Drew and Blaze waited in their room, wallowing in anxiety, waiting for Drew to be summoned for punishment at any moment. There was no way he would get away with attacking Hayden and his crew. He was a servant, a new one at that, and Hayden had been handpicked to defend the castle.

They had no sleep that night. The sun rose, pale and Weak, smothered by clouds. Before they had even started for the door to begin their day, someone knocked. Drawing in a steadying breath, Drew opened the door. A tired paige stood just outside.

"Drew Hawthorne?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You've been summoned by the Crown Prince Duncan to his private office."

"Well, lead the way," Drew answered grimly. At least we're not just being dragged straight off to the dungeons.

The paige led Drew up three flights of stairs and up a spiraling tower. He stopped at an iron bound door, sounding the knocker. A muffled voice called 'enter' from within. The paige pushed the door open and looked at Drew expectantly. He stepped forward, and the door banged shut behind him.

Duncan's office was meticulously tidy, expect for the spread of papers across his desk. Duncan himself was standing at the window, watching the early morning bustle of the city with predator eyes. For too long, they stood in silence, until Drew could barely stand it anymore.

"Spies are a very really threat, you know." No! How can he know? Drew inched his hand towards his sword, far more loyal to saving his own skin than the Rhodaezka Movement. "We have to put an unfortunate amount of energy into sniffing them out," Duncan continued, "And we always need more help." What? Drew moved his hand away from his sword.

"Sir, what exactly are you asking me?"

Duncan turned sharply. "Jumping right to the point, aren't you? Good." He walked over to his desk, sitting down and motioning for Drew to sit.

"I'd prefer to stand."

"And I'd prefer you to sit. Now." Fir a brief moment, both Drew and Wolf wanted to refuse, to fight. But the moment passed and they took the chair across from Duncan. Duncan leaned back in his chair, looking Drew over like a piece of livestock. "I believe I can use you to kill two birds with one stone, Drew. As you overheard the other day, Sir Tandry is no longer the right man to oversee the training of my future guards. He's aged out of it. Which is why you will be put in charge of all the physical aspects of training. You teach the trainees how to fight, and Sir Tandry teaches them how to think. But while you teach them to fight, you keep a close eye on them. You integrate yourself into their groups. You learn their true loyalties, and report any deviants to me. Understood?"

"Why would you trust me with something like that? You know nothing about me."

Duncan smiled a cold smile; a killer's smile. "Who said I trust you?"

"Good. I wouldn't work for anyone fool enough to trust."

"I have a feeling we'll get along quite well." Up until I bring your kingdom crashing down around your ears. "You will start your new job today. I want good results no matter what it takes. Sir Tandry has already been notified of the change. Dismissed." Duncan turned to the papers on his desk. Savage joy blooming in his chest, Drew rose and headed for the door. "Oh, one more thing."

Drew turned. "Yes my lord?"

Duncan didn't look up from his papers. "I know plenty about you, wolf."

Blaze was pacing in hall connecting to the tower, glancing every which way to make sure no one was around. When he saw Drew, pure relief swept across his face.

"Well? What did he want? Are you in tro- why are you smirking?" Drew stepped close, leaning in so no one would overhear his words.

"I'm quite pleased to tell you, Blaze, that we now control part of the castle's military might. And, the prince is playing right into our hands." A wicked grin slid onto Blaze's face, hungry fire dancing in his eyes.

"Excellent."

Drew had never been so glad to go to work. The trainees were standing in rows, giving Sir Tandry unsure looks as they waited silently. Sir Tandry met Drew at the edge of the grass, shaking his hand and thanking him.

"I don't know how long I could've continued like this," he said quietly. "I just can't move very well anymore."

"Really, it's my privilege and pleasure to do this," Drew replied with utter sincerity. Many a confused look was cast in his direction as he approached the trainees at Sir Tandry's side. Hayden, Marden, Verl, and Kayde were missing, most likely still in the infirmary.

"Listen up!" Sir Tandry bellowed, his voice still untouched by age. The scattered whispers among the trainees died down. "Your physical training will be taken over by Drew Hawthorne and-"

"He's a krawler though!" Sir Tandry froze, a cold look crossing his face. He stalked along the rows, pushing through until he came face to face with the man who'd spoken.

