Due to current circumstances, Judson could not expect a tour of the Woodlands even though he had anticipated it at some point.

He relayed the dreadful news to Diarmaid and was a tad shocked that the Elf actually wept in public. He had never seen an Elf cry before and dearly hoped he would never get to witness it again. The sight could have easily ripped his heart right out of his chest.

If Phyllis had not consoled him to a stop, Diarmaid could have gone on crying until nightfall.

"How long ago was this?" He queried at last after drying his eyes.

"Four years, three seasons." Judson answered. Voicing it felt like an icy realization to how much time had really passed.

Diarmaid pinched down on his nose ridge so hard that his knuckles began to turn white. Phyllis eased his fingers with care before he could dislodge his own nose by accident. His head creaked sideways with worry and what seemed like guilt.

"She really took it upon herself to see that you were cleansed no matter the risks."

Judson nodded affirmatively.

"Is it true?" One of the other two Elves asked. She looked timid with both hands tucked under her arms as if she was cold.

Judson looked at her.

"You reached the Celestial Mountains?"

Again, he nodded.

"ei ti Zaña!" The She-Elf exclaimed with an overwhelmed gasp. She looked short of breath and slumped into her brethren's chest, who received her at once and offered comfort by rubbing down her arm.

"You accomplished a feat so great and unheard of in all the seven realms, Judson." Phyllis put out. The solemn expression upon her face gave her an air of command. "To my kin, it is even greater. It may have been centuries ago since a being last succeeded in nearing the North. You, however, reached it and returned alive. This is no ordinary accomplishment and not one to be kept quiet for long."

She sighed heavily as Diarmaid's eyes locked on hers. "Unfortunately, seeing as your position is a quite complicated one. . ."

Diarmaid picked up from where she left off. "We must stay silent in order to ensure your safety. I hope that you accept our heartfelt condolences. I understand how difficult it must've been for you all those years."

He rose from his seat and came to grip Judson's shoulder in a brotherly fashion. His eyes were the most compassionate.

"She was kin to us all, but a sister to me. I consider her my own blood."

Just then, it dawned on Judson why Diarmaid understood his pain more than anyone else. It was he who had lost a brother. And now, a sister as well. He blinked back the mist in his eyes.

"Is there anything that can be done, Commander?" Freañin questioned. His nose wrinkled in a worried frown and his hands balled into a fist, as though he was ready to physically wrestle the Chasma.

"The Chasma is friend to none," Phyllis provided, her gaze distant. "For ages it has existed and none can predict it - not even the gods themselves. There may be little we can do in that aspect."

"I met Gzrel." Judson blurted.

All eyes fell on him, all of wonder.

"You saw The Grump?" Diarmaid looked just about ready to break into the proudest grin. His gaze shifted to Phyllis for a moment. "Someone put a rein on the Shade before he succeeds in scaling Wyvernwildé on foot."

Phyllis's chuckle was light. She came to stand next to Judson. "What did Gzrel tell you?"

His roaming eyes randomly fell on an eye-catching ring on her finger, and he remembered something about her being betrothed. "Your curatorium. He claimed it held information on a way that I can find the Chasma."

"Information, yes," Diarmaid confirmed with a single nod. "but not directions on where to actually find it."

"Perhaps if he could just have a look at the records." The second Elf, Saen'yr, suggested.

"It is easier said than done." Freañin offered in a casual tone. "Have you no idea yet who the Shade is, lieutenant?"

Saen'yr stared at Judson's face with a blank expression. His other, the female Elf, held his arm and said something quickly in Elvish that Judson struggled to understand. The only words he caught were "mihr" and "Pelidañn", both meaning essence and Emperor. At once, Saen'yr's face turned ashen. He shivered at the terror he saw in it.

"We have orders to kill the Shade upon sight," Freañin went on. "and right now, him being alive still is a great crime that we have committed."

"Why do you help him then?" Saen'yr questioned.

Again, the She-Elf explained in their native tongue, leading Saen'yr to bend his face in embarrassment.

His reaction coaxed brief laughter out of Phyllis.

"Yes, he is a lot more affiliated with aéolana ariss than the rest of us are, Saen'yr." She expanded, staring softly at Judson. It made him wonder, because her tone had suggested something he already knew, yet was unsure whether she did too.

"We shall provide you with aid as best we can, but that will be a difficult task, Kartogarath." Freañin expressed. "As it is, we are the only ones aware that you are here and you still live."

