Elliot stood still, catching his breath after the fight with Thalreion. He hadn't expected the man to grow into such a monster. It was hard to even think about his drooling mouth without feeling a sense of primal fear.

Looking to his side, Elliot caught a glimpse of Ander's ally. The blonde, green eyed man wore a long scarf, an odd choice when in the desert. His armor seemed to be made out of crystalline leaves, their verdant glow quite striking within the Rift's overcast.

The man walked jauntily, the seeds rustling in his side pouch. His sword and shield seemed weightless in his arms.

In short, he was bristling with hope and joy.

"Caedric!" Ander called out from the ground, not quite able to get back up to his feet. His friend ran over and picked him up in a bear hug.

"I'm so glad you're alive, Ander," Caedric said. "I wasn't sure you were until a few weeks ago, and the first thing I heard was that you were in danger."

Ander, barely even limp in his friend's arms, looked into Caedric's eyes incredulously. "You doubted that I made it out of Ralthus's prison? The man didn't even know the difference between mages and night terrors. He was a fool."

"Yes," Caedric said. "Ralthus was incompetent, but his mages weren't. Moreover, I never heard of your escape, and this 'Will' wasn't kind to Ralthus's prisoners."

"Still..." Ander said, pausing for a moment. "In any case, it's good to see you. Something seems different about you though. Have you cut your hair?"

"Plenty," Caedric said, motioning with his arms. "I did get this satchel recently!" He lifted up a bag on his side, the same one he threw a seed from.

Eris rolled her eyes. "Good job getting your arm back, Caedric," she said. "I take it you found your nature goddess?"

"Kind of," Caedric set Ander down gently on the sand. "Frina said she's less a goddess, and more just a person sharing one of Aliran's souls, whatever that means."

"Oh!" Ander said. "Elliot and I just found out our friend is in the same boat. They're called honorsouls. I need to head over to him."

Ander tried to raise himself up, but he simply didn't have it in him.

"Shades, sorry," Caedric said before pulling out a vial of blue liquid from his satchel. This is water from the Glade of Life. Frina used some of her magic to give it the power to beat back spell exhaustion.

Ander reached up and grabbed the vial as Caedric lowered it to him.

"Okay," Caedric began. "If you'll drink it, you should be all set."

Ander set the glass to his lips and took a shot of the glade water, obviously trusting his good friend wholly.

Elliot could see the discomfort on Ander's face as his exhausted muscles regained their vigor.

Still, he got up from the ground quickly, eager to find Flyte.

"Come on," Ander coughed out. There was fear in his eyes.

"What's going on?" Elliot asked.

"I'm not sure," Ander answered. "But's that's the issue. Glow said Flyte needs my help."

'Considering how we left him... that's not good.'

Elliot nodded. "It must be bad then."

Ander nodded back, then rushed off towards the last place they'd seen Flyte.

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As Ander ran, Caedric began to ask him for details.

"Why is it that this 'Flyte' needing help is so distressing?"

"Mostly because I left him," Ander answered. "I left him nearly alone against the strongest foe I've ever seen."

"I see," Caedric said.

"You don't get to take this blame," Elliot butted in. "I left him too."

Ander pressed on, refusing to acknowledge Elliot's point, regardless of how valid it might be. Ander couldn't let himself rationalize anything that happened to Flyte this time.

Ander's generals lead the armies against Will as he ran, and that certainly didn't help the stony soldier's nerves settle one bit.

When Elliot and Ander reached the base of the hill beside Flyte's battleground, Ander caught a glimpse of Hieday walking towards him.

the body in her arms drooped, an arm hanging limp, nearly reaching he floor in the slight woman's grasp.

"Flyte!"

Blinded by dread, and suddenly apathetic towards his recent exhaustion, Ander blasted himself up the sandy slope to reach his friend, the sand itself pushing him along.

'No!'

