CASTO FELT nervous. By now he had gotten used to the mind-numbing flashbacks and confusing memories, often melting into an impenetrable fog only Lys was able to discern. The situation now was different, though. He was inside the temple again, only this time it was all a hazy blur and all the sounds from the world were muffled as if a thick snow had fallen. Something like a veil seemed to cover his eyes and obscure his vision, allowing him to recognize only basic shapes. When the door of the temple opened, Casto cringed at the sudden noise. Two men were dragging Dria inside. For some reason, the three of them were perfectly visible. Dria was fighting against the men’s grip with a determined expression on her face. Her belly protruded in front of her like a balloon. During his acquaintance with Cassia, Casto had learned a thing or two about pregnancy and the joys of motherhood. He estimated that Dria would reach her due date in less than a week, given how awkward and unstable her movements were. Her captors pushed her to the ground in front of the fountain. Their faces were full of malicious glee. The bigger one, who sported a brown beard that could only partially hide the broad scar across his face, gave Dria a vicious kick. The other man, smaller and with short red hair, chuckled.
“Slow down, Ja’reh! We don’t want this to be over too soon, do we?”
Ja’reh made a clucking sound deep in his throat but retreated.
“You’re right, Anon. I was just overwhelmed. Finally being able to get back at the bastard brothers is too good to be true.”
Both men watched as Dria slowly sat up. She coughed, holding her swollen belly in a protective gesture.
“How did you manage to step behind time? The last one with that talent was a witch who died about seventy years ago. You are not of her line.”
Ja’reh and Anon grinned nastily.
“We don’t have to be. The Good Mother has given us access to all the powers once held by the witch clans. As long as we have at least three ancestors with talent, we can tap into the power. Things are changing fast, little seer, and the end of the bastard brothers is close.”
Ja’reh looked genuinely pleased with himself. Dria regarded him coldly. How she managed to stay so calm in such a difficult situation was beyond Casto’s grasp and made him admire her even more.
“Lord Canubis and Lord Renaldo are the destined masters of Ana-Darasa. No matter what schemes you plan, you will never win against them! Never!”
Anon patted Dria’s cheek in a condescending manner.
“Oh, we already have, little seer. Our friends are on their way to bring your brother here. Once we have killed the two of you, the victory will be ours. We have done a lot of research, and we know you and Dweian are the only bond between the bastards and their few followers. With you gone, they will stand alone in no time at all. And since you are the last true seers born to Ana-Darasa, they will also be blind. We’re already gathering our troops, and when the time is right, we will not only conquer Quell’renar, we will also wipe the bastards out and pave the way for the Good Mother!”
Dria spat. “All that work for a goddess who can’t even walk Ana-Darasa in physical form.”
Ja’reh slapped Dria brutally.
“At least she’s there to look after us. And we haven’t heard of Ana-Isara or Ana-Aruna walking this world anymore either.”
“Because they chose not to. That alone should tell you where your loyalties should lie. Lord Renaldo and Lord Canubis are our last chance to prove that we’re worthy of having gods. People like you only make it easier for the Mothers to toss us aside.”
“That’s enough! I’m not going to sit here and listen to the rantings of a half-crazed seer who has no clue whatsoever what it means to feel the magic but be unable to use it!”
Ja’reh grabbed Dria and bent her backward over the rim of the fountain pool. Just when he reached for his knife, the door opened again and two women and two men stepped inside, dragging the beat-up and unconscious figure of Dweian between them. One of the women let go and greeted Anon with a kiss on the cheek.
“You’ve already started?”
“Ja’reh couldn’t control himself anymore. How about you, Ann’ria? Did you run into any trouble?”
The woman stepped back. “Not really. Because we were operating behind time, nobody, not even the wolves, could detect us. The seer gave us some trouble, though. He’s pretty good at fighting. Who would have thought?”
She smiled nastily.
“Didn’t help him. We banged him up pretty badly, but since he’s to die anyway, I don’t see the harm.”
Anon rubbed his hands. “Indeed, there’s no harm. Let’s prepare our present for the bastards.”