"Yes, and we intend to keep it that way for all our sakes." Phyllis added.

"Let us hope," Diarmaid continued. "for all our sakes, that our motives are viewed as what they truly are. We are more than glad to help, but in order to do that, we, too, will need help."

"What are you talking about?" Judson asked, straightening.

He had somewhat grown tired of admiring the interior of the treehouse. It was not only well decorated, but well furnished, well scented, and well structured from every angle. How such a thing was even achievable made him want to scream. Each time his eyes fell on a floral design, he would think "I should have done that this way". Some part of him, though, doubted that Diarmaid had decorated the treehouse all by himself.

"The curatorium is restricted from public access." Phyllis said, twirling a sheathed dagger between her fingers. "In order to get in, we would need permission from a member of the King's household. None other can grant us entrance."

"Is there anyone from the royal palace that would be willing to assist?" Judson asked, looking from Phyllis to Diarmaid, both of whom appeared to be staring at themselves too.

Then, Diarmaid perked as if stung by a bee. "No."

"We have to try." Phyllis came forward, her hand going up in a gesture of reasoning.

He said something in Elvish and turned away, but it did not hinder Phyllis from going to grab his arms. She was almost as tall as he was. For over ten minutes, they exchanged words too low to hear, with Diarmaid appearing more bothered.

"We can't, Olwirien." He stressed aloud, staring dead into Phyllis's eyes. "We can't. You'll never be convincing enough."

"You would rather we just sat back and did nothing?" Her misty eyes twitched. "I thought you loved her."

"I do." Diarmaid stated firmly, then deflated at once. "It would do no good if he is discovered, you know this. We will gladly accept punishment. Him?" He pointed to Judson. "It will cost his life."

Judson was at a loss as to what they spoke about, yet it seemed to involve him nohow. He desired to ask questions, but the tension in the air prevented him from speaking. Instead, he watched the silent pair communicate with their eyes.

After a while, Diarmaid released a soft sigh and looked down. "Well, it's no use not trying."

With a grin, Phyllis went over to hold him in a tight hug. "I feared you'd lost your fetish for doing the abominable."

"Ah, never!" He chuckled, patting her back.

"You have reached a consensus then?" Freañin asked in a hopeful tone.

"Yes." Diarmaid confirmed. He tilted to Judson. "Our plan may or may not backfire. Nonetheless, we are willing to take the risk. It's our only alternative."

"I will ride alone to the palace at once." Phyllis offered, putting on a helmet with a purple plume as she strode toward the door. Freañin marched behind her in tow.

She pointed first to Saen'yr and to the She-Elf. "You two return to camp. If anyone asks, you know nothing of where the Shade was taken."

Halfway, she halted and turned her eyes to meet Judson's. "It is warming to see you again."

He smiled in appreciation.

Once Phyllis and the others were gone, Judson felt less sad than he had in a long time. In fact, he could breathe easy and was not at all worried aboutthe inevitable. Thus far, he had survived the South.

Gzrel had been right.

His own fear of trying could have stopped him.

He retreated to sit.

"I will not make you retell your experiences," Diarmaid said, pouring hot, creamy liquid into a cup that he placed near his guest. "But I must ask one thing."

Judson stared expectantly.

"Was she in any kind of pain?"

The answer did not come to him at once though he already knew it in the back of his mind. But he was frightened to admit the truth, because in truth, he saw pain in Waverly's eyes and he understood it. In fact, her eyes were the one thing he could never forget.

"She had looked at me," He kept his breathing steady. "right before she was taken." His shaking hands made him remove his eyes from Diarmaid's. "There was pain. . . of the greatest degree."

To his surprise, Diarmaid took his hands and squeezed them. It brought him a feeling of comfort.

"All she desired was for our struggles to come to an end." He went on, battling to keep his voice from breaking. "She yearned for a chance at happiness; a break from the lifestyle we led. She wanted home."

The last thing he wanted was for Diarmaid to cry again because he doubted he could provide consolation as easily Phyllis did.

"All of it was my fault." Judson admitted something that had been eating away at him since that day. "I brought this upon her. I separated her from her dreams."

Diarmaid's grip tightened as he plopped into a stool and lowered further so that they could be level with each other since he was much taller. For a minute, he said nothing, then a sigh streamed out of his nostrils.

