I placed my hands gently on Jonathan's shoulders, and waited a heartbeat for him to say anything. If he told me he didn't want to be touched, I would respect it. I often felt the same way, and I had no disregard of other people's wishes.

Besides, I still wasn't completely sure that I had mastered my powers enough not to read him by accident.

I'd done it once, to someone, when I was a child, and it had been enough for a lifetime.

Jonathan waited for my next move, though I could feel him tensing under my touch. Ever since we'd met Jason Ducas, he hadn't been the same. Most people wouldn't notice -- I doubted any in our friend group did, but there were a few moments where I felt like I could see the vulnerability he always tried so hard to hide.

It wouldn't do well to think about it. Especially since Jason and Athanasios were famously close as twins, so I doubted the latter would have scared my friend less than the former.

"Lie down," I told Jonathan matter-of-factly, since he wasn't getting the hint.

"Lie down in my arms," I specified.

"What for?" he asked. He tried to keep it cool, and I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his shoulders shaking under my hands now.

"I know what's going to happen," I stated the obvious. "And I'm trying to save both of us some time."

"What?"

"You are going to use Knowledge," I stated. "You are going to faint. I am going to pick you up before you fall. All of this is self-evident. You might as well save us both the trouble, and lie in my arms."

"You're already tired today 'cause you battled all those Faduas," I advised him. 

"I could not act like they weren't there. I take my duty seriously. It's never for nothing," Jonathan said. 

Some of his feathers had been slighty bented from the Creatures, when they lashed out with their cords.

When I straightened them, I heard him wince.

I noticed he was doing his best to keep them closed and skintight.

"You can spread them, you know," I didn't know why I said it, I only wanted him to feel more at ease around me.

"No, thanks. You don't wanna be so close to me, with my span," he joked. "And, by the way, okay --- you can hold me. But only when no one is watching."

"Sure," I replied. "Because it would be more embarrassing than falling and hitting your head in public, which might as well have already happened..."

"And, anyway, you wouldn't," I reassured him. "Because, like I said, I would catch you."

Jonathan huffed, and then went silent. He was probably concentrating.

When he fell back, I caught him. I knew he had told me to think of his passing out like taking a nap, but I didn't think so. Last time, I hadn't exactly caught him --- I had picked him up off the floor, because he was tossing and turning like someone having a powerful nightmare.

Even now, in my arms, he was shaking --- but my grip was strong. His wings were relaxed and they engulfed me, feeling soft and almost electric on my skin at the same time.

In a way, I understood his previous reticence. Having his wings touching me felt good and forbidden, almost like kissing him would have felt like.

But no, kissing him was probably beyond imagining. Or so he'd probably say. And what was my problem, anyway? He was clearly in pain now.

I knew Skills took a lot out of those who used them, but Atticus had never told me how badly they hurt. Of course, since the most common Skills hurt less, nobody I knew but Jonathan could tell me how Knowledge really felt like.

"I have the answer," Jonathan said, opening his eyes. "Now let me down."

He scrambled to his feet, but quickly fixed his stance, as if he didn't want to give away how troubled it was. 

I totally understood that. The visions often were a pain in the neck, but I didn't bother explaining to people that I had to see them playing in my head most of the time. 

Which made me realize something quite strange --- when I was holding onto Jonathan, my head had been unusually clear.

I knew Prophets and Watchers were meant to work together. Perhaps it was a sign that I had been right to try to allievate some of his suffering, though I couldn't do much.

"Okay," I told him. "So, let me know what we have to do."

Before he could start, however, we were interrupted by an unlikely pair. Atticus and Jason were coming towards us.

"See," Jonathan said. "If they had been there before, I would have asked you to refrain from holding me."

I rolled my eyes visibly. "I know what 'when no one is watching' means."

I tried to make a lighthearted joke of it -- it was the way Jonathan and I had always functioned, teasing each other mercilessly, when the my voice died down.

Suddenly, even though I knew nothing was the same, I was reminded of Skandar's secrecy.

"Hi there," Atticus waved at us. "I was looking for you. Well, actually, Jason was looking for you. But I had a feeling you might have been around the warehouse, so I told him I could give him a hand."

"What is your business with us?" Jonathan asked him, almost snarling. I didn't think he had meant to, but it must have been harder to gain control over his emotions after the ordeal he'd just gone through.

Also, the fact that we might have been about to go to a different world, and perhaps never come back, must have made him careless --- we couldn't allow to leave behind regrets.

"I have some words from Athanasios for you," Jason said. "I'd like to tell them privately."

"That's odd, he could have just gave you a letter, or something," Atticus pointed out.

"The tongue is the mightiest weapon which can carry the brute force of words to the listener," Jason said. "And I'm a man of few words. I'm quoting Athanasios here. Anyway, I happen to agree. That's the same principle why both my brother and I have chosen our naked fists as weapons to fight the Creatures."

