They found Aren along the side of the road, blowing smoke rings. The old man was sitting on a rock, his staff at his feet, admiring the clouds above. He glanced up as they approached and stood smiling, removing his pipe. "So you're back with our errant cub, are we? And with some new company."

"This is Ajax. The favored son of Telix," said Pandora. "I judged that he would be of more use to us alive."

"A hostage then and-" Aren blinked. "Why is Relma holding Lightning Trail?"

"I drew it," said Relma.

"Right, well, you had best put that away," said Aren, taking out his pipe. "Actually, let me see it."

"No way. It's mine," said Relma.

"My dear girl, there is a time and a place for everything. Unfortunately, it is neither for Lightning Trail," Aren exasperatedly said. "Let me disguise it, at least, so no one will know what it is."

Relma hesitated for a moment. Then she gave it to Aren, who raised it. He probably did know best.

"That's all you have to say, Father?" asked Aunt Pan.

"Pandora, if Relma drew the sword, it means Elranor has accepted her," said Aren. "I've spent my whole life serving Elranor, and mine has been much longer than yours. So, I have no intention of questioning him now just because his plan doesn't fit my plan.

"Besides, these things have a way of working themselves out." He closed his eyes. Before their eyes, the reflections on the sword became dull. The blade became scratched and beaten. The grip, guard, and pommel became simple and ordinary-looking. The blade was now wholly unremarkable.

"There. That is a good deal less impressive," said Aren. "At the very least, no one will shout to high heavens that Lightning Trail has been found." He tossed the sword into the air, then caught it by the blade between gloved fingertips. Then, with a smile, he offered it to her. "Here you go, Relma. Keep your hands on that."

Relma took it, and Aren walked past. "Now, what about the wolf demon?"

"He will make an excellent hostage," said Pandora. "I believe I said that before."

"Yes, yes," said Aren, "How did you capture him? How did all this happen?"

"It is a long story," admitted Relma.

"Well, you can tell it on the way," said Aren. "I've set up as many wards as possible on the border. But even Telix will have a hard time sending raids through.

"At any rate, let's get back to the village."

The village was a welcome sight when they got to it. Pandora broke off with Ajax to speak with Lord Argath as they reached the gate. Aren led Relma and the others into the town, which was bustling with activity. There were many more soldiers here now.

"Why is everyone here?" asked Relma.

"This village has the best defenses of the lot," said Argath. "Pandora and I have established wards all along the forest except here. Telix can either attack here or try to break the wards. "That will take time. Time enough for us to get our troops there."

"Arengeth," said a soldier, approaching, "what is happening? Why did the clouds over the black mountain disappear? And what were all those flashes?"

"Nothing we need concern ourselves with now," said Aren. "Elranor makes things clear to all men when the time is right. Now-"

"Lightning Trail!" cried a man, standing upon a wagon of firewood.

"What?" said someone.

All eyes turned to him. He was about forty and wore the robes of a monk. "Lightning Trail has been drawn! The Heir of Kings has returned!"

"What is all this? What are you talking about?" asked a man.

"A vision came to me from Elranor!" cried the monk. "Lightning Trail has been drawn, and the chosen one walks among us! So soon Harlenor Reunited shall come to pass, and Baltoth! The once Inexorable shall be slain forever!"

A regular frenzy began to overtake the crowd. Finally, Arengeth started to walk toward the man, whose proclamations became ever more grandiose.

Then Tanith stumbled out of the inn, bleary-eyed. There were shadows under her eyes, and she looked like she had been drinking. But she had a huge battle axe on her back and two swords at her sides.

"Will someone shut that bloody idiot up?" she roared, hurling a knife. The blade caught the man by the hood and pinned him to the wall of a house. From there, he slipped off the cart and fell behind it with a cry of pain.

Tanith stalked up to him and pulled the knife out. "No one cares about prophecies, you old fool."

The villagers stepped away from Tanith. At that moment, Ronald moved forward. "I do."

"No one whose opinion matters cares about prophecies." Tanith corrected herself.

At that moment, the man rose up again. "Rejoice, brothers! For the time of Elranor's triumph is at-"

Tanith whirled around and struck him across the face. "Shut! Up! You're screeching could wake the dead!"

