United once again, if only by their pain, Goliath and Demona endured the solemn task of laying their loved ones to rest. There were times they had to pause as one or both of them struggled to continue with the rituals, but there was a mutual sense between them that this task must be done together. At last, the rituals were finished and they collapsed together under the piercing silver of the moon's light that shone through the opening of the cave and reflected on the white sand. There they rested, emotionally drained, looking out at the beautiful sea and both wondering in their own way if this act could mean forgiveness.

Silently, she laid her claw on his shoulder, and eventually the side of her face found its way there as well, as if the ordeal had taken so much out of her, that she no longer had the strength to hold her own head up. Neither of them had the energy to speak and Goliath welcomed this gesture of comfort, though he soon realized that it wasn't meant for his comfort alone. He didn't know if it was the protective shelter of the cave where their family now rested in peace, or rather, the comfortingly familiar space between his shoulder and wing, but she had finally found herself in a place safe enough to allow her to succumb to her exhaustion. Realizing she had fallen asleep, he gently relocated her from his shoulder to the crook of his arm, stretching out on the moonlit sand so he could cradle her comfortably.

Waves of emotion and anxiety washed over him as he watched his mate sleeping, and he wondered if his holding her as she slept wasn't a little bit indecent of him. Apart from their first years of infancy, Gargoyles did not sleep in their flesh forms. Stone sleep was enough to rest and heal them in nearly every case. He recalled the time years earlier, when he'd carried her through the Phoenix Gate, unconscious and vulnerable from the injury she'd sustained from her former self. How he had hoped that she would awaken changed! How he had yearned to see her open her eyes and find his own beloved angel looking back at him once more! His heart ached at the memory. It was not to be. At least, not then.

He willed that painful thought aside and instead recalled the only other time he could remember holding her as she slept. It was after they had conceived their daughter. A gargoyle pregnancy was typically short-lived, but also physically exhausting. Nearly all the female's energy went to forming the new life inside her and females in the rookery spent most of their time sleeping as they waited for their egg to be freed from their womb. The process took only a few weeks, but Goliath had quickly grown lonely for his love, and even though she needed to sleep, he would visit her in the rookery and cradle her gently as she rested, hoping that even in her deep sleep, she sensed his presence and knew he loved her. This memory overwhelmed him with conflicting waves of joy, sorrow, desire, and shame, the last of which confounded him.

Why should he not desire her? She was his mate. His very nature screamed for them to be joined as one, body and soul. He took her claw into his own, looking longingly on her face and form and indulging in memories and fantasies he never would have allowed himself had she been awake. He wondered if she still felt the same. But even if she did, how could he pursue her after all that had occurred between them? As much as he truly cared for her, and as much as he desired her, he knew he could never trust her again. In her madness, she had wounded the bond between them so deeply that she had left an eternal scar. How could he ask her to give herself to him, while knowing that he could never fully give himself to her? And even if, by virtue of their love, he was ever able to truly and completely forgive her himself, he had no right to risk the safety of the clan by letting his guard down with her. And then there was the insurmountable matter of her imprisonment. He was the leader of the clan, and as much he hated the situation, justice for her crimes required her to be his prisoner and him to be her guard. Asking her to recreate the bond that was once between them under such circumstances would be nothing short of unscrupulous.

Sadly contemplating all these things, he watched the full moon stretching across the sky. Too much time had passed. He needed to find Lexington and Ophelia and bring them to shelter before the sun rose. So he gently rolled her onto his shoulder and glided down to the skiff, where he placed her inside. Not wanting to leave her alone and vulnerable, he opened the storage compartment and pulled out one of the strange, magical cloaks that they had received on Bain Felix, and placed it over her. He stepped back, and just as the elder had said, she seemed to disappear into the bottom of the skiff. He had to step forward a pace and place his claw on her back to reassure himself that she was still there. Then, etching a message on a flat stone that let her know he would return, he left her to rest.

The pain of her transformation at dawn was what awakened her, and she rose with a start to find herself alone and inexplicably laying in the skiff. She looked about for Goliath. She wasn't sure if it had been a dream, or if he'd been speaking to her just before she dozed off, but it seemed like he'd told her something important, that she couldn't quite remember. Instead, she found the fairy boy perched on the end of the boat, watching her with great interest.

