Chapter 7: Deserts, Plains, and Dreams.

They rode as if the very whips of Gwyn were behind them, and when they had pushed their horses as far as they could go, they went on foot. It was a game of cat and mouse, avoiding the pursuing soldiers behind them and the soldiers in front of them who were on high alert. They only stopped to feed their horses and even then it was for a scant few minutes before they were off again. Soon enough they reached another town called Bullridge, but there was something wrong.

They saw the smoke from miles off, and three hours later they were met with complete and utter desolation. There were very few buildings left standing and there were only charred husks left of the soldiers on guard. No civilians either, but their bodies may have been with the unrecognizable husks that were scattered around.

Eragon looked around in horror as they entered the city. "What could have done this? Urgals?"

Murtagh shook his head, "Urgals are raiders. There would be more bodies, and more buildings would be standing. This was an attack."

"By whom? Surely not the empire? Why would they attack their own town?" Eragon asked openly. "It… It almost looks like a dragon attack. The buildings are burnt."

Anri looked off to the left and noticed something on the ground. She dismounted and approached as the two boys discussed how and why a dragon would attack an isolated town. She crouched down and traced her hands over a peculiar deformation near one of the buildings. It was like the branches of a tree scorched into the earth, exploding from a single epicenter. A lightning strike. Now that she looked around she noticed more, and on top of that it looked like they were targeted. Bodies surrounded some of them, and from the way they laid it was as if they had been launched from a single point. Some of the buildings that collapsed had done so inwards, and others looked like they had been struck on the sides, with those same markings on the stone that hadn't been turned to rubble. It was an attack, but not one by a dragon… At least not a dragon from this Age.

"It's not a dragon attack," she claimed, loud enough to draw the attention of the others. "Ask Saphira, do dragons use lightning?"

Eragon shook his head after a few moments. "No, why do you ask?"

Anri turned back to the scar on the ground. "Because this town was struck by lightning multiple times. Look around, "she gestured with her arm, "look where the scars are. But that's not all."

She stood up and led them towards one of the buildings she had noticed. "Normally you'd assume that it was a storm, but what kind of lightning strikes from sideways?"

It took a few moments for them to process what she had said, and to see what she had meant. "T-That doesn't make sense." Murtagh almost laughed. "How does lightning strike from the side? It doesn't do that!"

Anri pulled out her doll and her hand glowed a faint gold. "Doesn't it?" she asked. Murtagh's face paled a shade as he picked up on where she was going with this.

"What are you saying?" Eragon asked slowly, visibly anxious.

Anri looked around again, noticing now how the town's fate had been incredibly familiar. "… I'm saying that I think we should move on again. Because the only beings that can summon lightning such as this are more familiar to me than anyone here, and too much is at stake to ponder if they are friend or foe."

Little more needed to be said as they mounted up and resumed their journey with renewed energy. Eragon told Saphira what they had discovered and she told them that she'd keep an extra close eye on their paths ahead. All the while, the coiled sword thrummed with renewed energy as thunder rumbled in the far distance.

They stopped for a few hours to rest in a small gully where Anri and Eragon checked in on the elf who still hadn't awoken. It was beginning to worry them, and they wondered if there was something more insidious at play than just physical wounds. Anri was pleased to see that her ring was working as intended, but the poison was outpacing it. Whatever poison afflicted the elf was deadly, and the ring would only slow it down for so long before it claimed her. Anri debated with herself, but neglected to use any Estus on the unconscious elf, only saving it in case her condition worsened considerably.

By midmorning they were off again, staying in the lowlands under the hills. Saphira joined them on the ground, but luckily she was quiet enough that they weren't spotted. As the sun peaked above the horizon they heard the rushing of water, and as they sped on again they reached perhaps the largest river Anri had ever seen. The only challenge now was to cross it, but there were few options available, and eventually they decided on having Saphira ferry them and the horses across. The horses, however, weren't quite as accepting of the idea as the humans and Unkindled were, and their sudden advantage of stealth was gone with the rapids as Tornac whinnied and squealed the entire way.

From there it was a race against time, as Anri and Eragon saw the soldiers in the distance riding their way. And soon enough it was just Anri as Eragon was ferried across. She could hear the hoofbeats over the river now. For a single second, a traitorous thought flashed across Anri's mind; what if they had left her and continued the journey? She shook her head though, for this wasn't the Age of Fire. But even then…

"Any time now Saphira…" she mumbled, fingers tapping the pommel of her sword. The hoofbeats were getting louder and louder, and she thought she could see silhouettes through the trees…

Did they actually abandon her?

