Monday, March 14th, 1988

“Mmm, are you sure you have to go?” Haiden Moon murmured while his hand gently brushed through the blonde locks of the woman who had become his wife almost a year and a half earlier, after a brief, six month courtship that had partially involved them running away from their respective groups (a much bigger deal on her side than his). His fingers found the soft skin of her neck, and he rubbed in gentle circles. “Losing you for a week every year is going to get old fast.”

Laying with her head against the man’s shoulder while her own hand gently ran over his broad chest, Sariel gave a soft, sad little smile. “For both of us, I promise you that. This week away from you will be more painful than I can say. But it is… necessary. I will be back as soon as possible.”

Haiden gave a reluctant sigh at that, though the man was still smiling as he leaned down to gently kiss the top of her head. “If you insist. But I’m going to insist on a date day when you get back. You hear me? A whole day where we do nothing but spend time with each other.”

“Only a day?” Sariel teased, winking up at him. “I’m looking forward to a whole month.”

That made his smile turn a little more genuine, as the man pulled her back against him a little tighter. “That sounds like a good tradition to me. You leave for a week, then we have our month.”

Eventually, the two separated. Sariel promised to call whenever she could, and that she would be careful. Under her husband’s ministrations, she very nearly caved and agreed to stay. But this was too important. The things that she had to do, the things that she had to make up for, were too much for her to simply dismiss them. It had already been a year by that point, and the skeletons in her closet were banging against the door of her mind entirely too loudly to be dismissed.

So, after another (entirely too brief) lovely and energizing delay while the two made it clear just how much they were going to miss each other, Sariel used the spell to transport herself away from their cozy little shared apartment.

The place that she reappeared within was actually closer than Haiden thought. Far closer, in fact. Sariel hadn’t actually left the city at all. She was in the middle of an apartment not even three blocks away from her husband. She’d actually thought about renting out an apartment in the same building, but thought that would be pushing things a little too much. Besides, she didn’t want what she had to do here to somehow taint her wonderful life with the man she loved.

It wasn’t a very large place, being only a studio apartment. But then, the place didn’t need to be very large for her purposes. What mattered were the spellforms that had been inscribed over all of the walls. As Sariel glanced around, she assured herself that they were all there and intact. Good. The spells would perform several functions, including blocking her from any tracking spells. The home she shared with Haiden had much of the same features, of course, as did most of their clothing. But this was even more extensive. As she wouldn’t exactly be in a state to take care of herself before too long, making absolutely certain that she couldn’t be found was essential.

And, of more immediate importance, the spells would also ensure that no sound escaped the room.

After assuring herself the spells were intact, Sariel first stripped herself of all of her clothing, stepping out of everything until she was entirely bare. Then she made her way to one of the only two furnishings within the small studio apartment: a wooden dresser. Pulling open the top drawer, the woman extracted a pair of metal bracelets, with spellwork etched into the sides. Carefully, she attached them to her wrists. Next came a metal choker, which was attached to her throat with equal care. Those were followed by a pair of goggles that barely allowed her to see through the dark lenses. Still, she was able to root through the drawers and find shoes that also appear to be made of metal, chainmail gloves, and a cap with spellwork drawn on the inside.

It made an eclectic outfit of sorts when all of those pieces were worn. But then, the point wasn’t to be fashionable, as she wouldn’t be stepping out of the apartment with them. Instead, once Sariel had each piece on, she moved to the room’s other bit of furniture: a small bed. It lay directly in the center of the apartment, surrounded by more intricately drawn spellwork.

Slowly, the Seosten woman lay on the bed, shifting onto her back. She stayed like that for a few long seconds, simply breathing in and out as she stared up at the ceiling through the dark lens of the goggles, in no hurry to get on with what she had to do. Yet despite her reluctance, the woman wouldn’t just walk away. She couldn’t allow herself to. Without this week, she would never be able to enjoy the rest of her time with Haiden. She needed this. They needed this.

They. The names and faces filled her mind then. They were always there, always just under the surface of her memory. They were the people she had hurt, the people whose lives had been harmed or ruined by her actions. Sariel heard them, remembered them, knew them. She knew who she had killed, who she had betrayed, who she had used and abused for the advancement of the Seosten Empire. The things she had done, even if she had thought it was the right thing at the time… she knew. She knew that she had done wrong, that she had ruined lives. And now, for the next week, she would pay a small bit of her debt for that. A small price to at least temporarily quiet the voices clamoring for attention within her vast memory.

