Even two days after the trip to Tylondale, Celia was still trying to put the day's events behind her. The teachings of the Ryntai professed that it was best not to dwell on the past, and the girl desired nothing more than to simply forget the ordeal with the thieves and the Saviors and continue with her training.

Unfortunately, many of the other apprentices who traveled to the city that day had caught wind of the incident, and rumors tended to spread quickly among the monastery's sparse population. These whispers would eventually reach the ears of Headmaster Zan, who was less than pleased to hear them.

Blissfully unaware of the lecture she was about to receive, Celia trained in the monastery's courtyard with the other apprentices. Master Troi called out the martial maneuvers of various forms while his students followed his commands as best they could. While they had been at it for hours, Celia remained as focused as ever.

The training session concluded as the sun dipped closer to the horizon, and Master Troi dismissed the students with a wave of his hand. "That is enough for today," he announced. "You may return to your quarters."

Celia bowed to Master Troi before departing toward the monastery with the rest of the class, but the headmaster was waiting patiently for her. "Cecelia," he spoke sternly. "A word, please."

The girl felt a knot form in her throat. It was always 'Ms. Moore' when Zan was cordial, but 'Cecelia' usually meant it was serious. The headmaster did his best to mask his frustration, but Celia could see right through him, hanging her head low as she approached. "Of course, Headmaster," she answered quietly.

"Walk with me," he said, gesturing for her to follow.

The two made their way across the courtyard toward one of the monastery's many gardens, where they could talk privately. Celia kept her head low while Zan silently led the way until they finally stopped at a bench overlooking a small pond. The headmaster sat down and gestured for the girl to join him.

"I'm sure you know what this is about," Zan said once Celia took her seat. "I am a bit... concerned with some of the stories I have been hearing about the Tylondale trip. Stories many of the other apprentices are keen on sharing. I understand you had an encounter of some fashion."

With a pained expression on her face, Celia nodded. "Yes, Headmaster."

"Were you hurt?" Zan asked.

The girl rubbed the still-healing knife wound along her cheek. "Nothing worth mentioning, Headmaster," she told him. "I'm okay."

Zan frowned as he looked upon the girl's face and noticed the cut for the first time. "That doesn't look like nothing, Cecelia," he said. "You should have told me about this sooner."

Celia shrugged. "It's not that bad," she insisted. "It hasn't interfered with my training."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Cecelia," Zan replied sternly. "You were hurt. You could have been killed, and you didn't think to tell me?"

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," the girl apologized. "I didn't want you to worry. And... I wanted to avoid, well... this."

Zan sighed and shook his head. "Do you understand why we seclude ourselves from the world?" he asked.

Celia did not answer right away. The girl held an open hand in her lap, palm facing the sky, and concentrated. She and the headmaster watched as a small flame ignited in the air and danced about her palm. "Because most of us here are 'special,'" Celia muttered resentfully. "Gifted. Like me."

She made a tight fist, extinguishing the flame just as quickly as she had called it into existence.

"Not just because of what we are," Zan corrected. "But because of what the Saviors would do to us if we were discovered. Every day, they haul Gifted children from their families, children who are never seen again. But many seek shelter among the Ryntai in monasteries all over the world so that they might learn to control their gifts and stay hidden from the Saviors' gaze. But this all falls apart if we draw attention to ourselves. The Saviors believe us to be little more than an enclave of ascetic martial artists; this is our only true defense against their tyranny."

"I know!" Celia snapped. "I know their cruelty better than almost anyone here!" The girl paused to take in a deep breath and steady herself. "I never asked for this. I never asked to be special. To be stuck up on this mountain and isolated from the whole damned world!"

Zan sighed. "I know these gifts feel like a curse sometimes, but we were given them for a reason," he said. "Even if that reason is difficult to see. I want more than anything for us Gifted to be able to choose our own paths, but as long as the Saviors rule, we must do everything we can to protect ourselves."