"I grieved once, you know. . . when she was still with us." However easy his voice sounded, pain was a bit evident in it. His face twisted in a reminiscent frown. "I blamed myself for the unfortunate and wondered about a million things I could have done differently. I was wounded to madness."

Again, he sighed.

"She was hurting. We both were. Somehow, she pulled herself together and came to me. She assured me that none of it was my fault; that he loved me all the same. She helped me realize there was no use blaming myself."

He reached for the full cup and pressed it into Judson's hand. It felt pleasantly warm to the touch.

"I doubt she wants you to think you are to blame. Waverly was loyal to a fault. She would rather put her life on the line for those she loves than have them do it themselves."

Then, the Elf stood up and retreated into a corner.

Judson felt comforted by Diarmaid's truthful words.

He had not felt the same since his departure out of The Grand Ale when HalfHyde assured him all would be well again.

With a sense of newfound ease, he drank out of his cup. The liquid had a creamy texture and made him wonder what kind it was.

Just when he placed the empty cup down, Diarmaid returned again, and the front door opened simultaneously.

A woman entered, laughing heartily as if she had just spoken to someone before coming in.

When she turned, the smile on her face dwindled to a curious frown. Her eyes dashed from Diarmaid to the stranger with wings.

"e-ellor!" She greeted, appearing uncertain and a bit uncomfortable. Her face was lovely and youthful though not in the way of teenage Elves for she looked just about as mature as an adult.

Diarmaid walked over, drew her into an embrace and lightly kissed her exposed temple. "meñoi mir élephi." (my dear heart)

"Yiyer'inen Karto?" She asked in a low voice, looking up at him, and warily at the stranger. (Who is the Shade?)

Judson's ears tickled as the meaning of her language suddenly unfolded in them.

"This is Judson." Diarmaid introduced, taking her hand to lead her toward his guest. "He is an old friend come back to visit after four years."

The She-Elf smiled sweetly. "Welcome to the Woodlands, master Shade."

"Judson, this is my betrothed, Maraeti."

Slowly, Judson rose to his feet, eyes sweeping across her face. "Princess. That is the translation of your name."

Maraeti's head tilted in very mild awe.

"You are a Northern native."

"How did you know that?" Diarmaid voiced, surprised as well.

"I have stayed in Adondriñn." He revealed with a smile. "It was a great pleasure; a greater one to meet a native here in the South. Hethenor than'har, melédira." (The honor is mine, sister)

A broad smile broke out across Maraeti's face, illuminating her features. "A Shade recognizes the Northern tongue. In all my days! This is a first." She glanced briefly at Diarmaid. "Who is the young man, truly?"

Diarmaid chuckled, looking at Judson as he spoke. "Maraeti just happens to hold in high regard and adore your best friend, perhaps, a little more than she does me."

Confusion and slight wonder was obvious on her face. "Diarmaid? Of whom do you speak?"

"The High She." He revealed, stroking her hair in backward motions. His arm went around to secure her upper body. "He is the second half of her."

Maraeti whimpered and covered her mouth with numb fingers. Before she could slump back, Diarmaid's waiting arm stopped her, and a short laugh came out of him.

"If only she would faint at the mention of my name, but here we are!"

Until Phyllis returned later at night, Maraeti did not leave Judson's side.

She asked question after question and seemed to be intrigued by every answer he gave; cooked him a wonderful meal, made him comfortable by showing him around, and shooed Diarmaid away whenever he tried to take her seat in her absence. She seemed to enjoy conversing in Northern Elvish, which Judson realized he understood with ease - even more than the one he volunteered to learn.

In no time, they bonded and left Diarmaid out.

"What is going on here?" Phyllis's smile turned curious as she took off her helmet. She went over to hug Diarmaid.

"Looks like I have some form of competition." He chuckled. "It's either me or that conversation happening right now."

"Maraeti?" Phyllis called, and the She-Elf turned.

"Olwirien!"

Both women crushed themselves in a hug, and a minute barely passed in between before Maraeti began to gush about Judson's connection to Waverly.

"Do you have news?" Diarmaid inquired.

At that, Phyllis sighed.

Maraeti seemed clueless as she looked from one face to the other whereas Judson's stomach twisted.

"I managed to speak to her. She will grant access to the Curatorium only after meeting who seeks it."

"We cannot permit that." Diarmaid said, sounding alarmed. "It'll ruin everything."

"It's too late now." Phyllis appeared crestfallen. "She has asked to meet with you in the morning."