Moments later, when Anri was honestly considering jumping and trying to swim, she heard Saphira land behind her, while also scaring the life from her from the sudden noise. Thankfully though the Age of Fire had beaten hesitation out of her and she climbed onto the dragoness' back as fast as she could. Saphira took off and started flying across the Ramr just as Anri saw soldiers break through the treeline.

When they were actually safe Anri let a massive sigh of relief leave her chest. "Cutting it a bit close there, don't ya think?" An amused huff was her only response.

As soon as they were able they resumed their journey, walking instead of riding. More than once, Anri had to reach out and stop the two humans from tripping in their sleep, tired as they were. At least, that was until the ground turned to sand and both of them woke up, or at least were sleeping less than they had before.

"I assume this is the Hadarac?" she asked, only to be met with two blank stares.

They rested for some time before continuing again. Their short term destination were some crags in the distance where Murtagh told them they would find food for the horses. The journey took them the day, and Anri could see the effect it was having on her company. Murtagh and Eragon didn't fare well, and their energy was nearly sapped by the time they stopped. Eragon pulled water from the sand and they all drank their fill before he let it back down. She was beginning to worry for him; running himself ragged like this wouldn't be good in the long run. Especially if he had to endure this heat continuously. Neither of them would, and it seemed the only one who enjoyed the heat was Saphira. Anri didn't care for it, but she was used to much worse. The great swamp of Farron Keep came to mind; with the torturously humid air and the thick poison that permeated every bit of breathable air. This was a dry heat, and she could actually breathe. From their attitudes though, she refrained from saying as much.

As they traveled they eventually began to notice something odd in the distance. At first they believed it to be an illusion, but as they drew closer they realized it was actually a massive mountain range that stretched for miles and rose well above the clouds. Her immediate thoughts drifted to Irithyll of the Boreal Valley, and for a hazy moment she thought she could see a massive cathedral stretching into the air. It seemed that Eragon had noticed it as well, and they all shared in the brief awe of the Beor Mountains before they resumed their forced march.

As they traveled they began to notice the terrain slowly morph away from the sandy desert and into red-hued plains. The ground was sodden with hard packed clay and clumps of plants entirely alien to Anri. They had traveled so far that even the air was starting to cool, and the breezes were refreshing instead of arduous. They camped by a small stream and before long stars began to stretch across the sky. She spent time simply staring at them in equal parts awe and despair. They were beautiful, but they were not hers. It was just another aspect that proved how long it had been, and that even the stars weren't there for her. Murtagh saw to the horses, and Eragon knelt by the elf to check on her. Now that they were mostly out of the desert…

"Saphira?" she called, causing the dragoness to lift her head in Anri's direction.

"Yes, little knight?" a voice spoke to her mind.

Anri suppressed a shudder, still not used to hearing voices other than hers in her mind. "I'm going to change back into my armor, would it bother you to block their sight while I do so?"

The dragoness let out a huff, "I shall never understand the need to cover yourselves, or the embarrassment of seeing others bare, but I shall do so regardless."

Anri bowed her thanks before beginning the long process of taking off the Mirrah set of armor and putting back on her Astoran set. It was a much longer process putting it back on than it was taking it off. Anri bared herself to her smallclothes before putting on a tunic and pants. All the while Saphira watched her with some curiosity.

"Looking at you without armor makes me want to doubt your claim of being from another Age." Saphira spoke to her. "But your mind is the most alien I've encountered."

Anri let out a small laugh. "I'm not sure how I should take that." She pulled on her chainmail before continuing. "What is my mind like?"

It was a moment before Saphira responded. "Your mind is like the ash surrounding a fire, burning eternally without fading or growing. It isn't overbearing like you would expect of a being your age, but there is a sense of enormity and eternity to you. Your age is obvious even at a glance, and picking out even a glimpse would be sifting through an ocean of ashen embers."

Anri blinked, not entirely sure how to respond. She had summed up her life, and her very being as Unkindles Ash. "In a way that makes sense," she settled on saying. It was quiet as she put on more and more of her familiar armor, draping the surcoat over her breastplate.

