Rayce opened his eyes slowly.

He was in a darkened room with only moonlight lending a ghostly cast to the walls. He was shirtless, his feet dangling off the bottom of a luxuriously soft, albeit macabre, bed. Blood still stained the duvet that he was laying across and memories came flooding back to him. He hesitantly touched his right side where the Elf-bolt had struck him, and he found folded-up toweling under an unfamiliar weapons belt. Sera.

He sat up gingerly, waiting for his side to pain him, but was pleasantly surprised when it did not. Rayce considered unbuckling the belt and peeling away the impromptu dressing, but figured he might be safer leaving it in place than risking Sera's wrath if he removed it too soon.

His feet sank into plush carpet as he rose slowly and caught sight of his staff leaning up against the wall. The pack that Zeke had prepared was slumped next to it and he felt a tug of curiosity. He leaned down carefully to hook one of the straps and then sat back on the bed, farther away from the mess of dried blood.

He untied the top and pulled out what felt like a fresh set of clothes first, bundled neatly, and set them aside for later once he had had time to clean up. The smell of fruit wafted up and he tilted the bag a bit to shed more light inside. Some very bruised fruit lay squashed in the bottom, and he winced at the memory of being blasted off his feet by the discharge from the Unseelie weapons. A packet of nuts had survived, though, and he idly opened it and tossed a handful in his mouth, finding that they were lightly-flavoured with fruit juice now. He couldn't recall when he had last eaten something. He pulled the last three items out and peered down into the bag. Nothing else. He held a stele, a witchlight stone, and a letter that were all now lightly fruit-flavoured as well.

Zeke had said the letter in his pack would explain their hasty flight, and Rayce eagerly unfolded it, careful not to tear the page where the fruit juice had dried. He brought the witchlight to life and was able to read the slanting scrawl of writing.

Zeke,

I don't know you, and you don't know me, and I have no way to convince you that this isn't some game being played by an idiot Faerie. What we do have in common is Rayce.

I am a Shadowhunter, but not like the ones that you grew up with. The Clave doesn't know I exist, and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as I can.

The short version of the story is that sometimes I have dreams about what may yet come to pass. I know that you'll understand that as 'seeing the future', but that's not how it works. Everyone has free will. Nothing is set.

This letter is a good example of that. I've had a dream that says the Seelie Queen is going to be murdered, and soon. When that happens, Rayce will be free to leave the Court, and it's going to be up to you to make sure that happens. I've seen flashes of what his fate will be if he doesn't get away. If he's captured, he's worse than lost. If he's killed, then I am lost.

There's a tunnel that Rayce once tried to use to escape the Court. That's the path you must take – it will lead him to me, and I can protect him from those who will follow.

The choice is yours now. Whether or not you choose to believe me is what will determine Rayce's future. You can ignore this letter – really, I've seen it as a possibility. But I'm begging you to take a chance on me.

Be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. It will happen swiftly, and you will know in your heart when it does.

I only ask one last thing of you if you choose to help Rayce survive: Send word through my faithful messenger, Kaelie Whitewillow, and tell me what I can say that will stop Rayce from taking my head off when we meet – every time I dream about that meeting without a pass phrase it doesn't end well for me.

Yours in trust,

Sera

Rayce blinked and then reread the letter. She had dreamed about his mother's death? Why had she chosen to intervene and save him? How could she have known about his failed escape attempt years earlier? And Kaelie was involved? How was that even possible? The letter had created far more questions than it had answered. He rose again with the idea of finding Sera to get a better explanation, but at that moment he heard the front door of the dwelling open.

Silent as a shadow, he crossed to the bedroom door and lifted his staff, sending a mental command to split it into two shorter pieces to manoeuvre better in close quarters. He spun out into the hall, blades held defensively, and immediately felt his entire body freeze. He tried to shift away, but found himself unable to. That powder is still all over my neck!  He groaned inwardly and used a few of Zeke's more impressive expletives silently as an overhead lamp clicked on.