"This krawler," he forced unfathomable amounts of disgust into the word, not directed at Drew, but at the use of word itself. "Is your new commander. I suggest you don't insult him." He turned and walked towards the castle doors. "I'll take them for a bit after lunch," he said as he passed Drew. "Try not to kill any of them."

After Sir Tandry left, there were a few moments of tense silence. Drew could taste the apprehension, thick in the air.

He grinned. "I hope you like running."

They didn't. He ran them all morning, around the field, up stairs and along the walls. He ran them under the sun, that grew blistering with heat as the morning progresses. He ran them until three had thrown up and one had passed out. All the while, he and Blaze planned and schemed. They had both been trained to fight by experts, but their experiences were still wildly different. Perhaps because Blaze had been taught by his father and brothers, and Drew had been taught by people who expected him to die any day.

The trainees staggered off to lunch and were returned three hours later by Sir Tandry. They waited, nearly flinching when Drew walked up. It hadn't taken them long to realize that Drew had no intention of making them enjoy a single minute of training.

"Pair up!" he called. "No weapons; you're fighting with fists. You won't always have a sword on you and you'd better not be defenseless. First person to get the other pinned wins." He and Blaze paced along the perimeter. Drew was pleased to discover that although most of them were disgraces with a sword, they had more confidence with their fists. There was one young man in particular who stood out. He defeated three opponents, and still wasn't nearly as tired as the others.

Drew pulled him aside. "What's your name?"

He looked a bit startled, but answered readily. "Damian Fleat."

"And where did you learn Kai'den?" It was a fighting style from the far South, one that used your opponent's weight and momentum to your advantage.

"My family has a bond servant from Nokobi. He taught me."

"Bond servant? More like father," someone muttered. Damian flushed, but he didn't deny it. Really, he couldn't; his dark features betrayed him.

"Do you know how to use katanas as well then?" Drew asked, ignoring the comment.

"Not well. But I'm more familiar with them than a broadsword."

"Blaze, aren't there a set of katanas in the shed?"

"Yeah, an old set. But they should work."

Drew turned back to Damian, who was watching him expectantly. "We'll see what you can do with those tomorrow. This weapon regulation stuff is nonsense." All the guards at the castle were expected to be proficient with a broadsword and a bow, any other weapons were something they had to learn on their own.

The trainees were dismissed and Blaze gave Drew a funny look as they walked away.

"What?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Drew shrugged. "Maybe. A bit."

"No, not a bit. You're having an absolute ball."

"Alright, fine. I am. It's like being back at the arena, but now I'm not worrying about having to fight them the next day or the day after that."

Blaze nodded. "Fair enough. Though you show your happiness in odd ways." Drew gave him a quizzical look. "Making them run like that? That was just cruel."

"I've had to run twice as far in one day!"

"Yes, but they're human."

"We- Oh. There goes tomorrow's plan." Blaze laughed and clapped a hand on Drew's shoulder, steering him towards the door out of the castle. "Where are you taking me?"

"We're going to have a little fun tonight."

"I think you and I have very different opinions of fun."

"Come on, everyone likes drinking."

"I don't."

"Shut up." Blaze gave a nod to the guards at the door as they walked out into the city, still bustling with people. "We can also use this time to hear what people say about the king while their judgement is being drowned by ale."

Blaze seemed to know his way around the city. That, or he just had a sixth sense that told him where to find a good tavern. Most street vendors had closed, but there was still trade going on in the established businesses. They wound their way through swarms of people, and the further into the poorer regions of the city, the more nervous Drew became. The armies of beggars began to appear. Some wove through the streets, asking for coins, while others crawled along the gutters, thin hands outstretched and hollow eyes pleading.

The streets suddenly familiar to Drew. He wasn't that pleased with himself though; only an idiot wouldn't recognize the temples. Blaze made a beeline for the one of green stone.

"I thought you said we were going drinking?"

"I need to make a detour. Don't be whiny about it, I'll only be a minute."

"I wasn't whining," Drew muttered, following Blaze up the steps. He didn't really want to go in, but he didn't want to stand around outside either. He was a little curious about what the inside looked like.

When they stepped inside the temple, Drew was glad he'd followed. The interior was lit by a skylight in the middle of the ceiling and torches that burned with a blue-ish white flame. The temple was busy, priests in green robes passing by, attending to the hordes of unkempt people that filled the area.

