The bed wasn't terribly comfortable, but he felt compelled to sleep in it so as not to waste their hard work. The table was a few inches lower than the mattress, even with the cushions, and it made his back ache after a while. He ended up curling on his side, knees drawn up, to fit on the mattress.

Perhaps it was his restless sleep in a strange place that brought on the dream. Even in sleep, a headache grasped his skull. Arden groaned and tossed his head back and forth. Then he was floating in the void once more.

He knew this place. He turned, seeking the man in black, or the goddess's voice. Instead, as he looked upward, he saw fiery stars raining from the sky, roaring as they fell. He floated transfixed, staring at this awful sight. One seemed to fall directly upon him, but he felt no heat or impact.

Instead, the dream changed. Now he was floating before a crystal vast as a mountain, glowing in its own light.

"Hear, feel, think," said a woman's voice.

"I hear, I feel, I think," Arden replied.

The Crystal's attention seemed to focus on him. "My dear child," said the goddess in warm tones. "Long hath I awaited thee. I am Hydaelyn, goddess of the Light."

"If you please. Hydaelyn," said Arden, "why do you speak to me so? I am a servant of Azim."

"Azim is also of the Light," Hydaelyn replied. "I know him well. Fear not, beloved son. Thou hast stood against the Darkness, and will do so again."

Arden saw an opportunity. "Who are the men in black?"

"They are servants of the Darkness," said Hydaelyn. "Ever they seek to reunite their god, the dark one, Zodiark. Resist them! Do not listen to their honeyed lies. Ever they seek to deceive and twist the truth."

Arden accepted this. In that place, floating before the vast crystal, this was good and just. He didn't question because the goddess was right in front of him. What was more, the Crystal's light bathed his being, embracing him with love and joy.

"I will do what I can," said Arden. "But there is much I do not know."

"Keep your eyes open and you will learn many things," said Hydaelyn. "Hear with your ears and do not close them. Feel with your heart and do not harden it. Think with your mind and do not blindly wander. I will be with you."

The dream faded and Arden awoke. A headache lingered behind his eyes, and he was damp with sweat. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. Through the window curtain he could see the gray light of dawn. The distant sounds of voices and footsteps told him the city was awakening. Had he been at home, he would have gone out to tend the sheep. Here he wasn't sure what to do.

He arose, dressed, and went to the kitchen for a drink of water. There he noticed the cooking fire had burned down to a coals, so he added a few logs and used the bellows to set it ablaze again. As there was still no movement from the rest of the house, he went outside.

It was a fresh, cool morning out there, with a misty haze hanging in the air. Arden stood in the front yard and watched people passing by in the street. He looked at the sky showing through the forest city's canopy and reviewed his goals: continue training as a conjurer, find paying work. Beyond this, however, he felt as if some part of himself had changed. His senses had been strengthened or something. The morning mist felt sharper on his skin, the taste of earth and leaves on his tongue, the sense of wholesomeness in the very air resonated with his being.

"What is that thing?" said a voice near at hand.

Startled, Arden looked around. As far as he could see, he was alone, except for a squirrel clinging to a tree trunk nearby.

As he looked at it, the squirrel's head turned and one eye fixed on him. "It saw me," it said. "Time to go!" It raced up the tree and out of sight.

"Excuse me?" Arden stammered. "Did you just speak to me, squirrel?"

"Of course not!" the squirrel chattered from above. "I was addressing myself!" Softer, it muttered, "The monster understands me, this is frightening, better tell someone."

Arden stood there, staring upward, trying to grasp what had happened. Gridania had talking squirrels? But before he could come up with an explanation, a blue jay flew by him screeching, "Thief thief thief!" It flew into a tree where another bird protested, "I am not and get off, I had it first!"

Arden slowly turned his head, listening through his horns. Every bird he could hear spoke understandable words, albeit in a quick, twittering way. Many sang so fast he couldn't follow their speech.

As he stood there, listening, the cottage door opened and Minfilia stepped out. Her butter-yellow hair was held back in a braid, and she wore a warm pink coat over her clothes. "Good morning, Arden," she sat, coming to stand beside him. "Enjoying our damp mornings?"

"The-the birds," Arden stammered. "I understand them. A squirrel spoke to me."

