Sera woke up in her room at an inn in Oraunt. She hadn’t been in dream-state for very long––it wasn’t even midnight yet. She sat up; it made her head spin and her chest hurt so much that it was hard to breathe. She forced a deep breath and then tried to stand, but her legs immediately started to give out and she had to sit back down.

New tears slipped down her face, mixing with the old. She hated that she didn’t have the strength to go to him when he was hurting and alone. But she couldn’t get up, and her dream healer power was completely gone now. She lay back down and couldn’t breathe at all for a moment as she cried.

Finally, she made herself stop, focusing on her breathing. She rubbed at her chest weakly as she struggled to calm herself down. All the emotions had been too much for her. Watching her father being tortured, feeling her mother’s anguish, seeing Vivyka's memories and her pain both past and present… they all hurt. But Matt’s current pain was what hurt the most. She was connected to him––he was her soul mate––and she felt more from him than she did anyone else.

Seeing the life that Matt had lived had been devastating. The memories of his childhood were the saddest, but he didn’t even know that, because he didn’t know what it was like to be a normal child, to play and laugh and be innocent. He had been born into darkness and had never known anything else.

Though he had obviously adored his mother when he was young, he really had been her pet, as he had realized in later years. Kieran had no heart, and she had never truly cared about him––even though he was her own son. Matt had never known the loving embrace of a mother, nor seen the proud smile of a father. He had never felt safe and loved. No one had ever wanted him for who he was. He had been valued or hated because of a title, a position he had never asked for. Even without a birthmark, how could a child learn to be good in such an environment, where his only examples were cruel and uncaring people? He was a product of his childhood just as much he was from Malluk's influence. But he didn’t see it that way––he only saw himself as a monster.

She hated that she was too weak to go to him, to tell him otherwise: to love him, hold him, and let him know that it would be okay. Even if he had once been a monster, he wasn’t one anymore. She knew that he wasn’t, she felt that he wasn’t, and she wanted to make him believe it, too.

She sighed, as if that would relieve some of the pain in her chest but, of course, it didn’t. She just needed to stop thinking for a little while. She needed to rest and get her strength back, and then she could go to him. She took a deep breath. Luckily, she still had her healing powers, so she was able to make herself unconscious by chanting a quick prayer in Ancient Presbelic.

__________

When Sera woke up, it was day—late afternoon, judging by the sun shining in through a west-facing window. She looked around, confused––she was in a different room––but she quickly recognized the slate-blue walls and white furniture: she was in a healing room at Aryst’s temple. Reuben had gotten a message to them, as he had said he would.

A cleric wearing a pale blue healer’s robe came in and set a glass of water on the bedside table. He had short dark hair and a kind, round face. “What can I get you to eat?” the man asked gently.

She gave him a weak smile. “Nothing, thank you. I have to go.”

He sat beside her and held her hand, sharing his comforting aura with her. It helped ease her a little. “You should rest,” he told her. “You’re not well. I can’t imagine how horrible that man’s memories must have been for the emotions to overload you like this. That justice cleric shouldn’t have shown them to you.”

“He didn’t know how bad they would be,” Sera told him. “It’s not his fault.”

“People don’t understand our empathy,” he said. “If they did, people like him wouldn’t even think of putting you though something like that.”

“It’s difficult for many people to understand what they have never felt themselves.” Sera's voice was gentle.

“Still…”

She said nothing more. Instead, she let go of his hand and rolled to the other side of the small bed so she could sit up, but she was still too weak to stand. After a minute, she had to give up. When she had caught her breath, she asked, “Can you please get me some paper and a pen?”

“Of course,” he said pleasantly, and left.

When he returned, she was sitting back against the headboard. She accepted the items, along with a book he had thought to bring so she had a hard surface to write on. “Thank you,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Thomas,” he told her. “I’ve heard of you, Sera. You’re kind of the talk of the temple right now. Amelia from the Brunya City temple saw your hair the other day, and before long everyone knew. People can’t believe that you would give up everything for some guy… that you could even go against the goddess like that.” He disapproved of her actions, as all of Aryst’s clergy would, but he didn’t think badly of her: an Arystian's purpose was to heal people, not judge them.

