Seren and Paulo rode their horses side by side through the sweeping vale, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth. Towering peaks framed the horizon, their jagged faces stark against the pale sky. Seren adjusted his grip on the reins as his mare picked her way carefully through the uneven ground, the rhythm of hoofbeats blending with the soft rustle of leaves.

"The Queen's cruelty has grown even greater than we feared," Seren said, breaking the silence. His voice was heavy, burdened by the tale Paulo had shared. Seren's thoughts lingered on the sacrifices his young student had endured—family, child, home—all torn from her in one shattering moment. And yet, she had found the will to forgive a man who had severed her bond with Lukas. Seren could not fathom the depth of that forgiveness nor the influence that had shaped it.

"Yes, and more cunning," Paulo said, his gaze fixed on the mountains that separated the Vale from the Queendom. The peaks loomed in the distance, their jagged silhouettes cloaked in shadow and mystery. "Even now, I suspect her influence stretches into the Obodors."

"Obodors?" Seren prompted.

"The mountains that have guarded this Vale for centuries," Paulo explained, waving his hand toward the rocky peaks surrounding them. "They carry an ancient magic that confounds those without a strong Earth sense. Few have ever navigated them successfully. But the Queen is clever—spies slip through where armies cannot. She uses their cunning to probe at my defenses, testing where she cannot openly strike."

Seren shivered at the thought of unseen eyes watching from the cliffs, whispering secrets back to their master. "And yet, you do not panic?"

Paulo's expression was calm, almost serene. "Just as your people are protected by their barrier, so is this Vale protected by Diddero's will. He will tell me when it is time to worry. No one enters this Vale without his permission."

"No one?" Seren asked, intrigued.

"Well, there has been one," Paulo admitted. "Destan. The Lady herself guided him through the WaterWays into the Vale. He avoided the Barrier but not its alarm. Diddero knew the moment he arrived, though even he could not prevent it."

Seren considered this, his brow furrowed. "And what of the other Elementals? Could they not guide their priests into the Vale through their own paths?"

Paulo nodded thoughtfully. "They could. Nothing but our relative relationships with the Elements stops them. The Elements can be unpredictable friends. That is why there is always another Vale. I would rather not leave this one, but I am prepared for the possibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of responsibility pressing on Seren as he considered the Master's burden. Ancient forces might protect the Vale, but Paulo's vigilance ensured that no subtle threat went unnoticed. Each land had its struggles, but they did not seem so different on closer inspection.

Seren cast a glance at Paulo, who rode ahead with steady confidence. In the back of his mind, he felt the pull of memories and thoughts that were both his strength and weakness. The land around them looked smooth, and Paulo was distracted by his thoughts. Serene assured his grip on the reins and settled his feet securely in his stirrups before allowing his mind to wander. The life of the Master of the Elemental Council was a precarious one. Seren imagined it as a balance atop a blade, where the enemy within could be more perilous than the enemy without. History, after all, was littered with tales of Masters betrayed by their Councilmembers.

But these were dire times, and often, the external threat tempered internal rivalries. Master Paulo was as strong a leader as the Council could hope for in such fearful days. Yet, there would always be those who believed power brought happiness—and those who sought it relentlessly, no matter the cost. Seren's memory did not hold much of the Council's history; he would have to meditate to pull any of it forward, but his mind drew parallels to his land's struggles.

The thought drew Seren to memories of his cousin, King Tomas. Tomas had not sought power; he had fled from it. That reticence was part of why his mother, the late Queen Eugenia, had named him heir over his elder brother, Petu, who held equal Barrier magic. The King's Council, recognizing the wisdom in the choice, had supported her decision. Petu, however, had been less accepting.

Seren tightened his grip on the reins as his mare hesitated at a narrow ledge. He refocused on the path for a moment before his thoughts reclaimed him. It was whispered—though never proven—that Petu's machinations had caused the deaths of each of Tomas's heirs. Petu's desire for power outweighed the danger he put his people into. What if one of those heirs had held the much-needed Barrier magic to save the ailing protection? And then he went a step further, pushing Tomas' wife into a deep depression. Her sorrow had broken her, leaving Tomas to rule alone. Without a Queen or heir, Tomas faced increasing pressure from the Council to remarry. Yet he hesitated, his heart still bound to Rebekkah, and with each passing year of delay, the realm edged closer to unrest.

