Serande resided in a surprisingly modest home relatively far away from the palace, close to the southern edge of Valantes. She preferred to be able to easily venture into the forest or amble along the banks of the Oros. No one had questioned her choice, even if there had been some raised eyebrows among the influential and wealthy, frowning at the fact that such a high ranking official should wish to remain removed from the bustling life at the king's court.

Although this wasn't his first time at Serande's home, he barely had any recollections from when he had been there a handful of times when he was a little boy with Meril, his foster-mother, who used to visit Serande once in a while to replenish her stores as a healer. What he most remembered was the fragrant smell of uncountable herbs, which were spread on basically any surface of her cosy home, be it table, wall or shelf. Bundles of sage, thyme and rosemary hung from rafters, jars with rowan and elder berries stood besides pots of earthenware filled to the brim with dried plants, whose names he did not know. There were baskets full of mushrooms big and small to be found in the corners, a hearth surrounded by a vast collection of pots and pans of brass and copper making up the centre of the main room.

He hung his bow and quiver on a hook near the entrance and followed her until she pointed at a square wooden table along the back wall. With a flick of her hand Serande lit the fire and reached out for a teapot dangling from a hook above the fireplace and got to work.

"Why don't you make yourself at home, while I get us some nice tea going?"

Andor didn't have to be told twice. He sat himself at the heavy wooden table, while she busied herself at the stove. The sudden warmth and aromatic smell took him back to his childhood days and he felt his body involuntarily relaxing, giving in to the soothing ambience of a home that had such an unhurried air to it. After some rummaging she approached him with two mugs, placing one on the table in front of him with an inviting gesture, before taking a seat opposite him, her own cup in her hands.

Andor loosed a long breath and stared for a moment at the steaming dark liquid before him, watching the tendrils of white smoke curl up into the air. He wanted to say that there was nothing more that he could give the Council. He had told them everything, answered all the king's questions, even the most devious ones, laid out every last detail they had pried out of him. Even the kiss had been dissected until it appeared nothing more than a technical link in a chain. He wished that he could have wiped the smugness off the king's face when he had cornered Andor into admitting that he wasn't so much different from the king and his views about humans.

"Please, drink. It is one of my special teas and I am sure it will make you feel better." Serande's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She inclined her head slightly, her golden earrings jangling with the movement.

He wordlessly reached out for the cup, bringing it to his mouth, a scent that was both spicy and sweet reaching his nostrils. For a brief moment the image of Rose drinking from the phial flashed through his mind and he was about to set the cup down again, but he did not want to offend Serande, not when she was the most influential member of the Council and the king's closest advisor. Getting on her wrong side was not something he was keen on. He took one sip, the beverage flowing through his veins like liquid sunshine. A golden light seemed to have been kindled inside his chest, keeping the darkness that had settled deep down at bay.

"This is very good," he said after he had downed half the cup, licking a droplet from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

A smile played around Serande's mouth. "Thank you. I am glad you like it. It is one of my more elaborate recipes and I am rather proud of it."

She pulled out a small pouch from her dress and pushed it across the table towards him with her fingers. "Here, this is for you. I do not usually give any of this special tea away, but for you I will make an exception. And should you ever wish for more, you may visit me any time." She flashed a row of perfectly white teeth at him, a string of polished pearls surrounded by a beautiful face of ebony.

"Thank you," he said, stuffing the pouch into his pocket. He wrapped his hands again around the cup, the comforting warmth seeping into his skin, when Serande leaned forward, folding her hands on the table.

"You did well today, Andor, the king and everyone at the Council, including myself, we are most pleased with your performance."

Andor only nodded silently. This was something that he'd rather forget.

"But you have heard this surely more than once already today. And I did not bring you here for more praise. There is something I must ask you, then you are free to go, as I am sure you are most eager to do."

"And what would that be?" His fingers tightened around the mug, the liquid swirling gently inside.