Blaze walked straight through to the center of the main room. A large alter of jade and silver sat there, the light from the skylight illuminating it. Candles and incense, small silver plates and bowls with food, gold, and gems covered the alter. But there were also stacks of folded clothing, blankets, cloaks, and pairs or shoes; some old and worn but others new.

Blaze seemed to know the question Drew was about to ask. "This is the Temple of Algieara, god of bastards, orphans, thieves, misfits, beggars, travelers; anyone looked down upon." He looked at Drew. "He also favors people who use their left hand or have green eyes." Drew held back the snarky comment that sprung to mind. The temple of a god really wasn't the place to say blasphemous things.

Kneeling at the altar with a dozen other people, Blaze closed his eyes, presumably praying. Drew kneeled beside him, beginning to regret coming in. He had no business here. He didn't believe in this god, or any god. A feeling close to shame crept upon him as he knelt, a fraud among fervent believers.

He looked up, over the altar, and saw a a great green eye on the wall. It had been painted there. But it was embellished with emeralds and jade and other precious stones. The eye of a god. It bored into him, cold displeasure in the unblinking gaze.

Heretic.... This whisper came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Drew glanced about, expecting to see a priest nearby.

Unbeliever....

Fraud.... No one was speaking. This had to be his own guilty conscience.

Heretic... heretic... No, no it wasn't him. He didn't even know what 'heretic' meant. Wolf, what's happening? But there was no reply. He couldn't hear Wolf. He couldn't even sense him.

You have no power here. The voice, a man's voice, filled his mind with venom. Drew began to stand, to flee, but something caught him.

It burned, and yet was icy cold. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe. Something was crushing him. It was Old and Power, and it hated him. He could feel an invisible hand close round his throat, slowly, slowly killing him. Spots danced before his eyes, and yet no one had noticed his distress. A faint music filled Drew's ears, beckoning him away from the temple. It was familiar; yet strange. The music grew louder as the hand grew tighter- and then they both disappeared.

The sounds and scents of the real world came rushing back to Drew, striking him like a fist. He gasped, taking in great gulps of air and almost collapsing. For a moment he relaxed, just glad to be breathing again. Then instinct caught up with him; he was in enemy territory and he needed to leave.

Blaze and everyone else gave him puzzled or disapproving looks as he raced from the temple. The door was in sight, just a few steps away, when someone caught him by the arm. As a knee-jerk reaction, Drew spun around, fist flying. That was caught as well in a grip of iron.

Drew stood eye to eye with a priest. He was an older man, visually frail, but everything about him seemed inhuman.

"Move carefully," he whispered, his voice too much like the one that had been in Drew's head. "You now have the attention of the gods." He released Drew, stepping back with a smile. Terror coursed through Drew, and he fled.

Drew was lucky. The crowded temple and streets slowed Blaze down, and gave Drew enough time to collect himself.

"By the sword of Lupa's mate!" Blaze roared when he caught up. "What in the underworld was that all about? Do you have no shame? I asked for just a few min-"

"Let's go get that damn drink," Drew snapped, turning away and marching blindly through the streets.

"Not until you explain-"

"If you want you jaw to stay in one piece I suggest you shut up!" Drew's heart still hadn't slowed, Wolf still hadn't spoken. What happened? What just happened? There was no way- it couldn't be true. After twenty three years of nothing, he refused to believe that a god- a bloody god- had spoken to him.

Blaze's anger faded away and only concern showed on his face as ran to Drew's side.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"I said shut up." He was walking faster now, too fast, bumping into people and gaining suspicious looks. For a while, Blaze was silent.

At long last he said, "You're going the wrong way. Follow me." Soon a tavern came into view. Its sign had a laughing jackal on it, as well as its name in a number of languages; none of which Drew could read. Warm yellow light burst from the numerous windows and the smell of cooking bread and meat called to hungry people across the whole block.

As always, Blaze led the way, pushing past people and clearing a path. He pushed open the door, released a flood of sound and scent.

"Welcome to th' Jolly Jackal!" called a young serving boy. "Seat yerself an' I'll be over in a moment!" Seating themselves proved to be a hassle, but they eventually found a little corner booth.

"So, what's the plan?" Drew asked in a low voice.

"We eat, we drink, we find some people to chat up and get them good and drunk."

"And how are we paying for all of this?" Blaze reached into his pockets and pulled out five different money pouches.

"I did some prospecting on the way here." He opened up the bags and started counting. They ended up with nine gold, twenty silvers, and twenty eight coppers. "We each get half but I get the extra gold because I stole it. Deal?"

