The Immortal Flames found Arden about a mile outside the Amalj'aa encampment, walking down the road in the heat of the afternoon, his body streaked with soot and grime, his clothing and armor tattered and burned. At first they took him for a tempered. Then Arden ran to them. "They gave them all to Ifrit, I'm so sorry, there was nothing I could do!"

The soldiers had been a rearguard left behind to report back to Ul'dah. When their fellows had been ambushed, they had followed, picking off Amalj'aa from a distance with arrows. They had lingered to see the smoke of Ifrit's summoning rising from the hole in the cave roof, and been arguing about what to do when a single survivor appeared.

"I don't know, sir," said one of the soldiers. "I think he's tempered. Look at those horns, just like the demon's, they are."

"He's Auri, you fool," snapped his superior. "Tempered don't act like that." He pointed at Arden, whose hands shook so much, he could barely lift a water skin to his lips.

"Not tempered," Arden stammered. "Couldn't touch me. But the others–" Oh gods, he had just stood by and let it happen to them. He sank to the ground in the middle of the road, sobbing, clutching the water bottle. "All of them, sir, I couldn't save a single one!"

One of the soldiers knelt beside him. "Sir, I'm a medic. Calm yourself. You've been through a great deal, and now is not the time to fall apart. Here's a restorative draught. Can you drink it unassisted?" He held out a small bottle with a bright pink potion inside.

Arden took the bottle, but it was some time before he was steady enough to drink it. He drew great breaths, trying to calm the hysteria that fluttered and beat inside him, the desire to fight for his life despite there being no enemies about. The medic pulled out a Conjurer's staff and passed it over him, working magic to soothe and heal.

The sight of the staff calmed him more than the magic, oddly enough. It was a tangible link to Arden's training in the Twelveswood, to friends and peace and better times. Gazing at that staff, he was able to uncork the bottle and drink its contents. It tasted of strong herbs and left a camphor-like coolness on his tongue. It also settled his panic almost at once. A sense of quiet settled over him–quiet and weariness.

The medic attending him noted this change with a nod of approval. "Can you ride? We have spare chocobos."

"Y-yes," Arden said, rising slowly to his feet. "I apologize for my behavior."

"Don't mention it," the medic grinned. "You just escaped Hades itself. You're entitled to a little screaming."

Arden walked slowly toward the rear of the party, where several chocobos were roped behind the soldier's birds. Arden looked at them and fresh tears rose in him. These were the very birds he had ridden with the others that morning. Now they were riderless, their masters still in the cave.

He turned to the soldiers. "All those men are in the cave, tempered. Is there aught we can do?"

The soldiers exchanged looks. "We'll send a team to fetch them," said one. "For now we have to return and make our report. Mount up, sir."

Arden found the chocobo he had ridden and climbed into the saddle. The bird studied him with one bright eye. "Hurt?" it asked.

"No," said Arden. "I lived."

Living was worse than being hurt. Having to ride back with those empty saddles and accounting for them hurt worse than any fire. Seeing the faint scorn on the Flame commander's face as Arden explained that he had somehow lived while the others had fallen to the fire.

I should have died, too.

He crept back to the healers rooms beneath the arena and curled up in his bed. The other healers heard him sobbing, but a soldier had told them what had happened, so they left Arden alone.

High on a ledge in that cave, far from the tempering flames, three Garlean lords in full armor watched the fight.

"Hardly worth bothering with," said one, holding up a device. "These aetheric measurements are pathetic. We need a stronger Ifrit than this."

"Not enough crystals," said the woman beside him. Her white armor exaggerated her curves, making her more beautiful than she was. "We shall need a stronger summoning if we are to impress Lord Gaius."

"Do you see that one, though?" said the man, snapping shut his device and pointing at the lone man fighting Ifrit down below. "Not tempered. Pity he'll be slain in a moment. His resistance would make an interesting study."

The third man folded his arms. "Double to nothing he dies in the next thirty seconds."

They watched Arden back into a corner and then conjure enough stone to slay a primal on the spot. All three of them murmured in admiration.

"You do have to say one thing for these savages," said the woman. "They fight like beasts when cornered."

"Not like that," said the scientist. "I've seen plenty of their fighters in battle. None of them were capable of conjuring that much stone in one go."

"Adrenaline?" suggested the other man.