“He isn’t some guy,” she told him as she laid the book and piece of paper on her lap. “Do you believe in soul mates, Thomas?”

He looked down at the wedding ring on his finger and smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She followed his gaze and smiled, too. “Then you understand.”

He nodded. “Shall I leave you?”

“Could you stay a moment?" she asked, and motioned to the paper. "I’d like to get a message to someone.”

“Of course,” he said easily, and sat at the foot of her bed, close enough that she was in range of his comfort aura but far enough away that he wouldn't see what she was writing.

__________

Cael strode purposefully into Aryst's Temple. He could hear Sera’s voice almost immediately; she was frail, and his heart twisted as he followed the sound.

A priestess stopped him just before he entered a side hallway. “I'm sorry, but those are private healing rooms. You’re not allowed back there.”

“My daughter, Sera, is back there,” he told her, his voice calm but very firm. “I will see her.”

The woman nodded. “Wait here, and I will see if she’s receiving visitors.”

“She will receive me,” he said and moved past her, ignoring her protests. Finally, she gave up and went to summon a guard. Cael kept moving.

Just before he reached Sera’s room, a cleric came out and closed the door behind him. “Hello.”

“What is that?” Cael asked, glancing down at the folded piece of paper in his hand. Before the cleric could answer, Cael snatched it from him. He opened the note and read his daughter’s writing:

Dear Matt,

Don’t be hard on yourself. The person in those memories isn’t you, not anymore. It’s the past. Now is all that matters. I still want you, I still love you––I always will. I’m at Aryst's temple in Oraunt. Please come, I need you.

Always yours,

Sera

Cael refolded the note and put it in his own pocket. He met the cleric’s gaze evenly. “I am her father, and I know that sending this letter is not what is best for her. If you tell her it has not been sent, you will regret it,” he said very quietly. “Do you understand me?”

Thomas nodded and walked away, toward the main room.

Cael heard two guards coming, but ignored them and went into Sera’s room, closing the door behind him. He focused his emotions on his love for his daughter, keeping his feelings positive for her.

She smiled at him as he sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and waited for the guards to come in. When they did, Sera laughed weakly. “Couldn’t be good and wait, could you?” she asked, looking up at him.

He was completely unrepentant as he stroked her curls gently. “I needed to see you. There was no harm done.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “He’s my dad, it’s fine,” she told the guards. “Sorry.”

They looked a bit annoyed, but nodded and left.

“Come, I will take you home,” Cael told her as he stood and reached down to her.

“No, I need to stay. I sent Matt a message to come find me here.”

“I know. I read your note and then altered it accordingly. He will know to find you at home,” he lied smoothly. He was enough elf that he defaulted to being detached and aloof, leaving his emotions very neutral. But even without that, he knew how empathy worked; his father, like Sera, had been a healing cleric. Cael knew that since he did not feel guilty or worried about being caught, Sera would have no reason to suspect him of lying.

“Can you stand?” he asked when she didn’t move.

“No.” She sighed. “I’m too weak.”

He frowned at her tone. “This is not your fault.”

“It’s not Matt's, either,” she told him firmly. “Please don’t think badly of him. This isn’t his doing. It’s no one’s fault––Matt can’t change his past, and both Vivyka and the justice cleric had good intentions.”

Cael just nodded. He wouldn’t argue with her, especially since he would be taking care of the problem soon enough. He just had to get her home, where Falcon could look after her. Then he would hunt Matt down and kill him. He would make sure it didn’t look like he had done it, because if Sera knew she would never forgive him or speak to him again, and he couldn’t live with that. But he was very confident in his abilities, and knew that she would never find out. She might possibly guess, but she would never have proof, and so she would be forced to let it go.

“I will carry you,” he told her now. “My horse is just outside. We will leave yours in the stable for now. You will ride with me.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “But I have a question first.”

“Yes?”