"Deal." They had just slipped the money in their pockets when the serving boy approached them.

"And what can I get ya, fine sirs?" he asked with a winning smile.

"Your best ale and whatever the special is tonight," Blaze replied without a pause.

"That'll be eel pile. And you, sir?"

"Same as him," Drew muttered. What the hell is an eel pie? He'd had fish pie, but he'd never even seen an eel before. The boy scurried off, leaving Drew and Blaze to continue scheming.

"Look at those fellows, over there," Blaze pointed towards and trio of middle aged men, all with serious expressions and tankards in hand. "Awfully unhappy, aren't they? I bet they have a few things to say about the state of Saevus." He rose to his feet. "I'll be back when the food arrives." And then he abandoned Drew.

For a long while, Drew sat alone, drinking. When their food was served, he was hopeful Blaze would stay for a while to eat. But he wasn't hopeful for long.

"I'm gonna take my food back over," Blaze said when he approached the table. "You wouldn't believe the things these men are saying. You should join us."

"No thanks. I don't really want to talk to people."

Blaze shrugged. "Suite yourself." And again, he was alone.

A restlessness grew in Drew, and a distaste for the Jolly Jackal. There was nothing actually wrong with it, but it wasn't the place for Drew. Drinking by himself made him realize that he missed Marty, Lynae, and even Hjern, sadistic freak that he was. Feeling lonely was unusual; you were hard pressed to find a spot alone at the arena. And there he had known everybody, had been respected by all. And here in the capital city he was no one. Well, almost no one. He was commander of the 'green division', the degrading name the trainees had been given by the guards.

The restlessness peaked and Drew stood. He tossed a few coins on the table beside his half finished eel pie, a strange, strange food he discovered, and started for the door. Blaze was too caught up talking politics to notice.

The sun had set, but the glow from windows cast a golden light on the streets. But even that unsettled him. Everything was just too strange, and still too crowded. He roamed aimlessly, trusting Blaze to track him down. He turned towards darker and narrower streets until the walls nearly brushed his shoulders and he felt like he was home.

He had become accustomed to the smell by now, and the dark empty streets held some comfort for him. At least they felt familiar, even though he had no idea where he was, where he was going, or how to get back. As he prowled the alley ways, he caught a scent that was out of place. He stopped, sniffing the air and turning on the spot. Vampire. A few steps more, one turn and then another and he saw him.

The vampire was creeping along, utterly silent, eyes red with hunger. Drew had let people be fed from many times, knowing they might die and not caring. He had sometimes even brought meals to vampires, Lynae especially. But tonight, the thought of a vampire preying on some poor, oblivious fool made his blood boil.

He followed the vampire, turning the hunter into the hunted. He was gaining ground at an alarming pace, or, it would've been alarming to the vampire had he known Drew was behind him. But Drew had pulled his magic on like an old cloak, familiar and warm. So close, just a bit more and-

The vampire stopped, looking around to make sure he was alone. When his eyes found Drew, they widened with fear and he took a step back. Drew reached for his sword- and stopped.

It was a young vampire. He didn't just look young, as all vampires did, but he smelled young as well. Old vampire acquired strange scents that often matched the nicknames they were given, a tradition vampires had held for centuries. And this young vampire was hungry and worn, neglect shining in his eyes and hollow cheeks. And he didn't attack. Vampires always attacked, especially if you interrupted their hunting. It was sheer instinct. But the instinct that had been engraved in this vampire was to cower and run.

And so Drew, who had been so ready to cleave the vampire in two and watch the blood pour from him, let him run away instead.

Again, again, Drew was left alone. And he hated it.

Aimless again on the streets he wandered, giving no heed to where his feet led him. Caught in the tangled briar of his own thoughts, he didn't hear the fighting until he was quite close.

"I-I t-t-told y-you. I don't- don't h-have an-n-ny m-m-mu.... money." Drew would've known that stutter anywhere. There was a meaty thwack of a fist hitting flesh, followed by a cry of pain.

"What did y-y-you say?" asked a man in a mocking voice. "I couldn't understand you through your st-t-t-utter." His laughter was joined by that of two others. "Search him. An' if 'e doesn't 'ave anything, we can drag 'im of to a slave trader. I'm sure we'll get something for 'im, thought not much; scrawny bag of bones that 'e is." Drew stepped around the corner, meeting the sight of Angus, the stable boy, pinned against a wall while his pockets were rifled through.