He nodded toward Ja’reh, who still held the struggling Dria over the fountain. The man saluted with his knife, then used it to gouge Dria’s eyes out. She howled in pain but never stopped fighting back. Ja’reh pushed her into the pool of the fountain, slit her wrists open, and held her under water until her body stopped twitching. Casto stared at the water that was now dirtied by swirls of deep red and felt bile rising in his mouth. He desperately wanted to leave this memory, but he also knew he owed it to the seer siblings to stay and witness their death. Back then, their gods had left them alone, something that would not happen this time. The heart of the Angel of Death was there, and Casto only wished they could know it as well.
Ann’ria beckoned her comrades to bring Dweian to the fountain. Dria’s desperate fight had woken him, though he still seemed to be in a daze. His glazed-over gaze couldn’t focus on anything particular. Given how badly he had been beaten, it was a wonder he was conscious at all.
“Hurry! Put him into the water!”
Anon sounded nervous, and it took Casto a few moments to understand why. While Dweian and his captors were still clearly visible, Dria’s tormented body had become a blur, just like everything around them, which meant she was no longer behind time. The scent of her freshly spilled blood would soon attract the attention of the wolves. Ann’ria flashed out her knife and took Dweian’s eyes, just like Ja’reh had taken those of Dria. Then Anon slit Dweian’s throat and tossed him into the water next to his sister. Outside the temple, Casto could hear the howling of the wolves, who had finally caught scent of what was going on. The pack rushed into the temple through a side entrance while the group of assassins left through the main door, still safe behind time. The moment the last of them left, Casto’s surroundings came back into focus again. There were patches of blood on the ground, the water in the fountain had turned into crimson, and Dweian and Dria’s eyes stared blankly at the agitated wolves from the place at the feet of the Mothers’ statues, where Anon had placed them as a last mocking farewell to Canubis and Renaldo. Alerted by the wolves’ howling, Canubis and Renaldo dashed through the door. They stopped dead in their tracks when they beheld the scene of carnage. For several heartbeats, the two demigods could only stare. When Canubis finally spoke, his voice sounded far off, as if he was reading the words from an internal sheet.
“Go and find whoever did this. Don’t kill them. Bring them back here so I can have a talk with them.”
The wolves howled once more and ran outside to track down the assassins. Casto knew how futile that attempt was. As long as they stayed behind time, Anon and his gang couldn’t be traced. With pity constricting his heart, Casto watched as Renaldo and Canubis fished the corpses of Dweian and Dria out of the water. It was still a deep crimson, which was strange since it was constantly replaced. In face of the tragedy that was still unfolding, Casto decided to ponder this phenomenon later. Canubis and Renaldo sat next to the dead bodies of their most reliable and also most powerful followers.
“We failed to protect them. Seems like we are as useless as many of the La’ides think. Without Dweian and Dria, we won’t be able to fight the followers of the Good Mother as we used to.”
Renaldo sounded so desperate, Casto felt the urge to soothe him. He had never thought it possible that the strong, unrelenting man with the will of iron he had cursed so many times could have been so helpless and forlorn. It was the first time Casto felt a protective instinct toward his mate, and he didn’t like it in the least. Thankfully, Canubis diverted Casto from these unwelcome musings.
“We are not useless, dear brother. We are the Gods of War, the rightful masters of Ana-Darasa and the La’ides. We may be still young, and we may have made some mistakes, but that does not change the fact that they owe us obedience. And we most certainly won’t let this challenge go unanswered. The followers of the Good Mother will pay for this shameless deed.”
“Well spoken, my son. I’m proud of you.”
Out of the shadows between the two statues, Ana-Isara stepped into the light. She looked as haughty and pale as always, and there was a hint of grief in her dark eyes. She knelt between Dweian and Dria and touched their dead, cold bodies lovingly.
“Give me their eyes.”
Casto averted his gaze when Canubis picked up the bloody eyeballs and handed them to his mother. The Empress of the Dead bent first over Dria, then over Dweian, and gave them back their eyes. Renaldo stared at Ana-Isara with anger in his gaze.
“Can you give them back to us?”
Ana-Isara looked up. A sad smile played on her red lips.
“You know I can’t. I am death, not life. It may console you that Dweian and Dria are in the Green Lands now. They will see eternity in peace under Ana-Aruna’s rule. So do not grieve for those who die in your service. They walk under my protection and will never be lost.”
She rose to her feet, kissed her sons on the forehead, and left again, dissolving into the shadows like a wisp of smoke. Canubis headed for the temple doors, a determined expression on his face.
“I’ll get everything to clean them up and make them presentable. We burn them tomorrow.”
