Spurred on by the guards' boots, they crawled into the cell through a small opening and dropped down into the hole. Only when the guards slammed shut the iron bars behind them did the terrible reality fully set in. At least the chains that bound their hands were removed.

The dungeon cell was a dark bleak place that smelled of rot, excrement, and death. Essentially a hole carved down into the bedrock, there was barely enough room for a few to lie down side-by-side on the moldy straw floor, the rocky ceiling too low to stand upright. A small trench ran down one side of the cell to a drain slot in the back as a crude sanitation system. At least three more cells opened up to the cold stone hallway above where the guards patrolled. From the heartbreaking moans and cries he heard, Waithe knew other prisoners suffered here.

Ceres shivered in the damp cold as she leaned against her father. Faint beams of sunlight shining through two small slots near the ceiling provided barely enough light to make out their surroundings. Soon it would be completely dark.

Waithe used his shirt sleeve to dab off a trickle of blood that ran down from a cut on Ceres' temple, the result of falling into the cell. She moved down to his feet and grasped the boot on his injured foot where they cut the tendon. The forced walk to the dungeon was painful, at least now that he was off his feet and the pain became only a throbbing ache.

He held up his hand. "Don't take it off. It provides some support to my foot."

Her tears dripped onto his leg. "I am so sorry, father. If only I had--"

He interrupted her. "It be not your fault, daughter. There was nothing you could have done. This place... It be meant to bring misery, to break you. We still be together. Hold tightly on to the hope in your heart."

She nodded and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Let me heal you."

He raised a hand. "Not yet. Wait until after the guard passes by."

A few moments later a guard did stop at the cell, bending down at the door and shining the light of a flickering torch in. After waiting another moment, Ceres summoned the Life Spirit Dal. The shining amber light provided at least a small measure of comfort as it lit up the cell. The white shimmering Magic descended on Waithe's foot. He smiled as the pain faded away.

Waithe flexed his foot. "Thank you, my daughter. As it turns out, you be useful as well."

A single chuckle escaped her lips as she wiped her eyes again. "I have my moments."

"It will be a cold night. We should lay close."

Quar mumbled faintly as she laid trembling in a fetal position facing the wall. Waithe's heart went out to her, despite the loathing he felt for her before. No one should have to endure the kind of deep hopeless despair induced by Nyx, the corrupted Spirit of Shadows. He crawled over to her and put his arm around her. His eyes met hers, but they seemed so far away.

He spoke gently, "My dear Quar, join us tonight. We would share warmth together against the cold."

She responded with a faint nod. Waithe took a bit of encouragement from that, her mind was still with her. They laid in silence as all light faded away while the sun set. Quar fell into a restless sleep beside him.

Waithe broke the silence. "Ceres, know you that at some time Raste will try to corrupt you with the Darkness."

"Aye. At that moment he shall be most vulnerable, and I would wrest the Darkness from him."

"You must refuse at first, lest he suspects your plan. Likely, he would then make threats to coerce you. Then you would submit."

"Aye." She held back her breath then exhaled audibly. "Father, I must ask something of you, a difficult thing." Waithe lifted his eyebrows. She continued. "If I fail... If the Darkness takes my soul, I want you to end me. Do not allow me to become like Raste."

He gasped. "Daughter, I could not..."

"You must! For the good of the Realm, for you, for Eira, for Alden... and for me, you must."

Waithe shuddered. The thought of that outcome, one so feared that he had pushed it far to the back of his mind, gripped his heart. He replied with a thin voice, "I shall do what be needed." Still, he did not know if he could truly complete that horrible task.

*****

As the morning light filtered in through the small overhead windows, a rap came on the iron bars at the door.

Ceres sat up and whispered. "Kori, you should not be here."

Kori said in a loud voice, "I brought you food." She slid three metal bowls and three mugs in through an opening in at the bottom of the door.