Judson frowned in confusion as to whom they were speaking of. "Who has asked to meet with me in the morning?"

"The King's daughter, princess Aurora."

That night, Judson could not bring himself to relax despite the calming surroundings.

He was given a spare room nestled between the eastward boughs of Diarmaid's treehouse.

"So that the rising sun greets you first and gives you hope." Maraeti had said. She was soft-spoken and yet so full of life.

His thoughts ran helter skelter as he wondered whether he truly had dodged Revvi's prophecy or simply postponed it. Meeting with the King's daughter was no different from meeting with the King himself. It brought him only an inch closer to arrest, and possibly, execution.

His heart strings were pulled at when he became conscious of the not so distant sound of soft laughter from the roof. His hosts were together under the night sky, enjoying each other's company in peaceful quiet.

It made his heart drop into his stomach.

Memories of such moments with Waverly in the past floated into his mind and left him feeling emotionally weary.

Could he experience it again?

Would he ever be with her again?

Both questions were answered by the sound of Ayariel's furious voice in his mind.

I hope you never find her, and I hope your heart stays broken forever.

His eyes shut in pain.

Had she meant it?

Trying to comprehend the anguish he had brought upon her and what he suffered gave him a terrible headache. The thought of having lost claim on his unborn because he fell short was even more painful.

What he truly wished for was to apologize and set things right. If the power to take it all back were his, he would fix so many wrongdoings on his end and spare everyone the agony.

A sudden plunk from above distracted him from thinking. It sounded as if someone had fallen and hit their head.

He stayed propped up on his elbows, listening for anything to suggest panic, but laughter soon filled the silence again and eased him to lie back.

For hours, his mind strayed across hundreds of things, including Harper's revelation and Juniper's offer.

He clearly remembered how proud he had been after discovering his parentage. The kind Derew, Hebenyf of the ebony, had revealed it to him years ago.

Now, he was not so proud of being a god's child.

It was too much work. It strained one's mind in wrong ways despite the advantages.

He awed at how Waverly made it seem a trifle even though he knew how much of a burden it was for her.

Again and again, he worried whether his new mantle was one that he could carry well.

He never knew his father, but it was clear that the god had been careless about his duties and responsibilities, which led to flooding complications none of which were inherently good. Now, it was he who had to make a change; take a stand, rework his father's ruined image and restore order.

It was the exact same thing Waverly had spent most of her life doing for Selene.

And from the looks of it, such tasks did not end well.

Judson heaved a tired sigh, trying to stifle a yawn. He failed to realize how tired he was until then. If only Qar were with him, the night could have gone on longer. Falling asleep was not something he wished to do because morning would come right after and with it, his final fate.

Before she left, Phyllis had encouraged him to fear nothing.

"Aurora is full of steam," Her brows were raised into a perfect arch, beautifying her face even further. "but half the time, it's nothing more than the determination that drives her and a will strong enough to challenge any. She might not look like it, but she can sense fear, like a mothering tigress on the hunt. An enemy of her father's is an enemy of hers. I advise that you approach her with caution and humility. She will not raise her voice if meekness is displayed, not when she is now modeled after."

With those words ringing in his heart, Judson was unaware of when he drifted off to sleep.

Dawn came with loud twittering, like that of a thousand birds.

He woke with a feeling of unfamiliarity, especially of his surroundings. The greyish hue of twilight draped the room that was decorated with more wood than he had seen in a woodcutter's factory. A single flower vase sat atop a round table of rare cream colored timber that matched some of the other furniture, including the frame of his bed.

In conclusion, Elves had a good sense of how to utilize beauty in the simplest way.

With a tired groan, he sat up, stretching to chase away numbness in his limbs.

Through the window, he caught sight of an apparition of some kind - teal colored and weak.

Curiosity led him out the back door, and he stepped with little care from branch to branch to inspect the air. His fingers reached out to feel for whatever seemed to be floating around in wisps. The moment he grasped one, it exploded in sparks of green, and he felt a sensation, sharp and shocking, numb his limbs.

"Do you know what it is?"

Judson turned about and found Maraeti cradling her elbows, her head tilted in query.

"Nature magic." He replied. "I believe it is of Juniper's doing."

"It's fading." She sadly revealed, coming forward.

"How come?" He frowned. When she sighed and lowered her eyes, he realized the answer himself. "Outcasts! How could they—"

"It's beyond us. No one knows yet how they managed to weaken the border so that they can penetrate, but they have, and panic is slowly spreading. They can now breech our defenses without warning."