"You!" she exclaimed frustratedly, "Where on earth have you been?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he assured her.

"I could have used your help on Avalon!"

"I'm not allowed on Avalon," he informed her, "So I couldn't follow you there, but I haven't forgotten you! I've been helping you in the mortal world while you were with Old Felix. Did you get the healing stone like you wanted?" Demona found the bag, still strapped to her shoulder, and pulled out the glistening, black stone to show to him.

"I got it, but it may have all been a waste. Felix said that only mortals who are pure in heart may wield its power, and my soul may be too corrupted to ever use it."

The boy frowned as he studied the stone.

"How pure does your heart have to be?" he wondered out loud with an air of skepticism.

"He didn't say how I would know. I'm not sure how one measures purity anyway. Suffice it to say, he doesn't think I'm there yet."

With a concerned expression, the young boy climbed down from the stern of the skiff and placed his hands on the outside of her claws, squeezing the powerful stone between them. He began to whisper some strange words and even though his hands were warm to the touch, Demona felt the ice cold electricity of his power as it flowed through her. Nervously, she wondered what he was up to and it didn't help her nerves when his small face grimaced, as if he had found something inside her that was most unpleasant. He continued his spell, wordlessly, for some time, while she was powerless to do anything but wonder what he saw and what he was trying to do. As he continued, he looked more and more distressed, and she could see tears forming in his eyes. Horrified, she attempted to pull away from him to stop the spell, but she found she was paralyzed, even by his gentle grasp. Then, a moment of panic hit her, as the boy's youthful eyes suddenly turned a horrifying black color and his face contorted in terror. He screamed and finally, he let go of her claws, halting the spell instantly.

Her arms trembled as she quickly withdrew from him, crouching at the opposite end of the boat.

"Are you alright? What happened?" she cried. His eyes were squeezed shut and he took a moment to wipe away the remaining tears. When he opened them again, she was relieved to see they had returned to their normal state, if not a bit puffy. His face was filled with shaken innocence and it was hard for her to think of him as anything more than a child who had awakened suddenly from a traumatic dream.

"It's not good, is it?" she asked, "Have I hurt you?"

"No," he said, his voice a bit hoarse, "I'm not hurt." He looked sad and worried to her, but he approached her and said,

"It's not over yet. You still have so much further to go. But you'll be able to use the stone when the time comes. I know you will! I believe in you!" She was surprised by his sudden declaration of confidence, but even more so when he suddenly embraced her around her neck.

Bewildered by this strange, conflicting demonstration of fear, sorrow, and affection from the young fairy, she felt strongly compelled to promise him then and there that she would keep him safe from harm. But she knew all such promises were traps laid to catch fools, so instead, she awkwardly returned his embrace and silently resolved to do whatever she could to prevent whatever vision had disturbed him so from coming true.

Looking over the young one's shoulder, she caught sight of the flat stone on which Goliath had left as a message for her. He'd etched a symbol in it that she remembered well, as the clan had used it as a message promising to be home before sunrise. This disturbed her a bit, as the sun had risen and neither he nor the others had returned.

"Do you know where they went?" she asked him and he shook his head.

"Goliath was here when I got here. I didn't let him see me though. I thought he'd never leave! He just knelt here, staring and staring at you. It was getting a little weird actually."

Demona chuckled at the surplus of information provided and said,

"Now I don't know what to do. I really must go into town and call Xanatos, but I'm worried about what sort of trouble they might have gotten into. I think I'd best find them first. But which way to go?"

Suddenly, they were both startled by a strange humming sound.

"What is that?" the boy asked, pointing toward a glow, coming from the slightly open storage compartment. Demona approached the lid carefully and gently lifted it to look inside. She pulled out the strange package Lexington had received upon leaving Avalon.

"That looks useful!" the boy declared.

"Useful or dangerous," she replied skeptically, "Lexington got ahold of this thing on Avalon. I have no idea what it is."

"Whatever it is, I think it heard you!" he explained, "Open it and see what it does!"

Gingerly, she opened the wrappings, exposing the strange bough, which quivered excitedly. It seemed as if it was made of twisted silver, but moved and hummed as if alive. As they watched it in wonder, it suddenly burst from her claw in a shower of sparks and spun in the air high above their heads, as if waiting for them to react.

