Ed Singer was struck dumb with fear, engulfed by an oppressive darkness that seemed to steal his very breath. Tales of horror swirled in his mind, and he deeply regretted not staying put in his room with a book. The thought of his mother discovering his shriveled corpse sent shivers down his spine, and he swore he could see a pair of red eyes floating in the void...

A flicker of light caught his eye, and suddenly, the darkness was pierced. Isty had taken a torch from its holder, nodding nonchalantly, "Your mother just passed by. You can speak now."

Ed blinked in disbelief.

"Where are we?" he asked hoarsely, hoping his recent display of terror had gone unnoticed by his new friend.

"A secret passage, I guess," Isty replied calmly—a passage he had explored years before with Nyar.

"How did you know about this... secret passage?" Ed stammered.

"I didn't. I touched something, and the wall cracked open," Isty said innocently, "Didn't you know about this passage?"

"Of course, I did!" Ed retorted, "I mean, I knew the castle had secret passages—every castle does. But not this one."

He sneezed, crinkling his nose at the musty smell.

"Are we going to get sick?"

"...No."

Ed took the torch from Isty, illuminating their narrow path. They were heading downward into the unknown, but Ed's fear had been replaced by a bubbling excitement.

"Let's see where this leads," he declared, envisioning a new adventure laid out by fate.

Isty hesitated.

"We need to be back before dark," he said.

"Come on!" Ed coaxed, "It won't take long."

It didn't. The passage soon ended abruptly.

Isty followed Ed down a steep stone staircase that twisted into the earth, widening to allow them to walk side by side.

The thick walls muffled all sound, leaving Ed clueless about their location within the castle. The dust on the ground told him no one had passed this way in a long time.

He sneezed louder and more frequently, an echo bouncing off the stone.

"If anyone hears, they'll think the walls are haunted," he said with a laugh, lowering the torch to watch his step, "Careful, the stones here are broken."

Isty, who could see perfectly in the dark, didn't need the warning, but he didn't let on to Ed.

They reached the bottom to find an iron door, its surface marred by rust. Ed pushed against it to no avail—it didn't even creak.

"There's no keyhole," he observed, "It must be sealed by magic."

Isty was surprised by Ed's accurate guess. Last time, Nyar had decided against meddling with magic.

"Magic is bad," Nyar had warned, wagging a finger at a much younger Isty.

Leaning against the wall, Isty suddenly felt short of breath—a bad sign.

"Look, two handprints!" Ed exclaimed, "One about my size, and the other... a child's?"

He touched the larger print and wiped the dust on his clothes.

"Isty, come see?"

Hesitantly, Isty touched the print and was bombarded with visions. He saw temple ruins, black flames, shadowy figures screaming silently, and Logan Thirk, the old dwarf, lifeless and angry. He heard someone screaming "Lydia!" in terror—his voice, yet Nyar's voice.

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He slumped against the iron door, unconscious.

...

Ed Singer always found his days monotonous, but not today.

Today was rich in color and dread, a day he wished never to repeat.

When Isty collapsed at the door below, Ed was nearly paralyzed with shock. After convincing himself he couldn't revive Isty, he began the arduous task of dragging his friend upward.

Lighting every torch along the wall, he took breaks, cursing his luck, until he laid Isty on the mid-point landing, sprawling beside him on the cold, hard ground, too exhausted to move.

Isty was heavier than he looked, like dragging a corpse...

The thought made Ed jump, feeling for breath under Isty's nose, then collapsing again in relief.

Fear gripped him—was Isty struck by magic? Would he sleep forever? Could they open the door from inside, or were they doomed to die here, undiscovered until their shriveled bodies were found years later?

Shivering, Ed forced himself up. Isty would surely catch a cold if he didn't.

He prodded his friend, feeling the world conspire against him, when Isty's eyes suddenly snapped open.

Golden eyes stared coldly at him.

Ed yelped and recoiled. Isty blinked, confused, "Ed... what happened?"

Ed crept closer, then backed away again as the eyes returned to their usual blue, tinged with gold.

