dream, she could also feel the mage beside her, his normally guarded feelings as open and clear to her as a child's. He was happy. As he looked down at her on his arm, his eyes pinched in a smile hidden by his scarf.

In reality, they had walked in the heavy rain down the big bridge, from the inn to the city entrance and back, seeing no one else, the whole city theirs alone, but in the dream they didn't go back to the inn. Instead, he stopped her in the courtyard at the cross street, caught her up in his long arms, and held her close as dawn broke around them. His chin rested on top of her head, and his sigh of contentment echoed her own.

Author's Note: 8/19/16 - When you start the game, it tells you, "The world is veiled in darkness. The wind stops, the sea is wild, and the earth begins to rot." None of the NPCs talk about the whole "rot" thing until you get to Melmond, on your way to the Earth Cave, but the marshy area surrounding Melmond? It's identical to the marsh around the Marsh Cave south of Elfheim. I know the 8-bit graphics back in the day were limited in what they could do and the game designers probably meant to imply the "Marsh Cave" was actually just in a marsh, but I always imagined it looked like that because of the "rot". Now you can imagine it too. You're welcome.