"No," said the scientist, opening his device again. "Something else. Some rare property we witnessed at Cartenau. This requires more research."

"I will give our report to Lord Gaius," snapped the woman. "None of you are to interfere." She strode off down the ledge toward their waiting mechanoflyer.

The scientist smirked at his companion. "Never cross a woman in love, eh?"

The other shrugged. "Better Lord Gaius than me," he muttered.

Thancred went in search of Arden the next afternoon.

He found the Auri busy with a patient, applying bandages and healing magic to a gladiator who looked likely to lose an arm otherwise. One of the other healers told Thancred to wait, so he did, loitering in the hallway outside and watching Arden at his work.

For such a big, forbidding-looking man, Arden was surprisingly gentle, binding the gladiator's arm to his chest with the easy motions of much practice. Thancred pictured him working a blade in combat with the same swift, easy motions. What he couldn't imagine was how Arden stood here, now, after having slain a primal single-handed the day before. Not even Arenvald had ever done that. Arden showed no signs of post-battle stress, smiling and talking as if this was but a normal day at work. Thancred watched him closely. Minfilia had called him that morning and asked him to check on Arden, fearing for his mental state. But at least from here, Arden appeared none the worse for wear.

Once the patient was settled in a bed, Arden crossed the room and stepped into the hall. "Hello Thancred." His tone was measured and even, perhaps a trifle too controlled. His tail twitched nervously back and forth, something Thancred had never seen it do.

"I came to check up on you, see how you're doing," Thancred said. "Minfilia was concerned."

"I'm all right," said Arden with a brittle smile. "Work helps me focus. Did the Scions need my attention?"

"No, not today," said Thancred, testing Arden's words and watching his body language. "But possibly this weekend we'll have word on the results of our efforts. A great number of the kidnapping Amalj'aa were killed, you know."

Arden's face twitched. For a second the serene mask slipped and Thancred glimpsed the torment underneath.

"I wish it had been all of them," he said in an undertone, lowering his head and turning it quickly in a goring motion with his horns. Then his voice returned to normal. He straightened and smiled. "If that's all, Thancred, I have other patients to attend to."

"Don't trouble yourself in my account," said Thancred with a smile. "I'll be in touch." He watched as Arden returned to the hospital ward, the tip of his tail still twitching in a fidgety, nervous way.

Thancred made his way out into the street and settled himself in a shady buttress in the wall, one of his favorite lurking spots. There he touched his linkpearl for Minfilia.

She answered at once. "Yes Thancred? Is he all right?"

"Physically, yes," said Thancred. "But the man is barely holding himself together. I don't know how he's doing it, honestly."

"What's he like? Nervous?"

"Cool as cream except for the tail. I didn't know the Auri tail could twitch like that."

"Hm." Minfilia was silent for a long moment. "Could you speak to a healer on his behalf? Surely someone there specializes in healing battle fatigue."

"I doubt it, but I'll ask," said Thancred.

Minfilia sighed. "The poor boy. I know he doesn't look it, Thancred, but he's younger than I am."

"How old is he?"

"Nineteen summers, he said."

"Nineteen!" Thancred revised his opinion of Arden. "He carries himself with such maturity, I thought he was in his thirties."

"Such was my first impression, as well," said Minfilia. "I wish that he had not had to suffer such horrors, and we must support him as he recovers. Speak to a healer for me."

"Right away," said Thancred. "Goodbye." He thoughtfully made his way up the street to the hospital's main office. Ten minutes later he left it and strolled back to the arena hospital.

Arden was busy healing a man's leg and couldn't attend to Thancred for several minutes. When he did turn to him, his violet eyes were wary. "Yes, Thancred?"

"We're looking to send you back to the Twelveswood," said Thancred without preamble. "E-Sumi-Yan has a couple of healers who specialize in healing battle fatigue such as yours. Minfilia wants you to see them. She'll pay any fees."

Thancred was horrified to see Arden cover his face with both hands and his shoulders heave in a sob. After a moment Arden lowered his hands and mopped his face on his tunic. "Very well," he said, his voice shaky. "I will speak to the head healer."

Thancred had never seen an Au Ra cry before. He left the hospital feeling as if he had witnessed something private and wishing he hadn't.

Arden packed his belongings that night and caught an airship back to Gridania the next morning. Before he left, Thancred caught him and handed him a bundle of envelopes.