"Well there's a lovely fright to come home to, then, isn't it?" A small girl with a mop of black curls drawled with a faint English accent. She looked to only be in her mid-teens, and stood barely five feet tall, but Rayce took in the tufted points of cat ears buried in her dark hair and made the connection immediately: warlock. Her face was pale enough that he could see a flush bloom in her cheeks like a camellia flower slowly opening its petals as she took in his half-naked body. Her eye lashes swept down, veiling bright green eyes and she turned her head to the side.

"I'll be very pleased to free you if you'd be so kind as to promise you won't chop me up into bits, love."

Rayce felt the hold around his head loosen and he nodded. This had been a very strange night. The warlock waved her hand absently at him to undo the binding, and he was relieved to regain control of himself.

The small girl offered her hand to him, "Seraphine Lark, High Warlock of Toronto." Rayce took her hand gently in his left and then folded his right over top of hers, bowing his head deeply over their clasped hands.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, honoured daughter of Lilith," he recited stiffly, formality an easy habit that felt out of place in this situation, causing him to relax a bit before continuing, "I'm Rayce Morgenstern... but I get the feeling that you already know that somehow."

Her face split into a smile. "How perfectly charming!" She withdrew her hand, eyes searching behind him. "Where's the other Sera?"

"I haven't had a chance to go looking yet – I only just woke up."

Seraphine's eyes drifted down from his again and she arched an eyebrow at him in challenge. "Princes aren't supposed to be bloody and dirty when they wake up sleeping heroines, Rayce. Perhaps a shower is in order, first."

She pointed to the door across the hall from the bedroom where he had awoken, "March."

After employing a process of elimination, Rayce had the shower running at a non-molten or glacier temperature and he carefully undid the weapons belt and lifted the messy towels away. He sucked in a breath when he saw only smooth skin underneath, no hint of a scar to mark the wound that should have killed him. Since this seemed to be a night for impossible things, he simply took it in stride and added it to the alarmingly long list of questions he needed answered. He balled up his clothes and left them in the sink, wary of the iron-laced paste that he had wiped on them when he had been cleaning his hands off earlier that night. He could do without ever encountering that again.

The shower was wonderfully restorative and he happily sluiced away the layer of grime around his neck, scrubbing hard with a marvelous sponge lathered with vanilla-scented suds. When he felt there wasn't a speck of iron or blood left anywhere he twisted the knobs and was rewarded with a blast of scalding water before turning them quickly in the opposite direction.

Muttering mutinously to himself, Rayce wrapped a towel around his waist and used another to dry his hair. He felt much better when he opened the bathroom door, allowing steam to pour out into the hallway. Seraphine poked her head around the corner, mouth open to address him, but instead she squeaked when she saw him and vanished back around the corner. A black cat tail swished after her. He shrugged helplessly and returned to the ruined bedroom, reaching for the bundle of clothes that Zeke had packed for him.

He untied the cord that bound another set of the same loose-fitting black clothes he had been wearing and gasped when a pair of white gauntlets spilled out. Emotions twisted within him. Was he even still a prince of the Courts? If he wasn't, what did that make him now? Rayce pulled on the clothes silently, lost in thought.

When he was once again properly attired, he stepped back into the hall and turned around the corner where Seraphine had retreated. He walked into a beautiful kitchen that flowed seamlessly into a stylish sitting room beyond. The cabinetry was white wood and glass, the countertops made from gleaming black marble that reflected the glow from hanging silver pendant lights above.

The High Warlock of Toronto was perched on a bar stool that was pulled up to the counter, tail flicking idly as she read a newspaper in front of her. She looked up when he entered, but seemed to have recovered her composure.

"Well, now you look a damn sight better. Please accept my apologies, but you do realize that you are a bit... stunning? It's quite a lot to be getting on with at 3:30 in the morning."

Rayce wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to apologize for being... stunning, so he changed the topic entirely.