"They must be stopped. Can nothing be done?"

"The Outcast King has denied our accusations countless times. He claims to have no knowledge of these happenings nor have given orders for them. There's hardly been an apprehension."

"You do not capture them?"

"Cannot." She corrected. The whiteness of her hair appeared angelic in weak daylight. "Our soldiers report that these attackers have great stealth. They rob and loot as they please; they harm our people and leave them injured. It's a good thing no lives have been claimed since, but fear has begun to trickle."

"Is everyone aware of these attacks?"

Maraeti squinted in thought. "No. Other than the King's army, that is. They're doing all they can to protect the locals. The people only know of a curfew and observe it."

Judson nodded, bothered by the sudden development. How a bunch of mortal men could have countered the powers of a goddess as powerful as Juniper was worrisome.

"How could you do that?" Maraeti's voice drew him back to reality.

"What?"

"Elves may feel seams of the border's magic, well, when it is in one piece and place, but you were able to grab a single thread." Her frown turned a bit suspicious as she took a step forward. "How could you?"

Before Judson could speak, Diarmaid's head appeared in the doorway.

"Lovely morning." The Elf greeted in a tone as bright as day. "I believe we have breakfast and a meeting to attend to."

Phyllis was not dressed in armor, and Judson thought she looked lovely in gossamer. Her hair was rolled up and held in place by several decorative pins resembling green leaves.

When he settled into his seat, he realized the reason for her sudden transformation. An Elf - bright eyed and mischievous from the looks of him, like Diarmaid - sat just beside her. Both held hands like sweethearts and spoke in low tones. Judson found that he could not particularly place a name to the new Elf's face.

"So it is true," The Elf stated all of a sudden, watching Judson's every movement.

They were all seated around a wonderful dining table with only five chairs meant to surround it, so it left Judson wondering when Diarmaid unexpectedly lugged in another and placed it beside himself.

"You reached the North."

"With lots of help." Judson replied.

"Of course. Mm, there's hardly anything that can be accomplished alone, especially by a Shade."

"Ceylon!" Phyllis softly cautioned, lowering her eyes in embarrassment.

The aforementioned looked away with an air of nonchalance that Judson was no stranger to. It was obvious that Ceylon still harbored anger over the desolation of his country during The Great Unrest.

"I apologize." Phyllis put out and touched Judson's knuckles in placation.

"I do understand."

Maraeti was an incredible cook, but as it turned out, Diarmaid had handled preparing breakfast.

"Let him take the first bite," Ceylon proposed. "make sure it's not laced."

Diarmaid deflated, chuckling. "Your distrust makes my heart cripple."

"Can you blame them all for being wary?" Maraeti chuckled as well, passing down a bowl of roasted vegetables. "No one has gotten over your previous trick."

"Harder to forget when it scars you." Ceylon pointed out with an eyebrow lift.

"I thought we were past that now." Diarmaid shrugged. "You forgave me."

"Yes, but I did not forget." Ceylon admitted. "So, what did you say you needed to assist the Shade with?"

"The princess has asked to see him this morning." Phyllis explained, appearing a tad beseeching. "He needs our support."

"I hardly see that working out." Ceylon said. "Aurora won't be fond of the past coming to haunt her."

"We have to try." Diarmaid inputted.

"You, of all people, should understand just how infeasible this idea is." Ceylon hammered further, staring at Diarmaid. "She will not reason with you, or him."

"Do you suggest then that we abandon Waverly just because we fear consequences?" Phyllis asked in a quiet tone.

For a time, Ceylon stared into her eyes, as if they held all the assurance he could ever need. Then, with a little exhale, his head swayed and he carefully put down his cutlery.

"What exactly do we need to do?"

It was easy to convince Ceylon to support Waverly's course, chiefly because he was a good friend of hers too, but as Judson rode through quiet corners of the main Elvish city, he bothered over the fact that no living person was capable of convincing Aurora the same way.

He had never met the Elven princess, but knew little of her from what Waverly told him long ago. She could be nice at times; in particular, to those who had not brought so much grief to her people.

The closer they got to the meeting point, the tighter his gut twisted.

In a landmark covered by sparse forest, where strips of low roofed, formal looking buildings stood unevenly yet in proportioned fashions, was a lady atop a white horse that seemed to have just arrived because she gracefully slid down the equine.

