"He lives!" As she rose from the pool, droplets streaming from her hair like silver jewels, Lady Water's voice rang out like a delicate bell. The pool's surface rippled with an otherworldly glow, the scent of damp mixed with something ancient filling the air. Her sudden, energized presence startled Destan out of his meditations, his heart quickening despite himself.

"Who lives?" Destan asked, keeping his tone calm. Inwardly, his pulse fluttered, though he kept his expression neutral—experience had taught him to expect sudden shifts in her demeanor. Lady Water's capricious nature was as much a mystery to him as her ancient wisdom.

"The one we lost, we had hoped he lived but could not feel him until today. At first, it was faint, like a whisper of his presence, but now he has touched us. He comes to us through our friend's portal."

"The one you lost?" Destan rose slowly from his seated pose. His legs adjusted to the change in position slower than they could have if he had been concentrating. As he struggled to understand his Lady's excitement, he pushed down a pang of longing. Natalia would have immediately understood Lady Water's words, her bond with the goddess giving her insights that still eluded him. Or maybe he just desired Natalia's comforting presence in his mind.

"The firstborn, he is here now. Our friend goes to meet him. You should join them. He needs our touch. We feel much pain in him." With this, the Lady left him as abruptly as she had arrived, leaving the eerie feeling Destan recognized as the call to healing. He would have to follow this call to the lost child, but he had just enough time before the call would consume him to gather himself. He reached out through the Water to the Master, the one person he could touch this way without effort.

"Master, I feel a call to those who have arrived," Destan informed the Master, feeling once again the giddy sensation he always felt when he could communicate with others this way. "May I join you in meeting them?"

"Of course, I would never deny a call. I am out front with Minho. We will await your arrival." Destan relished the smoothness of his Master's mind voice, which contrasted sharply with his usual gruff, weathered tone. How much of that gentleness, Destan wondered, was the influence of Water magic, and how much was the man's true self? The ways of mind magic remained a mystery to Destan, and the Lady seemed to smooth every surface when he used her magic to mimic those of the mind mages.

Destan dressed in his priestly robes, there would be no reason to hide from these arrivals. He considered traveling to the stream through the WaterWays, but he decided to preserve his energy. He did not know how extensive this healing would be, so instead, he hurried out of his room and down the stairs to the front door. It was still early enough in the day that few outside of the servants were stirring.

Destan loved the silence of the morning. Despite having been in the Vale for many months, he still found the sheer amount of magic in use as the day stretched overwhelming to his senses. His sister's palace had been devoid of such spilling-over of magic. The Elemental Priests kept to their temples when possible, and no other mages dared practice their craft in the Queendom outside of the Assassins and Mind Mages. Both had too much discipline to allow their magic to leak. None of it was dangerous; this spillage, the barrier and shield masters, Diddero and Jun, protected them from the danger, but Destan found he was sensitive to the presence of magic. Had it not been for the constant bath of healing magic that soothed his frayed nerves and Natalia's presence, he would have had to leave the Vale months ago.

The Master sat astride his favorite horse, his bulky frame almost dwarfed by the steed's muscular frame, watching Minho riding back from the barn with Destan's preferred mount. The affable young man smiled nervously at Destan. Destan smiled in response, remembering that today, the young mage would meet his Master again. Minho had voiced his disappointment about not being able to return to the foreign Mind Magic academy. Still, his parents were happy to have him back home for a time, and he obviously looked forward to meeting his Master. The Mind Master had agreed to tutor the young mind mage while he remained here and bring him back when he returned to the Academy. This must be a good Master to have engendered such devotion in the young Minho so quickly.

Once Destan mounted his horse, the trio rode out, the sound of hoofbeats fading into the quiet expanse of the countryside. The rolling plain of tall grass stretched before them, marking the outskirts of the eastern Vale, the farthest point away from the Queendom. That Paulo had taken such precautions, even in the safety of his Vale, spoke to the importance of the secret behind this portal to Lukas and Natalia's homeland, a land the Queen barely acknowledged and certainly did not understand.