"Is Sera well? I don't really remember what happened after we got out of the water..."

"You have a very one-track mind, love. Sera's fine, I looked in on her while you were using every last drop of hot water in this building. She's absolutely dead asleep, and if there's one bit of wisdom I can give you, it's to not wake her when she's dreaming unless it's very important."

At the mention of dreaming, Rayce's focus sharpened.

"She wrote a letter about me, about getting me away from the Seelie Court, because she said she saw my mother's murder in a dream. Do you know anything about it? How she can do that?"

"Sit down, hun, you're making me anxious," She indicated the seat next to her and then pushed back from her own, rising to bring over a tray with a teapot, a pair of teacups, milk and sugar, and a small plate of cucumber sandwiches. English hospitality was second to none, no matter the hour.

"Now, I'm not going to tell you all of Sera's secrets. That's her business, and when she's ready to tell you, she will. The dreaming thing is because of the blood that runs in her veins, and it's just as much a part of her as your poofing all over the place is a part of you, understand?"

Rayce nodded, wolfing down a cucumber sandwich without noticing. Seraphine smiled faintly and poured tea for both of them before continuing.

"Sera's gift is also a terrible burden, and she's doubled down on her misery by taking on a permanent Mnemosyne rune so that she doesn't forget her dreams. Do you know what that does to a person? Human, warlock, Nephilim, Faerie – we all need to be able to forget our failures to protect us as the years pass. She carries every day on her shoulders. Sera's come a long way with her gift, and I don't judge her for how she's had to use it over the last five years.

"When Sera came to my city after her mother passed away, I felt an immediate connection to her. The similarities in our names became an amusement for us, like when you find that it seems every other boy in Alicante is named Jonathan Christopher these days," Seraphine sighed. "Parents try to give their children the names of heroes, but it's what they do that will define them. I've never met a Rayce before; your name suits you.

"Sera was very open with me, very honest. She had seen me in her dreams, and knew where to come to find me. Fortunately, she also saw what would have happened to her if she tried to lie to me. Damn shame, though – sometimes I think she might have liked becoming my feline familiar. A cat that can see the future would be exceedingly useful, but only if it could talk, so I left her regrettably human," Seraphine's eyes widened. "Not that she makes a bad human... this is turning into a bit of a cock-up." She stirred her tea with tiny, precise motions.

Rayce jumped in, "So she can see the future? I didn't understand her letter; she said that it was more like seeing things that 'had not yet come to pass', and that free will was part of it."

"Free will is everything," Seraphine said, sipping from her cup. "A better way of understanding what she does is to say that she can read chains of causality."

Rayce looked back at her blankly, blinking his deep green eyes.

Seraphine smiled apologetically. "Sorry, love, but I've been studying what she can do for years. It's easy for me to forget that I used to be just as lost as you are now.

"Chains of causality follow the lines of 'if/then' in our lives. If  you eat the last cucumber sandwich then I'll have to make a decision to offer you more or berate you for your rudeness in devouring what was meant to feed two people."

Rayce looked down. She was right. The sandwiches were gone. He looked back up to her, aghast, and said, "If  you decided to make more, then I wouldn't say no to eating them."

Seraphine's laughter trilled like a chime and she rose quickly, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the fixings for more sandwiches.

"To complete the explanation then, if you hadn't said that, then I wouldn't be standing up to make more now. Maybe I slice my finger while cutting up more cucumber, and it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't finished the sandwiches. Can you understand how dizzyingly connected everything can be? The more people and variables and time that you add into the mix, the more difficult it becomes to follow a chain. It's incredibly complex, and I don't understand why that girl isn't stark-raving mad by now.

"Some things are more... vibrant... when she sees them. The attitudes or beliefs or preceding events are sure enough that some outcomes are more likely than others. I'm the consummate English host, so it's not in my nature to let a guest go hungry. If Sera were to dream about this, the outcome where I got up to make more sandwiches would be much more clear and focused than the one where I found some very inventive descriptions for gluttonous half-Faeries in my kitchen.