Ander reached out and touched the corpse's face, a brief showing of grief, ending as the cloudiness in his eyes fell away.

"Lebrandt?" Ander stumbled back in show. "How did this happen?"

Hieday looked to Ander with sorrow in her eyes. "He died to save his son." She looked away. "From a physical death that is. He seems dead as a husk now."

"Where is he?"

Hieday just pointed.

Ander's eyes drifted cautiously over to Nefti, and in his arms, Flyte.

Though just a kid, Flyte wore an expression that belied his normal cheery demeanor. While his eyes were closed, his face was blank, and his cheeks tear streaked. In Nefti's embrace, Flyte seemed to hang on loosely, allowing his body to bounce in the rhythm of Nefti's march, but also tightly, the wrapping of his arms around Nefti more of less keeping his shuddering breaths contained.

Ander knew how Flyte felt. That posture, that loss of composure, that blank face, only just hiding the turmoil underneath.

Something had broken in the boy. There would be no more standing upright for him. Were he a puppet, the strings holding him up would be snapped, leaving Flyte with no strength to stand.

He would feel only sad and empty, and of the two, he wouldn't know which felt worse.

Such was the way with loss, especially the loss of a parent.

Flyte had often spoken of some disconnect with Lebrandt. Some quarrel, but Ander could tell that deep down, he'd loved his father. He knew, or at least believed, that Lebrandt was the same way.

But that just made it all the more crushing that he was gone.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Ander walked to Nefti slowly, focused on the somber grieving of his friend.

"Nefti," Ander began. "May I speak with Flyte alone?"

The archaic eyed Ander cautiously, as if to ask him if he was sure. Ander gave Nefti a quick, though somber, nod and stood his ground.

"Sure," Nefti gently set the young honorsoul down with a word of reassurance.

And so, Ander and simply sat, watching the sands swirl across the desert floor as a soft breeze pushed it, not saying a word for a long time.

'I don't know what I could possibly say that would help Flyte. I don't even know where to begin. Considering my way with words, I am completely inadequate here.'

Ander wasn't wrong to think that, but no one could be adequate in such a situation. There were no words to magically heal Flyte's pain.

So, Ander found himself speaking from his heart, telling Flyte the words he himself had yearned to hear when his own parents had been slaughtered.

"Flyte, I hope you know, the fault isn't yours." Flyte stared at Ander, his eyes hollow.

'Good, that's at least got his attention.'

"I don't know exactly what happened here, but I do know that you gave it your all. I know that you wanted to, at the bare minimum be able to protect your family."

"Sadly, that's just not how it works out sometimes. I'm absolutely sure certain there's nothing more you could have done for Lebrandt, otherwise you'd have done it."

Flyte turned away, but Ander spotted a single tear crawling down his face, like a crack shaping up on a mask.

"Flyte," Ander continued. "You'll never be alone in this. I know sometimes, even around other people, you might feel alone, lie there's an invisible wall between you, that their emotions cannot reciprocate your own. That is false. You'll always have people there to help you, and if they don't understand exactly what's going on, they'll do their best to. I'm here for you. Elliot's here for you. We always will be, so if you have any needs, any at all, we'll do whatever we can to help."

Flyte unscrewed his face just enough to open an eye, still wet from the tear dropped off his cheek, and look at Ander. Seeing the soldier's sincerity seemed to pain the boy even more, and he closed his eye again, shuddering breaths escaping his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were choked away from utterance.

Flyte's irises glowed a bright gold, and Ander could hear the boy's voice in his mind.

"Ander," the voice was raspy. "How can I not feel alone? To me, it seems like everyone thinks I am someone I'm not. While I aspire to be that gold-hearted, likeable person, I just don't it's in me. I'm too flighty, too weak. Too different. The list goes on, and even as it does, it hurts to tell you, because I don't want to burden you with my pains. Those are for me to hold."

Ander knew that Flyte was connecting this to Lebrandt somehow, but he simply couldn't find the connection to refute.