"This girl, Rose, did she have a book with her?"

For a moment Andor was at a loss for words.

"A book? No, she didn't," he was quick to answer.

"Are you quite sure of it?" Serande insisted, a glint of disappointment in her eyes.

"Yes, I am sure. She did not have anything with her. But why would this be important?"

"That is strange indeed." Serande toyed with one of her golden rings as she seemed to stare at a point on the wall behind Andor's shoulder, completely ignoring his last question. "You are quite certain that she did not even have a bag with her? Human women rarely walk around without them, especially if they are away from home."

Andor traced his thumb over a tiny chip along the edge of his mug, the unevenness inciting him to repeat the motion as he searched his mind for any detail he might have missed. He recalled the moment Rose had stepped into the glade, the way she had looked around slightly confused, then approached the fountain to drop-

"She did have a bag with her!" he exclaimed, his thumb pressing down on the crack. "I remember it now, a brown bag. She dropped it beside the fountain, before I approached her. Perhaps she had a book in there?"

A small smile quirked around Serande's full lips. "Now this sounds more promising already. What did you do with the bag?"

"Nothing, I left it there." The smile on Serande's face faded. "I am sorry. I did not think it was important," Andor added apologetically, shifting in his seat.

"You could not have known," she said, waving her hand dismissively, the fingers of her other hand  tapping an impatient rhythm on the table. "Well, there's nothing for it. You shall have to return to the glade and fetch me that bag."

"What?" Andor froze in his seat. "I can't. I have a tournament to attend tomorrow!" He suddenly was most eager not to disappoint the children.

"I assume that retrieving a bag will certainly not take you all day, so you will be able to go to that tournament and bring me that bag." She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she brought her cup to her lips to take a sip.

"But why do you need me to do this? Can you not send someone else?" Andor could feel his insides recoil at the thought of having to return to the glade once again.

"Because you have been chosen for this mission." Serande peered at him over the rim of her mug.

"I already did what I have been asked to do."

"I am asking you for one more thing. Go back to the Heart of the Forest and bring me Rose's bag. Then your task will be seen as completed."

"But-"

"I want you to do this for me, Andor! It is non-negotiable." Serande cut him off with unexpected determination. "And one more thing. This will stay between us. You must not speak to anyone about it, not your family, not your friends. Have I made myself very clear?"

"Yes, very clear." Andor nodded grudgingly and refrained from asking why she insisted on such secrecy. After today nothing really surprised him anymore. It was best not to provoke her wrath, lest he wished to get himself into more trouble.

"Good," she said, her golden lips parting in another bright smile as she rose from her seat. "I knew that you would not disappoint me."

With those words she led Andor to the door, where he picked up his bow and quiver, and she observed him silently as he adjusted his weapons. She was nearly as tall as Andor himself and standing closely beside her he caught her looking at him with an unsettling intensity. Things ancient and unfathomable lurked in the depths of her deep brown eyes, and for a moment a thousand questions threatened to pour out of him, but before he could say anything she laid her hand on his shoulder and said: "Do not torment yourself, Andor. Though you may not understand it now, what you did today was for the greater good."

"That is what everyone keeps telling me," Andor said rather tersely.

"I know you have doubts, but one day you will see the truth for what it is." Serande gave his shoulder a squeeze before releasing him. "But now you should indeed go home. Get some rest. You have an important day tomorrow."

"So it seems." He smiled wryly. "Until tomorrow then."

"Farewell Andor," she said, leaning against the table as she watched him go. "May the blessings of the Ancient One be with you," she added quietly, but Andor had already slipped through the door, leaving her blessings behind.

Andor wasted no time to head straight south towards the pathway that would take him home, the only place he wanted to be right now and if he was fast on his feet he could reach it in little more than an hour. For once luck seemed to be on his side and he was able to make it out of Valantes and into the woods without any interference. Everything was peaceful and quiet, only the forest's polyphonic buzzing accompanying him along the way. Still, his heart was heavy and dark thoughts circled in his mind like a flock of ravens, Serande's request filling him with a renewed dread that no amount of special tea could take away. He hadn't dared to ask more questions about this book, but he could not help but wonder what Serande wanted with it and why she was so intent on keeping this a secret.

