The turning of the world is a perpetual thing. Unencumbered by the desires of we mortals that it sometimes should stop in order to allow us the opportunity of hanging on to the past a little while longer.

Journal of Reane Matir

Anthony folded Reane's lifeless arms across her chest, his fingers seeking the icy touch of hers before they parted company forever. Laying on the bare stone floor of the chamber just inside the still open doors of the Mount of Carnak, she rested permanent and peaceful.

The pair of holes bored into her neck were a painful reminder of the fate Reane had met. One Anthony never had the opportunity to protect her from.

He'd removed the patch from over the eye Cassandra had taken from him, the material having grown damp from his tears and annoying against his cheek. The scars from that day and the clouded pupil were visible to the world in a way he rarely allowed them to be.

Beside Reane, Korg's body laid, his chest torn apart and speaking to brutal and no doubt painful end that had befallen him. The otaur clutched his battle axe as though he would rise and wield it once again.

And next to him, Sheala kneeled over the corpse of her sister. Silent and mourning, the woman Anthony had met in Catersburg was unable to pull herself away. Just as Anthony was also frozen in his place.

"We should be thankful for their sacrifices," he said, more to himself than to Sheala. "But I admit, I have a hard time believing that I ever will."

"You and me both." Sheala sighed. "I just don't know what to do with myself. I thought I'd found something worth living for. Now it's all gone. My home. My sister. And I still feel like I got cheated out of my revenge against Lord Hedric for what he did to my family."

Sheala started to place the strange weapon her sister had used to kill Korg into Cass's hand.

"We should probably consider about keeping that," Anthony said. "Perhaps we could figure out how it works and make more of them."

"I think whatever magic powered it is spent." Sheala pulled the trigger of the revolver twice, resulting in parts of the body rotating and consecutive, unimpressive clicks. There was no ear-shattering explosion as when her sister had used it. "Whatever this thing is, it's my sister's, and she'll be buried with it." She wrapped Cass's fingers around the handle and laid it with her.

"Probably for the best. Most likely some dark magic from Lady Noranda, anyway. Things we're possibly better off not messing with."

Sheala was the first to break off her mourning, standing with a reluctant straightening of her legs. "What do you think about what Daphney said?"

"You mean about the other Blood Lord? Who killed Lady Noranda and Reane?"

"Yes."

"Evil always consumes itself," Anthony replied. "It is the greatest failure all who follow that path fail to recognize until it is too late. Lord Hedric said he was the last. So it stands to reason that he ended that threat which had been unknown to us."

"In the end," Daphney's voice broke in and intruded upon the conversation, "there is only so much room for wickedness in the world." She stood in the open doorway, the light of a new day dawning around her.

Clearing her throat, Sheala made a path for the door, seeing the intrusion as an opening for her to exploit and exit. "I guess I should leave the two of you alone?"

Daphney place a hand on Sheala's shoulder as she tried to go past and stopped her long enough to share a few words. "You do not have to cease your grieving because of my presence."

With a glimpse back at her sister's still body on the ground, Sheala felt the weight of her anguish crushing her. "No. I—I need a break. This has been really hard on me." A deep breath. "I just need some fresh air."

"As you wish, Child of the Storm."

The look on Sheala's face at the utterance of the bitter title was not a pleasant one. She went past the cleric and outside while Daphney focused her attention on Anthony, who continued to kneel over Reane.

"I understand if you aren't ready to speak with me yet," she said. "I can come back."

"No." Anthony forced himself to rise. Although he found it hard to take his eye off Reane and look Daphney in the face. "Look, I know that—"

Daphney silenced him with a hand. "You don't need to apologize to me. You are a wonderful man. And you cannot be faulted for your heart telling you to do something other than love me."

"That's the problem, Daphney," Anthony said. "I never stopped loving you. It's just that—" His words trailed off.

"I know. Things happen. Things you don't mean to happen. But they happen. And decisions need made. That's life."

"When did you become so wise?"

Daphney's shoulders scrunched up to her neck. "Maybe I've always been wise. But just never knew how to express it? Or, perhaps I've grown since you left."

"I'm sorry I left."