"Aetheryte tickets back to Vesper Bay," Thancred said. "Present them at the Gridania aetheryte and they'll send you straight there. That way you can jump out and see the Scions without having to travel for days."

Arden took the envelopes without a word and tucked them into his bag. His stomach clenched at the very thought of aetheryte transport. As he took his seat in the airship's cabin, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe. Every little thing seemed to batter his soul like another blow from Ifrit himself. He couldn't seem to get ahead of it and regain his old strength for putting up with life. But returning to Gridania was exactly what he wanted. The Thanalan desert had become a place of horror. He wanted to bury himself in the dense green woods again and study conjury at his own pace, and not deal with the constant stress of arena healing. Maybe even see if he could find Valiant the unicorn again and have a chat.

He was also tired of shaming himself by weeping over random things. His nerves were stretched so tight that the slightest touch of emotion cracked him. Maybe in the Twelveswood he would have some peace and quiet for a change.

The airship lifted off and Arden observed the process with a breath of his old interest. Then he went to sleep in his seat and slept for the entire eight hour flight.

He awoke when one of the ship's crew nudged his foot. "Oi, we've landed."

Groggy and disoriented, Arden picked up his bag and disembarked. Since the airship dock in Gridania was also the biggest inn, he climbed the stairs and ordered dinner. Food and drink revived him wonderfully. As he ate, he soaked in the pleasant, quiet atmosphere of the place, so different from sharp, cunning Ul'dah and its thirst for money.

Once he finished, he set out into the dusk to drop off his bag at Minfilia's house. He found it easily enough, and was pleased to find Yda and Papalymo there, both kicked back in front of the fireplace with tea and books. They welcomed him in and gave him his old room. The bed was still too small, but that didn't matter. What mattered was this place was the only home he had, and he was finally back.

Sleeping all day meant that he was refreshed and ready to do things, but night had fallen and he really should be going to bed. Restless, he left the house and took the main road out of the city, into the woods. There he left the path and ventured as far into the woods as he dared without a light. There he whistled three times and called Valiant's name.

He heard the hoofbeats long before the unicorn reached him. Arden smiled and waited.

Out of the gloom came the beast, its white coat and horn glimmering in the darkness. It walked up to him and sniffed his face, breathing in his breath in equine fashion. "Arden Ardakim," Valiant whickered. "Welcome home to the Twelveswood."

Arden stroked the soft nose and ran his hand down the warm neck. "It's good to see you, my friend. What news? Any further Ascian attacks?"

"Not here, in the Central Shroud," said Valiant. "I have heard whispers from the sylphs in the East Shroud, however. All is not well with them. But I do not ask you to intervene, Arden. You stink of fire and brimstone. What has happened to you?"

Arden leaned his head against the horse's neck, careful to keep his horns away from the sensitive hide. "I … I was caught by the Amalj'aa and sacrificed to Ifrit along with many others."

He felt the unicorn tense. "But you are not tempered."

"No, I … I don't know why his fire couldn't touch me. I had to kill him, conjured stone through him until he died. But all the rest … I couldn't save them." He'd run up against his own stretched nerves again, that thinness in his psyche that couldn't tolerate stress. He flung an arm around the unicorn's neck and wept. The beast would not judge him for this, and it would keep his shame secret.

Valiant relaxed a back hoof and stood there, her head and one ear turned to her friend. Arden wept so hard that his middle ached, but he had needed to do it for days. Afterward he felt better, more able to face the world. He ruefully wiped his own tears off the unicorn's neck with a handful of grass and went to sit with his back to a tree. Valiant followed a few paces and again relaxed a back hoof. She lipped Arden's shaggy black hair affectionately.

"I believe I know why the primal could not touch you," said Valiant after a while.

"Why?" said Arden.

"The Echo," said Valiant. "It is strong with you, manifesting in many directions. You understand animals. You have a gift for healing. I daresay you are good in combat, if you slew a primal by conjury."

"Oh, is that why?" Arden felt foolish for not thinking of it. "But that doesn't change the fact that everyone was tempered while I yet live. I should have died, Valiant. Now all the families of those men and women will sneer and curse at me for not saving their loved ones. I did try, but … but I couldn't undo the bonds." He held up his wrists and touched the fading bruises from the leather straps. "I've gone over and over in my mind what I could have done differently. But there is nothing."