"But the possibility remains that I could always choose the less likely scenario, and the clear vision of me as I am now, cutting up more sandwiches, would fade. Not necessarily vanish, because maybe after I was finished making you apologize in a stunning display of the finest Faerie court manners and flowery praises, I would end up making sandwiches anyway."

Rayce was rubbing his temples as Seraphine returned to her place beside him and tucked her tiny feet up under her to curl a fluffy black tail around them. "I think I'm starting to get it, but I'm not entirely sure that's a good thing. How can she stand it?"

Seraphine's expression fell and her smile faded, but she shook her head and answered softly, "You'll have to ask her."

Rayce picked up another triangle of cucumber sandwich and reflected on the events of the evening, starting to unravel how much Sera had needed to manage while they were running. Knowing when to wait and when to run – had she weighed out other scenarios where they had waited too long or run too soon? He thought about the Elf-bolt.

"I was struck by an Elf-bolt. Would that not have shown up in her dreams? Could it have been avoided?"

Seraphine slid the sandwich plate behind her, out of his reach. One lonely piece remained.

"I've seen some of Sera's notes about last night, Rayce, and please don't think that she didn't search for any possible way to prevent that from happening. Sometimes she wrenched the handlebars sideways and the arrow struck you somewhere much more vital and you died in the water. Other times she skipped the jet ski all together and you used underwater breathing runes to dive under the water and swim to the other quay, only to find some exceptionally territorial mermaids. For the record, you made out okay in that one with that face of yours, but they were a bit violently jealous of Sera and what her potential relationship with you was.

"Sera accepted that if she couldn't find a good way to stop that Elf-bolt from hitting you, she'd make sure she had the antidote to the poison and be completely prepared to deal with it once she got you up here."

"And she warned you that when you came home I'd be waiting around a corner ready to, uh, 'chop you up into little pieces', I think it was?" Rayce asked, eyeing the last bit of sandwich. He could shift just a bit...

Seraphine must have sensed his intent and popped the final triangle into her mouth.

"Mmm, 'ou reft a 'rail ov 'lood 'own 'uh 'allwa," she managed to get out around thesandwich, chewing a bit and then swallowing before she clarified, "No, you left a trail of blood down the hallway, which I had to clean up for free. I have neighbours, you know."

"I thought this was Sera's home. Is it yours?"

"Yes, though Sera comes here often to study with me. This suite is warded in just about every way possible – your crazy half-sister can't track you here. For all intents and purposes, you, magically, don't exist right now."

He raised his eyebrows. "May I ask another question?"

"You just did, but I suppose I'll allow another."

He rolled his eyes, "There was a moment last night when Sera pulled us into a building and said to wait 97 seconds, and then closed her eyes. When she jerked awake she seemed surprised and we had to leave before the 97 seconds were up. What happened? Did she fall asleep for a few moments?"

"No," Seraphine shook her head. "When she's in the moment like that and she's got her inner eyes wide open, she can see a shift in events. Believe it or not, there are plenty of unlikely scenarios that she doesn't see, and if one of them pops up unexpectedly she could get a bit of notice with that trick. It's similar to how she sees when she's fighting – just a tick ahead of her opponent. Handy, that. I'd love to watch the pair of you have a go at it."

"One day, maybe," Rayce smiled. "Thank you for the fare and conversation, but I think I need some time to understand what you've told me. I wonder, if I'm not allowed to wake her, would it be alright to just stay with her so that I may be there when she wakes? I don't think that my mind is going to be able to go back to sleep any time soon, and I doubt you would appreciate a spirited, one-sided training session in your home."

"You're absolutely right, I wouldn't."  She stood and ushered him through the sitting room to a short hallway at the back of the suite.  Another washroom was to the right, and a closed door presumably led to the master bedroom.