Judson rode the farthest behind everyone else with Maraeti about four feet ahead of him. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched his companions alight one by one and followed suit. The horses neighed like a chorus, muffling the first few words Diarmaid said when he got close enough to hug the princess.

"I was beginning to wonder if I'd arrived a little too late." She chuckled, greeting him with a pat on the back. Her eyes swept past Ceylon and Phyllis, and a curious look passed over her face. "Quite the company."

"I needed all the help I could get." Diarmaid kept his voice casual.

"Mir Darā." Maraeti acknowledged, coming forward to bow. (My Lady)

Curiosity fell from and was replaced by joy. She held her arms out. "helédira, you came as well. Now, I truly wonder why. . ."

She trailed off when her eyes landed on Judson's.

First, there was pale shock, then the smile on her face turned to red-hot fury. In a millisecond, she had dislodged from Maraeti and drew a sword out of its belt on her horse.

"Aurora?" Diarmaid cautioned.

But he was too stunned to actually move fast enough.

Judson staggered back in fright as Aurora lunged for him, swinging her long blade that left life-threatening slash noises in its wake.

The look on the Elf princess was not only dangerous. It was lethal. "How dare you show your face here?"

He waited until she reared again and shot right through into trees.

"Aurora, listen to me." Diarmaid called again, going to grab her free arm.

Judson touched down on the opposite side of the field, where Aurora's white horse stood. His heartbeat was too loud in his ears for him to hear a thing being said by the Elves, but he clearly saw the suppressed rage in the princess.

If not that she was being held back by the others, he could swear she would have come at him a second time and not missed.

Diarmaid seemed to be the only one capable of physically restraining Aurora without her wanting to chop his limbs off.

However, the way she glared up at him was reason enough to rethink.

"The outcomeling entered our borders and you let him live?" She growled into Diarmaid's face, wriggling constantly in an attempt to loosen his grip, but he appeared to hold her firm.

"No, he did not enter so easily, but that is not the point. He needs. . ."

"I don't care one bit what he needs. He is under the charge of death for daring to return to the South." She turned to Phyllis. "Arrest him immediately, or lose your position in the army."

Phyllis made to speak, then fell quiet. It was obvious that she fought with a decision and it kept her quiet for a time Aurora deemed upsettingly long.

"Olwirien," By then, she had reduced the wriggling to a minimum, but her glare remained deathly. "Arrest him now!"

Phyllis's head lowered first.

Judson watched as she strode over to him and held his arms together.

When she spoke, she sounded weak. "You are hereby placed under arrest for unlawful breech of border against the decree made by the King."

"Phyllis!" Diarmaid  in disbelief.

"I'm sorry." She muttered and lightly nudged Judson to walk.

"In the Guard House dungeons. That's where I want him confined." Then, Aurora stilled, prompting Diarmaid to release her. Her anger dwindled, but only by a margin. She still looked ready to impale.

"You did not even lend us a listening ear for a moment." Judson overheard Diarmaid say as he followed Phyllis's lead toward the nearest building.

"Do you care very little for the safety of your own country, Diarmaid? Are you not aware of happenings of recent and the disarrayment caused by them? Where is your patriotism?"

Little by little, all fell silent and Judson could only hear his own feet crush dry underbrush.

If not for her hand on his arm, he would have thought Phyllis no longer towed because she walked almost noiselessly in spite of the litter of dried leaves on the forest floor.

She steered him to turn down a few cleared out paths, then an unclear one that ushered them, after a long stroll, into the first and only gloomy looking place he had seen, so far, in the Elvenhome.

There, the weather resembled the foremath of rainfall. He noticed that the clouds were much, hanging very low, and almost touched the elongated rooftop of the Guard House.

"Snow Elves are mostly the ones stationed here." Phyllis said for the first time since. "They prefer a crepuscular environment."

The compound was littered by dry leaves spiraling to and fro from being pushed by a gentle wind. All was quiet in a pleasant way that felt odd. Prison yards usually offered the opposite.

Phyllis retrieved a torch. It was one of many hung up on both sides of the doorless entrance.

Judson walked to her and halted when he noticed she was staring.

"I hope this doesn't make you think of me as—"

"I understand duty a lot more than you know." He interrupted, holding her gaze steady. She looked sorry, and he smiled to relieve her. "I think you have to do what you must!"

A flicker of a smile lifted her lips, then she hefted the firebrand and held it out to illuminate the dim hallway.