Looking back over her shoulder, she reached under her dress and dropped a key and a knife into the cell. She whispered, "Be ready, my Lady. The Freedom Alliance has a plan and they come to rescue you."

Ceres' eyes went wide. "Kori, no! You must stop it--"

A grating voice came from above, Raste's voice. "Words you should have heeded, wench." A hard backhand slap to her face rolled her prone on the floor. "The Freedom Alliance failed. Did you truly think I would not be ready for this?"

A guard unlocked the cell door then shoved Kori with his boot. She cried out as she fell to the hard rock floor, then flinched as the cell door slammed shut.

Raste bent over and peered inside. "The knife..." Kori looked up, her eyes frozen open. Raste repeated, "The knife you dropped in. If I have to send a guard in to retrieve it, one of you will die."

Kori picked up the knife. Her hand trembled as she passed it through the gate. Raste and the guards walked away, their footsteps fading off in the distance.

Kori began to weep. Ceres embraced her, saying, "I am so sorry." Ceres pulled back, cupping Kori's wet face in her hands. "Brave you were. I tell you truly, my dear Kori, this is not over yet."

Waithe cast his eyes to the key on the floor near the door. Raste must not have seen Kori drop it in. It may be useful. As for a knife, he still had one hidden in his boot. Ceres was right, this be not over yet.

*****

The following days and nights passed monotonously slow. Waithe tried his best to preserve the hope in himself and those who shared this small dank hole, but each long moment of existence here added to the despair that weighed on their hearts.

Cold, hungry, and thirsty, sleep was difficult to come by, but like nights before, he eventually drifted off.

Waithe found himself again in an empty framework of dreams, a featureless alternate reality that extended in all directions beyond seeing.

He called out, "My Lady of Light, my dear Eira, do you come to me again?"

He spun around to the bright light that appeared behind him, so brilliant he shaded his eyes. The light reflected off the Time Spirit Aon, who hovered above as a clear globe.

She answered, warmly caressing his cheek. "Aye, grandfather, to warn you. Tomorrow be a crossroads in this timeline, with one path leading to darkness and the other to light."

"Ceres faces Raste?"

"Aye."

"In your original timeline, tell me what happened. What went wrong?"

"I was but a little girl and Aon does not grant me seeing. All I know that you and my mother were never seen alive again. The Darkness remained in the Realm and grew by Raste's hand while the Taint spread inexorably across the Lands. Fight it we tried by sword and Magic, so hard did we. My father and his father both died in the attempt. But the Darkness in Raste became too strong. Eventually all men succumbed. Those not lucky enough to be claimed by death were enslaved by the Darkness."

She paused, her head downturned. "Such hopeless desolation... I was the last Tau and thus the last living free will. I also failed, grandfather. With so much Darkness in the world, the End Times came. So alone was I... The Spirit Aon took me away, sheltered me, and trained me for this task."

Waithe gritted his teeth and his voice became laced with an anger born of desperation. "Then fight now with us! Side by side with Ceres, the two of you would be so much stronger."

She shook her head. "I cannot..."

He shouted, shaking his fists. "Eira, why not?!"

Her voice strained. "I would... With every fiber of my being, I would if I could. But by the very nature of time itself, I cannot physically alter my past. I can, by Aon's allowance, offer hope and lend my Magic to your hand."

"Ceres... Be she strong enough to face the Darkness?"

"When I shivered in that dark well, cold, alone, and frightened, Ceres found me and took me in. She loved me as my mother. It was not her strength that lifted me from the depths of despair, but her selfless love. To answer your question, grandfather, she is not strong enough. No one ever would be. The Darkness cannot be defeated by power and might, that much I learned. As the night flees from the light of day, so does the Darkness from love."

"So if she loves, there be hope."

"Aye, from the first comes the second."

"Then what can I do?"

The Woman of Light stepped forward and embraced Waithe, laying her head on his shoulder. A wonderful hopeful feeling warmed his heart like a thick warm blanket on a cold night. He returned the embrace. She whispered in his ear, "Help her love."