"Where have you traveled to, Wiseman?" Paulo's voice interrupted Seren's thoughts.

Seren blinked, the vivid haze of memory receding as he returned to the present. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he realized Paulo's question had been more than idle curiosity—it had been a deliberate anchor to pull him back. The realization deepened his gratitude, but a flicker of unease followed. Few men had the strength to pull a Mind Master from the grip of his own memories.

Seren's gift was as much a burden as it was a strength. The memories that consumed him were vivid and overwhelming and left him untethered from the present. While all Wisemen carried some connection to memory paths, Seren's mastery was unmatched in his generation. Yet this power came at a cost, which few could truly understand. His episodes struck unpredictably, intense, and disorienting, leaving him vulnerable—a danger that kept him cloistered at the Academy. And yet here he was, far from its safety, willingly risking the unpredictable pull of his gift in this enigmatic Vale.

Seren's trust in Paulo had been hard-won. The Elemental Master's understanding of the Tribe's Shamans, whose magic mirrored aspects of the Wisemen's abilities, had reassured him. Paulo recognized the perils of memory paths, perhaps better than any other ally Seren could hope to find. It was that knowledge—and the Master's need for his presence—that gave Seren the courage to undertake this journey.

For now, Seren could only hope that his value to Paulo and their shared purpose would be enough to protect him if his strength faltered. This was no small gamble, but it was his best chance in the Vale, among the mysteries and dangers surrounding them.

"I was thinking of my cousin, the King," Seren admitted. "And of how power consumes even the unwilling."

Paulo nodded, accepting this partial answer, and reined in his horse by the stream, gesturing for Seren to follow. "A rest, perhaps? Your mare looks eager for water."

Seren slid from his saddle, his muscles protesting after the long ride. As he loosened the reins to let his mare drink, Paulo stepped into the stream. The water rippled around his boots as though drawn to him, pooling and swirling with a subtle energy. He stood in the middle, motionless, as if listening to something only he could hear.

A shimmering veil of water rose around Paulo, its movements alive and vibrant. Seren watched, captivated, as a shadowy figure emerged within the liquid—a being of elegance and immense power, her features obscured yet unmistakably sentient. Her smile, playful and knowing, lingered for an instant before fading. Paulo turned to Seren, his expression serious, and offered a slight bow to the presence. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the shimmering water fell back into the stream.

"It seems you carry just enough of your ancestors' gift to attract the Lady's attention," Paulo said, stepping back onto the bank.

Seren shifted uneasily. "This is not a gift I seek," he replied, brushing his mare's mane.

Paulo smirked faintly. "Wise words, Wiseman." The light-hearted tone, though meant to ease, carried an edge of seriousness. "She says your dormant talent won't interfere with your work with Natalia. But had she found you earlier, your life might have taken a different path."

"She did find me," Seren reminded him, his voice quieter. "But her focus wasn't on me."

The Elemental Master nodded. "Your blood drew her. Blood carries water, and the Lady reads it as we read books. It tells her much about a human's intention and character, though she cannot understand everything that goes into being human."

The mention of bloodlines triggered Seren's memories again. Before the civil war had sundered the Tonran and Rogen people, the royal line had been rich with Elemental Mages. Their mastery had secured their place in the Rogen Court, ensuring their influence for generations. But the connection to Elemental magic faded when the people split and the barrier was built. Only the barrier magic of the royal line remained, and even that was waning. He would have to meditate later to delve into the fragmented memories of the Elemental Mages of old. This memory was linked to the memories of the Council Lands of the past or their forebearers. This knowledge, faint as it was, could be vital to his work with Natalia.

"Tell me," Seren asked, shaking off his thoughts, "what role did the Lady play in Alistair's fate?"