Celia let out a deep breath as her anger faded away. "I tried to avoid that fight," she said. "I really did. Those damned thieves just wouldn't let it go. Looked like they hadn't eaten in days. They were just too desperate."

"I am not angry with you, Cecelia," Zan said. "I—I am sorry. This conversation is as much for me as it is for you. I should not have sent you to wander off on your own in the name of expanding our library. You could have been seriously hurt—because of a damned book—and I would never have forgiven myself."

Celia looked up at the headmaster, her eyes wide with surprise. Zan was always so calm and collected that she rarely ever saw him get emotional over anything. "Headmaster..."

"But I am glad you are safe," he continued. "You are old enough and more than capable of taking care of yourself, but I worry about you all the same. I do not want to see you come to harm, especially at the hands of the Saviors."

Celia felt a tear in her eye and did her best to hold it back. "I'm sorry for worrying you, Headmaster."

Zan offered the girl a warm smile as he touched her shoulder. "It's alright," he said. Just promise that you will be more careful next time and tell me if something like this happens again."

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"I will," Celia replied with a nod.

The headmaster rose from his seat and gestured toward the monastery. "Go get some rest," he told her. "You've had a long day."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

The girl returned a smile and nodded before pulling herself to her feet. She strolled quickly across the courtyard toward the monastery and made her way to the dining hall within for a quick dinner before heading off to bed. By the time she arrived, most of the other monks had already finished their meals. Celia opted for some soup and bread, then sat in the corner near an open window overlooking the courtyard.

As she munched on her bread and waited for her soup to cool off, a distant thunder echoed across the sky. Before long, the rain rolled in, and Celia was entranced by its sight and sounds. She slowly finished her food, listened to the rain fall upon the monastery's roof, and watched it pour down from the darkening sky.

The monastery's halls were empty now, save for a handful of the instructions exchanging bits of knowledge and discussing lessons and training regimens for tomorrow. Celia quickly returned to her dormitory, lest she receive another lecture, only to be greeted by a gust of chilly, moist wind as she entered. She let out a grumble as she moved to close the window. "Must have left the damn thing open again," she muttered.

Celia plopped down in her bed, taking a deep breath as she stretched out and pulled the covers over her body. Another day of the other routine behind her.

* * *

Just a few hours before dawn, a tremendous explosion rocked the monastery and nearly sent Celia toppling from her bed. She jumped to her feet and gazed out her window to see a column of fire and smoke illuminating the forest in the distance. "What in the world?"

Celia threw on her robes and burst from her dormitory, only to be nearly trampled by a crowd of her fellow apprentices rushing toward the courtyard. The girl followed them through the monastery's corridors until they spilled into the courtyard.

Despite the heavy thunderstorm earlier in the night, the dark skies above the monastery were cloud-free, and the light of a full moon illuminated the surrounding forest. The thick column of smoke was easily visible against the backdrop of the moon and stars, casting an eerie shadow upon the monastery.

Celia looked through the crowd for any of the masters, but they seemed absent. she thought.

With no one to guide the curious monks, Celia contemplated heading off into the woods herself but decided it was in her best interest not to test the limits of the headmaster's patience again so soon. As she looked again through the crowd for anyone who might have answers, a loud commotion erupted from the forest's edge.

When she turned her attention to the noise, she saw a strange figure stumble from the woods and nearly topple over before catching himself on a nearby tree. He wore a strange suit of armor that was just as alien to her as the Saviors', but a large piece of his helmet was broken off, revealing the left half of his face. As he blundered toward the monastery, Celia pushed her way through the crowd toward him.

"Hey!" she called out. "Are you alright?"

The man stopped dead in his tracks and leveled the rifle he was carrying at Celia. "Back!" he shouted. "Get back!"

Celia froze in place as she looked down the barrel of what was clearly a high-tech firearm and met the maddened gaze of the man's exposed eye. "I—I'm not here to hurt you," she said, raising her hands. "I just want to help."

After a tense few seconds, the man lowered his weapon and sighed in relief. The uneasy situation behind her, Celia looked him over more carefully. There was an odd familiarity about him; she had seen him somewhere before. she thought.