Minfilia looked up at him in keen interest. "They do? Have they always?"

"No, only this morning," said Arden. "I dreamed of the goddess last night, and–and a Starfall."

Minfilia beamed. "That's wonderful!"

"It is?" Arden was taken aback.

"Yes! Come inside and I'll explain." Minfilia led him back indoors, where the warm kitchen fire felt good on his chilled arms. A pot of water hung over the fire for porridge.

"When you hear Hydaelyn," said Minfilia, "and see the Starfall, you have been blessed with an ability called the Echo. We don't understand it terribly well, and we're not sure if Hydaelyn grants it, or if she merely quickens a dormant power to life within us. But the Echo takes many forms. Some people gain the ability to speak to animals. Others can see into the souls of man and uncover secrets there. Others gain incredible fighting techniques, or special insight, or preternatural instincts. You appear to have gained the ability to speak to animals."

"I would have preferred the fighting abilities," said Arden with a wry twist of his mouth. "Listening to a squirrel calling you a monster doesn't seem terribly useful."

"The Echo may manifest that way, if you work at it," said Minfilia. "I've known great men who learned to guide their Echo according to their will. They became heroes of Eorzea. What we call the Warriors of Light." She paused and sighed. "But many of them were lost in the Calamity five years ago. We know not if they perished or wander the world, devoid of memories." She checked the hot water, then began to measure dry meal into it from a crock.

"I would like to be a Warrior of Light," said Arden thoughtfully. "But I am already a warrior of the Steppe. Can a warrior also be a healer?"

"Certainly," said Minfilia. "The fight to save men's lives in the hospital is equally valuable as those who take them on the battlefield."

This reassured Arden. He sat at the table and watched Minfilia. "Is there aught I can help you with?"

"Nay, you're fine where you are," she said with a smile. "Soon you'll go out and attend to your training. If I know E-Sumi-Yan, he'll have you tramping about the woods all day."

"I welcome the exercise," said Arden. "At home I would walk for miles with the sheep, or ride for days on horseback."

"You'll find city life much softer, I'm afraid," said Minfilia. "Stay in training as much as you can. The presence of the Paragons bodes ill." She paused and gazed out the window in anxious thought, then tried to hide it with another smile. "I should have more news of them by tonight. Take heart, friend. If you find somewhere else to stay, at least come here for supper so we might keep each other informed."

Arden agreed to this sensible suggestion. Then Yda and Papalymo came in, and the group had breakfast. Arden kept his newfound ability to speak to animals to himself. Minfilia didn't mention it, either. Perhaps she felt it was his secret to share.

E-Sumi-Yan was back in the Stillglade Fane when Arden arrived an hour later.

"Ah, good," said the boy. "You accomplished the tasks I set for you?"

"Y-yes," said Arden. He recounted drawing stones from the soil and carting them across town.

"Excellent," said E-Sumi-Yan. "You seem to have a natural affinity for the elements. Now, we in Gridania only dwell here by the consent of the elementals. They drove men from the Black Shroud for many years until a brave group of people dared to attempt speaking with them. We were able to establish a pact of harmonious living, and in return the elementals allow us to live here. If you are to learn conjury, you must learn to draw aether from the elementals as well as return it."

He set Arden to growing a series of plants in pots. He was to draw upon the life of the tree around them and funnel it into the plants to promote growth. Arden encouraged each seed to sprout, but one grew too fast and died, while the others grew furiously until their roots filled the pots and their growth stunted.

E-Sumi-Yan checked on him. "You're using too much energy, Arden Ardakim. Are you always so forceful?"

"I have a warrior's hand, sir," Arden said with an apologetic bow. "I am deeply sorry."

"They're only beans," said E-Sumi-Yan with a smile. "It's why we use them for practice. Dump these pots outside, refill them, and try again. And be gentle. Gentleness is power under control, and you must find your control."

Arden tried again, this time coaxing the beans instead of pressing them. They grew more slowly this time, but each plant was healthier than his first attempt. He began to notice that aether had a taste and smell. Whenever he drew on the earth magic in the tree around him, he smelled and tasted wood and leaves.