"How does it work?" I asked. "Now that the Creatures are so many that you can barely stand them?"

"Roman," Atticus scolded me. "Let's move away from them so we don't accidentally eavesdrop on what they have to say."

When my brother and I were back inside the warehose, I asked him what he knew of Knowledge.

"It is the rarest Skill," he said, though everybody knew that. "I've never been interested in Skills myself, but I found some information about them in one of your books once. You used to read about Watchers all the time."

I smiled sadly. It wasn't that long ago, but it was still back when I thought that, if you learned just enough about something, it might just turn you into what you wanted to be.

"I remember the book said Skills are specific to each person, and that even their rarity and the strenght they take from somebody are linked to their properties. Now, I would only put it in simple words, you know I am no scholar, but I can bet Knowledge hurts, the way all knowledge hurts, if you get my meaning. There is a reason why it is said that ignorance is a blessing. Things... some things especially, are better left unknown."

He seemed to be trailing off a bit there, so I asked what he thought about the scarcity of that particular Skill among Watchers.

"Well," he said. "This is just a theory, but I think it holds some weight. It is very hard for people to have the answers to their questions. A lot of them will live and die knowing some things, but never the bigger picture, and it is rare for the things they want to know to be also the things they actually know. The Universe, the Endless One maybe, keeps some secrets from us, and only an handful of people are lucky enough to decode them. I think that's why the Skill is so hard to have."

"I have a bad feeling about Jonathan's relationship with the Ducas family," I said. "I don't think it would be wise to leave them on their own for much longer."

"Really?" Atticus sounded puzzled. "I never got that vibe."

Normally, this would have made me feel better. Atticus had grown up with an abusive dad, so he must have known what it looked like, even on the outside.

But now, my doubts were stronger. First of all, Atticus had never spent enough time with Jonathan to find out anything substantial about him. Secondly, not all situations and people looked and acted the same, even though Atticus seemed to believe they did.

"Roman," he said. "I need to tell you something before you start your quest with Jonathan."

I wondered what it could be. I was feeling confused. My head was having a hard time re-conciling two different kind of memories I had of my brother --- the kind and caring one who'd raised me, and... something other. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"Roman!" he snapped. "I don't want you to go."

"Of course you don't," I replied, almost automatically. "You are worried for me, and you're going to miss me, and, especially now that Aurora is already injured..."

"No," Atticus' voice was colder than I ever heard it. "I really mean it. I don't want you to go. You must not go. You are not capable of handling your powers yet, and Jonathan is weaker than he appears. You both can't even stand each other. I can't believe this could have been prophetized. Evangeline must have been wrong. This is a waste of time."

"Thanks for the support," I said dryly.

"It's not my fault," he commented. "You always remind me you like the truth better than anything else."

"This is not the truth," I said pettily.

I let my brother figure out the obvious jab. If it was the truth, he wouldn't have said it.

Atticus took a deep breath.

"If you go, and you don't come back... I won't know what to do. This is the truth."

"I'm sorry," I said, too riled up to feel touched in any way. "It must be hard, considering you always know what to do. But then again, you'll think of something."

I stepped out of the warehouse, and went looking for Jonathan. 

I tried not to feel guilty about the way I'd treated Atticus. I should have never read him. I should have never known.

Thankfully, my friend still looked unharmed.

"Here goes the Prophet again," Jason said. "Well, I've got something to say to you, too. Back then, I thought the most refined brother was the special one, and you walked out on me. Considering I wanted to pay my respect to the Prophet, whomever they might be, I was disgusted by your total lack of manners. Not only you don't look like one, but you don't even act like one."

It was hard to feel hurt by his words. Ever since I'd known I was a Prophet, I knew people would have trouble believing my word about it. Even I wouldn't stand myself, if I got to meet me.

"Prophets don't owe you a certain look or a certain attitude," Jonathan said unexectedly. "Just like not all Watchers are worthy to be the Endless One's chosen. Not that I'm saying you're not, Roman."

He had added the last part hastily, but I appreciated it all the same, and I could see his point. Watchers were sometimes considered almost saint-like, but there was nothing saintly about most of them.

"Watchers just need to get the job done," Jason commented, patting his left fist with his right hand, as if to remind everybody which was his blessed weapon of choice.

"So do Prophets," Jonathan reminded him. "And Roman gets the job done."

"I better go, before I say too much," Jason threatened Jonathan with what seemed to be the same secret Bertha was holding over his head. "But, before I go, my friend Bertha told me she was sorry she'd spoken out of turn earlier, and wanted to make up with you by giving you this."

He handed Jonathan a small bottle.