One more long, slow breath to steady and prepare herself for what was about to come, and then Sariel activated the extensive spells covering everything she had just put on.

Pain. Agony beyond description flooded the woman’s body. The goggles made her eyes feel as if they were burning. The hat that she wore made her believe that her skull was being crushed while her hair was simultaneously ripped from her scalp. The bones in her wrists, hands, and arms felt as though they were snapping one by one, turning to powder before returning only to be broken once more thanks to the wristbands and gloves. The same was true of her feet and legs through the metal shoes that she wore. The choker around the woman’s neck cut off her air, crushing her windpipe and turning her resulting screams into desperate, choked gasps.

It only lasted for a few seconds before relenting, little more than a warm-up to give Sariel a chance to work her way into what was to come. Eventually, the pain would continue for minutes at a time rather than only a handful of seconds. In the moments of reprieve between those times, she would recover mentally while the spells surrounding the bed healed any physical damage that had been done. The spells there also ensure that she would not throw herself off the bed itself, holding her in place while the pain spells were active. Which also served the function of preventing her from closing her mouth while they were active, ensuring that she would not bite her own tongue off or crack her teeth together. She was, for all intents and purposes, completely frozen in place. Which was another good reason that the apartment had to stay hidden.

She was given a warning before the pain returned, a count of three slow beeps. The warning would come every time, as the amount of rest she was given between ‘sessions’ was randomized. As the beeps came, Sariel breathed out once more, unable to stop herself from tensing up.

Then the pain came, and her screams returned to fill the magically soundproofed room. Those same screams would continue throughout the week, while she would be given brief breaks to catch her breath, and slightly longer breaks for sleep, meals, and to clean herself up. But all in all, the majority of Sariel’s time throughout that week would be spent on the bed, being put through bouts of incredible agony. Agony that she could stop at any time, but never would. After all, the people she had hurt and ruined throughout her career in the Seosten military couldn’t simply undo that, now could they?

No, she would take the pain. She would suffer it for this week, in order to quiet those feelings of guilt that would otherwise overwhelm her throughout the rest of the year. One week of pain in exchange for one year of peace. She could live with that. That was the best way of handling the memories of what she had done, of the people and lives that she had destroyed.

One week of torture for one year of love. That was a fair trade, wasn’t it?

******

One Year Later

“A fair trade?” The disbelief, shock, and horror within Haiden Moon’s voice filled the small room as he stood there, staring at his wife. “You… are you… do you really…” Realizing then just how serious the woman had been as she explained the truth of what she did every time she left for a week, the man felt hot bile rise up in his throat.

He had felt, had sensed his wife’s reluctance every time she went out for these trips, though she insisted they were necessary. Finally, this time, he had convinced her to share with him, to trust him enough to show him what the trips themselves were about. He’d had an idea that it was something bad, but this? Without seeing it himself, he never would have believed that Sariel was the type to torture herself. She was too good at bottling up the incredible guilt that she clearly felt. Apparently at least part of that was because of this. She would almost kill herself with pain for a full week, just so that the guilt over the things she had done in her previous life didn’t completely crush her for the rest of the year.

Seeing his reaction, Sariel cringed, her gaze dropping guiltily. “I’m sorry,” the woman murmured softly. “I know it’s stupid and wrong, but it helps. I just… if I put up with it for that long, if I can just deal with the pain for the week, I can live with the good things for the rest of the year.”

She chanced a tiny smile at him then, offering, “You are a very good thing, Haiden. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. But… but I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t accept you, or our life, without a tradeoff. I have to pay for the things that I’ve done. The people that I’ve hurt and killed, my love, I can’t… I can’t be happy knowing those things. Some of my people, when they feel this guilt, they erase it from their memories. But I can’t do that–I won’t do that. I can’t erase it, so I have to pay for it. And… and the thought of being happy, of allowing myself to be happy with you while those memories are in my head, it’s… “ Her head shook quickly. “I have to give my penance. One week of pain for one year of freedom and happiness. It’s worth it, to me.”