"Were there dragons in your Age? Other than the Everlasting Dragons?"

"Yes," Anri began. "Though Gwyn attempted to exterminate them, they persisted. Evolved. There were many different kinds of dragons in the Age of Fire." She paused as she recalled the Fall of Astora, and the slaying of the Evil Beast. "It was a dragon that destroyed my city. No dragon that I ever met was as agreeable as you are. It does make me wonder though, you may be a very late descendant of the Everlasting Dragons." Anri smiled sadly at the blue dragoness. "If so then you and I are technically distant relatives. We have enough in common at the very least."

Anri pulled her armor and surcoat before fastening her gauntlets. She looked at the visor of her helmet for a time, contemplating whether she should put it on or not. Even now she still felt odd without it.

"Why do you insist on constantly wearing your armor? There is no danger here." The dragoness said in her mind, confusion obvious in her voice.

Anri blinked before clipping her helmet to her side. "… It's hard to explain…" she looked at Saphira before continuing, "In the Age of Fire there were very few individuals who didn't try to kill you. Everywhere you went you would run into hollows, decrepit beasts, demons, the undead. You were never really safe. Taking your armor off at any time would be akin to suicide, so most just never removed it. At this point I feel more comfortable in my armor than outside of it, even if I know that there isn't any danger around." Anri stood up, shifting and stretching to make sure that nothing was out of sorts. "Besides," she added in a lighter tone, "somebody needs to be ready to protect Eragon at all times. Might as well be me." When she found that nothing was wrong she walked back over to the camp, closely followed by Sqphira.

Arya was in a cold, dark place. For such a long time her only companion was pain, not only of the body but of the mind as well. The creature, Durza, was doing everything in his power to break her. He was taking his time though… He was enjoying her suffering. Burns, whippings, brute force, poison, and the relentless assaults on her mind. All of that and she didn't even count the sickeningly sweet promises he whispered to her. Promises that all of it would stop if she only told him what he wanted to know. Praises of her resilience so far. Promises that her allies and her home would all burn.

She was losing hope faster than she could build up her defenses, and every time he attacked her mind those defenses were just that little bit less. It was only a matter of time before her mind shattered entirely and every one of her secrets was revealed. All hope eventually drifted to despair. She knew she was close. He knew she was close. And he only seemed to drag it out when it became apparent that she was about to shatter. But it wasn't to be.

There was a change in the air, and Durza had left her much earlier than usual. She would take the reprieve while she could, because she knew that it wouldn't be for long. Then the monster had returned, gloating that he had captured a rider and that her people's doom was at hand. She believed it to be a ruse, but he had promised to prove her otherwise… It was always the promises…

But later that night something else happened. The door opened again, but it wasn't Durza who was entering. It was a human boy, looking utterly enraptured that she was there. She attempted to raise her head, to put out an air of her standing, but it was for naught as the poison coursing through her system continued to take its toll, and she fell into darkness. Before she went however, she faintly remembered another human, and a knight. For a long time after that it was simply darkness, but then she experienced something that she had never experienced in her centuries of life.

Burning brilliant gold…

Her mind and body was blanketed with a warmth that she had never felt before. The damage the poison had done fled and reversed, though the poison itself remained. Her mind was filled with a warm brightness, chasing away the hurt and the darkness, and drawing her into its gentle embrace. It was as if it was whispering to her, promising her that everything was going to be ok… And then it disappeared again. It lingered, and she was healed, but it eventually vanished. Never, ever, had she experienced a magic such as that, and though she would normally be terrified of such an occurrence she could hardly care. She just wanted the warmth back… But she didn't have to wait long, as it returned some uncountable amount of time later. The exact same feeling, reversing the damage the poison had done, but this time it was different.