NORAN SQUARED his shoulders and tried to steel himself for the sight he was going to get once he entered the tent he shared with his precious mate—the mate who kept rejecting him for reasons Noran failed to understand. If Sic had told him he didn’t want to bond with him because of all the horrors Noran had forced on him, he would have still been devastated, but wouldn’t have argued Sic’s point. Noran had been needlessly cruel and mean to his then slave, and not being allowed to even look at Sic would have been a fitting punishment. Things weren’t so easy, of course. While Noran was sure Sic had forgiven him fully—his beautiful beloved was generous like that—he couldn’t help but suspect there were layers he and Sic hadn’t been able to consolidate.
Being able to touch Sic, to love him like he deserved, and yet being denied the deeper bond Noran craved more and more each day was slowly whittling away at Noran’s resolve to leave the pacing of their relationship to Sic. He wasn’t yet at the point where he was willing to ignore all the promises he had made to his lover and take charge, but the day would be coming, and just knowing it, knowing himself so well, made self-hatred surge inside Noran like a wave of darkness drowning out everything else. The fact that his lover was no longer a powerless slave, no longer helplessly subjected to Noran’s whims, didn’t alleviate the sense of self-loathing he felt when he even thought about putting more force behind his wishes.
Noran entered the tent expecting to see the usual mask of strained nonchalance on Sic’s face he had become accustomed to in the last weeks. With all the new Echend’dim awakening and Lord Renaldo being more or less incapacitated because of losing Casto, there was a lot of pressure on Sic’s shoulders, pressure Noran was fully aware he was adding to with his silently reproachful stance. Noran hoped he hadn’t yet fully entered the field of passive-aggressive, but he knew he was dangerously close.
Only today Sic’s face showed an openness Noran hadn’t seen since before they left the Valley. “Master! It’s good to see you.”
Noran winced internally at the honorific Sic still bestowed on him even though he didn’t deserve it in the least. “It’s good to see you, too, my love. You seem to be in a good mood.” Noran was very careful with his wording, not wanting to aggravate his lover when he seemed to be so at ease. Judging from the way Sic recoiled slightly from him, he hadn’t done a great job. “I’m sorry, Sic, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine, Master. I know. I understand. I’m sorry things have been so strained between us these past weeks. And I thank you for your patience. I know how hard it must have been for you.”
The tenderness in Sic’s voice, the way he apologized for something that wasn’t his fault, made Noran wish he were a better liar. But lying to Sic wasn’t an option. Not when their relationship had had such a catastrophic start. Absolute openness was the key to building something healthy between them. Openness between him and his lover, as well as toward himself.
“I wasn’t patient, my love. We both know it. I’m just grateful you’re still willing to see something positive in the way I behaved.”
Sic approached Noran with one of his beautiful smiles. “You tried. That’s what counts. I’m well aware how hard it was for you to refrain from pressuring me directly. It’s also one of the reasons I want to become yours officially.”
Noran was so surprised, he grabbed Sic’s upper arms in a hold that had to be painful. “You want it to be official?”
Sic simply nodded.
“Why all of a sudden, if you don’t mind me asking? You had your reasons, and I respect that.”
Sic sighed and snuggled against Noran’s chest when he finally loosened his hold. Automatically, Noran slung his arms around his most precious possession. Holding Sic was one of the greatest pleasures of his life.
“I talked to the Luksari. So basically to myself. The reason I didn’t want to bond with you until now is because I was afraid what the Luksari might do to you.”
Noran stiffened slightly at those words. He would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t thought about that same possibility as well. “And now you know it?”
“Yes. I’ve known all along, I just…. It’s hard for me to see the Luksari as myself. There is so much power inside me, I had to compartmentalize it in some way, because I was—am—afraid of it. But that’s stupid, because the Luksari is me and vice versa. It’s just hard to comprehend. I think I understand better now. The Luksari said we—you and me—are two sides of the same thing, light and darkness, and that I could never consume you the way I feared, because I need you to balance me.”
“Oh, Sic.” Noran understood now why his precious lover had hesitated to fully commit to him. Not because there were still some unresolved issues between them or because he still harbored resentment against him. Quite the opposite. His wonderful, soft-hearted, forgiving, and generous lover had simply wanted to protect him, like he had done when he had offered his own life to save Noran’s in Ummana. Like he had done when he had stolen Casto’s jewelry. Sic always tried to protect him. Noran hugged the young man closer, breathed in his familiar scent. “Oh, my sweet beloved. Words can’t express how much I love you, how precious you are to me.”