Celia's heart pounded in her chest as she realized that the man standing before her was the very same who had haunted her dreams for months now. She stepped back, unsure of what to make of this revelation. "W—who are you? What are you doing here?"

The stranger was taken aback. "What do you mean 'who am I?'" he replied.

Before the girl could respond, her gaze shifted to the gaping wound in the side of the man's head and the steady stream of red running down the side of his face. As if reading her mind, he wiped a hand across his exposed flesh and blinked at all of the blood that came with it. "Ah... shit," he muttered.

Celia rushed forward to catch the man as he suddenly fell forward and collapsed, but she struggled to support him. "Help!" she called out, trying to get anyone's attention. "Someone, please!"

Master Troi emerged from the forest to answer her call and rushed to her aid. He helped Celia lower the man to the ground and checked him over for injuries. "What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Celia answered. "He just stumbled out of the woods like this!"

"We need to get him to the infirmary," Master Troi told her. "It looks like he's already lost a lot of blood. Help me carry him."

Celia nodded and helped Master Troi lift the man to his feet. He was heavier than he looked, most likely due to his armor; it made him look more like a leathery-skinned metallic monster than a man. They half-dragged and half-carried their mysterious visitor through the monastery toward the infirmary, which was thankfully empty at the moment.

Master Troi laid the man on one of the infirmary beds and gently removed his helmet. Celia felt a knot form in her throat as she saw that he was indeed the same man who had been appearing in her dreams. He was young, likely in his early to mid-20s, with strong facial features, a fair complexion, and clean-cut dark hair. "Can you help him?" Celia asked nervously.

"I will do what I can," Master Troi replied. "I'll need some bandages. There should be some in the closet over there."

Celia nodded before hurrying across the room and tearing through the storage cabinet to find several fresh bandages. She tossed them to Troi, and he quickly folded one up and pressed it tightly against the stranger's bleeding head wound. "I'll have to clean this before we suture it," Troi explained. "Fetch some water from the well."

The girl nodded again and rushed toward the well near the monastery's entrance. The crowd of monks that had gathered outside the infirmary cleared a path for Celia as she moved past them, and she quickly retrieved a bucketful of water before returning inside.

Troi dipped a rag into the bucket, but as he moved to clean the man's wound, a palm shot up and struck him in the chest, knocking him backward. The stranger climbed out of bed and scrambled across the floor toward the corner of the room, where he huddled with his back against the wall.

Celia rushed to Troi's side to help him up while keeping an eye on their patient. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Troi answered, rubbing his chest. "Just caught me off guard."

The stranger looked around frantically before locking eyes with Master Troi. "Where am I?!" he demanded.

"Please!" Celia shouted at him. "We're just trying to help you!"

A tense stare from the stranger met Celia's gaze, his eyes a steely gray that seemed to pierce through her soul. Her entire body tensed up as she stood frozen under his scrutiny. "Lieutenant Jannik Novak," he finally muttered. "Zero-three-zero-eight-six-niner-five-niner-five."

Master Troi approached Novak cautiously and knelt down in front of him. "You are safe here," he said calmly. "My name is Master Troi; this is my apprentice, Cecelia. We mean you no harm."

Novak looked around the room again, then back toward Celia. He relaxed somewhat and let out a deep breath. "I—I'm sorry," he muttered, lowering his head. "I didn't realize you were... human..."

Troi and Celia exchanged a puzzled glance before returning their attention to Novak. "What do you mean?" Troi asked.

Before the stranger could answer, his strength gave out, and he faded back into unconsciousness. Troi moved in and caught him before he could slump onto the floor. "We really need to get that wound taken care of," he said, looking back at Celia. Help me get him back on the bed."

Celia nodded and helped Master Troi lift Novak from the ground and return him to the infirmary bed. As Troi returned to work tending to the stranger's injuries, Celia stood ready to help with whatever was needed to save this man's life. He would not die tonight.