This time she heard a voice, lilting and soft, and she was surrounded by the warmth again. This time though it was much different; more intense, almost burning as if she was touching the sun. But there were also the images. The voice was telling a story, and she could see glimpses of a battle the scale of which she couldn't comprehend. There were all sorts of soldiers in the aftermath, hurt and dying, until she saw… her. Out among the wounded and dying was a woman surrounded in such brilliant light that Arya could easily confuse her for the sun itself. Every word the woman spoke was followed by a brilliant healing warmth that spread across the battlefield. She couldn't make out any details though, just the silhouette and the brilliant golden light. A portion of that same light spread throughout her, chasing away the injuries that she had received at the hands of Durza. Then, on top of everything, she actually felt something. A ring was being slipped onto her finger, and suddenly her vision was shrouded by golden light, and everything faded with the chiming of distant bells…

Until she heard birds singing…

A gentle and warm breeze caressed her cheek, slightly moving her hair and waking her from her slumber. Was it all a dream? Just a terrible nightmare? When the birds sang their song again she believed it was for a moment, and that she was back in Ellesméra among the trees and her people. After everything she had endured, she simply wanted to fall back into a dreamless sleep and wake up when the sun was higher in the sky. Unfortunately for her though, the birds were determined to keep her well alert and sleep had already fled from her. She sighed before opening her eyes.

And suddenly realized that she was in fact, not in Ellesméra.

Arya was currently laying in probably the single largest bed she had ever seen, inside of the single largest room she had ever seen. The entire room was made of immaculate stonework and monstrously large drapes fell from the ceiling, gently drifting in the breeze. This wasn't the work of her people, or even the dwarves. No, this wasn't the work of any being in all of Alagaësia. She waited as if expecting it to be some elaborate trick, that all of it would come crashing down and that her tormentor would be right there… but it never did. Instead, she heard those birds singing again. Tentatively, Arya pulled away the covers from her body and slowly sat up, setting her feet on the stone floor. Surprisingly it wasn't even cold, and her bare feet weren't bothered by any change in temperature. She also noted that the thin gown she was wearing was of a completely different level of quality compared to what her own people could accomplish. Everything about her situation just befuddled her mind.

She felt the breeze again, and noticed that to the right of the room there was a door that was slightly cracked open, letting in a ray of golden light. That was where the singing was coming from, and Arya felt some kind of pull in that direction. She was resilient to follow it at first, but she also knew that she wouldn't discover anything by sitting in the unbelievably lavish bed. Before she stood however, she noticed something on her finger. It was a ring, but it also wasn't. The ring was two golden loops connected by interwoven loops and twirls of gold in no specific pattern or order. But she could also feel a downright terrifying amount of magic coursing through the simple but elaborate piece of jewelry. She stared at it for a moment longer before standing. There wasn't any pain, was her first observation. All of her injuries had seemingly disappeared at the current moment, and she wouldn't take that for granted. Still though, she took slow steps towards the door, as if expecting to fall down in excruciating pain at any moment. The padding of her feet against the floor was unbearably loud in her ears, as there was no noise other than the breeze, so she sped up just a little bit more until she was at the door. It was massive, but it didn't seem to stop her from pushing it all the way open.

What she saw would be ingrained into her mind for the rest of her existence. It was a city, the largest that she had ever seen bathed in the light of a late afternoon sun. The entire city lay within a massive valley with deep forests spanning in every direction. The buildings themselves were of the same stonework as the room she was in, and were also the largest she had ever seen. That was a common theme here it seemed. Arya stepped out onto what she assumed to be a balcony and looked around more. When she got to the edge she cnanced a look downwards and could barely see the streets below. The building she found herself in was the biggest in the entire city from what she could see, as looking up yielded an even higher roof that more than likely held even more floors. Nothing about this place made any kind of sense, but she couldn't deny that–

"Tis beautiful, isn't it?" a voice spoke from her left.

Arya spun on her heel, shocked that she hadn't even noticed another presence with her… And was met with the single most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

The woman was looking over the city with a gentle smile on her face, radiating in the sun's rays that seemed to culminate over her very being. When she turned to look at Arya she felt her heart skip a couple of beats. The woman herself was a few feet taller than even Arya which was a feat in and of itself, but that was practically a side note. Her features were without equal anywhere in the world. Light cloth draped over her body, but there was just about as much skin showing as there was clothing with her entire abdomen being bare. She had a kind and soft face framed by flowing reddish brown hair. This wasn't a human. It wasn't an elf. Arya had no idea what she was looking at, just that she existed in front of her.

The being smiled down at her in a comforting, motherly way, "Thou needen't fear me. No harm shall befall thee here."

Arya swallowed. It wasn't often when she felt uncertain, or felt any kind of fear, but recent events had her… put off, so to speak. She didn't trust any of this. "Who… What are you?" she said, mustering as much of her royal demeanor as she could.