E-Sumi-Yan checked his progress. "Much better. I see you're controlling the aether flow this time."

"Yes sir," said Arden. "I can but try."

"I have another task for you," said the boy. "Between here and Bentbranch Meadows lies a forest glade afflicted with sickness. Go forth and purge it." He added some technical instructions about spell work and sent Arden off.

Minfilia had been right, Arden reflected as he left Gridania by the southern gates. He'd likely spend the day tramping through the forest. Within a few yards he was hemmed in by the forest, unable to see through the dense greenery in all directions. To a man raised on the wide-open plains of northern Othard, this forest gave him a stifling feeling, as if he was trapped in a narrow canyon. The road certainly seemed to carve a canyon through the trees.

But after a while his spirits lifted. He came upon a couple of people cutting trees, then a pair of adventurers enthusiastically stalking funguars. Seeing as these moving mushroom-animals had blackened and killed a wide swath of forest undergrowth, Arden joined them and purged the ground afterwards.

"We don't know why the funguars are doing this," said one of the adventurers. They were both female miqo'te in leather armor and carried bows. Delicate and feminine, their heads only came to Arden's waist. He gazed at their cat ears and tails in fascination.

Both women looked up at him without fear. "You know," said the other, "one of the botanists over there said that the funguars were normal until some man in black came through. He did something that set them into overdrive."

"I am seeking a man in black," said Arden. "With a red mask."

"We haven't seen him," said the other catgirl. "We're just trying to improve our hunting skills."

"If you don't mind, I'll accompany you," said Arden. "I'm attempting to learn conjury, but my efforts are too heavy-handed as yet."

They spent the rest of the day cleaning out patches of corrupted funguar and purging the sickness they left behind. Arden improved at controlling earth magic, and found his companions talkative and friendly. As the afternoon waned, they hiked back to Gridania. Arden presented himself to E-Sumi-Yan and gave him the corpse of a mushroom-animal. "I collected a sample for you to study, sir. Note the discoloration in the cap and limbs."

"I see," said E-Sumi-Yan, wrapping his hand in protective magic and picking up the creature. He examined it closely. "The creature's aether has been tampered with. I wonder to what end?"

"I worked with a pair of archers who claimed to have seen a man in black in the area," said Arden.

E-Sumi-Yan gave him a quick look. "Yes. A man in black. We will discuss this tomorrow, Arden. For now I must think."

Arden left the Fane and sought out Minfilia's house. He was pleasantly weary and hungry, and also pleased with his progress that day.

He knocked at the cottage door and was admitted by Yda, still wearing her mask. "There you are, Arthur! Minfilia's had dinner waiting on you. Come in and wash up!"

Arden ducked through the low doorway and went to the kitchen to wash. Minfilia had roasted a chicken and mashed popotos with plenty of butter and cream. Arden set to with a will.

As they ate, Minfilia said, "I've had unsettling news, all of you. While the Paragons have been lurking about the Black Shroud, they haven't seem to have done much yet. However, I received word today that a large shipment of crystals enroute from Thanalan to Gridania was robbed yesterday. In addition, there have been reports of kidnappings in the area around Camp Drybone."

Yda and Papalymo groaned. "Are you leaving so soon, then?" Yda asked.

Minfilia nodded. "I must investigate. I'll return as soon as I can." Seeing Arden's mystified look, she smiled. "My friends and I are part of a group called the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Our goal is to protect Eorzea."

"It sounds simple but it's anything but," said Papalymo.

"Tell him about primals," said Yda.

Minfilia drew a deep breath. "The beast tribes worship various gods. In times of peace, this is no trouble. But in times of turmoil, they cry out to their gods with such fervor that it alters the very aether. Given enough aether crystals, they can summon a monster that resembles the god they cry to. A primal, if you will. But they have created it in their own image. It carries their appetites, their desires, and demands ever more aether to remain manifested. They drain and kill the land, and it's our duty to slay them."

Arden listened to this in fascinated horror. "How does one slay a god, even a false one? Are they mortal?"

"Yes, and that is their weakness," said Minfilia. "However, they are stronger than mortals, and their breath enslaves all who come near, a process called tempering. We know of no way to restore a tempered. The laws of all three city states mandate a death sentence."