"You slew Ifrit," said Valiant gently. "Those sacrificed were the responsibility of the local military, not yours. Letting them be taken showed their negligence and indolence. But by slaying that primal, you set back the beast tribe months worth of crystals. They will not gather more very quickly. You saved hundreds or thousands more innocents from tempering."

Arden was silent.

The unicorn nuzzled his face and horns. "You are sick inside from this battle, Arden Ardakim. But my heart tells me that your courage has not gone unnoticed. Seek healing and rest before fate comes knocking."

"The Ascian?" Arden asked.

"Perhaps," said Valiant. "Should you need to talk, I will come at your call."

Arden climbed to his feet and stroked the unicorn again. "Thank you for your kind words. You've set my mind at ease."

"You're welcome to all the comfort I can give," said Valiant.

She escorted Arden back to the Gridania gates, then trotted back into the woods.

Arden walked home and went to bed at last, where he slept fitfully, with many nightmares, and arose early. He subjected himself to Yda's cooking, which was bad as ever, then went to the Stillglade Fane to present himself to E-Sumi-Yan.

The boy padjal looked Arden over with a critical eye. "Your curse is mended, so that's good. But you bearing speaks of something amiss."

"Yes, I … I was sent back here due to battle fatigue," said Arden, rubbing the back of his neck. "My friends said that you have healers who specialize in it."

"Battle fatigue?" The healer's eyebrows rose.

Arden explained about Ifrit as briefly as he could. A look of understanding entered E-Sumi-Yan's eyes. "Ah, yes. I shant press you further." He turned to a table and wrote for a long moment. Presently he handed a folded sheet of paper to Arden. "Take this up the hall to the healer's ward. They'll tell you what to do."

"Thank you, sir," said Arden with a bow. He made his way to the healer's ward, where the missive he bore soon sent him to a private room with an older Elezen man.

"I'm Florent," said the Elezen with a smile, shaking Arden's hand. "Battle fatigue, eh? Tell me about it."

Arden briefly told him the story, then at Florent's prompting, told it again in greater detail. He explained his guilt and shame at surviving, and he and Florent talked it over for a long time. Toward the end of their time together, Florent had him lie back and performed a set of gentle healing passes over his skull.

"Get some rest and come back in two days," said Florent. "Have you a trade? Something besides healing you can do with your hands."

"Back home I was a shepherd," said Arden.

Florent shook his head. "Carpentry or blacksmithing or some such. Working with your hands to rebuild something after witnessing destruction is healing."

Arden looked at his hands. "Not exactly."

"Find something," said Florent. "It will help."

Arden went for a long walk that afternoon, almost all the way out to Bentbranch and back. He wasn't certain if he felt better, exactly, but a certain pressure had lifted from his mind. He also mulled over the idea of picking up a separate trade and thought of how he wished he could carve his own Conjurer's staff. Perhaps carpentry would suit his inclinations.

He returned to Gridania at sunset and found the Carpentry guild just before closing time. It was a busy place of stacked lumber and sawdust, and the lovely aroma of freshly-cut wood. The secretary there was happy to sign him up for a beginner's course, where he would learn to use the tools.

Arden arrived home late, but with a lighter heart than he'd had upon his departure. He slept deeply most of the night and had only one nightmare just before dawn. Again he faced Ifrit, but this time an Ascian stood behind the demon, robed and masked, laughing. No matter how Arden fought, that Ascian remained out of reach.

He arose early, before Yda and Papalymo, and walked down to the carpenter's guild. There he found a few craftsmen already at work. They set him to work planing and sanding, which kept him happily occupied for most of the morning.

At noon a message arrived that he had visitors and was wanted at home. His stomach immediately twisted with nerves. Arden took his leave and hurried back to the house, wishing he'd taken time to grab a bite.

Awaiting him were three men in uniform: one from Gridania's Twin Adders, one from Ul'dah's Immortal Flames, and one from the Maelstrom of Limsa Lominsa. To his surprise, Minfilia accompanied them and stood talking to them as he arrived.

"There you are, Arden!" she exclaimed, beckoning. "Arden Ardakim, these are representatives from the Grand Company of each of the three major city states. They have each come with a request."

"Yes sir," said the Flame. "After your single-handed defeat of a primal, we wished to extend an invitation to join our Grand Company."