Haiden listened through all of that. Despite his disgust with the entire situation and urge to simply grab Sariel and shake her until she understood that this was wrong, he stood still, listening to her words. He heard the pain and regret in her voice, the doubts that plagued her. He could feel her turmoil even more than usual. In showing him this, she had opened herself up to him even more than she already had. That wasn’t something he could just dismiss or throw away. He had to try and understand her. She had been alive for much longer than he had, had seen and done very bad things. Things that had convinced her that this was a good idea.

In that moment, Haiden did the only thing that he could do, the only thing that he could think of. Slowly, he stepped forward and embraced the woman that he loved. Now wasn’t the time for recriminations or incredulity. What she needed was understanding, as much as he could give her.

She resisted very slightly at first, her guilt and embarrassment over the situation making the woman stiffen up. But as he pulled her to him, she relented a little. He heard a tiny whimper escape Sariel as his arms wrapped around her, hugging her up against himself firmly.

“My love, my wife, my partner…” the man murmured gently as he kissed the top her head. “I love you. I adore you. But you couldn’t possibly be more wrong about this. But that isn’t your fault. As advanced as the Seosten might be about a lot of other things, they are pants on head stupid when it comes to mental health.”

Coughing once at that, the woman squinted slightly. “We are… pants on head stupid about a great many things, I’m afraid. But… I don’t know what you mean. I… I can’t just forget the things that I’ve done, Haiden. How could I let myself be happy with you when the people I’ve killed, the lives I’ve ruined… everything I’ve done is still there? I can’t ignore that, I won’t.”

Shaking his head at that while holding the woman to him, Haiden replied, “I wouldn’t ask you to. That’s not the point. I–” He stopped, considering his next words before stepping back while keeping his hands on Sariel’s shoulders. Meeting her gaze, he murmured, “Trust me for a minute, okay?”

“I trust you for every minute,” was her immediate response, as her hands moved up to rest on his.

With a brief smile at that, Haiden moved one hand to his pocket, producing a scrap of plastic with a spell on it that, when activated, summoned a pair of comfortable chairs. Once they were in place, he directed his wife to sit down in one while he took the other, directly across from her.

“Now,” the man started, “would you… consider trying something new, something different than… this?” With one hand, he gestured to the bed where the (not to put too fine of a point on it) torture devices had been laid out.

Biting her lip at that, the blonde woman met his gaze a little guiltily. “Something different? I… what is it?”

Several snarky, sarcastic responses sprang to the man’s mind and tongue right then. But he swallowed them back. Now wasn’t the time for it. His wife needed gentleness right now. She had opened herself up to him, had shown him what was probably her greatest secret: her guilt and how she tried to cope with it.

Instead, Haiden carefully answered, “You were handling this wrong. The guilt, I mean. You were dealing with it wrong. By which I mean you weren’t dealing with it at all. I love you, but torturing yourself isn’t how you deal with that kind of guilt.”

His words made Sariel shake her head in obvious confusion. “I told you, I can’t just erase the memories.”

“That’s not how you deal with it either,” the man retorted. “I… look, I don’t know exactly how it works in the Seosten Empire and all that, but clearly the answer is ‘not that well’ if erasing memories or torturing yourself are the top two options that come to mind.”

She still looked lost, as Haiden reached across to take her hands. With a gentle squeeze, he met the woman’s gaze once more. “Tell me,” he started quietly. “Tell me about the first thing that comes to your mind, the first thing that you feel guilty about. It doesn’t have to be the worst thing that you’ve done, or even the first thing that you think was wrong. Just… the first thing that you can think of.”

The suggestion made her flinch a little, glancing down before slowly lifting her eyes once more as he squeezed her hands tighter. “Tell you?” she echoed with obvious reluctance at the very thought.

He nodded then. “Yes, love. Because that’s how you deal with this guilt. You talk about it. You want to deal with the fact that you’ve killed people, that you’ve ruined lives? You don’t pay for that by torturing yourself once a year. You deal with it by keeping them alive, by keeping their memories alive. That’s the problem with those Seosten you mentioned who erase the memories. They’re doing the opposite of what they should be doing. If you want to help things, if you want to pay for what you did, you keep those memories alive. You share them, talk about them. That’s how you process that guilt, you talk about it. Maybe you can’t bring them back to life, but you can share their stories. You can share their lives. And, quite frankly, talking about things is a good way of getting the thoughts out of your head. At least for a little while.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“So please, whatever comes to mind, whoever you’re thinking about right now… just talk to me about them. Share them with me. I’m here for you, Sariel. I’m always here for you.”