Arden gulped.

"Thus we pay attention to the shipments of aether crystals," said Minfilia. "If they go missing, it's usually because a beast tribe is attempting to summon a god. If it's Thanalan, then it's probably the Amaljaa."

"Nasty things," Yda said. "Ifrit worshipers."

"I must depart first thing in the morning," said Minfilia. "Arden, you're welcome to continue to stay here with Yda and Papalymo. Keep on with your studies. We may need a healer if things get worse."

"Yes ma'am," said Arden. "I won't disappoint you."

Minfilia's departure seemed to drain the life out of the little cottage. Arden still spent the nights there, but Yda and Papalymo were terrible cooks, and Arden wasn't much better.

He spent his days studying conjury and working odd jobs on the side. Owing to his size and strength, he usually landed heavy manual labor jobs like loading carts or cutting wood. It paid enough that Arden didn't fret about buying a meal now and then, especially on the nights when Yda cooked.

After a few weeks, Arden learned enough conjury to begin studying basic healing. With the other students, they studied human and animal anatomy, and healed animals of minor wounds. E-Sumi-Yan wouldn't let them touch a human until they passed their exams.

These studies were rigorous and demanding. Between them and work, Arden didn't leave Gridania and heard little of the man in black. Yda and Papalymo had stories of encounters and how the Paragons were stirring up the local bird men, but Arden was too busy to join in.

After three months, he passed his initial exams along with most of the other young conjurers and became an apprentice healer. He worked alongside professional healers in the medical ward to cure small illnesses and injuries, gaining confidence as he went.

Then one day his healing staff burned out.

"These beginner staves never last long," said E-Sumi-Yan, examining the blackened focus crystal on the end. "Go down to Bentbranch Meadows and cut yourself a good strong rowan branch. There's a shop down the way from here that sells focus crystals. Then take them both to the carpenter's guild."

Arden bought the crystal first. It made a heavy lump in his pocket as he took the road from the city to this outlying town.

Bentbranch Meadows was a few square miles of cleared space with fields of grain and vegetables. For the first time in weeks Arden could see the sky, and he drew great breaths, feeling as if he'd emerged from a cage. As he walked up the road toward the town, he paused by a fence to watch a pair of chocobos running about a paddock. These birds ran on two legs and were taller than him, with powerful beaks and a kick strong enough to disembowel a man. But these were domesticated, probably trained to pull carriages. A big orange male strode up to the fence to investigate him.

"Hello, beautiful," said Arden with a smile. "You're a big boy, aren't you?"

"You bring greens?" said the chocobo.

Arden hadn't had much opportunity to listen to animals in the past few weeks. The chocobo's whistling voice took him by surprise for a second. Then he shook his head and patted his pockets. "No greens this time, I'm afraid."

"No greens?" said the chocobo. It stretched its neck over the fence and nipped at Arden's clothes. The huge beak could have torn him to shreds, but the chocobo was curious, not aggressive. It nudged his pockets, then lifted its head and nibbled his horns. Arden laughed and pushed its head away. The bird shook its head then nosed his chest, so Arden stroked the feathered crest on its head and its fluffy cheeks.

"I must go, I'm afraid," he told it.

"Bring greens!" the chocobo commanded. "I be your friend for always."

"It's a deal," said Arden. He gave the chocobo a last caress, then continued his journey down the road. While he had been raised around horses, he could definitely see the appeal of the big sassy birds. Maybe someday he could afford one and he wouldn't have to walk everywhere.

The village of Bentbranch Meadows was only a few streets wide with a market square in the middle. The houses were that low, flowing style with turf roofs, and children ran about as Arden arrived. Since it was past noon, he went in search of a meal before hunting a decent rowan tree.

It wasn't market day, but a few vendors in the square were selling toasted meat and bread on sticks. Arden stopped to watch for a few minutes. A woman slapped meat mixed with spices onto a circle of dough, rolled it up, and thrust a stick through it. She did this very fast and soon had a pile of them. A man, probably her husband, conjured fire to a brass brazier and toasted the bread three at a time. Then a young boy, probably their son, sold them to waiting customers. The whole square smelled of hot bread and spices.

