Twin circles of sand and glass wreathed Foran’s kindling, a nexus of magic ready to burst. The pouch at her belt was empty now, but it had been enough. Now, all it would take was the right spark…<br/><br/>Still, she didn’t really have time to admire her handiwork. The lights were closer now - at least, she thought they were. They barely seemed to move as she watched, but… as she looked harder, they<i>had</i>to be closer.<br/><br/>And then… the slow, familiar tap of wood on stone.<br/><br/>She couldn’t have been older than seven when she’d first heard that sound echoing through the Vale’s cobblestone square, even over the bustle of the market. He was a travelling bard, he’d said, but his tales and his songs were always so deep and so mystifying that she’d been sure he was more than that. He’d been a piercing light of mystery in that predictable, unchanging town.<br/><br/>And she’d followed him like a cat until he finally let her in on his secret. Not<i>all</i>of his secrets, of course; he’d never explained why she could never tell just how old he was, why he walked with a cane and yet had no wrinkles, why his eyes were so deep and so wise but his voice was so young. But he was a wizard, that much was clear, and she knew he had to be very old. It always sounded like the tales he told were his to tell, not just stories he’d overheard.<br/><br/>She remembered his eyes were grey like hers, distant but kind, knowing and sad.<br/><br/>And she remembered the last time she’d seen them, a few weeks before the Vale’s last Harvest Fair. It hadn’t felt like he’d been saying goodbye forever, then. He hadn’t seemed any different than usual. He’d taught her as always, and moved on as swiftly as he’d come. He hadn’t known that no crops would be harvested that fall… that the only reaping would be of people.<br/><br/>Dawn shook her head. She’d said goodbye to that life a long time ago, stopped holding on to anything but the memory. She’d cried and she’d wished for it many times, but the Vale was gone. She’d thought<i>all</i>of it was gone, even the warmth of its fires and the laughter she’d shared.<br/><br/><i>And it is,</i>she decided. But she couldn’t just<i>ignore</i>Lucian, even if it<i>was</i>a trick. They’d all been separated, and she knew there was some danger lurking in that strange darkness that had swallowed all of her friends. Something that stopped them from finding their way back to her. Tyora, Verita, Foran, Sirka, Ashy… even Vhaern and Donchen, back on the ship. It was like the darkness<i>wanted</i>her to forget.<br/><br/>She glanced at the ritual circle she’d made, concentrated for a moment, and the kindling began to burn. When that flame reached the circle of sand and glass, the spell would activate whether or not she was there to help it. There would be a light in the darkness for her to follow back, if she had to.<br/><br/>And with that, she crept into the darkness. If Lucian - if it even<i>could</i>be him - could help her find the others, that was all that mattered. When she found Verita, she was going to give her the biggest hug she could manage.<i>You need to be safe, so we can get out of this place together. So we can fight back your demons and prophecies and whatever else gets in the way. I said I’d be there for you, didn’t I?</i><br/><br/>Even pretending the cold hand of panic hadn’t gripped her heart couldn’t stop her eyes from watering.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>