Slowly, the woman stood up from the chair. At first, Haiden thought that she might be objecting. Instead, however, she simply stepped over to his chair and perched herself on his lap. Slowly, Sariel lay against him, head against his shoulder. As his arms wrapped around her, the woman let out a soft, relieved sigh.

And then she began to talk. The stories came, stories that continued not only for that one week, but every time throughout their lives that Sariel needed to talk, about her past, about the people she had killed or those that had been left behind. When she needed it, when the memories and guilt became too much, they would take the time to themselves so that she could talk about them. Because part of being married wasn’t just sharing the good times. It was also sharing the bad times, the terrible memories of guilt and remorse. It was him being there for her, to listen when she needed him to. Not to fix her problems, just to be there, to hear them.

That, after all, was what actually loving someone was about. And Haiden loved Sariel. He always would, and whatever came next in their lives, he would always be there for her. And she for him. They were partners, partners who would face things together.

Always and forever, come what may.

Summary: In 1988, Sariel leaves Haiden for a week, something she has done for private reasons once per year for the past couple years that they've known each other. Though he believes she is doing some sort of secret business to help them stay hidden, the truth is that she is going to a hidden apartment and using magical implements to inflict great pain upon herself through that entire time in an effort to punish herself for the bad things she did or allowed to happen while a loyal member of the Seosten Empire. She believes she must do this in order to silence her own guilt so she can allow herself to enjoy her life throughout the rest of the year. The next time she goes, Haiden convinces her to take him with and explain what she's actually doing. When he finds out, Haiden is horrified and talks Sariel out of ever doing that again, and convinces her to talk to him about her guilt instead, any time she needs to. The two of them resolve to always be there for one another, no matter what happens.

****************

Lincoln and Tabbris

“Now remember, hold really still. I don’t want to mess this up.” As he spoke, Lincoln Chambers frowned with concentration while he carefully and gently drew the small paintbrush along its current canvas.

That particular canvas giggled just a little bit before managing to restrain herself. “It tickles,” Tabbris whispered, trying not to move her face in the process while the brush moved along her cheek.

The two of them were in the cabin that Lincoln had been staying in for months by that point. It was late at night, but neither were tired. More to the point, neither would have been able to sleep even if they were tired. Not with everything that was going on.

Kneeling in front of the chair that Tabbris was sitting on, Lincoln pulled back a little to point the brush at her. “It tickles, huh? So even the mighty and invincible Seosten overlords are ticklish.”

Seeing the way that the girl’s face fell a little at that, Lincoln put his free hand out to touch her unpainted cheek. “Hey, I’m kidding.” His voice was gentle. “Yes, your people have done some bad things. But they’ve also produced some pretty damn cool people too. And believe me, if every species was judged and condemned by the worst of its actions, there’d hardly be anyone left in the universe. Which, I’m told, is a pretty busy place.”

As the girl tentatively looked up at him once more, the man went on. “The point is, it’s okay to poke a little fun at them without always condemning everything. It doesn’t mean that you forget every bad thing they’ve done. It doesn’t mean that you forget their problems. It means that you aren’t letting them win. Smiling, making jokes in the face of terrible things, it’s all part of…” He paused then. “Well, I was going to say that it’s part of being human. But I suppose it’s a lot bigger than that.”

Tabbris gave him a hesitant smile at that, mouth quivering just a little. “So, making jokes about it doesn’t mean that I forgot that it’s really serious and bad?“

The man’s head shook at that. “Oh, kid. No. No, it doesn’t mean that at all. Sometimes the only way to really understand and process just how bad something might be is to make jokes about it. Pointing out the absurdities of things by taking them to their exaggerated conclusion, that’s just one way of exposing things that are bad. Some take that as dismissing the seriousness of it, but believe me, it’s not. For so many people, joking about bad things is how they process it. Now hold still, I want to finish up here, so I can have my turn.”

Tabbris started to ask what he meant by that, but stopped herself. She held herself still while the man dipped the paintbrush once more and returned to his work with a look of concentration. He kept glancing at a reference picture nearby before returning to make another stroke.