Arden bought six. The boy looked warily at his horns and scales, but took his gil just the same. As Arden turned away, he heard the boy say, "Papa, look, an au ra!"

"I don't care if he's a purple sylph, you be polite," his father replied.

Arden hid a grin and munched the hot food, which was delicious as it smelled.

Revitalized, he approached one of the few other open vendor stalls, which sold all manner of useful trinkets and tools. The man there eyed Arden up and down. "May I help you?"

"I need a rowan branch for a new shortstaff," Arden said. "Do you carry any?"

"Alas, no," said the man. "I do have some maple and birch rods, though."

"Has to be rowan," said Arden regretfully. "Do you know where I might find some?"

"There's a decent grove west of town," said the man. "Initiates are always going out there for it. But take care. Some goblins have been camped out that way and they attack travelers."

"Thanks for the warning," said Arden. He passed the man a gil for his trouble and set out for the woods.

The trees west of the village were smaller and thicker, like second or third growth forest. Arden followed a winding path through undergrowth as tall as he was. After he discovered a tick on his arm, he worked a cunning bit of magic to repel insects, which a fellow conjurer had taught him. It had the side effect of making most small creatures not notice him, so after that he saw lots of squirrels, rabbits, and birds that let him come within arm's reach before scurrying away.

He came upon the rowan grove and stood gazing at it in dismay. The undergrowth had been cleared, and the trees stood straight and tall over a bed of green moss and violets. But the branches had been cut higher than his head. The trees seemed to like this, for their canopies were rich and spreading, full of unripe clusters of berries.

Arden roamed the grove until he found a tree he could climb. He swung up into it, exploring the tree's shape and growth, until he found a branch that looked right for a staff. He pulled out a knife and began sawing at it.

After a few minutes of this, he paused to rest and look about him. Birds sang and called all around, their voices too indistinct for him to distinguish words. But a different voice spoke on the ground. Arden looked.

Two goblins stood at a distance, each armed with shortswords and bows, their heads swinging from side to side, as if hunting. They were small, lumpen creatures with pointed bat ears, their entire heads covered in helmets with breathing masks. The faint hiss of their breathing reached him where he sat.

"Not is farenough," said one.

"Sneakytracks not hide from gobbienose," said the other. "Arrow shootready!"

Arden tensed. Were they tracking him? He withdrew his knife from the tree branch and gripped it in his fist.

The goblins crept toward the base of his tree. Arden sat perfectly still, watching their movements. They reached his tree and peered around it, whispering to each other. Then they moved to a different tree without looking up once. Arden relaxed a little.

As he watched, the goblins drew their small bows at the same time and fired. An animal let out a sharp scream of pain–a horse.

Arden's heart skipped a beat. Then he plunged down the tree, heedless of falling or the noise he made. Horses were revered on the Azim Steppes. One did not let goblins shoot them with arrows.

The goblins heard the crashing he made and whirled toward him. He must have looked terrifying, this dark man with horns seeming to plunge from the sky. The goblins wailed something about voidsent and ran away. Arden almost pursued them, but changed his mind.

A white horse lay on its side in the undergrowth, blood staining its neck and shoulder. As Arden hurried toward it, the horse kicked and beat its head against the ground, but couldn't seem to rise. A golden horn spiraled from its forehead–a unicorn. Arden had no idea that such mythical creatures roamed Eorzea.

"It's all right, it's all right, I'm here," Arden said to it.

The unicorn's eyes rolled, the whites showing, teeth bared in panic and pain. It snapped at him and lashed out with its front hooves.

Arden pulled out the focus crystal he had bought earlier. "I'm sorry about this, girl," he said, "but it's the only way I can save you." He worked a simple sleep spell, drawing on the aether of the forest. The unicorn sank down and lay still.

Arden attended to pulling the arrows from its neck and withers and stanched the bleeding. Using the focus crystal, he worked a Cure spell to set the wounds to healing. Aether flowed from the crystal and down his hand to the unicorn's wounds. The blood running from them slowed to an ooze, then ceased altogether.

A boot crunched on leaves. Arden looked up to see a man in a black robe step out of the trees.

Arden leaped to his feet and drew his shortsword. "Stay where you are!"