"Why?" Daphney's head cocked slightly. "Had you not gone, who's to say we would have wound up where we are today? Had you not left, I doubt we would have been victorious upon this field of battle."

"I feel that I've caused you a lot of pain."

"Hmm." Was the cleric's first response to the claim. Then she followed it up with a more detailed verbalization of the thoughts those words caused to blossom within her. "Yes, you did. But I don't believe my pain is anywhere near as deep as that which roils inside you right now. You've lost someone you'd grown to care very much about. I had the same thing happen to me when you left and then returned in the arms of someone else. But unlike you, I've had time to heal from that experience."

"I wish we could go back to where we were."

"Now, in the time of your deepest grief, is not the moment to be thinking of such possibilities." Daphney's scolding of Anthony's wandering thoughts was as tender as she could put it. But also equally harsh in its condemnation. "It would be unkind to Reane and her memory to do so."

"Daphney, that's not—"

"I know. It's not how you meant it to come out." The cleric took a moment to regard the three unmoving forms laying there, and Reane's in particular. There were still a lot of wounds she harbored. Wounds that could not be seen, and ones that for a while Daphney had found other things to distract her from. And they all centered around the seer. Even if she tried to mask them from others—and Anthony most of all. "I didn't come to find you in order to dredge up painful memories. Sayra asked that you come. Her and Ittan require your assistance."

"My assistance?"

"Yes. There is a matter to resolve involving the Dark Elves and the House of Iilas."

"But what does that have to do with me?"

"Well, from how I understand it, since you were the first member of the House of Nador to return to the Elven Kingdoms following Nador's departure after the First Battle of the Mount of Carnak, by elven tradition, that makes your family, which is only you, head of that House."

Anthony grumbled at the explanation. "Great. Just what I always wanted."

"Come now. You are a natural leader, Anthony. Look at all you've done. Without you, I doubt any of this would have happened. Like everyone else, it was your fate."

The insinuation of the hands of gods intervening in his life was enough to cast a pall of silence over any further attempts at discussing the matter. Fate was easy to accept when everything went well. But when it caused suffering, it was less than palatable. Anthony, head down and solemn, walked towards Daphney and the exit.

The cleric stepped back out of the cavernous doorway to allow him an unobstructed passage into the blistering light of the world. A light he did not want to face. She looked upon Anthony with pity for his current plight and pain, suppressing her own and wanting to envelop him in her arms and rekindle their now forgotten past.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered. "Then I can figure out how to pass any future responsibilities from my unwanted position to someone else."

"We'll make sure Reane and the others get a proper burial," Daphney said. "The shrine would be a fitting tomb for heroes such as her."

"Thanks." The words were spoken with an unforgiving dryness in Anthony's mouth. Like salt had been ground in by force.

Beyond the confines of the shrine, the scars of battle were fresh. Bodies of those who died, friend and foe alike, remained where they had fallen. Those who had survived without major injuries were dutifully making slow but steady progress preparing them for burial.

Overhead, several archeons patrolled the sky. They were less intent on killing anything that moved—almost contented. Laying across the peak of the shrine's entrance, her head resting in one of the skyward facing palms, the largest of the beasts, the one Reane had ridden into battle upon, relaxed and surveyed the landscape. As though she'd found a new kingdom to rule. One not as isolated as those barren islands to the south.

Nearby, Daphney's white and several greens, as well as Sheetah, lounged. They kept watchful eyes on the beasts who had now come to reside here. And there was an unspoken peace between them.

Navigating it all, the one-eyed rebel found the First Mother, her silver hair catching the sun's rays atop the mountain. Ittan at her side, the two were joined by the gray and gaunt form of one of the Dark Elves who had fought alongside Lord Hedric's forces just yesterday, and who had attacked the elven kingdoms last year.

Anthony realized the elf who should have been a prisoner was not bound as the three chatted rather cordially.

"Why is he free?" Anthony demanded an answer with a harsh tongue.

Sayra smiled as a way to melt the tension. "Abbatt of House Iilas has requested, u den Halava sha kuru for himself and his House."

Frozen, Anthony listened to the request. Then shrugged. "Why do you need me to make this decision, First Mother?" He addressed Sayra formally.