“In Matt’s memories, I saw some of your fight against Kieran,” she told him. “He was there, Matt was. About five years old at the time. He was hiding behind the throne, and then Xavien got him out of the room, but I wondered… did you see him? Did you know he was there?”

Cael hesitated for a moment, but then told her the truth. “Yes.”

“When you’ve told the story… why did you leave that part out?”

“I was the only ones who saw him,” he answered. “I did not believe him or his father to be a threat at the time, so it was not necessary for anyone else to know, especially your mother and Julia. The knowledge of a child being there, of having seen that, would have hurt them greatly. I trust you will remain silent.”

“Of course.” She studied him for a moment. “You’re wondering if I saw you tortured,” she guessed. “I did.”

He sighed as he reached over to caress her cheek tenderly. “You should never have had to see such things.”

She nodded. “Well… at least I saw that you’re as tough as you claim,” she told him, attempting to be keep her tone light.

He raised a brow. “You doubted me?”

She smiled. “Never.”

“Good,” he said with a small smile of his own. “Now come.” He lifted her into his arms and carried her out.

He had made it to the front door of the temple with her by the time Thomas had changed his mind and came toward them. Cael continued on his way. He moved swiftly to his horse, which was tied twenty feet from the entrance, and set Sera on it before turning back to the cleric, who was now coming out of the temple.

Keeping his back to his daughter, he made a small movement with his hand, and a small, targeted force of wind knocked Thomas to the ground. Cael hurried to him and took his arm, helping him up. He grabbed a piece of grass that was growing between the cracks in the stone steps before he stood. “Are you all right?” he asked, loud enough for Sera to hear.

He made sure to keep blocking Sera’s view with his body as the blade of grass in his hand grew in length and wrapped around Thomas’s throat. Cael spoke in a whisper now. “If you value your life, you will say you are fine and then tell her that you are leaving to go to the courier’s.” The grass tightened for a moment, letting the man know that he was very serious.

The cleric’s eyes widened slightly, and then he nodded. The grass loosened so he could speak. “I’m fine, thanks,” he said, managing to keep his tone calm.

The grass returned to its former size. Cael dropped it as he let the cleric go and stepped back. “You will want to have those stones roughed up a bit; they are quite smooth, and not at all safe.”

Thomas nodded. “Yes, I’ll see to it." He looked at Sera. “Well, I’d better go send your note,” he told her, then headed down the street.

“Thank you,” Sera called after him.

Cael made himself think of Sera getting worse, of Matt finding her. He forced himself to feel fear so that Sera would think she was feeling his fear instead of Thomas’s. Thankfully, she was still a young cleric; one with more years under her belt could have felt the difference between the two men.

Sera studied him for a moment as he got closer. “Dad, I’m okay,” she reassured him.

Something about the way she looked just then brought a memory back to him, from when she was just five years old…

Cael caught up with Sera quickly and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He crouched down in front of her and brushed a leaf off of her long white dress before meeting her gaze. “Do not wonder away from me,” he told her. “You are not capable of protecting yourself, nor do you understand enough of the forest to be on your own.” He pointed to the plant she had been heading for. “If you were to touch that, it would give you a rash and make you itch for a week.”

She nodded, making her white-gold curls bounce gently.

“Stay close to me, okay?”

“Okay,” she said easily.

He moved his thumb over her chubby cheek, rubbing off a bit of dirt. “Do not do so because I tell you to. Do so because it is the right thing to do, because it is smart.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, Daddy.”

He kissed her nose, then stood. “Come here,” he said, picking her up.

“I can walk,” she told him. “I won’t go away again.”

“I know,” he said, smiling as he headed back to camp, “but I like to hold you. Would you rather walk?”

She put her little arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “No, I want to be with you. I don’t like itchy plants.”

“You know what they look like now, so you can avoid them.”

“But I want you to protect me from them.”

“I will protect you from everything, mehra,” he promised, using the elven word for precious.

Cael took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he refocused on the present. “Yes, sorry,” he told his daughter, and let his emotions go back to neutral. He got up behind her and put an arm around her, pulling her close and hugging her to him. She leaned her head back against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head. “Everything will be okay, mehra,” he murmured.