The man wore a red mask that obscured his features beneath his hood. Only his mouth showed, and it smiled in a cruel way. "Who are you," he said, "to stand between an Ascian and his prey?"

The accent was foreign, and Arden had an idea the man was speaking a different language. Did the Echo let him understand the tongues of men as well as wildlife?

"I am a Warrior of Light," said Arden boldly. "I stand against the forces of Darkness wherever I encounter them."

"Then you are a fool," said the Ascian. "Seven times rejoined as you are, you are no match for the Unsundered. This beast may play only a small part in my plan, but a crucial part nonetheless. Will you trade your life for hers?"

"I will stand between senseless cruelty and a creature of beauty and life," said Arden through his teeth. "I know naught of your power, but your plan must change."

The Ascian's smile widened. "Your life for hers, then." He raised a hand and a ball of seething black shadows formed in his palm.

Arden flung himself to one side as the man hurled the darkness. The ball split apart into burning fragments as it traveled, and several of these struck Arden's right arm and side. Cold deadness spread through him.

The man in black laughed and disappeared in a swirl of purple.

Arden dropped to one knee, clutching the burning cold spots where the darkness had struck him. He pulled out his focus crystal and tried to Cure them, but the earth magic curled away and refused to touch it. The black, seething magic spread across his skin, burning his clothing. He gasped in the pain of it, his fingers contorting into unnatural shapes.

Behind him, the unicorn snorted and scrambled to its feet. Arden turned to look, cradling his corrupted arm. He mustered a smile for the equine face that regarded him so soberly. The eyes studied him with a depth of intelligence he had not seen on other beasts.

"You are well, that's good," he told it. "The man in black wanted you dead. He has slain me instead."

"So I see," said the unicorn. She approached him on golden hooves and sniffed his arm and side. "You speak truth, man of horns and scales. You are slain once this darkness reaches your heart."

He had hoped until that point that the unicorn might save him. These words stilled that hope. He drew a breath and closed his eyes, steadying himself as a warrior before battle. He would face death with honor.

"Before death claims me," Arden said, looking into the unicorn's eyes, "might I ask why the man wished you dead?"

The unicorn gazed at him for a moment. Then it bared its teeth in a horrible grin. The mouth stretched back and back, forming monstrous jaws. The white coat rippled and turned black, flame dancing across its flanks, and the mane turned to orange flame. The golden spiral horn now burned with green magic.

"Because I am Nightmare," it screeched in a demonic voice, high and low at once. It lowered that terrible burning horn and touched his arm. The darkness was pulled from Arden's body and swirled into the dark unicorn. It touched his side, drawing the power from there, too. Then the demon horse danced backwards, tossing its head. Black wings sprang from its shoulders, and it leaped skyward. It crashed through the treetops and was gone.

Arden sat where he was for some time, breathing as hard as if he'd run a race. Had that unicorn turned to a demon before his eyes and taken his corruption upon itself? Or had his dying eyes deceived him with a vision? He waited for some sign of its return, but the forest birds had resumed their songs as if nothing had happened.

When he finally rose to his feet, Arden's whole body ached. He slowly made his way back to the tree he had climbed before. It took him three tries to haul himself into it, and even longer to finish cutting the branch he had selected for his new shortstaff.

The afternoon sun's rays had grown long and orange by this time. He had been in this wood for hours, and he wouldn't return to Gridania until after nightfall. Had there been an inn in Bentbranch? He hadn't seen one.

He returned to the ground and hiked back to the village, with many a nervous glance over his shoulders and into every shadowy glade. He smelled the village's cooking fires before he saw it, and his stomach began to complain. Perhaps a bite, then a place to spend the night.

The same merchant stall where he had bought lunch was still open, but now they were selling meat and vegetables on sticks, grilled over an open flame. These sticks had an immense amount of food on them, and Arden bought two.

As he sat on a crowded bench with his dinner, he asked of the men there, "Is there an inn here where one might pass the night?"

The villagers looked him up and down.

"Not from around here, are you?" one asked. "Bentbranch is too small for accommodations like that. I imagine if you're desperate, they'd let you sleep in the chocobo stables."

The group laughed.

Arden ate his supper in silence after that. He was so weary that he kept feeling phantom pains in the places where the Ascian's magic had struck him. It would be a long walk back to Gridania, several malms away.