"Isty, are you hurt? You looked... different," Ed said cautiously.

"I just... sometimes this happens," Isty said, looking around.

"What time is it?"

"After tea-time. Mother must've noticed I'm not in my room," Ed replied glumly.

Isty sprang up, pulling Ed to his feet, "We must leave quickly; after tea, Narya and I have to go home!"

They made it back to the kitchen just as Narya was packing up.

"Isty, I was about to look for you. We can leave early," she said, eyeing Ed with disapproval.

"We're friends," Ed boasted, slinging an arm around Isty's shoulder, "Your brother likes me."

"Oh, he's always been a poor judge of character," Narya retorted, hauling away her basket—and brother.

"Come back and play! Isty!" Ed shouted after them, rewarded with a promising smile.

Stretching contentedly despite the aches, Ed couldn't help but groan.

But all things considered, the day hadn't been all that bad, had it?

...

Dinner at the carpenter Delian's home was unusually quiet. Narya seemed upset, and Isty was distracted. Elen was about to ask nothing, trusting the children, but curiosity got the better of him:

"So, how was your day?"

"Great. I made my best cookies, then they canceled tea! Can you believe it? Because Lord River Singer was caught in a tryst with a young maid by his wife! And Isty," Narya pointed accusatorily, "befriended that 'very much like his father' brat from the castle!"

"That brat?"

"Ed," Isty corrected, "Ed Singer."

"That brat," Narya repeated.

"So, this Ed," Elen turned to Isty, ignoring her, "you're friends?"

Isty nodded, "He's also fifteen."

"...A valid reason."

"He's alright, a bit talkative," Isty mused, "Reminds me a bit of Nyar..."

Elen noticed the flicker of panic on Isty's face.

"What happened?" he asked sharply.

"Nothing. He said he was born in Thirk Castle," Isty said, puzzled, "How can that be? I don't remember."

"Oh, it's true," Elen replied, "He was born the same day as you."

Memories of Scott's near-death, the crying infant in the shattered eggshell, seemed like just yesterday.

He snapped back to the present, finding both children staring at him.

"What?"

"Elen, it's irresponsible to leave a story half-told," Narya chided, "Of course, I'm not interested in that brat, but Isty wants to know."

Isty gazed intently.

"Valla Thirk, Scott's distant cousin, fell for River Singer when he was just a poor merchant. The Thirk family wouldn't have it, so she eloped. She got pregnant, and when Singer had to travel for business, she stayed in Vesa. She struggled but refused help until Scott found her and brought her to Thirk Castle on the day you were born. She had a boy, your friend Ed. Soon after, she left the castle with her son. After the civil war, with Singer wealthy from supporting the king, they took over the castle."

"And now her husband is philandering in the castle," Narya concluded.

"So, when I was born..." Isty clutched his spoon, "Was my mother in the castle?"

Elen froze.

"No, she wasn't there," he answered after an awkward pause, "You were born that day, but not in the castle."

"Where then?" Narya asked, puzzled.

In a freezing cave. From an egg. Who would believe that?

"I know I'm not really Scott's brother," Isty said, looking down, "They said I'm Scott's... bastard. Is that true?"

Elen was speechless.

"Of course not!" he exclaimed.

"So, I'm not related to Scott at all," Isty said, his gaze empty and voice tinged with sadness.

"Did you ask Scott?" Elen tried to stay calm.

"When I was little. He didn't answer, and he looked... like he didn't want to hear it," Isty bit his lip.

Elen grasped at his beard. They'd concocted a perfect lie about Isty's origins, but Scott never stuck to the script, perhaps believing Isty was too young to know or wanting to provide a real family rather than abandoning parents.

But now, Elen had carelessly confirmed he knew exactly when Isty was born.

Lies were never perfect.

"Listen, it's complicated. I think Scott would rather tell you himself—when we find him. And more importantly," he reached across the table, grasping Isty's ever-cold hand, "he truly loved you like a brother. Isn't that enough?"

Isty was silent so long Elen thought he might never speak again. Then, finally, he looked up and whispered, "It's enough."