Now, Jason wasn't a good actor. The way he'd phrased the last few lines, it was obvious Bertha wasn't sorry, and her gift was something sinister, but Jonathan could only accept it and thank him.

"She said you had to drink it in front of me," Jason failed acting casual.

Jonathan simply shrugged, and emptied the content of the bottle before I could do something stupid, like warning him about it, or knocking it down with a knife throw and let it spill on the ground.

Maybe I should have considered throwing Jonathan the knife. As long as I aimed a tough spot, he could thank me later.

Jason looked puzzled, but tried to compose himself.

"We really need to go," Jonathan said, the perfect picture of health. "The Prophet and I still have a long journey ahead of us."

Jonathan told me we had to go to one of the temples. Solima was full of them, but people rarely gathered in all but the main one. The one where we had to go however, was outside the city, even further out than the warehouse, on the southern border.

As soon as the city disappeared from sight, I was surprised to see so much nature. I had never seen much of it in my life. There were many cool plants, and different types of trees. There were even colorful and cool flowers that shamed me, as I liked them what I considered to be an unhealthy amount for a warrior. Before that, I had only seen flowers, used or depicted, in recipes, poetry, or women's garlands and clothing, so I did think of them as emasculating.

Though I had always, secretly, enjoyed the poetry just as much.

I decided to talk about the bottle's content. It wasn't like we could stay silent forever, but it seemed like we were both trying.

"Maybe it wasn't anything bad. Just a tonic for your... you know, wings?"

"First of all," Jonathan's eyes blazed. "That would be bad. As in offensive."

I was about to snap, tease him that he would rather have somebody take an attempt on his life, than having his vanity hurt, but I couldn't do that. Not when I knew he had already died a death so painful all the others would perhaps pale in comparison, and how much that meant to him.

I suddenly remembered he had told me that he spoke two languages fluently, so I asked him some Tallyard words to switch topic. He seemed pleased, though they were mostly swear words.

"I'm glad the woods aren't full of Creatures, like some stories claim," he said. "Or perhaps, now that they are multiplying, they act differently. However, it's nice not to run into them."

"I wish I was a Watcher, so I could help you with that."

"Would it work?" he asked. "If a Creature killed you --- not that I'm recommending it. Would you be a Prophet and a Watcher?"

"No," I said. "All the books I've read have always been very clear about that. Otherwise, I would have tried it. You must know me well enough by now, to know that."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Jonathan said, a distant pain inside his eyes he couldn't quite conceal. "But surely Atticus must have warned you. How old was he, when he got turned?"

"He was eighteen," I said. "Actually, it was Aurora first. For some reason, we don't get many Creatures in Old Solima. But one day, a Fadua appeared out of nowhere. Aurora tried to slay it, and died."

"The same old story," Jonathan grinned in a little creepy manner.

"Then my older brother told me it wouldn't look good if he let his girlfriend go out like that without even putting up a fight himself so, erm, he got killed, too."

I could practically see Jonathan's mind working, trying to find a way to say something without implying that Atticus was dumber than he thought.

"Honestly, it was pretty stupid of him," I helped him out. 

"I thought you were the one who said he'd get killed just to turn into a Watcher," Jonathan reminded me.

"Yeah, but it wouldn't be the same thing."

I still didn't know him well enough to explain to him why it wouldn't be and make him understand, though, so I didn't.

"And what's his Skill?" Jonathan asked. "I don't think I remember any of the others ever mentioning theirs, now that I think about it."

I shrugged. "Not everyone is obsessed with their Skill as you are with yours."

For some reason, these words turned his expression sour.

"He has Charm," I smirked. "Literally."

When we arrived to the temple, Jonathan told me that in his vision he had seen a trap door there. It would be on the pavement, and it would lead us to the other world, which appeared to be below ours.

"It's about to happen, isn't it?" Jonathan asked. He sounded in awe. I couldn't decide if he was more taken by the temple, or the prospective of the adventure.

The thing was, the temple was amazing to look at. It was full of candles that seemed to be permanently lit, as you could tell by the dust that had settled everywhere that it wasn't a place people took care of. Another striking detail about the candles was that the wax wasn't eroded, like it would look if it wasn't melting.

The candles were many, and highly place, in the otherwise dark place, the ceiling had the look of a sky full of scars. 

I briefly wondered what would happen if I threw one of my knives. Would a single candle come crashing down, or maybe the whole design? Were they connected?

I tried not to think about it. I had a fear of fire. And I didn't want to be the kind of person that admired beautiful things just to take them apart on a whim.

I liked beautiful things, to try and protect them.

This train of thought reminded me of something that couldn't wait. If we had to have this adventure, we had to be honest with each other.

"You dropped this earlier, when you were looking for the trap door," I told Jonathan, showing him the bottle. "I sensed its previous content, and I'm one hundred percent sure it was poison."