Eventually, Lincoln leaned back and nodded with satisfaction. “There we are, perfect.”

“Do I look okay?” The girl piped up then, wiggling with excitement in her seat. “Does it look like—”

“See for yourself,” Lincoln advised while reaching out to pick up a hand held mirror. He winked at the girl then before holding the mirror up in front of her.

Tabbris gasped out loud, staring at the mirror in wonder. A fox. Her face had been painted to look like a fox. It was amazing. She had a little black nose, red-brown face with little tufts of white that almost looked like it had actual fur, and whiskers. Lincoln had even painted appropriate ears onto her forehead.

“I’m a fox!” the young girl blurted with delight. Her eyes lit up, a bright smile stretching across that painted face as she turned her head this way and that, then scrunched up her nose and giggled at the image in the mirror.

It made Lincoln’s heart melt, and his smile matched hers. “See,” he put in with a voice that cracked slightly, “all those summers spent doing this at the carnival really paid off.”

The girl’s arms were around him then, hugging tightly while she blurted, “Thank you, thank you, Mr. Chambers. Thank you for… for…” She was sniffling a little, unable to articulate herself.

“Hey now,” Lincoln rose, picking the girl off the floor to hoist her into his arms. “What did we talk about?”

Blushing, she wrapped both arms around his neck and hold on tight. “Dad,” the girl whispered quietly while smiling even more. “Thank you, Dad.”

He held onto her for another few moments like that, rocking back and forth in blissful quiet before speaking again. “Hey, don’t start thinking that this was totally out of the goodness of my heart there, kid. Now it’s your turn to do me.”

Leaning back a little, Tabbris stared at him incredulously. “You want me to paint your face?”

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Lincoln nodded while informing her simply, “I’d like to be a bear.” Pausing then, he amended with a wink, “or a tiger, or clown, or maybe a big blue splotch. Just go with whatever your artistic vision brings to life.”

He sat down then, and Tabbris stood in front of him with the array of paints lined up nearby. After a momentary hesitation, the girl very carefully dipped the brush in one of the paints and slowly moved it to his forehead. When the man held still, she took a tiny stroke across it before giggling. “You look funny.”

Grinning at that, Lincoln replied, “I guess it’s kind of hard to paint a face that’s seventy percent beard, isn’t it?” Tilting his head, the man mused, “Maybe we should cut it off.”

The words made Tabbris’s eyes widen, and she shook her head back and forth violently. “No! I like your beard. It tickles. You can’t cut it off.”

Racing an eyebrow then, the man asked, ‘You like the beard that much, huh?” When her head bobbed quickly, he smiled. “Well then, I guess it’s lucky then that I made sure those paints are okay to get into hair. You might not be able to paint my face. But you can make the beard pretty colors.”

Blinking, Tabbris looked down at the brush in her hand and then tentatively brushed it along the man’s beard. Then she giggled with delight. “Now you really look funny.”

“Of course I do,” Lincoln retorted, “That’s the pink paint.”

******

A short time later, as the pair left the cabin to walk along the edge of the lake, Lincoln’s beard had been fully painted a variety of bright colors, which continued up over his cheeks to his forehead. “Well now,” the man started while reaching down to take his newly-adopted daughter’s hand. “I’m all gussied up and pretty, with nowhere to actually go.”

Tabbris, still in fox-paint, giggled a little. “You wouldn’t really go out in public like that.”

Her words made the man sniff pointedly. “The hell I wouldn’t,” he declared. “One of my little girls made me all fancy and I want to show it off.” With a smile, he raised his hand, still holding onto her so that the girl was lifted off the ground briefly. “Think you’ll be able to get any sleep soon, kid?”

Eyes widening guiltily at that, the girl quickly blurted, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you up. You can go to bed. I-I can’t sleep. But, but I can do other things. You don’t have to stay up with me. Really, I’m okay by myself. You can go to bed.”

Letting her down, Lincoln put a finger to his lips. “Hush now,” he told her. “None of that. I’m up because I want to be up. Well, more because I can’t sleep either. If I was ready for bed, believe me, I’d tell you. I’m not going to try to keep up with some magically enhanced superfox.” While teasing her like that, he moved his hand to brush through her blonde hair. “And speaking of fox, a little bird tells me that I have you to thank for my ability to recite the Robin Hood cartoon verbatim, start to finish.”