The settlers who had produced Lukas and Natalia had once lived within the Queendom's borders, though always on the margins, their existence tolerated more than accepted. They had been little more than outcasts until Lukas, the boy who had become the fixation of the Queen's obsessive love. His sister adored him with a fervor that bordered on madness, claiming him as her own and bending all her will to keep him near. And yet, she could never capture his heart, which had remained firmly with the settlers and Natalia.

So, she had destroyed them in her deadly purge. And when she later wanted more information about their homeland, the survivors, even when interrogated and pressured, had guarded their secret with surprising loyalty, refusing to give the Queen a single thread to pull. Perhaps, Destan mused, it was not loyalty but ignorance that protected them now. After all, the purge had taken nearly everything from them, including their Wisemen—the guardians of their history and traditions. When the Queen ordered the destruction of Lukas' home, she did not realize the full consequences of her actions. She had wanted their knowledge, coveted it even, but in her thirst for power and dominance, she had ensured their wisdom was lost forever.

That failure had infuriated her. Destan recalled her rage when she realized the Wisemen were gone and with them, any chance of unearthing the settlers' secrets. For the Queen, knowledge was power, and losing it was an affront she could not forgive. Her anger had scorched the air of her court for days, and her obsession with control grew sharper and fiercer. Lukas became the sole thread she could cling to, the last remnant of the settlers she could possess. Her fixation on him deepened, turning darker with each passing moment until it was no longer clear whether it was love or domination that drove her. And then Raja had taken Lukas from her.

Destan felt the weight of his sister's obsession and anger pressing against him even from the distance of time and space, an intangible but heavy force. Someday, she would try to make Raja pay for his theft, and with him, Natalia and their child. Destan shook his head to rid himself of the painful thoughts as Paulo slowed their horses' pace.

Before them, a quickly forming portal shimmered brilliantly, a radiant circle of Earth's golden hues blending into swirling blues and purples of Water, seemingly carved into the very fabric of the air itself. Destan squinted, his gaze drawn to the carriage forming within the portal, each wheel and wood beam solidifying like a memory restored.

The carriage pulled by two elegant white horses had a simple yet striking design, its wooden frame painted in warm, natural tones and supported by sturdy spoked wheels. The arched canopy, made of taut white fabric, covered the rear compartment, offering shade and protection. Two figures were seated behind a wooden wall at the front of the wagon; the taller one held the reins, guiding the horses with practiced ease. But the smaller figure, partially obscured by the canopy, drew Destan's focus. This was the lost child—the unmistakable source of the call that had haunted him.

He heard a surprised snort from Paulo as the Master pulled his horse to a slower walk. "He was to come alone. Who is that with him, Minho?"

"His apprentice, Alistair, by appearance," Minho replied excitedly. It would be nice for the young man to have a friend around his age here. But as they drew closer, Destan's breath caught. A knot of foreboding tightened in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm.

"It is impossible!" Destan murmured, his voice barely a whisper as he reined his horse to a halt. The boy's profile was unmistakable—the high cheekbones and dark, intense eyes—features he'd seen countless times in Natalia. His heart thudded painfully, and he fought the wave of emotion flooding over him. The resemblance to Natalia and Lukas was undeniable; this was their child.

"What do you see, Water Priest, that I cannot? The Lady has given you a clearer view. I can only see that a glamour exists around this boy that is not of Elemental making."

"I see Natalia," Destan said finally, allowing the shock of the existence of the child who was to have died over a decade ago to fade. "And Lukas. He is their child, Paulo, who was lost during the purge."