Sic melted into his embrace, breathing freely for the first time in weeks. “I’m still afraid of what I’m capable of, Master. The power inside me….” Sic trailed off, trembled slightly in Noran’s embrace. Noran kissed the top of Sic’s head.
“Don’t worry, don’t ever worry. No matter how blinding or cruel or powerful your light becomes—my darkness will always be mercy, sweet love of mine. And I swear this to you, I will always be there.”
A shudder ran through Sic as he leaned back in Noran’s arms. His eyes shone brightly in the soft glow of the candles inside the tent. “Make me yours, my Master, my beloved, my darkness. I need you more than I can say, more than the air I draw into my lungs. I yearn for us to be one, to be truly bonded like only light and darkness can be.”
Noran bent forward to catch Sic’s lips in a searing kiss. Just before their lips met, Noran saw the Luksari awakening inside Sic, and his own darkness surged in answer to the light he sensed. The shadows that had been suffocating him for so long, that had always seemed to be a burden, took on new meaning now that they finally had the chance to merge with the reason for their existence. Noran no longer fought against the darkness consuming him in a whole new way. Through his power, he saw Sic as he truly was, a blinding, devastatingly beautiful and sometimes cruel force varnished with a kindness that contradicted what lay beneath it. While they kissed, Noran felt his own self expanding, dissolving into darkness, which was drawn to the light Sic was emanating. For a brief moment, Noran was able to get a glimpse of both of them, their forms wavering as if they were nothing but mere mirages in the desert, bound to vanish before a soul could reach them. He felt Sic’s hands on his back, sinking into his body, through him, intertwining his light with Noran’s darkness, merging the two into a beautiful ribbon of pure power, light and dark combined. Noran still felt physical arousal, he was with the love of his life, after all, but it was merely an addition to an ecstasy so great it would have taken the air from his lungs had he not been in a transcendent state at this moment. Sic was everywhere around him, their very souls starting a dance that would last for all eternity. There were no more secrets between them, no barriers; he could see his beloved, the good and the bad, for even a creature as kind and pure as Sic had darkness inside, and Sic was able to see all of him, his regrets and rage, his selfishness and the determination to own him forever. Sic didn’t flinch back, just like Noran did not retreat when the Luksari stared at him with his eons of wisdom and a power that could destroy everything within a heartbeat yet would never do it because it was aware of the loneliness that would follow. Because this had happened before. The thought came quickly, like lightning flashing far away in the mountains, there and gone again, explaining everything there was to know about the Luksari.
Darkness and light, light and darkness, united to balance each other. It was the gift the Mothers—or chance, Noran still wasn’t sure about that—had bestowed on him. The ability to anchor Sic’s Luksari side in this world so it could be utilized for the glory of the Gods of War.
Of course, Noran would never allow anybody, not even his gods, to take advantage of his sweet lover. He embraced Sic with everything he had, with everything he was, and felt his lover’s being responding, offering the same, surrounding him with a smile he couldn’t see but feel deep in his soul.
THE MAN in the tent cursed. Things were not going as planned. Where the Pack should have been seriously crippled by now, it was becoming stronger instead, the cursed Luksari awakening more and more Echend’dim, whose powers seemed to be growing with each day. Even with the Angel of Death practically incapacitated, the Pack was making headway, and only a few days ago he had felt a surge of rage washing through him, telling him his goddess had faced yet another failure on one of the many battlegrounds against the Gods of War. Time was running out, and he was now desperate enough to use desperate measures. He would have preferred to wait with this particular measure until he could be more certain about a successful outcome, but his time was up and he knew it. He stared at the slave kneeling in front of him, felt the waves of hatred radiating from him. He had the creature under control. He had. With an inward sigh, for he couldn’t allow himself to show weakness in front of even somebody as tightly bound as this slave, he opened the chest on the small table to his right and retrieved the one thing that might be able to ensure the Good Mother’s victory over the bastard brothers.
“This is Azashreem, a shadow dagger. It’s the only weapon able to kill the Echend’dim and the Emeris. You will find an Emeris and you will kill them. I don’t care which one. And don’t waste any time or I’ll make you pay.”