"Follow it! Follow it!" he cried eagerly.

"How exactly?" she asked incredulously, "It will take me half the day to climb this precipice in this weak, useless form. And by the time I walk the eleven miles to the point it levels with the beach, I could catch a bus back to the village!"

He scowled at her protest.

"Sit down, then," he instructed, "Hold on tight!"

Uncertainly, she gripped the side of the skiff, and waited. The boy watched her eagerly.

"Well?" he urged.

"Well, what?" she asked. He shook his head as if she had missed something incredibly obvious.

"You have to ask!"

"Oh!" she replied quickly, realizing what he meant, "Will you take me to the top of the cliff?" The boy put his hands on his hips and gave her an insolent smile.

"What's the magic word?"

"My apologies," she replied snidely, "Will you please take me to the top?"

Looking quite proud at having successfully observed the formalities, he stretched his arms over the skiff and the entire thing shot forward toward the water so quickly that she nearly lost her grip. Then the boat made a wide u-turn, rising suddenly until it had sailed over the top of the cliff and into the nearby forest where it came to a violently sudden stop amid the trees.

"Thank you," Demona remembered to say as she quickly disembarked and looked around for the guiding wand, which now glittered above them in the sunlight, pointing east toward the village.

"Go on!" He encouraged her. Thinking ahead, she recovered the mysterious cloak from where it had fallen in the bottom of the boat.

"I should think this might come in handy when I get to the village," she said, wrapping it around her red tresses and bare shoulders and mid-drift.

"Hurry!" he urged her as the wand had already started to move ahead of them. They moved as quickly as they could through the dense undergrowth.

"It's getting away!" he cried with dismay, and she lifted him onto her back so she could work her way through more easily. They made their way up an embankment and found the wand waiting for them, spinning in mid air over a gravel road. As they climbed out from the weeds she quickly placed him on the ground. She grimaced with pain at the sharp rocks beneath her bare feet and sighed in frustration. It would be slow going for them as long as she had to trudge along the roadside weeds to protect those cursed human soles.

"Come on!" the boy urged again and she began stumbling along, as quickly as she could. They had not made it very far when they heard a sound that made the boy stop in alarm. It was something like a growling grunt, followed by a loud series of clicks that one might mistake for the locking of a trigger on a gun.

"What was that?" he asked in surprise, but before she could answer, a strange, dark shape tumbled out of the thicket ahead of them and onto the road surface. It was a very large bird, dark in color, and displaying a wide fan of a tail. It held its head at a strange angle as it clucked at them defensively.

"What happened to that turkey's neck?" the young fairy exclaimed.

"That's no turkey. It's called a capercaillie," she explained, "And you're making it angry."

The boy stared at the strange creature as if enchanted.

"Hello, friend," he cooed as he crouched down beside it and the large beast of a bird looked back at him with a red-lined eye that made him look very domineering.

"Come away from that thing!" she chided, "They are aggressive. He's going to peck your face off!"

The young fairy turned and looked at her inquisitively.

"But he's exactly what we need!" he protested.

"What we need? Why? Are you hungry?" The boy laughed at the suggestion, then to her horror, bent down at the capercaillie's side as if to whisper to him.

"Friend," she heard him ask, "Do you have two feathers for me?" The bird cocked his head. Even with the lack of expression in a bird's small head, he seemed shocked that a boy would speak to him in such a way. As graceful and smooth as a swan on the surface of the water, the capercaillie glided away into the thicket, and emerged a moment later with two large, black and white tail feathers that had been discarded from his great plumage.

"Thank you, Friend!" the fairy boy said enthusiastically, and the capercaillie cackled at him before returning to the thicket. Demona could almost imagine the bird saying, "Wait until I tell my wife! She'll never believe this!"

Gleefully, the boy arose and laid the two feathers down on the ground before Demona's feet.

"Stand on them," he instructed and she obeyed. The feathers seemed to swallow her feet and squeeze them until they had formed two black slippers. He smiled at her with a swell of pride.

"They're perfect!" he declared happily.

"Thank you," she replied genuinely, but he had already turned from her and was racing after the silver guiding wand. Now with her feet sufficiently protected, she followed him in earnest, down the hillside, toward the village below.