"Ah, it is surprising that Seren has chosen to bring him out of hiding," Paulo responded, then frowned. A horrible surprise rose in Destan's chest when he realized the Master's words implied he knew before this day that the child had lived. How had he kept this hidden from Natalia, who still mourned the child's loss even more as a new child grew in her? "I feel your anger from here, Destan, and accept its deserts. But know that I did not keep it from her intentionally. It was more of a hope than knowledge. I gathered the truth from the scattered hints that Master Seren gave me during our meetings. You have confirmed my beliefs, that is all."

"Even the hope-" Destan started, then stopped and shook his head. Destan's initial anger morphed into a reluctant understanding. The thought of Natalia knowing...of her finally reuniting with the child she mourned tightened his throat. But he knew the truth of Paulo's words. "No, you were right to keep this hope from her. The loss of it would have destroyed her all over again. But what now? She will surely know when they meet."

"Yes, I do not think Seren means to hide it from her, or he would not have brought the child. But, I do not think she will see through the glamour immediately, and she will be careful not to touch the child without his permission." They had started their slow progression forward again, and the foreign Master's eyes caught Destan. Their icy blue reminded Destan of Lukas; perhaps they were related in some way, or it was a common trait among their people. It was the knowledge and hope behind those eyes that intrigued Destan. The hope bloomed as they came closer until Destan knew that he was the source of the hope. The Master had not anticipated his presence but was glad of it.

"Master Seren," Paulo called when they were close enough.

"Master Paulo," the taller man responded with a genuine smile. "Minho!"

The boy smiled as he saw Minho with the same enthusiasm as his Master. Master Seren pulled the carriage to a stop and handed the reins to the boy, who tied them to a stake jutting from the side of the wagon wall closest to him. His Master opened the hidden door in the short wall that had protected them from the muck the horses threw up as they walked. The well-trained horses stood still even though no one held their reins. Master Seren climbed down as Paulo and Minho quickly dismounted. Destan followed their lead but held back as the other two walked towards the Master, who had just reached the ground. Destan observed the Master assisting his apprentice to the ground. The boy was lame, and the Master's care for him immediately made Destan like the foreigner. This was a man he could entrust Natalia to. Paulo had, of course, made a wise decision.

"Alistair!" Minho cried and ran to his friend to help him down. "We still have a long way to go. You should have stayed on the carriage."

"I can walk!" Alistair insisted, but he did not seem offended by Minho's kindness. Perhaps he could sense his friend's honest concern.

"Water Priest," Master Seren spoke to Destan directly. "Are you who I hope you are?"

"I am Destan. If that is who you hoped for, then I am him. I am the last of the Queendom's Water Priests."

"And the last of the Temple's healers," Seren said quietly, which attracted the boy's attention.

"Healer?" Alistair asked and looked at Destan warily. "A Water Healer?"

"The strongest in a generation," Minho answered with pride in association, making Destan smile without embarrassment.

"Yes," Paulo confirmed. "He is Prince Destan, who prefers to be Priest Destan, who is also Master Destan. Is he the reason you have brought your apprentice with you?"

"No, I will discuss this with you privately, but it is a delightful surprise." Master Seren's bright smile was unfeigned. His affection for his apprentice ran deeper than a Master's might typically. "Have you been called? Is that why you are here, Healer Destan?" Master Seren automatically used the only one of his titles that Paulo had not mentioned, and Destan knew his hopes.

"I have been. Will you allow your apprentice to be in my care?"

"If he wishes, I will." Master Seren answered, putting a hand on his apprentice's shoulder.

Minho seemed to grasp what was happening and turned to Destan, his eyes glimmering with hope. "Can you heal him? He has been this way since birth. Is it possible?"

Destan placed a steadying hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Any injury can be healed," he said gently. "But healing isn't always simple, nor does it mean the body will return to its original state or a version we might call perfect. It takes time—sometimes days, weeks, or even years—and effort, too. I can only begin the work; the rest will require strength and patience."

"You... you can heal my leg?" The boy's wide eyes, so like Natalia's, searched Destan's face with a mixture of fear and longing. Destan felt a swell of protectiveness; he would do whatever he could for this boy just as he would for his mother.

