"Administrator! Thank the Eye you're here." Lord Osen leapt to his feet and out of Lorlen's chair. "No one knew where you were. We feared the worst."

Lorlen looked around his office. It seemed like it had been an age since he had left, yet it had only been two days. He took off his cloak and set down the bag of precious Guild documents, giving Osen a small smile.

"Thank the High Lord, more like. My absence was a part of his contingency plan. So, are the rumours true?"

Osen walked around the desk and picked up the bag, starting to take the documents out and looking at them curiously. "What…?"

"The High Lord ordered the safe removal of these documents," Lorlen explained. "Well?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are they?"

Osen began placing the documents away in the shelves behind Lorlen's desk. "You'll have to be more specific than that. Only our strongest magicians were at the battle – the rest of us were in the Guildhall, protecting the novices until we were needed. Different accounts of exactly what happened have been flying about."

"Is it true that Akkarin and Sonea defeated the Ichani with black magic?" Lorlen clarified. He wished to finally be rid of the burden of this secret.

Osen looked disapproving. "I cannot say for sure. But that is one rumour, yes."

Lorlen frowned. "Is Sonea alive? I know the High Lord is, but…" his voice trailed away. He couldn't tell Osen that he had her blood gem on him. He had watched the entire battle from Sonea's point-of-view, but there had been no communication from it since that final, unforgettable image of Akkarin slashing the Ichani's throat.

Osen looked at him with a touch of suspicion, but said nothing. "Well, you seem as well informed as any of us. The High Lord and his Consort are both in the Healer's Quarters. We have four more dead, and many exhausted. Sonea was among the severely injured. But Lady Vinara is keeping the Quarters strictly for Healers, the injured, and immediate family at the moment, so I don't know her condition."

"I see," Lorlen replied, sinking down into his chair with a heavy feeling in his chest. If anything happens to her, I think I will lose my friend forever, he thought. When Akkarin returned from his travels, the boy he had spent all his Guild years with was forever changed. Akkarin had always tended towards solitude, even as a novice, but the dark, brooding and secretive man who had returned and taken up the High Lord's mantle had always seemed to Lorlen like he had suddenly aged in soul, if not in body.

A magician looked fit and young for many years due to their Healing abilities, usually well into their fifties. Vinara herself was seventy yet as capable as ever. But whatever Akkarin had experienced on his travels seemed to have etched a permanent frown on his face, and a haunted, cold look into his eyes. It was only after Sonea began to live with him that his friend seemed to have a little bit of fire in his gaze, Lorlen remembered. And as the months had gone by, leading up to his trial and the public revelation of their relationship, it seemed to Lorlen like a purposefulness had returned to his old friend's step. Even through those confusing and sometimes hurtful months, when he had wished to remove and smash the blood gem Akkarin had forced him to wear, Lorlen had observed how the High Lord had changed. There was no doubt that change was down to Sonea.

Please, please let her be alright, he prayed silently. He did not want to see that haunted, dark Akkarin return ever again.

"I know it feels too soon, Administrator, but we need to compile a list of the dead and notify their families. And organise the service for the fallen," Osen said quietly, his eyes sorrowful. "Would you like to call a meeting of the Higher Magicians?"

Lorlen returned his heavy thoughts to the present and sighed. "Yes, thank you. I will visit the Healer's Quarters for the names of the dead and injured now. Please call a meeting for this evening in the Night Room. And –" he gave Osen a stern look – "please do not insist if the High Lord is unable to attend on this occasion. He may not wish to leave Sonea's side, and he himself needs time to recover."

Osen raised an eyebrow but nodded without comment.

"And Lord Osen?" Lorlen added.

"Yes?"

"I am glad you are alive," Lorlen finished with a smile.

—-

Rothen gazed out of the window by his bedside. There was a beautiful pine tree he could spot outside it, and he had spent a lot of time in the past few days observing how it swayed in the wind.

I am so fortunate to be alive. I am content with that, he firmly thought to himself yet again.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself with his surroundings or scold himself into a state of gratitude, feelings of sorrow, anger and helplessness kept bubbling up to the surface.

He still couldn't feel his lower body since the blast that had injured him and killed many others in the ambush by the Palace gates. The Healers had hushed his questions as they had gone about giving him regular checks and bringing him a bitter, medicinal drink. All he wanted was someone to tell him if he would walk again, but no one was giving him a definite yes or no.

But last night, when total commotion seemed to engulf the Healer's quarters, Rothen's fears for himself had dimmed for a moment, replaced by fears for Sonea, Dorrien, and all of his colleagues and friends. It sounded like the final battle had cost more lives. No one came to update him on what was happening, but through the open door of his recovery room, Rothen had seen several injured magicians being carried into the Quarters. The Healers had shouted instructions all night.