"House Nador held two very important roles within our society. They were our finest warriors and mages, but also our wisest council and judges. All matters in dispute came before tribunals seated with members of House Nador for judgement."

Arms folded, Anthony regarded the former enemy coldly. "They're traitors. U den Halava sha kuru is not for crimes of that magnitude. Only lesser offenses can be forgiven under the Rights of Amnesty."

"If I am not mistaken," Abbatt said, "Was it not members of House Nador that betrayed our people and Hitithe upon this very Mount all those decades ago? And yet here you stand, in judgement of me and my House. Are you not the direct descendant of one of those very traitors? Our people did what they needed to do in order to survive after the House of Nador abandoned their defenses at the outer reaches of the Elven Kingdoms. We were not warriors, but we became such when we were forced to."

The reminder was unnecessary to Anthony.

Before he formed the thought necessary to defend himself, Sayra interjected on his behalf. "While what you say is indeed true. I would suggest that Anthony has already undertaken his trial. And that the last two years have not been kind to him. He may not bear physical scars of the wounds he has suffered. But the emotional toll has been harder than you will ever be able to see."

"He's right, though." Anthony found his voice. "My family is no less traitors than the elves of House Iilas."

"And for two hundred years, the House of Nador has been in exile. Yourself included."

"The House of Iilas will have to reform their bond with the fairies," Anthony said. "When my ancestors in disgrace, they found a great Vessary Blossom deep within the Northern Continent. One even older that the one which grew in the heart of our homeland."

"And you propose House Iilas should seek the place of this ancient tree?"

"No. I will lead them there." Anthony stood up straight. "I know where it is. For I was the one who found the descendants of my family's House."

"For how long?"

Anthony glanced over his shoulder. Daphney had not followed and was tending to the business of preparing more of the dead for burial. "Nothing near as arduous as two centuries," he said, fearing he'd go mad at such a long isolation. One that he would not live to see the end of. "Five years. That is the traditional way. Is it not?"

"It is." Sayra nodded. "Abbatt Iilas? Since you have been chosen to speak for your House, do you concur?"

"Yes," the dark elf said. "Five years. In exchange for full restoration of our House and our former status and lands."

"It is done then. Inform your people."

the dark elf bowed and withdrew from the discussion.

Anthony started to do the same, before a firm hand from Ittan halted him. "What about Daphney?"

Anthony did not look at him, his eyes lingering on the woman he'd left behind years ago. "My heart has been broken two fold. Once by my doing, and another by forces beyond my control. If I remain, there will be more pain for both of us. We each need our space. I am not ready to go back after having so recently lost so much."

Ittan nodded. "It is the fact that you never got to say goodbye?"

"I always thought, in the end, Reane would find a way to persevere. I guess part of me never wanted to believe that one who could see the future could die."

"Not unless she wanted to."

Anthony shifted his gaze to Ittan. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that she did what was necessary to save us all. And most importantly, you. And her." Ittan gestured towards Daphney, still going about her chosen task of distraction.

"That doesn't make things any easier." Head bowed, Anthony held his grief in check, but only just so.

"Sometimes the greatest act of love, is letting someone go. Reane did it. And in time, you will too."

"Perhaps. But for now, I must prepare for my journey."

"And on that journey," Sayra said, "you will find peace."

"Sheala!" At the base of the mountain, Brentai charged down the dirt road after the young woman. "Sheala!"

Up ahead of him, freezing upon hearing her name, Sheala tugged on her pack and lingered beneath the scant trees of the forest surrounding the Mount of Carnak. She only half turned towards him as the Pelsan doubled over, drained after the frantic pace of his search for her.

"You didn't even stick around for your sister's funeral?" he asked, righting himself.

"Honestly, didn't think anyone would notice."

"Seriously? Oh, we all noticed. Trust me. Hurts me pretty deep that you didn't even want to say goodbye. Or clue me in that you were planning on making yourself scarce."

"Yeah, well," there was a slight pause to her explanation. "I figured I'd best get a jump on the journey home."

"Home? You're heading back to Fimmirra? I don't think Lagos Dunn will be too happy to hear that."