The villagers surged forward and then halted as Tanith's blades came out. She was smiling now. It wasn't like the smiles Relma had seen from her before, condescending or smug.

There was a blood lust there. Tanith would genuinely enjoy cutting the villagers into ribbons. Still, the villagers were all trained in the militia. They were fighting men in their own right. They had probably seen battle recently, with the skirmishes.

So why was every single person in the town backing away from Tanith?

They were afraid of her. Was Tanith really that dangerous? It made a certain amount of sense. Why else would Benarus and Lord Marn tolerate her? When everyone had passed, Tanith sheathed her swords in one smooth movement.

"His voice was giving me a headache," she muttered. Before looking up to Aren. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

"I believe we were introduced," said Aren.

"Hmm, yes," said Tanith. "Let me rephrase that. Who are you really?"

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"I am just who I was introduced as, as are we all," said Aren.

"Sure," scoffed Tanith. "So, I'm supposed to believe a human could live thousands of years."

"All things are possible with the will of the gods," noted Aren.

"Maybe so," said Tanith. "But I haven't seen you killing any Calishans. Or using your supposed ultimate power to destroy any enemies.

"I certainly don't believe in destiny or anything which controls my fate."

"Then what do you believe in?" asked Aren, walking forward.

"Absolutely nothing unless I can see it bleed," admitted Tanith. "Metaphorically speaking, of course. And Elranor, obviously."

"That is a sad way to live, Tanith," said Aren, taking a stick from the cart.

Then, he kneeled on the cobblestones and fitted the stick between the cobblestones. Tanith stepped back, raising an eyebrow. "Just what are you doing now?"

"I'm going to restore your faith," said Aren.

"I already believe in Elranor," said Tanith

"Belief and faith are two very different things. As you will see. Do you see this stick? The wood is completely dead," said Aren. "No sorcerer can create life. Only use the life which is already there."

"Yeah, I've met Rusara," said Tanith. "I know that much."

"Then, in the name of Elranor, grow," said Aren.

Nothing happened for a moment. Then suddenly, roots emerged from the stick, digging into the ground as it grew upwards. Tanith staggered backward as it grew higher and higher.

Tanith looked genuinely shocked for the first time since Relma had met her. An array of emotions went across her face as what had once been a stick became a healthy sapling. Pink petals now grew from its branches that stretched outwards. Then it slowed.

It was young. But it seemed to emanate life itself. Just looking at it made Relma feel like she could run two hundred miles. People clustered around it, awed by its very presence.

"...That's impossible!" said Tanith. "No sorcerer could create a life that quickly. Trees take decades to grow. Even the most powerful druids can only manage lesser creations.

"That's something that can only be done by... a god."

"Oh," She paused. "So you are who you say you are. I think this is the part where I ask forgiveness." She looked away.

"You are forgiven," said Aren. "But if you truly mean what you say, you should show gratitude to this tree, for it has restored your faith. Therefore, I ask that you tend to it and give freely of any of the fruits which fall from it."

"I'm a mercenary. I can't just drop everything to look after some tree," said Tanith.

"There will be a great long-term employment opportunity in this place," said Aren. "And I will see that you have the means to care for it.

"You may, of course, leave if you wish. I will not stop you. But you should consider my request. "For you and the tree are one. Every day that your spirit grows, so will it."

"Wait, so if it dies, I will?" asked Tanith, eyes narrowing.

Aren halted and looked at her uneasily. "I was not speaking literally. Not entirely. Instead, it has been intimately connected to your spirit. So long as it lives, you will have it as a companion in all your lives-"

Tanith unslung her battle axe and brought it around to strike the tree bark. There was a scream. Not verbal, but spiritual. It went through Relma's heart, and she felt like she had been stabbed.

"Wait!" cried Aren. "Stop!"

But Tanith had already brought her axe down again. She had a mad smile on her face as she cleaved through the bark halfway. Aren raised a hand, and the axe flew from her hand. But the blade had cut too deeply.

The tree fell, broken to the ground. As quickly as it had been born, it had been killed. And Relma realized the tree was unlike any other she had seen in Gel Carn. Something told her it was unlike anything seen in the world.

And now it was dead.

Aren looked terribly old. "...Don't do that," he gasped. "What have you done?"