The sun had already vanished behind the trees when Arden set out. His feet dragged and the evening's coolness touched his arm and side like ice. He carried the rowan branch like a cudgel and hoped nothing attacked him on the road. He hadn't the strength for a fight.

Full night fell and he could hardly see the road. Arden stumbled along, his will keeping him moving forward even as his body slowly rebelled. Finally he sat on the verge to rest, his own sweat chilling him further.

Hooves clopped on the road from the direction he had come. Arden raised his head in suspicion. A farmer returning home late? Or the demon unicorn he had worked to put from his mind?

The hooves drew closer. After a time he made out the pale shape of a horse walking toward him. If it was white again, then it was the unicorn and not the nightmare. He sat still, hoping it would pass him by.

Instead, the horse walked straight up to him and breathed in his face. "Here you are."

"What are you?" Arden's voice shook. "A nightmare of the void come to devour me?"

"A friend," said the unicorn. "You healed me and defended me from the dark one. You took the curse meant for me, so I lifted it from you. Such a thing binds our fates together, my friend. What is your name?"

Arden considered this for a long moment. He would rather have the monster for a friend than an enemy, that was certain. Giving it his name would give it power over him, or it could be seen as a sign of trust. Since it had saved his life, he dared offer trust instead of fear.

"Arden Ardakim. And yours?" Would the unicorn gift him its name in return?

"Valiant," said the unicorn without hesitation. "I am not always a Nightmare."

Now he knew two of its names. Some of his fear ebbed. They were on equal footing. Arden lifted a hand and stroked the soft muzzle. "I have never had a unicorn as a friend, Valiant."

"Not many do," said the unicorn. "I am tied to the woods of the Black Shroud. I serve the elementals and protect the woodland folk. My death would have weakened the entire Twelveswood." She sniffed him again, especially his shoulder and side. "You are still in pain, Arden Ardakim."

"Yes, I'm afraid so." He lowered his head. "You removed the dark magic, but it left me sick and weary."

"Ride, Arden Ardakim." The unicorn turned sideways, offering her back. "I shall bear you to your door. I am well known to the Elder Seedseer."

Arden mounted the unicorn and buried his cold hands in her warm mane. She set off at a light canter, her motion smoother than any horse he had ever ridden. He swiftly sank into a doze, letting the unicorn bear him home.

He awoke to find her standing in the front garden of Minfilia's cottage. Yda and Papalymo were exclaiming over the unicorn and asking questions.

"Aye, I'm all right," Arden said, dismounting. His head swam and he caught himself against the doorframe.

"He was injured," said Valiant. "Let him rest."

"Yda, take Arden to his room," Papalymo said. "I wish to have a word with this creature."

Arden remembered very little after that, except that Yda helped him pull off his boots. He crawled into bed, wrapped himself in blankets, and slept.

Outside, the unicorn told Papalymo what had happened.

"He faced the man in black and took a deadly curse meant for me, and he never knew what it was he did. He challenged a Paragon to save a lesser deity. Such actions will be noticed by those who watch the shifting currents of power."

"He is a good man." Papalymo looked at the open cottage door. "Naive, perhaps, but his heart is in the right place."

"Tell him to whistle three times anywhere in the Twelveswood and call my name," the unicorn said. "I will hear and come to him." She tossed her head. "He claimed the title Warrior of Light in front of the Paragon. They will seek him personally after that."

"He did? Bold move," said Papalymo thoughtfully. "But a man chooses his own fate more often than not."

"Have a healer examine him in the morning," said Valiant. "In the sunlight. The curse attacks one's very aether, and he was inches from death when I intervened."

"I will," said Papalymo. "Good night, Valiant."

"Good night, Archon," said the unicorn. She turned and trotted away down the Gridanian street. The few people out so late gazed at her in wonder as she passed by.

Papalymo returned indoors to find Yda waiting for him in the entry.

"I eavesdropped," she said frankly, arms folded. "I've never seen Arden like this before. He's positively ill."

"He will need sunlight to recover from the curse's effects," said Papalymo. "I'll call Minfilia tomorrow. There's plenty of sun in Thanalan."