Seraphine jabbed a finger up at his chest. "You just keep your hands to yourself." Her finger flared for a moment with pink fire and he nodded quickly. The warlock returned to the kitchen and her discarded newspaper.

Rayce grasped the knob of the bedroom door and turned it silently, slipping inside and closing the door again.

Two entire walls of the bedroom were floor-to-ceiling glass, and there was a sliding door that opened out onto a wrap-around balcony with an unobstructed view of the dark lake on one side, and of the sparkling city lights on the other.

Sera was sprawled face-down across the bed diagonally, arms and legs flung out from under the white duvet and sheets. Raven hair splashed across her pillow, and her face was turned away from Rayce. There was an armchair in the corner where the two glass walls met, and he sat back in it quietly, careful not to make any noise that might wake her.

Rayce sat in silence, his mind overflowing with everything Seraphine had shared with him. He replayed the previous night in his mind over and over, feeling almost like it had happened to someone else. Sera's letter repeated itself, whispering over memories of his mother, sister, and brother.  He lost track of time while he thought.

In the faint light of dawn as it broke across the sky to the east, Rayce gave himself time to grieve for Zeke, for the youth that had been snatched away so cruelly, and for whatever fate had befallen him in the tunnel after he had forced Rayce out. He let his heart mourn for the life that had been taken from him with his mother's death. Part of him even wept inwardly for her. Whatever had transpired between them, he had never wished for her death. He worried for Arynessa and Baelerithon, who would likely be hunted as he had been.

It all began and ended with the girl stretched across the bed in front of him. She was such a mystery. Everything about her made him feel confused, but alive. So very alive.

He stood up, loosening stiff muscles and turned to face the window. He had never seen a sunrise.

The sky brightened slowly, chasing the darkness into the west, forcing it to retreat from the light. When the sun broke over the horizon, its orange glow rippled across the lake all the way to the shore below him. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. The Faerie revels he had attended to fight for the throne had all taken place at night to better hide the Fey from unwanted eyes.

He cast his eyes back at Sera, wishing she were awake to share the moment with him. Rayce felt his face flush when he saw that she had shrugged away even more of the duvet and was only barely hanging on to her modesty. The light revealed some of her Marks, including the permanent Mnemosyne rune that Seraphine had told him about. A glamour rune stood out darkly on the back of her right shoulder.

Glamour?  Rayce turned away from the sunrise to more closely inspect the rune in question. Perhaps he had mistaken it for another...?

Even as he stared, the rune began to fade rapidly, its time and power spent. As it disappeared, Sera's raven-black hair began to lighten and curl into a wild tangle of tresses. His mouth fell open in shock as platinum and silver strands shot through the gold, and bronze bloomed through her hair. He wasn't breathing.

Rayce reached out with a shaking hand to catch the edge of the sheet and draw it back into place over her slowly, his eyes wonderingly tracing the curve of her back and the delicate ridge of her shoulder blade. He swallowed as he drank in the sight of her. He could no longer tell if it was a trick of the forgotten sun that brushed her skin with the palest gold, but it was exquisite. Had he ever thought the sunrise was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen?

She stirred and Rayce dropped the edge of the sheet, reeling backwards. He fell back into the armchair with a resounding thump and nearly toppled the whole thing over.

Sera's face whipped toward him in alarm, sending a shower of molten gold hair flying as she raised herself to one elbow. Rayce already knew that her eyes would be gold, and he was shaking when her gaze pierced through him.

She pulled her eyes away and looked down to see her hair spilling across her shoulder, taking note of the colour and connecting it to the look on his face.

"Aw, crap," she whispered. Sera pulled the sheet up higher and twisted around to face him properly, sitting back against the headboard. Rayce was still having trouble stringing together two words, so he settled for just one.

"Why?"

Sera smiled sadly and shook her head.

"I think we need to talk."

**Author's note: The physical description, name, and nationality for the character of Seraphine Lark was submitted by Catbug :3 and was chosen to appear in this story with permission.