The trees around him grew taller and the branches denser, the singular hooting of an owl breaking the silence. There was a nearly noiseless swooshing of wings close by and then high above him the nightly hunter was gliding soundlessly through the sky. Whatever prey it had set its eyes upon would soon meet its swift death by a set of painfully sharp talons. When he spotted a circle of pines ahead, their treetops poking into the dark canopy like spearheads, he did feel a distinct jolt of relief. Home was finally close. The trees stood proud and solemn like watchful sentinels, sheltering in their midst a small glade, glamoured into a state of eternal summer, no matter the time of the year. It did not take him long to decide that a short detour would not do him any harm, but might actually provide him with a moment of much needed relaxation after a day that had gone from hopeful to dreadful in a matter of hours.

Leaving the pathway behind, he cut through the bushes and the dense undergrowth until the vegetation suddenly opened up and where ochre leaves had been littering the ground, now lush green grass stretched before his eyes like a fluffy rug of dark emerald beneath the night sky. The smell of warm earth filled his nostrils and when he looked around there was not a fleck of autumn around him. A peaceful pond lay in the middle of the oval shaped glade, which was small enough  to be seen in its entirety. It had become one of the favourite spots for Andor and his friends to meet, which meant that the place was usually filled with merriment and laughter, but today he was rather grateful to have found it empty. He was not looking for company, but for peaceful solitude.

The only sound to be heard was the low hissing of the purple dragonfrogs, who had chosen this place as their abode. Andor had always thought them curious creatures with a pair of round and bulging eyes sitting atop their near triangular heads, the occasional spark spitting from their pointy snouts. The absence of scales was compensated by a pair of wings, enabling them to fly if they wanted to, something that didn't happen very often. He supposed that they were just being lazy, mostly floating around in the water, their webbed feet making them excellent swimmers.

He strolled towards the pond, leaning his bow and quiver against a boulder, his knife following suit. Andor loosened the drawstring of his tunic and shucked it over his head in one fluid gesture, relishing in the draft of fresh air on his bare torso. He rolled his shoulders back to relieve the tension that had been holding him in an iron grip. With a few quick motions he untied the knot of his leather belt to peel himself out of his trousers, dropping them onto the ground beside his discarded tunic, until he stood naked at the edge of the small pond.

The water lapped at his toes, the lazily murmuring waves luring him into their welcome embrace of oblivion. A balmy summer breeze caught in his hair, brushing over his skin like a gentle caress while he stared at the inky black surface and the net of glittering jewels cast into it by the mirroring sky above. Andor waded in until the water reached up to his thighs, his feet sinking into the soft and slushy ground with every step. He scooped up a handful of water to rinse his face, hoping that it would both rid him of the king's deviant words and silence the voice of guilt.

Again and again he splashed water on his face, his fingers rubbing vigorously over his forehead and cheeks, anger and frustration mingling in his fervent motions. Tiny droplets sat on his brows like minute gems, thin rivulets of crystal clear liquid chasing each other down the long column of his throat and over the planes of his chest. At last he raked his fingers through his hair, combing back the slick black strands that clung to his shoulders and his back.

One pair of dragonfrogs continued their nightly hunt, unfazed by his presence, their occasional hissing cutting through the humming silence. Andor watched them as they sped through the water, swift as arrows, wings tucked in tightly, and for a brief moment he envied their blissful unawareness of what it meant to be burdened by a nagging conscience. He took a deep breath and before Rose's blue eyes could surface again in his mind, he plunged headfirst into the water, diving deep until the rushing of his own blood drowned out every other sound and the world around him was nothing but blackness.