"Mine titles no longer mean anything," she said, turning her amber eyes towards the family of birds fluttering about. "But if thou wishes for it, my name is Gwynevere." There was a pause, only filled by the chirping of the birds. "Once; many people considered me a goddess, but now I am simply a memory."

There was a melancholic tone that Arya didn't quite know how to interpret there, and there was also the ridiculous notion of the woman–Gwynevere–being a goddess. But at the same time…

"A memory?" Arya asked in confusion.

Gwynevere turned to look at her again, the smile never once disappearing from her face. But now it was slightly more sad. There was some part of Arya that compelled her to right that wrong, but she had no idea why that compulsion was there. "A memory," she repeated in affirmation. "Tied to the ring that rests on thine finger. My ring."

Arya clutched the offending hand in a panic. The last thing she wanted to do was offend this woman right now. Goddess or not it didn't take an elf to realize that she was incredibly powerful. Before she could apologize though she heard amused tittering. She looked up to see Gwynevere giving her an amused look, "whatever is the matter?" she asked. "The ring was given to thee, was it not?"

"When?" Arya asked in bewilderment.

"Some time ago. A being from my Age gave it to thee in the hopes to slow a deadly poison. Even now she, and the power of the ring, fight to keep thee alive."

It all rushed back to Arya again, and she had a sudden realization. "This is in my head. The poison is keeping me unconscious, none of this is real." She felt the urge to laugh. Why had she been so worried? It was a dream after all, albeit an odd one.

"Tis true. We are in your head, but it is also real, Arya." She continued before Arya could speak. "Thou hast been through much, mine child. I have seen it. Even now your body fights for life with the aid of allies, but thine mind still would have been a dark and cold place. Mine ring fashioned a fond memory, and delivered thee to it."

Every word bit home, because it dashed away the hopes that none of it was real. The memories of the torture, the horrible things done to her, all of it was true. And from the sounds of it she wasn't done yet; her body was dying as well. Arya was starting to break down, only holding on by a thread lest she fall into that pit of despair. Right before that ring snapped, however, a warmth unlike even the warmth from before filled her entire being. It felt like she was being caressed by the sun itself, reinforcing her will and resolve, purging the dark from her mind. Arya heard Gwynevere's voice in her head.

"Thou art stronger than many I have seen, dear child. I am sure that thou haveth questions, but take this time to give thine mind the rest it needs to recover. I will be here still, as long as the ring rests upon thine finger. For now, your presence is needed elsewhere."

And all of it faded away. The world vanished beneath her and she returned to her own mind. She could feel the warmth, and Gwynevere, residing in the back of her mind; just within reach. But she was back in her own mind, with all of her faculties intact. She remembered everything now, including the poison that was used against her. The departure must have been on purpose, because scant seconds later she felt a presence pressing against her mind. She readied her defenses, but that was when she heard it 'speak.'

"Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal." or "I am a Rider and a Friend."

The words were in the Ancient Language, so it couldn't be a lie, but even then she was still suspicious. Hesitantly she let the presence into her mind, defenses still at the ready just in case. Their meeting wasn't seamless; the Rider was obviously human, but had probably never met an elf before. "What is your name?" she asked. Her voice was firmer than it would've been before. Though the despair lingered she could keep it at bay. For now.

"Eragon. And yours?" As the seconds passed their minds got more used to each other.

"… Arya," she answered with some hesitation. "Why have you contacted me in this manner? Am I still a captive of the Empire?"

"No, you are free!" said Eragon. And so they talked. The Rider, Eragon, told her of what had transpired since Gil'ead. She told him of the poison and her attempt to slow its advance, and after making him swear in the Ancient Language that he wouldn't reveal the location to the enemy she showed him images of where he needed to go. Throughout this conversation she withheld her experience with Gwynevere and the true depth of her despair. She could feel her energy leaving her, so before they parted she told him that when they reached the Varden, she needed Túnivor's Nectar. Then she separated their link, and was left alone with her own thoughts, the lingering warmth, and the ever encroaching poison that threatened to take her life.

Anri nudged Eragon's shoulder again, but he still showed no signs of waking. When Anri had returned to the camp she had found Eragon kneeling over the elf, eyes closed as if he were asleep. She had left him there for about five minutes, expecting him to wake up. Then ten minutes passed and he still showed no signs of waking. Murtagh had returned in that time and was just as puzzled as she was. Now it was closing on fifteen minutes and he still hadn't moved an inch from his position.