The man kneeling before him took the dagger, the hatred in his eyes like liquid poison pooling in the dark pupils that—for just a moment—turned into slits. The man reared back in shock. He had the creature under control! His control was absolute! He made a gesture with his hand, murmuring a single word. The slave doubled over in pain; the dagger fell to the ground with a thud. The man smiled coldly. He was still the one calling the shots.
“Out.”
The slave made a soft whining sound before he managed to get onto his knees. He grabbed the dagger and left the tent, his upper body still curled around his middle. The man sent a quick prayer to the Good Mother to call her blessing onto this endeavor.
AFTER THE draining experience of becoming one with Noran and his darkness, Sic was exhausted enough to sleep well into the morning. Noran didn’t wake him, just reported their bonding to a very happy Canubis and saw to it that they weren’t disturbed. Canubis had sent out several patrols to look for more captives, and none of them were expected back before noon. With his soul-bonded lover asleep, Noran lay down next to him again, took Sic’s prone form into his arms, and let his eyes close once more.
SIC BLINKED and looked around in Jago’s villa in Ummana. It had been some time since he’d been there, because whenever he’d reached for Heljia, she’d been awake. Now she seemed to be sleeping as well, because he could hear her calling for him.
“Uncle Sic! Uncle Sic!”
“I’m here, Heljia!”
She came skidding around the corner, her small, compact body barreling into him before he could manage to catch her. They both staggered before Sic righted himself and swung Heljia up. “I missed you, little one!”
She squealed in delight while he twirled her around, their combined light making the outlines of the structure around them seem even more unreal.
“I missed you, too, Uncle Sic! There was so much happening, and I was afraid and couldn’t reach you and Mommy said I couldn’t go back to the Valley and everybody there got trapped and I couldn’t help.”
Sic put her down on her feet. He was used to his little niece being far more mature in the dream world than a two-year-old could be in real life, and what she was telling him was worrying. “You were in danger? The people in the Valley are in danger?”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “I was never in danger. The darkness was too afraid of my light. The monsters knew you would come for them if they harmed me, so they kept their distance. But I couldn’t help the others. There was just too much darkness, and my light wasn’t enough.”
“I’m so sorry, little one. I’m here now. Do you think the darkness is still in the Valley?”
Heljia shrugged. “Probably. It didn’t seem as if it wanted to go anywhere anytime soon.”
“Then I better have a look.” Sic sighed.
“I’m coming with you.” Heljia’s tone brooked no argument and reminded him so much of Cassia, Sic felt tears choking him.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, little one. It could be dangerous.”
Heljia opened her mouth to protest, but another voice beat her to it. “I’m going to look after her. Together we should be able to protect her.”
Sic spun around and saw Noran standing in an almost completely faded doorway, a surprised expression on his face.
“Master! What are you doing here?”
Noran looked around, the shadows surrounding him swirling and dancing with the light emanating from Sic and Heljia. “To be honest, I don’t know. I informed Canubis of our joining, and since you were still sleeping, I lay down next to you. I must have fallen asleep as well.”
Sic felt a soft tug and looked at the tether between him and his soul-bonded. “I’m sorry, Master, I think I dragged you here unconsciously.”
“It’s fine, my beloved treasure. I love the idea of you relying on me already. Now tell me, how do we get into the Valley?”
“Oh, that’s easy!” Heljia beamed, and the light around her flared. Moments later they stood in front of the main house, where the gods and their Emeris resided.
Noran blinked. “That was fast.”
“Show-off,” Sic muttered in Heljia’s direction. The little girl grinned broadly. She opened her mouth, no doubt to say something sassy and completely inappropriate for a little girl of only two, but a rustling behind them had Sic turning around quickly. Noran was immediately at his side, grabbing Heljia by her upper arm and placing her between them. A strange creature with the torso of a bear and three snake heads, whose scales gleamed golden in the non-sun of the dream, slowly approached them.
“Is this one of the monsters, Heljia?” Sic was alarmed, though not panicking. He could feel no malicious intent from the creature.
“No. This one’s nice. Do you think I could ride it? Since Lys isn’t here.”
Sic eyed the three snake heads. “I’m not sure, little one.”
“But I am.”