"No. I told him he could have those damn islands, and I meant it. I'm talking about Catersburg."

It shocked Brentai to hear that her plans were to head south instead. "I figured there'd be nothing left for you there worth going back for."

"Got at least one score to settle. Loose ends to tie up and all."

Brentai rolled his eyes. "Really, Sheala? Maybe it's best to just go for a fresh start."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Hands on his hips, Brentai struck a confident pose. His chest out a bit with pride.

"And what's this 'fresh start' supposed to entail? Me and you? Settling down? Maybe starting a family?"

"Well, I—" Brentai had considered the two of them going off somewhere together. Although the latter assumptions Sheala made were a little ahead of what he'd arrived at on his own.

"Look, Brentai, I meant what I said. I do love you. But I need some time. Too much has changed for me. I didn't stay for Cass's funeral because I couldn't bear the pain of remembering what I wanted and what I can't have." Absently, her fingers touched the hilt of the sword at her side—the one to which her parent's spirits were still bound.

"So you're just going to run away instead?"

"I'm not running away." Sheala heaved a heavy breath. "I'm clearing my head. I've got a lot of hurtful baggage to unpack before I can give you what you need and deserve. I think these last two years have proven that."

"Oh? Now that's something."

"What?"

"You. Telling me, what I need and what I deserve?" Brentai shook his head with a mock sorrow. "I always thought I got a say in those things."

"I know where I'm at right now. And it's not a good place. If I don't get my mind right? I'll just wind up doing something foolish, hurting you, and driving you away. Just like I did before."

"Says who?" Brentai stepped toward her.

"Says me." She turned away from him, looking down the path before her. "I don't know how to treat people. I don't know how to trust them."

Brentai turned her to face him with a gentle hand. "I think you've done a good job trusting people for the last year or so."

Sheala looked at the dust covered ground under her feet, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I haven't. It's been a struggle every day."

Cupping her chin in his hand, Brentai lifted her vision into his. "Every day is always a struggle, Sheala. For everyone."

"I figured you have a ship to take care of now, Captain." She changed the subject with a bit of awkwardness.

Brentai laughed. "Yeah, even though Reane would probably kill me if she heard me say this, but I think I'm going to sell my stake to Captain Corsair. Help him get his fleet back up and running. I figure it would be a pretty good chunk of coin for us."

"You're serious?"

"I never did like the sea," he said with a smile. "I want to go with you. Whereever you're going."

"If I'm honest? I hadn't thought much beyond Catersburg."

"You don't have to go back there," he reiterated to her.

"I do."

"Why?"

"I told you. I've got—"

"Yeah, yeah. Scores to settle. You know, you don't have to live that life anymore."

Sheala gave a slight growl at his persistence. "It's the only life I've known, Brentai. I've tried to move beyond it, but it's who I am. I'm a thief. Not some ambassador for a kingdom. Not a queen. And definitely not the savior of the world."

"I don't need you to be the savior of the world," Brentai said. "I just need you to be the savior of my world."

Sheala blinked upon hearing those words. Then she replied with, "Gods, that's cheesy."

"Hey, I spent the better part of the last two seconds coming up with that."

"It shows." Now Sheala smiled. Though it was an expression she forced to come forth. "I'm telling you, if you come with me, I'll hurt you."

"I won't let you."

"You won't let me?" The incredulous tone struck out of Sheala.

"Nope. I'll tell you when you're acting like an ass."

Her lower lip curled under her teeth, gnawing on it, Sheala replied, "I can be pretty abrasive sometimes."

"I won't deny that. So, can I go with you?"

"Just don't get in my way."

Brentai laughed. "I won't. But I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't try to talk you out of doing whatever it is you plan on doing."

Sheala rolled her eyes. "Don't be a nag. I don't know whether it was Daquer or the Black Palms who gave me up to the Empire when my sister came to town looking for Anthony. Regardless, I need to find out and send one last message."

"And that message is?"

Sheala headed off down the path, leaving Brentai where he stood. "I'll figure that out before we get there. But I can tell you this much. It'll be one that says, in no uncertain terms, you don't mess with Sheala Stormband."