"Is he alright?" Murtagh asked from her left. She gave Eragon another shove.

"I don't know… Saphira?" She looked at the dragoness, but she looked just as confused as they were. Anri was considering moving to more drastic measures when Eragon suddenly took a deep breath and his eyes shot open. It took him a moment to gain his bearings but he was awake. "Welcome back," Anri said with a small smile.

"Are you all right?" asked Murtagh. "You've been kneeling here for almost fifteen minutes."

"I have?" Eragon asked, confusion written all over his face.

"Yes, we thought you might be having a fit."

Eragon stood up, wincing as his knees stretched. Then his face lit up. "I talked with Arya!" He shouted. When all he got was confused looks he added; "the elf, that's her name!" He then told them of their mental conversation–a subject that Anri still didn't know what to think about–and how he had learned that their end goal was even further than the distance they had traveled. Anri simply nodded. Her own travels before coming to this Age were very similar. Multiple times she had believed she was at her destination, only to learn she had to find another distant land. The Cathedral told her she needed to go to Irithyll. Then she found herself in the catacombs. Then she learned she needed to go to Anor Londo. This was, unless she was proven otherwise, substantially easier. Unfortunately she was the only biped taking it well.

"And we're supposed to cover that in three or four days?" demanded Murtagh angrily. The two boys' conversation had started as somewhat annoyed, but it was degrading very quickly. Both Anri and Saphira watched with concern, and she even took a step forwards when Murtagh jabbed his finger to the Rider's chest.

She looked at Saphira, "if we don't step in soon this is going to get–" Murtagh went to shove Eragon again, but Eragon grabbed his arm and struck him in the stomach, causing him to double over before launching himself at Eragon. "–Physical…" she finished with a sigh.

Both dragon and knight as they rolled by the fire, trying to gain the upper hand. "I almost feel like we should let them get it out of their system," she muttered.

"No," Saphira thumped her tail on the ground. "I'm ending this. And I'm going to make them talk about this." Before Anri could say anything she was already moving, and seconds later she had the two beneath her paws. Anri didn't even want to imagine the lecture Eragon was getting, so she decided to do something useful and went to feed the horses.

"Are you going to help us?" She heard Murtagh groan out behind her.

Turning around she took in the sight she had just left. "I don't think I like my chances. You and I are going to talk about this later, by the way." She ignored his protest and continued on her way, grabbing a brush from her box.

She kept their conversation in the back of her mind, filing it away for later, but then she noticed something. About a league or so away, she saw an entire army marching roughly in their direction. There were hundreds of them!

"Hey," she called out numbly. She could make out a standard as well, not one that she recognized of course. "Hey!" She tried again, finally getting the others' attention. She saw the despair and tiredness on Eragon's face as he saw what she did.

Although, as Murtagh pointed out, it was Urgals instead of men. It didn't help, and if anything it only made their situation worse. Eragon and Murtagh came to a compromise about their situation, and while it wasn't perfect it would have to do. Anri had already readied her own horse and helped with the others, buffeted by the wind as Saphira leapt into the sky. Moments later they were riding again, as fast as their steeds could carry them. Anri rode in the rear to keep them on track. She didn't need sleep, and she was certain that sooner or later one of the horses was going to drift off course. Soon the night deepened and the only light source they had was the moon. Luckily though, Anri saw the Urgals disappear over the horizon. They were in the clear…

For now…

So that was… Quite a bit longer than I intended. Midterms will do that to ya though, won't they? I shouldn't have a break this long again, but I won't make any promises!

We're getting closer and closer! The next chapter should be the last one before we get to the really interesting stuff. Soon the desert will be behind us, and with it the end of this entire arc. Farthen Dûr awaits. I hope that you enjoyed the bit with Arya, it was something that came into my head near the end of this chapter and I went with it. I won't spoil much, but suffice it to say that Gwynevere and Oscar are not the only characters we'll be seeing from Dark Souls. Other than Anri, of course! Very soon we're going to see a small split from the cannon, and I think you'll enjoy what I have cooking up for the future.

There isn't really much else I have to say, other than thank you for reading and for leaving reviews. I've said it before but you guys are the reason I continue to write this. Every favorite, follow, and review is just fuel that keeps this story running! Sorry again that these few chapters are slow, but they need to happen.

I'll see you all soon!~