They looked back to the main house, where Cornelia stepped through the door. She was smiling. “It’s good to see you again, Heljia. Sic, Noran.” She nodded in their direction, then held her hand out. The snake-bear shuffled closer, stretching its three necks until Cornelia could pet them. Sic and Noran stepped aside to make room, while Heljia ducked from under Noran’s grip and patted the furry, trunk-like leg of the creature. One head swung around to watch her, and without a hint of fear, Heljia started scratching the scales between the eyes.
“Can I ride you?”
The creature purred, lowering its head until the sturdy neck was the right height for a small girl to climb onto. Heljia didn’t hesitate, swung her leg over the neck, and grabbed two protruding scales with her chubby hands. Very carefully, the snake-bear raised its head and made a tentative step forward, looking first at Cornelia and then Sic for confirmation. Heljia’s happy laughter echoed through the place, her light flaring with joy. More laughter resounded, and other children appeared, ran toward the creature and Heljia, calling her name.
“She was sorely missed.” Cornelia smiled at the scene before them. Other creatures were coming out of the shadows between the houses, joining the games Heljia was initiating.
“I assume the danger is over?” Noran raised a brow.
“It is. Something dark, I think it was the Good Mother, started invading the dreams of the people in the Valley. They got trapped in nightmares and wouldn’t wake up. It was terrible, but now they’re all hale again.” Cornelia shuddered, and Sic gripped her hand. She squeezed it, grateful for the silent affirmation. “Heljia tried to help, but even though she’s more mature in the dream world, I couldn’t allow her to take such a risk. Besides, she said herself that the darkness was too strong for her, and she couldn’t contact you because whenever Heljia was asleep, you were awake.”
“The time difference.” Noran nodded. Sic stared at his lover.
“Time difference?”
“It’s a phenomenon my brother has read about,” Cornelia explained. “It’s not the same time everywhere on Ana-Darasa, and the farther apart two places are, the bigger the gap between the time. Since the Dark Forest is so far away from Ummana, Heljia was sleeping when you were awake and the other way round.”
“I was wondering why I couldn’t reach her anymore, but with everything else going on, I had no time to ponder the problem.” Sic sounded thoughtful. “It does make sense, though. It also explains why I can’t reach Lys either. He’s too far away.”
“You’re able to reach Lys?” Noran’s voice was sharp.
“Only in the dream world. It’s where he meets with Heljia and me to play. I can’t follow him into the real world, though, and since Casto left, I haven’t seen him. I tried to contact him, but in the beginning, he wouldn’t respond, cloaking himself and Casto like he did with Lord Renaldo, and after the first try, I gave up. I didn’t want to put additional pressure on him. I was aware of his presence, though, like an itch at the back of my head. Since we’ve reached the Dark Forest, I haven’t gotten any glimpses of him, which makes me assume we’re too far apart.”
“Interesting information, but not enough to know where to look for him.” Cornelia sighed.
“Be that as it may, tell us about those creatures, Cornelia. You seem to be well acquainted with them.” Sic smiled at the Emeris and took his master’s hand at the same time. Cornelia raised a brow.
“Just like you two seem to have reached a new level of acquaintance.”
Sic giggled happily. “My master and I have finally fully bonded. Look.” He held up his hand, where streaks of light were intertwining with strands of darkness from Noran, making it look as if they were being sewn together with differently colored strings.
“My congratulations to both of you.” Cornelia smiled a bit warily, obviously not sure what to think of it all. Given her own history with rape and what Noran had done to Sic, it wasn’t surprising.
“Thank you, Cornelia.” Noran bowed his head slightly. “I know you’re not happy with me, and I fully understand. I hope time will help me prove to you how sincere I am, how I have changed.” He hesitated a moment. “No, changed isn’t the right word. There was nothing that needed changing, just redirecting, I guess.” The smile he sent Sic’s way was so full of love, Sic felt his knees going weak. “My darkness was always looking for the one thing that would balance it. Now that I’m no longer blind, I can finally embrace who I am without hurting others.”
Cornelia looked at him for a long time, her expression unreadable. “I understand,” she finally said. “It may take me some time to get used to not being wary in your presence, but I can see the change in you. Here in the dream world, many things are clearer than in the real world, and you are more content, more at home in your skin. I like that.”
Noran bowed his head again, acknowledging the words as the tentative peace offering they were. Then the three of them stood there, watching the children of the Valley play with Heljia and Cornelia’s children.