Again, that guilty blush came as a girl dropped her gaze and shuffled her feet back and forth a little while mumbling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make Flick watch it so much. It just made me feel happy when I was scared.”

“Are you kidding?” Lincoln reached out to tilt her head up by the chin so she would look at him. “Do you think our house is the only one where the same movie played over and over again? At least we have an actual excuse for it. And besides, it’s not like it was a bad movie. You could’ve had much worse taste.”

Pensively, she looked to him. “You’re really not mad?”

Straightfaced, Lincoln gestured to his ridiculously colored beard and cheeks. “Does this look like the face of a mad man to you?”

It made her laugh, and he smiled to hear it before continuing. “You listen to me. I’m just glad that you had something to help you when you were scared. But from now on, I want you to come to your mother, to Flick, or to me when you’re scared. You hear me? You talk to somebody. We’ll be there for you, no matter what. You just tell us what’s wrong. You’re not alone. Not anymore.“

For a moment, the girl said nothing. Instead, she took a breath and then stepped up to embrace him. Her arms wrapped around Lincoln tightly, and she whispered in a voice that shook noticeably, “D-Dad, I’m scared for Avalon.”

Lincoln returned the embrace, holding the girl just as tightly as she was holding onto him. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay. She was a kid. She deserved to be told that nothing bad would happen. She deserved to believe that, deserved to be innocent for a little while. Instead, she probably had a better idea of everything bad that could be happening to Avalon than he did. Which, given his extensive experience reporting tragedies, was saying something.

And she would also know if he lied. So, instead of giving the girl a platitude, Lincoln sighed softly. “I’m scared too,” he confided in her. “But you know what? I am pretty sure that if anyone on this planet could find that girl before things get too bad, it’s the ones she’s got looking for her now.“

“Yeah…” After that single, softly murmured word, Tabbris looked back up to him, still holding on tightly. “Do you think Flick’ll be okay tonight?”

Lincoln grimaced despite himself. “Well,” he replied, “she’s sleeping in a hospital, so at least if she still manages to find trouble, they’ve already cut out the middleman for her getting help.” It was an attempt at a joke, albeit a weak one. He gave her a tiny smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m realizing what being an army parent feels like way too early. I’m supposed to have a couple more years before going through this. Well,” he amended, “I’m never supposed to go through it. I was supposed to be the one worrying about my kid nosing in where she shouldn’t and getting herself sued or something.”

For a few long seconds, the two stood like that, imagining all the different trouble that Flick could, and probably would, eventually get herself into. Or, more accurately, the trouble that would break down the door to find her.

Finally, and almost as one, they both shook it off. Tabbris bit her lip while asking slowly, “Are you really sure you don’t want to sleep yet?”

“Really sure,” Lincoln replied easily. “I’d just lay there and toss around a bunch. Besides, I’ve got a lot of lost time to catch up on. And so do you.” With a wink, the man added, “So come on, we’re going to find some things that you should have done as a kid. And the first one is that right there.”

Following the way the man was pointing, Tabbris blinked. “A tree?”

“Yup.” Lincoln nodded once. “A tree. And you’re going to climb it.”

Doing a quick double take at that, the Seosten girl stammered, “Climb the tree?”

“Sure,“ he confirmed with a gesture. “I’ll be right here, little Vulpes. You can make it. No magic, no monsters, no life and death. Just a tree, and your hands and feet. Think you’re up to it?”

Still looking visibly nervous about the idea, despite everything she had already been through, Tabbris slowly nodded. “I can do it,” she announced while straightening up a little.

Maybe it was silly, considering the extraordinary feats her species was capable of. But Tabbris had spent so long inside of Flick that she still wasn’t all that coordinated. She’d mostly stopped tripping over her own feet after spending all that time with the Alaestiam, but still. She was going to climb this tree with no extra help, no magic, no boosting, nothing else. Just her. And her father, watching.