"She did what she does best," Paulo replied, quiet but steady. "She intervened when no one else could. Her temple was gone by then, and her priests scattered. But she saw what was needed and acted. The rest," he added, glancing at Seren, "is up to us."

Seren's thoughts returned to the boy and to the question that lingered. "And Alistair now?"

Paulo's gaze met Seren's, steady yet veiled. "We should go to him now. Before a premature family reunion occurs."

Alistair opened his eyes to see Destan smiling at him in the physical space. Water surrounded them like a bubble but flowed over his leg.

"The Lady is nearly finished with your leg, and we've made more progress with your mind than I anticipated. This will suffice for today—I am spent." Destan's voice carried the weight of exhaustion, and his pallor confirmed it. The waters surrounding them ebbed away, retreating to reveal the dry banks of the lake. Alistair stepped onto the firm ground, catching Destan as he faltered. Too worried about the healer to think about how easily he held his weight.

A man clad in earthy browns materialized at Destan's side, swiftly relieving Alistair of his burden. Silent and efficient, the man guided them toward a small hut that seemed to emerge from nowhere. The door creaked open, and Destan waved the man off with a shaky hand before stumbling inside.

Uncertain, Alistair followed, steadying the Healer as they crossed the threshold into the dim interior. He once again took Destan's weight upon his shoulders and began to realize he was walking without pain.

Together, they made their way to a modest bed tucked against one wall. Destan collapsed onto it, breathless, while the brown-clad man, who had slipped in behind them, moved to light the lanterns mounted along the room's perimeter. Warm light filled the space, softening the dark corners. Alistair lingered, unsure of his place, wondering if he should help the man change out of his wet clothing.

The young servant gestured toward the bed on the opposite side of the room, where a neatly folded pile of clean clothes awaited. He then quickly moved to Destan's side and began stripping him while he lay unconscious. Heat flushed through Alistair's face, and he walked quickly to the other bed. He turned to the servant who had finished his work and was tucking a warm blanket around the healer.

With a polite bow, the servant departed, leaving Alistair alone with the Healer in the dimly lit space. Alistair understood the instructions: he was to rest there until his Master came for him. Yet, the thought of sleep felt distant.

He had parents—parents who loved him—and soon, he would meet them! The thought filled him with a fierce, unfamiliar longing, a hope so raw and overwhelming it stole his breath. His heart raced with emotions he couldn't fully name—wonder, disbelief, and something close to joy. It was as if the world had shifted, revealing a possibility he had never dared to imagine.

And then there was his leg. It felt... different. Tentatively, he put weight on it as he stripped off his soaked britches, bracing for the sharp blast of pain that had always accompanied such movements. But it didn't come. Instead, there was only a faint, distant ache—like a ghost of past pain. His eyes widened as he realized the change, his hands fumbling with clumsy urgency to strip off his soaked top and pull the soft, dry shirt over his head.

He turned to the bed, his mind swirling. How could he possibly sleep with so much surging through him? Parents he would meet, a leg that might finally be healed—how could his thoughts ever settle? Yet when he lowered himself onto the soft mattress, it cradled him like an embrace he hadn't known he needed. The blanket, warm and inviting, wrapped around him, and the relentless energy that had driven him moments before began to ebb. Weariness crept in like an unseen tide, pulling him under, and his heavy limbs melted into the mattress.

As the veil of sleep descended, a fleeting thought flickered through his mind - would his parents want to meet him? The question lingered only for a heartbeat before exhaustion overtook him completely. Darkness swept over him, gentle and merciful, and he surrendered to it without resistance.

"Your mind wanders," Jordan barked, his voice sharp with irritation as his face darkened. Natalia sighed and bowed her head in apology. He was right—her focus was far from the lesson at hand. The repetitive drills, though essential, failed to hold her attention.

No, it wasn't boredom. She understood the importance of perfecting the basics. A small crack in her foundation could become a chasm later. But something was pulling her mind elsewhere—across the Vale, where she could feel Destan struggling. Their tenuous connection told her he was healing someone, pouring more power into the act than he should. She could do nothing to bolster him from this distance, and the helplessness twisted her gut. Why was he pushing himself so recklessly? Who could be so important to him—or the Lady?