"Get your hands off him," Drew snarled. All four looked at him in surprise.

"An' what'll you do if we don't?" sneered the leader.

"Tear your throats out for starters. Then strip the flesh from your carcass and break open your bones to suck the marrow from them." Of all the threats they had expected, that wasn't one of them. They dropped Angus, giving him a vicious kick in the ribs as they turned their full attention to Drew.

"I don't think I like your attitude." There was a glint of knives being drawn.

"And I don't like yours. Seems we have an issue here."

"I'll say. Get 'im." The three men started towards Drew, murder in their eyes. Drew spotted an empty crate to his side. Waiting until just the right moment, Drew dove for the crate and flung it at the men. It hadn't been empty. Whatever was inside was heavy, and when it struck the leader square in the face, his head snapped back with deadly force.

Then he really attacked. He grabbed the nearest man and pulled him down while bringing his knee up to meet his chest. There was a satisfying crunch of breaking ribs before Drew threw the man into his friend. They both went flying into a wall, hitting solidly and falling to the ground unconscious.

Angus, to his credit, didn't look alarmed by what he'd just witnessed. Just mildly impressed.

"I n-new y-y-you wer-weren't h-h-human."

"How?"

"I've got some Other b-b-blood in m-me." Drew walked over and pulled Angus to his feet. His right eye had already swollen shut and his mouth and nose were bleeding.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yes."

"Really?"

"Th-this isn't the first t-t-time I've b-b-been b-be-beaten up. I've h-had w-worse." He wiped his nose on his sleeve, succeeding only in smearing the blood more.

"What were you doing out here by yourself?"

Angus gave him a scathing look. "I'm n-not a ch-child. I'm w-was m-m-meeting someone b-b-but they b-b-blew m-me off." He started walking away, limping and holding his chest.

"Anything broken?"

"Just b-b-bruised, I th-think. Wh-why are y-y-you following m-me?"

"Everything about you screams 'I am completely helpless' right now."

"Fair en-nough." Angus continued limping along, not giving Drew a second glance but trying to look around without being obvious. Most likely looking for who he was supposed to meet. A girl maybe? Or a drug dealer, in that type of alley. But Angus didn't smell like he'd been using drugs, so Drew stuck with a girl.

"Where do you live?"

"N-next t-t-to the c-castle."

"Perfect." He had nothing better to do than go to bed. Blaze would catch on eventually and find his own way back; most likely after he was raging drunk.

Drew spent the walk home trying to figure out what Angus was. There was some familiar scent, but under the horse and blood, he couldn't figure out what it was.

Angus led them to the cluster of little houses the castle had built for married servants and their families. It was far cleaner in this neighborhood than almost anywhere else Drew had been. The houses were stacked upon each other and their walls almost touched and the streets were so narrow that a cart could barely fit down them, but it was lovely. A small open square was in the middle of the neighborhood, with a cheerful little fountain and a thriving garden.

"What is that?" Drew asked, motioning towards the miniature jungle of plants as they passed.

"A c-community garden. W-we all h-h-help c-care for it and w-we all get some of the fruit." They stopped before a whitewashed house with flower pots outside the door. "This is m-m-mine, b-b-but don't b-b-bother l-leaving. They'll w-want t-t-to- t-ta-t-t-" Angus stopped, closing his eyes in frustration. "Speak w-with y-y-you."

"Your parents?"

"N-no." Angus opened the door.

"You're back ear- by the gods! What happened?" Frenk stood in the doorway, concern plastered on his face.

"Th-thieves." Angus slid past him, resignation weighing down his shoulders. "Speak t-t-to him." Only then did Frenk notice Drew.

"You're- you're Drew Hawthorne aren't you? Part of the pair I showed around the other day?"

"Ye-"

"Sorry, come in, come in." He ushered Drew inside. The house was just as small and neat on he inside as it was on the outside. Angus was seated at a table while Marta tended to his face, clear embarrassment showing in his eyes as Marta alternated between damning whoever had beaten Angus up to be devoured by Lethorglik and fighting tears as she speculated what might've happened to Angus.

And then, to add to the chaos, a small child wandered into the room. She was maybe five years old, with curly brown hair sleep-muddled blue eyes. Frenk made a preemptive strike and picked the girl up before she could get in Marta's way.

