I watched as Gideon seemed to wilt under Cedric's gaze. The pub owner had the blacksmith in a trance that was both terrifying and fascinating.

"Have you ever done that to me?" I blurted out.

Cedric turned his green eyes on me. "Evie, my dear," he said. "When I was younger, I'll admit I enjoyed the thrill of bending others to my will. It was a game, a way to pass the time."

I felt an icy shiver run down my spine. It was one thing to suspect things like that were possible, but quite another to hear someone talk about using them so casually.

"But I don't do that sort of thing anymore," Cedric said, pushing himself off the doorframe. "I prefer genuine connections these days. It's far more satisfying to be with someone who wants to be with you, rather than someone who's been manipulated into it."

The thought Cedric wanted to make genuine connections was both reassuring and unsettling. Reassuring because it meant he hadn't been manipulating me. Unsettling because I hadn't thought about what it must be like for a vampire who had lived for centuries.

Cedric's gaze softened as he turned back to Gideon, whose eyes were still glazed over, deep in Cedric's influence. I watched, my heart still pounding, feeling relieved but concerned.

"Gideon," Cedric said softly. "You're living with memory gaps. It's like a block of Swiss cheese in there, full of holes. This is more than I would expect, even for you."

I leaned forward. How could you live not knowing parts of your life? It made me feel really uncomfortable.

Gideon's focus was fixed on Cedric.

"What do you mean?" I looked at Gideon's face for a reaction, but there was nothing, just the quiet stoicism I expected from him. I wondered what it must be like in his head, with memories that leaked away like water through a sieve.

Cedric smiled. "It's important you understand the man behind the blacksmith. If you're going to trust him, and I think you should, then you need to know what he's up against."

I realised Cedric wasn't just telling me about Gideon's condition. He was sticking up for him, asking me to see beyond the gruff exterior and the silence.

Cedric released Gideon from his trance with a snap of his fingers. Gideon blinked rapidly, coming back to himself like a diver surfacing for air.

I reached out to him. "Gideon?"

He looked at me, hazel eyes clearing as they met mine. There was vulnerability there.

"What did you see?" His voice was a gravelly whisper, heavy with fear.

I paused, not sure how to answer. The silence between us felt like a tightrope. I could feel the weight of Gideon's question, full of implications of things done and not remembered.

Cedric leaned back against the counter, all nonchalance, but his eyes were fixed on me and Gideon. "Nothing you haven't already dealt with," he said to Gideon. "There are significant gaps in your memory, nothing that explains why you have red paint on your hands. You seem to have made an educated guess rather than knowing the truth."

Gideon dropped his head. "Does she know?" he asked Cedric.

"You know I don't share what is not mine to tell," said Cedric.

Gideon looked as if he was struggling with some internal battle. "I'm a golem," he blurted out.

I looked between Gideon and Cedric confused, "I have no idea what that even means,"

"It means I'm not real. I'm a created being. You know Fiona accuses me of not having a soul, that's why." He hung his head, the shame of his admission overwhelming him.

"I don't understand. You have been one of the kindest, most welcoming people since I have been here," I said.

"Thank you. That means more than you could ever know." He turned his attention to Cedric. "I need to know what might I have done during those times I can't remember?" He looked so vulnerable, more human than I'd ever seen him.

Cedric took a step closer to Gideon. "I need your permission to try to put your memories back together, Gideon," he said softly. "I can attempt it, but without knowing who did this to you, I might fail. I don't want to scramble the true memories you have."

Gideon looked at Cedric, then at me. His hazel eyes held a depth of vulnerability I hadn't seen before. He was always so strong, so stoic, but now he seemed terrified.

I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. "Gideon, whatever you decide, I'm here for you."

He gave me a small nod, then turned back to Cedric. "Do it."

Cedric took a deep breath, his expression growing more serious. He reached out, placing his hands on Gideon's shoulders.

I watched as Cedric stared deep into Gideon's eyes. Gideon looked like he was in pain until his expression softened, and I saw flashes of emotion cross his face: confusion, fear, sadness.

Cedric's brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to piece together Gideon's fragmented memories.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly and I felt like an intruder to something deeply personal.

Finally, Cedric stepped back, breaking the connection. Gideon opened his eyes slowly, blinking as he woke from the deep trance. He looked around the room, then back at Cedric and me.

"Did it work?" I asked softly.

Cedric shook his head wearily. "I brought some pieces together, but there are still gaps. Whoever did this to him is powerful."

Gideon sighed heavily, but nodded in acceptance. "Thank you for trying."

I reached out and touched his arm. "It's not about what you did," I said. "Someone has taken advantage of you." I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but now was not the right time to ask them.

I could see the turmoil in Gideon's eyes, torn between wanting to know and being afraid of the truth.

Cedric stepped forward and put a hand on Gideon's shoulder. "We all have parts of ourselves that are unknown," he said. "The trick is not to let them rule us."

Gideon looked back at me. I nodded at him, trying to convey reassurance.

Cedric poured himself a drink, the red liquid swishing in the glass. He peered at us over the rim, his green eyes glinting. "You know," he said, "balance is a funny thing. It's not just about two sides of a scale."

I shifted in my seat, feeling the weight of his gaze as much as his words. "Huh? What do you mean?" I asked.

He placed his glass back down on the table. "Balance isn't about fairness. It's about harmony."

Gideon and I shared a look. Harmony? That was the last thing either of us were experiencing right now. Our lives were a mess.

"To get harmony," Cedric said, as if to himself. "Every piece has to fit in its place." He looked at each of us in turn. "A golem trying to remember a past he's lost. An earth elemental learning to use her powers. A vampire who's tired of living."

I shivered.

"And what about you?" Gideon's voice was steady now. "What's your place?"

Cedric smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just a barman," he said, waving his hand.

"Come on," I said, leaning forward. "You can't say something like that and not explain."

He looked at me, amused.

"Balance," he said, tapping his glass, "is about making sure one thing doesn't take over everything else." His eyes bored into mine. "It's about stopping chaos from tearing apart the world we all live in. Just think, you walked in here confused and angry, but in helping Gideon you've found harmony. Instead of jumping to the obvious conclusion, your friend is your enemy because of the paint, you took time to explore the truth."

"And what happens when harmony is lost?" I asked.