"Her newest master has arrived," Leena interjected, calm yet curious.

"Master?" Jordan's raised eyebrow betrayed his surprise, though he refrained from scolding his sister for the interruption. "I wasn't told he would be bringing anyone."

"Neither were we," Leena replied smoothly. "But he has been speaking with our brother all morning. They're riding in the Vale now and plan to collect Destan and the apprentice after they've rested."

"Apprentice?" Natalia asked, her curiosity sharpening. Destan's overexertion didn't match the idea of a typical apprentice. "How old is this apprentice?"

"About nine or ten," Leena said with a shrug. "A normal age to begin training. Minho says the boy is exceptionally talented, though—remarkably so. Despite the age difference, Minho claims the apprentice already surpasses him in skill and heart."

Natalia frowned, trying to reconcile the image of a child prodigy with the strain she could feel through Destan. What sort of healing required such a sacrifice for someone so young?

Suddenly, the fragile tether between her and Destan snapped. It wasn't the faint disturbance caused by a Master or Elemental masking the connection—it was something more final. Destan had no energy left to sustain the anchor she had placed. Panic flooded her, sharp and immediate, and the child in her belly stirred in response to her fear.

A gentle hand rested on her abdomen, grounding her. Startled, Natalia glanced back to see Raja standing behind her, his empathetic magic already soothing her and the child. She hadn't even noticed his entrance. His touch brought a wave of calm, softening the intensity of her emotions.

"I must go to him," Natalia whispered, her voice tight.

Raja's dark eyes flickered with unspoken pain, but he nodded. "I know," he said softly. He turned to Leena.

"Destan has pushed himself too far," Raja said, his tone even but laced with urgency. "The Lady's pull on Natalia is impossible to ignore. It's best to let her answer it."

Jordan scowled but tempered his frustration. "And what of your Earth instruction?"

Leena smiled reassuringly. "We will yield our time tomorrow. Destan will be in no state for lessons, and Natalia will owe you her full attention."

Jordan grunted, waving them off. "Very well. Go, but I expect perfection when you return."

Raja helped Natalia to her feet. She leaned against him longer than she wanted to admit, her body heavier with this pregnancy than her previous one. Whether it was her age or the nature of this child, it drained her far more than she was accustomed to.

Outside, Natalia paused to consider their route. She could take the WaterWays, but they were unfamiliar to Raja. The Mindpaths were closed to her now, blocked by the growing child. That left Windwalking, though it was not her most potent magic.

"I will be with you," Raja assured her, calling on his Air magic as a playful gust tugged at his clothes. The small elemental currents seemed to tease Natalia, and despite herself, she smiled.

Summoning her own magic, she rose into the air beside him, her skirts swirling as the wind embraced her. Together, they soared, Raja's arm steadying her waist. Normally, she would revel in the weightlessness, but her thoughts were consumed by worry for Destan.

As they neared the lake at the edge of the Vale, Natalia noticed two horses riding swiftly toward the same destination. She resisted the urge to outpace them, an instinct she couldn't fully explain. Raja, attuned to her unspoken hesitation, slowed alongside her.

They landed outside a small structure by the water. The Mind Master had already disappeared inside, but Paulo remained outside, his expression somber.

"You will be surprised by who you meet here today," Paulo said, his voice tinged with concern and resignation. "Know that I am willing to face your anger. Master Seren had no part in keeping anything from you—his only intent was to protect the boy."

Confusion surged through Natalia, but Raja's steady hand grounded her again. "What boy?" she asked, her tone tight with suspicion.

"This one," came an unfamiliar voice. Natalia looked up, her eyes meeting Seren's piercing gaze before dropping to the child by his side.

The sight stole her breath. The boy's blonde hair and vivid blue eyes were achingly familiar, a living echo of someone she thought lost forever. Beside her, Raja stiffened, his shock reverberating through their bond.

Natalia's voice faltered as she whispered, "How...?"

The boy looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, and the world around her seemed to tilt again.