"Yes," he answered, "I can heal that and more." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Your birth was difficult, and the injuries you bear are a result of that trauma. These wounds can be mended. But what is part of us from the beginning—those natural differences are part of the endless variety of life, not something to fix or change."

Destan straightened, turning to Master Seren and Master Paulo. "If Alistair is ready, I'll take him to the Water now. I believe we should begin before he enters the cottage," he said, "the Lady will not allow me to wait much longer."

"The Lady?" Alistair asked, looking up at Destan, who had not removed his hands.

"Lady Water, my Goddess, the Water Elemental," Destan replied, feeling a surge in Water power within the boy responding to his call. The boy had inherited this from his mother. What other surprises would he hold?

"I am sorry I didn't give you time to prepare, Paulo. The decision was unexpected. I would have delayed their meeting if I could." Serene explained hurriedly, his happiness suppressed with an underlying worry.

"His presence will bring the third," Paulo responded. "If he is not already on his way."

"I have shielded him as best I could. I cannot shield from your Elemental powers, but Lukas' Mind is not stronger than mine," Serene answered resolutely.

Destan would have thought this arrogant if the Master hadn't sounded so weary. He bore the burden of his power more than the pleasure of it, another mark in this Master's favor. He must teach Natalia this before the pleasure of power takes over her mind completely.

"He will know soon. Once Natalia knows, her bondmate will know. And he is bonded with Lukas," Paulo explained quickly, then waved Destan towards the lake not too far from their position. "Go now, take him. There is a hut you can rest in if you need to. I will send someone to stock it."

Destan needed no more permission than that. The boy had already granted his permission with his hope, as had Master Seren.

Destan reached out with practiced precision, pulling on the Water from the air around them. Invisible to most, the droplets gathered and coalesced under his will, forming a gentle yet firm current that lifted the boy effortlessly into the front of his horse's saddle. The boy gave a faint yelp of surprise, but Minho and Master Serene's audible gasp of astonishment caught Destan's attention. Minho stared wide-eyed, his disbelief evident as though witnessing a miracle, whereas Master Serene's complexion staid bland, his eyes sparkled with joy. Behind him, Paulo remained silent, his expression calm but revealing a knowing look—a subtle acknowledgment that Destan's magic, while impressive, was born of hardship and necessity. The others could not know the whole truth, how little Water Destan required to accomplish such feats or how years of his sister's relentless deprivations had sharpened his abilities to a blade's edge. Paulo might have guessed, but even his understanding could not soften the bitterness in Destan's heart. He could not be thankful for his sister's cruel lessons, no matter how much they had shaped his power.

"He is a powerful Mage," Seren said to Paulo as Destan leaped onto the horse behind Alistair.

"More so than even he knows," Paulo murmured, his voice low but deliberate, just loud enough for Destan to catch the words. The statement lingered in the air like a riddle, pulling at Destan's thoughts even as the thrumming call of the healing magic rose within him. He filed Paulo's cryptic comment away, resolving to question the Master later. For now, there was no room for curiosity—only the overwhelming pull of his gift.

The healing call pulsed through him, chasing away every other thought and anchoring him in the moment. It was comforting and relentless, a steady rhythm demanding his complete focus and unwavering energy. He drew a deep breath, steadying himself for what he knew was to come. Healing was never easy—it never had been. Each time, it felt as though he absorbed the pain of his subjects, taking their hurt into himself so that they could be made whole. The cost was steep, the toll on his body and spirit undeniable, but the work was necessary.

As Destan laid his hands gently on the boy, the energy surged, the call amplifying within him. He could already feel the familiar drain beginning, a creeping exhaustion that would demand rest only after the work was complete. But this time was different—he could sense it. The boy's life hung in a fragile balance, and every ounce of skill and strength Destan possessed would be required. This wasn't just another healing; this was something more profound, more critical. He steadied his breath, his jaw tightening in resolve, knowing this might be the most important act of his life.