"We also have the same request," said the Adder and the Maelstrom.

Arden gazed at them in bewilderment. "You…you want me to join all three military companies?"

"Only one," Minfilia laughed. "You are only one man, Arden, although I wish we had more like you." She picked up three packets and held them out. "These are the enlistment packages for each Company. Look them over and make your choice. These gentlemen will meet with you tomorrow about it."

Arden mechanically took the packets and gazed at the soldiers for another moment. They returned his stare, earnest and excited. And why not? He towered over them, a forbidding Auri man of horns and muscle. They didn't see the barely-dressed wounds inside him. All they saw was a valuable soldier who had killed a primal by himself.

"What if I don't want to join a Grand Company?" he asked Minfilia. "I only came to Eorzea for Conjury training. I intend to return to Othard once that is done."

"That will take months more," said Minfilia. "Joining a Grand Company will afford you far faster training and room for growth. They're quite flexible with adventurers. Once you return to Othard, you will carry those privileges with you, to the benefit of your own people."

Arden hesitated, looking at the packets. "Well. If I serve any Company, it would be Gridania. They've become my home."

The Twin Adder soldier gave an undignified pump of his fist, while the other two looked disappointed. But they quickly pulled themselves together and bowed. "Then we shall take our leave."

"I'll return tomorrow," said the Twin Adder soldier with a wide grin. "Read the enlistment packet and I'll be happy to answer any questions you may have."

The soldier left, and Arden followed Minfilia into the house. They sat at the kitchen table, and Arden opened the packet. Inside were flyers and sketches depicting the Twin Adders and the ways they worked around Gridania and the Twelveswood, keeping the peace and holding off the attacks of the beast tribe. He sorted through them, skimming the material, unsure if he wanted to commit to this.

"They offer training in other jobs," Minfilia pointed out. "Should you want to take up the lance or the bow, they have programs for those."

"I see," said Arden. After a moment, he said, "Minfilia … I watched all those people become tempered by Ifrit's flames. I was working with the Immortal Flames and now those men are gone. Why would they request that I join them? Every city state?" he finished with a note of disbelief.

Minfilia patted his arm. "Believe it or not, word of you has spread. They're calling you the Champion and the Warrior of Light. No one has ever slain a primal the way you did, my friend."

"It was pure desperation," Arden said flatly. "I should have died."

"But you didn't," said Minfilia, meeting his eyes. "That's why they want you. I think you would do much good around Gridania and the Twelveswood. Oh, and they would give you a chocobo of your very own."

Arden perked up. In the end, the offer of a chocobo decided him.

The next day he met with the Twin Adder man quite cheerfully. They visited the headquarters of the military in Gridania, which was informally known as the Adder's Nest. There he learned that the Twin Adders represented the two majority races of Gridania, the Hyur and Elezen, who had settled the Twelveswood together. He was assigned to the Yellow Serpents, the military branch designed specifically for adventurers.

"We have trouble reaching beyond the Twelveswood, see," said the enlistment officer. "We took to recruiting adventurers who are known for their travels to compensate for this. Know that wherever you go, you'll carry your Twin Adder badge and represent Gridania's interests."

Arden listened soberly. He would undertake six weeks of training in a place called the Jadeite Thick, somewhere outside of Bentbranch, and was assigned the rank of Private, Third Class. He would draw a weekly salary, which brightened his mood a little. He would also be assigned a chocobo, which would accompany him into training.

"You'll train your bird to fight alongside you," said the officer. "Useful beasts, chocobos. Take this scrip down to the chocobo stables and they'll bring you a young bird. There's a few available just now, so it's a good time."

Arden hurried a few blocks down to where the official chocobo stables of the Twin Adder were located. They were on the edge of town with a cleared exercise track for the birds, as well as a paddock where they lived while off-duty.

The chocobo handler there wore all yellow and a chocobo mask, as if trying to blend with his charges. He glanced at the scrip, then peered at Arden. "What's your weight?"

"About two-eighty," Arden replied.

"Too big for a Rouncy," said the handler. "I have a young Destrier who might suit you, though. Come with me."

The handler led him around the stables and out to the paddock. Several chocobos trotted to the fence at the sight of them and nudged the handler with their beaks, asking for snacks. He produced carrots from his pockets and fed them, all the while working the largest bird away from its fellows. Arden watched this large bird with interest. It had heavier legs and beak than the smaller breeds did, as well as an additional toe on the inside of each foot.