Lincoln stood nearby, offering advice, but mostly watching patiently while Tabbris slowly made her way up the tree. She had to start again after slipping partway once, but he was there to catch her. And she didn’t give up. Bit by bit, the girl climbed the tree without any other assistance. She climbed up the highest branch that could be reached, and laid across it while staring down at him with bright eyes, face still covered with the fox paint. “I made it! I made it by myself! I climbed a tree!” From the joy and pride in her voice, the tree might as well have been Everest.

“Yes,” a woman’s voice spoke with pride beyond measure as Sariel stepped into view while gazing up at her daughter. “Yes, you did.” Her simple, yet undeniable joy at watching her child perched at the top of a tree that she had clambered up herself was written across the woman’s face.

“Mama!” Beaming infectiously, Tabbris waved. “Hi, Mama! I thought you were asleep!”

For only a fraction of a second, the barest shadow or flicker of dark memories went through the woman’s eyes before she smiled. “And miss seeing my girl climb a tree? Hardly.”

Glancing to the woman, Lincoln remarked, “I’d ask if we woke you up, but I’m pretty sure that’s impossible around here.” With a chuckle, the man added, “It’s something I used to worry about, making too much noise in the middle of a quiet, peaceful place like this. Especially in the middle of the night. But, turns out all the cabins are magically soundproofed. Aside from setting off one of the alarms, you could stand on the front porch of one of the cabins, scream at the top of your lungs, and the people inside wouldn’t hear a peep.”

Sariel gave a slight nod. “With all the different species around here, everyone is likely on a slightly different circadian clock. Some would be more active at night, so soundproofing would be fairly standard.”

It was actually the opening Lincoln had been looking for when he’d made that statement, and he had just opened his mouth to ask her what she knew about some of the particular people here when a sudden noise nearby caught all of their attention.

It was Wyatt. The lanky man came stumbling out of the woods, eyes even more wild than usual. “Flick!” he blurted, his words coming between deep breaths. “Danger, trouble, bad, bad, stuck.”

While the other two reacted in loud confusion, it was Sariel who took the man by the shoulders and managed to get him to calm down for a second so he could speak.

He did so, finally. In a holding voice, the man explained that all of the danger alarms that he had put on Flick had gone off simultaneously. He had instantly alerted Gaia and then tried to make it to the hospital himself. Unfortunately, the whole place seemed to be blocked off. There was no way inside through some kind of force field that had been erected around it.

The only real hint they had as to what was going on in that place was that Wyatt had thought to include a spell on his younger sister that would only react when she looked directly at Avalon herself. It was a feat he had pulled off by taking a hair from the latter girl’s bed. Partly because he anticipated the blonde girl stumbling across Avalon by herself, and partly because he wouldn’t have been surprised if one of the Seosten managed to taunt Flick with her girlfriend. Or use her to lure the girl away. Either way, Flick at some point being near Avalon without anyone else knowing about it had, in his mind, been a foregone conclusion. So he had prepared for it.

And with good reason, clearly. Because that alarm was among those that had gone off. Whatever had happened, Flick and Avalon had come within eyesight of each other.

“Hospital,” Lincoln muttered with a dark look. “That was supposed to be safe. You have to get in there. You have to get in that hospital.” His voice rose with each word.

Wyatt’s head bobbed with rapid agreement. “We’re working on it,” he insisted. Then the man’s eyes flashed toward Sariel. “The headmistress would like your assistance with breaking through the shield that they put up. She said that you have permission to jump straight to her.”

But the woman’s eyes weren’t on him. Instead, she was looking up at her daughter in the tree. Her voice was quick as she raised a hand. “Tabbris, wait.”

But the girl wasn’t really listening. Her fox-painted face was staring out over the other trees as she weakly murmured, “Flick. Flick’s in trouble. I left her alone, and now she’s in trouble. If Manakel’s there, if they have Avalon…” She paused, clearly focusing on their connection before jerking a bit. “She’s fighting! She’s fighting right now! Flick’s in trouble!” With each word, her voice went higher.

Wincing, Sariel shook her head. “It will be okay,” she tried to assure the girl. “We’re going to go in and get her. We’re going to go in and get all of them.”

Finally, the young girl looked down at her mother. Her voice was soft, yet determined. “I know you will. I know you’ll come find us.”

Eyes widening then, Lincoln blurted, “Tabbris, wait, no!”

But it was too late. The girl had made up her mind, and a second later she disappeared. She had recalled to Flick and straight into all that danger.