"What happened to Angus?"

"He just got into a little fight. He'll be alright," Frenk answered, kissing her on the forehead. She turned her attention to Drew, peering at him suspiciously.

"Did you fight Angus?"

"What? No, I-"

"He saved Angus, sweetheart." Frenk cut in, seeing that Drew was floundering. The girl wriggled out of Frenk's arms and padded across the room. She stopped right in front of Drew, giving him a look, before hugging him tightly around the legs.

"Thank you," she mumbled, glancing up.

"Oh, I- um... you're- you're welcome." She let go and pranced away, hiding behind her father's legs.

"This is Maisy," Frenk said, smiling. He tapped her on the head. "Maisy, this is Drew." She peaked around Frenk and smiled. "And as she said, thank you. We've had Angus come home like this before, only much worse."

Marta was finally satisfied that she'd done what she could for Angus and after washing up and clearing the table, she beckoned them all over.

"We've entirely forgotten our manners," Marta apologized. "Please, sit down. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"No thanks, I think I'm good." Despite his good judgement screaming for him leave before he let anything slip, Drew took a seat at the table, Marta, Frenk and Angus all sitting as well. Maisy crawled onto Frenk's lap, leaning against his chest and watching Drew through drooping eyelids.

"Frenk said you were new to the area?" Marta asked.

"Yeah, I've only been here for a few days."

"And how are you liking the city so far?"

"Well, I can't say that I like it at all. It's just too..."

"Noisy?" Frenk offered. "Crowded?"

"Filthy?" Angus added in. "T-ter'Geardik is n-nothing like this, so y-y-you c-can't say it's just b-b-be-because it's a l-large c-city."

"Those are a few of the words I'd use," Drew confessed.

"You just haven't gone to the right places," Frenk said. "Yes, there parts of Praeverk you couldn't pay me to enter, but there are some beautiful parts as well."

"Where? I certainly haven't found any."

"There's the Flower Court, for starters," Marta answered. "In the spring and summer, it's filled with flowers, native and exotic ones."

"And there's Iron Lane, where all the high-in smithies are."

That was how they continued for a long while. Eventually they changed to discuss the economy, and then politics, and what it was like working in the castle, and they talked about horses for even longer than the other topics combined. For hours Drew listened to their discussion, asking questions and adding in his own thoughts occasionally. Marta offered him food so many times that he at last said 'yes' and soon had tea, sausage rolls, and a slice of cherry pie. And as the night crept on, Maisy crept closer until she had crawled on Drew's lap and fallen fast asleep.

Drew felt as though he was caught in some dream, fleeting and deceiving, but the evening pleasantries didn't end until the castle bell rung, signalling the changing over of the watch.

"Goodness!" Marta cried, startled, at the sound of the bell. "Is it that late already?"

"We're all going to turn into pumpkins soon," Frenk said, grinning.

"Pumpkins?" Drew finished off his tea, moving gingerly so as to not wake Maisy.

"You know, like in the story of Mieremel, the Little Witch of Durnholme?"

"Oh, yeah, I know that story," Drew lied. It was yet another thing he'd never heard of. He'd been making a mental list as he listened of things he wanted to ask Blaze about.

"We'd better get to bed, or we'll all be useless in the morning." Frenk stood, stretching. "Here, I'll take Maisy." Drew was loath to let her go, but he stood and handed her over anyways.

"Thanks for the food and company."

"It's the least we could do," Marta said, wrapping an arm around Frenk. "Come by any evening. And bring Blaze with you, if he ever gets tired of drinking."

"I'm not sure if that will ever happen, but I'll try."

"See y-you t-t-tom-m- t-..... See y-you soon!" There was a brief chorus of hushed goodnights, and Drew headed for the door. His last glimpse of the family had Frenk, still holding Maisy, saying something to Marta that her smile before he kissed her, and Angus rolling his eyes and grinning. And then the door shut, cutting Drew off from the warmth and light, and he began walking back to his room, his heart both lighter and heavier than it had ever been before. But he wouldn't have changed that night for the world. 

---

Aww... Wasn't that sweet? Frenk and Marta have such a happy life..... for now. And boy oh boy, that temple. Poor Drew doesn't get to stay in is hopeless, godless, little world forever. 

Happy Friday everyone! I'll see you next week with a quick peek at Roksov and all he's been up to. *cackles evilly*