Things were quieter by midday, and someone had brought him food and the herbal drink. But they had hurried away again without answering his questions. Rothen sighed and lay back, closing his eyes.

"Father?"

Rothen's eyes flew open, and he smiled to see his son standing in the doorway – looking, thankfully, entirely unharmed, even though Rothen knew he hadn't been in Imardin.

"Dorrien! You came," he said, gesturing for him to come in. Dorrien stood by his bedside with worried eyes. They grasped hands.

"Of course I did. I'd have come to help the defence if I had been allowed," Dorrien said, sounding like he was holding back some anger. "But Lady Vinara sent instructions to all village Healers to stay in place."

"Lady Vinara was right. What if it had been a bloodbath? The Ichani almost succeeded. If they had, any magicians who were not in Imardin would have been all we'd have left of the Guild."

Dorrien looked pained. "I know, but…"

"You hate being left out of the action," Rothen finished for his son, smiling. He was still his mischievous little boy under those broad shoulders.

Dorrien returned his smile weakly. "What do the Healers say?"

Rothen sighed and looked back out of the window. "They tell me nothing. I've tried healing myself, but my legs stay the same. I don't know if they're trying some other kind of healing with this horrible infusion they're making me drink. Or whether they've already given up."

Tears glistened in Dorrien's eyes. "Let me take a look." He grasped Rothen's hand and sent his senses into his father's body. He was relieved to see all of his vital signs were good. His heart was strong and his source magic was glowing. He then sent his senses into his nerves and spine.

Dorrien frowned at what he thought he saw, but he couldn't be sure. He focused his attention. There was a badly damaged nerve in his lower spine. It didn't seem to be responding to all the magical healing techniques Dorrien knew. Rothen grimaced in discomfort and Dorrien stopped what he was doing, withdrawing his senses back into himself. He looked at his son with cautious hope in his eyes.

Dorrien tried to compose his face into a reassuring smile. "I've spent so long healing my villagers with methods that use as little magic as possible that I'm afraid I've gotten pretty rusty when it comes to working with the latest techniques. This is nothing I haven't seen before, but I'll have to consult with Lady Vinara on what she recommends."

Rothen's smile was sad. He got the feeling that his son was hiding the hopelessness of his situation from him, but did not say anything. "How is Sonea? Was she at the battle? She hasn't been in the Guild for days."

Dorrien's smile faded. He hesitated until his father frowned sternly at him. "Dorrien. Tell me what you know," Rothen said.

His son sighed and did not meet Rothen's eyes. "She was at the battle alright. She and the High Lord almost single-handedly defeated the last two Ichani." Dorrien's eyes grew angry. "She is badly injured. The High Lord is unharmed," he said, a look of disgust crossing his face. "Some protector he turned out to be. Put her right in harm's way, as I always knew he would."

"Come now, Dorrien, that's not fair. War is unpredictable," Rothen replied. "Is she here in the Healer's Quarters? Is she alright now?" He tried to sit up but Dorrien gently pushed him down to lie back again.

"Lady Vinara is allowing no visitors into her room. The High Lord is with her."

Rothen felt like a rock was sitting on his chest. A wave of exhaustion and worry washed over him. "Thank you for coming, my son. I think I will rest a bit now."

"Of course. I'll come by again tonight," Dorrien replied, squeezing Rothen's hand in reassurance.

As he walked to the door, Rothen opened his eyes and called after him. "Dorrien?"

"Yes, father?"

"Sonea will need your friendship when she returns to us. Do not begrudge her that. They are a good match; I never thought I'd say this, but I see it now. You should not punish her for her choice," Rothen said solemnly from his bed.

"I've never said – "

"Dorrien. You know what I mean. She has been through so much. Bury the past, and just be there for her," Rothen said tiredly, closing his eyes.

His son looked like he was about to reply, then sighed and nodded, backing out of the room.

—-

Akkarin was woken with an unceremonious bang as a middle-aged Healer who looked Lonmar entered the room, placing a tray of food down on the table next to Sonea's bed. Akkarin grimaced at the soreness in his neck and shoulders. He had dozed off seated on the chair next to the bed, his chin on his chest and his arms crossed. The Healer tutted disapprovingly as Akkarin stretched his neck, then returned to studying Sonea's face. After several attempts to scold him away to get some rest, the Healers had given up and just let Akkarin stay in the room.

There was more of a tinge of colour in Sonea's cheeks, he was relieved to see, than last night. She looked as she did when he would wake before her at the residence, watching her with a small smile as she would peacefully sleep in his bed. But the heavy bandage that was wrapped across her torso and back suggested otherwise.