"I'm a mercenary," snarled Tanith, crushing a branch underfoot. "Don't ask me to take care of something unless you want its limbs broken and its kneecaps shattered."

"You foolish girl!" cried Aren, a sob almost in his voice. "Do you realize what you have done?"

"Screwed up, your little morality play is my guess," snapped Tanith. "I'm a killer, not a gardener."

"Your fate was bound to that tree!" said Aren, anger entering that voice. "You have now killed it in the flower of youth! Had you... had you stayed your hand, you could... you could have lived to be a hundred. In time, your labors could have brought you peace unknown to mortals.

"You've doomed yourself in your lives henceforth. And worse still, the fruits of that tree would have been able to heal wounds! It could have saved innumerable lives! How many people will now die for the sake of your wrath?"

"I don't want to live to be a hundred, you insufferable old fool," said Tanith. "I want to die surrounded by the corpses of my enemies, their blood coating my flesh. Who wants to get old?

"Who wants to be like you?"

"And what of your other lives, girl?" asked Aren. "Do you realize that this tree was meant to last across lifetimes? Your future will now reflect what you have done this day.

"You have brought a curse on yourself that will go far beyond this life."

"If any of my future lives aren't like me, then I'd much rather they die young so I can return to being me," said Tanith. "As for the fruits, I'd hate to unemploy all the village healers. But you realize that demand can only keep up if supply goes great, right?

"Someone needs to read up on economic principles.

"Anyway, I'm going to get a wood axe. Time to make some firewood. Waste of a good battle axe." And she stalked off. The violation was with Relma. It wasn't just the tree. She felt as if some horrific spiritual wrong had just been done. Like someone had dug up a grave. Or killed a baby.

"...There goes a young woman who will come to many tragic ends," said Aren.

"She deserves them," said Relma.

"That girl is possessed by the sin of wrath more than anyone I've ever seen," said Aren. "She certainly deserves what she brought on herself in this life. I don't intend to speak for all the rest."

"Aren, why did you do that?" asked Ronald.

"The girl is possessed with deep unbalances of the spirit," said Aren, walking away. "If she had only listened to me, this tree could have saved her. Unfortunately, I've seen it happen.

"Sometimes, when I charge someone with the task, they listen and are saved. Other times, they ignore me initially and come back. Others refuse the task entirely and leave the tree to its own devices.

"I've never seen someone foolish enough to destroy the tree out of spite."

"But why, Tanith?" asked Relma. "She's a monster. She'd never even consider it."

"She did consider it," said Aren. "If she had left it, her future lives would have been drawn here. Some would have taken joy from it. Instead, I saw the strands of fate stretching before me. So much evil could have been averted if she'd only left it be.

"Now it's all in ruins. What could have been averted will be much worse? Unless something is done to stop it."

"What can we do?" asked Relma.

Aren looked down. "We can all try being good people. A small act of kindness can avert the end of civilizations if properly placed. Often it can balance the books of fate."

"Hey, are you all right?" came Estela's voice.

Relma looked up to see Estela helping up the priest. He was severely bruised on the face, and his neck was cut.

"Yes, I am, child." said the priest. "Thank you."

Relma ran to him. "Let me help you."

She set a hand to him and channeled the power she had felt before. It surged into him. The wound knit itself, and the bruise disappeared. And then Relma fell back, lightheaded. Catching herself in a kneel, she looked up. Her entire body ached with the pain of healing.

She looked at the tree. There was no healing that.

"...I know you, the chosen one of Elranor," said the priest.

Relma stood up quickly. "Sorry, you've mistaken me for someone else."

"Perhaps," said the priest. "Perhaps not."

At that moment, Davian appeared and approached Aren. Aren looked at him. "Yes?"

"Lord Arengeth," said Davian, "Steward Benarus requests your presence in the manor. He wishes to discuss the coming battle."

"Right," said Aren, before looking to the people, "if that Tanith girl actually does try to hack up this tree, don't let her. It may have some use beyond mere firewood. You never know about these things.

"Estela, Relma, Ronald, come with me. I want you with me."

Relma and Estela made their way from that place with Aren. And as they did, Relma felt like she had healed a small part of a larger wound. Yet, there was a sense of being watched as well.

Something had looked down on Tanith's actions and wept.

And something else had smiled.