The handler stroked this bird and put a halter on it, then opened the gate and led it to Arden. Arden took the lead rope and gazed into the bird's huge dark eyes.

"Hello, my beauty," he said.

"Hello," the chocobo said cautiously, eyeing him.

"He's about a year old," said the handler. "Bring him to the stables and I'll show you how to saddle him. Can you ride?"

"A bit," said Arden, still gazing into the bird's eyes. The handler walked off, leaving him alone with his chocobo.

"You have horns," said the bird dubiously. "Different from other men."

"I am Auri," said Arden. "From a distant land."

"You friendly?" the bird said, turning its head to look at him with one eye, then the other.

"I'm friendly," said Arden. "Are you?"

"I could be," the bird said. "Don't want bad rider. Last rider hurt me with whip. Told me run fast, run far. I run but not fast enough. Bad rider leave me here."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Arden. "I promise not to beat you or kick you. Unless you bite me, that is."

"I might," said the bird. "See what horned man tastes like."

"I assure you, I am the same as any Elezen or Hyur underneath," said Arden. "I am Arden. What is your name?"

"Swift," the chocobo replied. "You have greens?"

"I'll get you some," Arden said. "Come with me."

When he reached the stables with the chocobo walking willingly behind him, the handler raised an eyebrow. "You persuaded it to follow you without any Gysahl greens?"

"I promised him some if he came," said Arden. "I trust you have some nearby."

The handler pointed to a bin with the large cabbage-like greens in them. Arden took one and fed it to Swift. The bird devoured the greens with a mighty crunching and tearing. Afterward he nibbled Arden's hair and horns, his huge beak gentle and curious.

"I can't believe he's taken to you so quickly," said the handler, lugging a saddle out of the tack room. "He's a washout from the races, they said he was too intractable to train."

Arden looked at the bird with new understanding. "That's why bad man beat you."

Swift blinked his third eyelid as if confused.

Arden stroked the bird's neck. "You and I will learn to fight together. No racing. But you will learn to bite and kick an enemy."

"I can already do that," said Swift scornfully. "Give me greens and I will be your friend."

"Already a mercenary, I see," Arden laughed.

He turned to see the handler staring at him. "You understand that bird?"

"Chocobos are easily understood," Arden said evasively. "Everything comes down to 'give me greens'."

The handler laughed and handed him the saddle. "See how you fare putting this on him."

Arden took the saddle and held it out to the bird. Swift eyed the saddle and remarked, "I know what that is."

"May I put it on you?"

Swift thought for a moment. "More greens first."

Arden fed him more greens, then the bird allowed him to saddle and harness it. The handler kept watching him out of the corner of his eye, but didn't comment.

Arden led Swift back to the training track and asked permission for a ride, offering more greens. Swift stared at him and the greens for a long moment without response. When Arden moved to toss the greens over the fence, Swift hastily said, "Yes, yes, will give you ride for greens!"

After that the chocobo consented to jog around the track as Arden familiarized himself with the Destrier's movement. He was heavier and had a longer stride than the Palfrey varieties Arden had been riding around the desert Thanalan. His top speed was so rough that Arden saw stars at first. But he responded to the reins easily enough, and when Arden dismounted, Swift nibbled his hair affectionately.

"No whips, I like you, no whips," the bird chirped.

Arden stroked the bird's beak and fluffy cheeks, gazing into the great dark eyes. "I have also been hurt," he murmured. "Hurt inside, where it makes me afraid. Like you."

Swift gazed at him, unblinking, for a long moment. Then he puffed out his feathers and sighed, which was a chocobo's way of relaxing. "We be friends," he clucked in his throat. "You not be hurt. I not be hurt."

Arden leaned his forehead against the bird's neck as he had the unicorn. He stood there for a moment, breathing in the dusty-sweet smell of the yellow feathers, letting himself face the precarious calm inside himself, gathering the nerve to undergo training. He would have to fake it. Build walls inside himself to keep people's words and deeds from hurting him further. He had no illusions that military training would be anything other than punishing. He would swagger and loom, lean into people's expectations of the powerful, arrogant Au Ra, and keep them away.

"But you'll know," he whispered to Swift. "You'll always know."