"High Lord, I will only say this one more time. You must eat, then get some sleep yourself. There's a bed in the room next door," the Lonmar Healer said, pointing to the tray. She then placed a hand on Sonea's arm and closed her eyes. Akkarin sensed power flowing out of her. Sonea hadn't woken up since the battle, so the Healers were nourishing her body via magic every few hours.

"Thank you, Lady…?"

"Endra."

"Any changes in her condition, Lady Endra?" Akkarin asked.

"It was a near-fatal injury, High Lord. Even with her level of power, our magic can only do so much. The wound is sealed, there is no infection, and now her own body must do some of the work. It cannot be rushed," Lady Endra said firmly.

As she took in Akkarin's day-old stubble and tired eyes, her gaze softened a little. "Her source of magic is much larger than yesterday, which suggests things are moving in the right direction. But you need to get some real sleep, High Lord. You know a magician can only heal away fatigue so many times before the consequences start to get unpleasant."

Akkarin's face brightened a little at her words, and he looked back at Sonea's face fondly. She's coming back.

"Thank you. Yes, I'll take the bed in the room next door, please," he said, reluctantly untangling his fingers from Sonea's.

He stood up gingerly, stretching his legs, then looked back down at Sonea. He raised a hand and gently ran his fingertips across her cheek, carefully moving a strand of her black hair off her forehead.

– Don't leave me now, my fierce novice, he sent her mentally through his touch, not sure if she could hear him. Let's begin our life together.

He smiled down at her then quietly moved out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He came face to face with Lorlen in the corridor.

The two men looked at each other in surprise for a moment, then in a sudden movement, came forward to embrace.

"My friend," Akkarin said quietly. "You're safe."

"As are you," Lorlen replied, smiling. "And a hero, no less."

Akkarin's lips curled up at the corner and he shook his head. "Everyone now knows, remember. I'm a black magician. I'll be lucky to stay in the Guild, let alone remain High Lord. But I've made my peace with that."

Lorlen waved his hand dismissively. "I don't know about the other Higher Magicians, but I'll vehemently oppose any motion to de-instate you. Restrictions perhaps, yes, but a fine way to thank you it would be if we got rid of the most effective leadership the Guild has seen in centuries."

A frown returned to Akkarin's features. "Your faith in me – despite everything I've done to you – means a lot, Lorlen. But keeping me as High Lord would change everything. It would mean the Guild is tacitly approving black magic, which I don't believe it should. No, the best I can hope for is to stay here and be given something to do."

Frustration was etched onto Lorlen's face. A group of Healers hurried past and Akkarin placed a hand on the Administrator's shoulder. "Let's continue this in private." He led Lorlen into the recovery room that Lady Endra had designated for him. It was identical to Sonea's room.

Lorlen sat on the chair by the bedside and Akkarin on the edge of the bed. "I should let you rest," Lorlen said, but seemed reluctant to leave.

"I don't think I can sleep until I see Sonea awake," Akkarin said softly, looking into the distance.

Lorlen couldn't help but smile. "You really love her, don't you?"

Akkarin's dark eyes snapped to Lorlen's, a fire returning to them. "I will not be parted from her, Lorlen. I know you will meet the Higher Magicians soon. That is my only condition, my only request. If I stay, she stays. If she leaves, I leave."

Lorlen raised an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a 'yes, Lorlen, I love her'," he said, grinning.

Akkarin snorted quietly, but he shot Lorlen his half-smile. Then his face grew serious again. "I assume they saw Sonea use black magic to kill Kivara?"

"Probably. Balkan and the magicians on the front line would have been close enough to see. But surely they will agree that you both were using it as a defensive tactic. An extreme measure in an extreme situation." Lorlen stood up and rested a hand on the High Lord's shoulder. "We're meeting tonight. Don't worry about this now, Akkarin. I will try to make them see that you and Sonea learned black magic purely for the defence of Kyralia. I don't know what will be decided, but I have no doubt that the… usual penalty… cannot and will not be applied here."

Akkarin nodded, his every move betraying his exhaustion. "I think it's best if I'm not there tonight. I can't accept or refute their judgement, whatever it is, without Sonea also there to consider it." His voice grew quieter. "She saved my life. And she's paying for it."

Lorlen tightened his grip on Akkarin's shoulder and said in a firm voice. "Her actions were heroic, as were yours. Don't you dare blame yourself. She will wake soon. I am sure of it."

As Lorlen quietly left the room, Akkarin lay back and closed his eyes, drifting into a fitful sleep full of dark dreams.