"So, why would anyone die for me? Why can't they hate me. It should be easy enough, am I not flawed too?"

'Oh, Flyte.'

"Flyte, our temporary flaws don't have to define us. As I see it, life is all about growing, especially emotionally and mentally, so no one is just going to be born perfect. And please, Flyte, know that that growth doesn't mean that you have do to this alone. I feel no pain in helping to alleviate yours."

"And about Lebrandt," Ander continued. "His love for you was the love a father, though he was not yours by birth. Through my life, time and again, I've seen that fathers tend to be willing to do anything to keep their children safe, be it risking their lives, or losing them. Lebrandt likely couldn't find it in himself to hate you."

"And for what it's worth," Elliot finally caught up. "I couldn't hate you either, even if that's what I decided would help me respect Honorious's decision to leave Ander. In my experience, hate is something that needs to be earned, probably just as much as love does. You've done nothing to earn any hate from me."

Flyte retracted once again, seeming to mull over his friends' words.

Finally, he firmed up a resolve, though not one that would fix what he felt.

"Where is Will?"

It seemed that someone had earned Flyte's hatred. He was no longer willing to give the shadebringer any shred of mercy, and while Ander knew it was only temporary, allowing hatred to distract Flyte from his loss would likely be beneficial.

"I'll lead the way." Ander turned, blazing the trail towards Will.

Flyte walked on his own now, his newfound vengefulness a strong enough motivator to bring his leg's strength anew.

Nefti and Hieday trailed along, their reasoning seeming more defensive than offensive as opposed to the others. It was clear that they found no comfort in Flyte's search for revenge, but they seemed to realize that nothing reasonable would stop Flyte.

He needed this, after all.

----------------------------------------

Flyte followed Ander closely, with Elliot right by his side. Behind him trailed an azial, Flyte was quite sure, and then Nefti and Hieday.

The half elf had leapt on the presentation of hatred the instant Elliot mentioned it. Before, he had been...in bad shape, to say the least.

It wasn't a feeling Flyte wanted to remember, and so he didn't, forcing his revenge to the forefront of his mind and duties.

Flyte wouldn't let himself look back and see Hieday's sorrow filled gait as she carried his-

'No. Stop right there. Lebrandt is fine, and he always will be, because I am good enough.'

Flyte smiled, the sand in his boots a pleasing distraction as he walked. The half elf took note of every curve in the desert landscape. Each hill, every discard, all tracks, he knew them intimately.

The clash of metal, scraping and breaking. They were close.

'Will. I wish it could have been different. If only you'd just spoken your mind.'

But he hadn't, and an immeasurable amount of blood had been shed. More would be.

Flyte gripped the hilt of his blade as he crested the hill overlooking the battle. A breath hitched in his throat as he did so.

It was monster on man, shade on light mage. Both sides fought harshly, and death was no stranger to either. Even as Flyte watch, a seeker was beaten down and cut apart before the gap their death caused was filled. So many lay dead, their corpses, wreathed in their white seeker's robes reminding Flyte of-

'Nothing. This reminds me of nothing.'

Flyte snarled in hate. The seekers had come to him in hope. Now, they formed a defensive line, keeping Ander's soldiers alive, though still injured, at the cost of their own lives.

Parendyne was on a hill, his blade seeming to flow through the air as he slew monster and shade to protect his fellows, yet they still began to fall around him.

The blood roared in Flyte's veins, the sensation of burning stung right behind his eyes.

"Do what you must," Flyte told his companions, the words a faint growl to his unhearing ears.

The winds screeched as Flyte dashed through them, a living projectile. He didn't think as the harrowing scent of death flooded his nostrils.

"Glow, Star, Rowlo!" Flyte roared. "I need you."

The spirits appeared, bearing witness to the scenes around Flyte. A man facing four monsters alone, all larger than himself. Ferris convulsing, barely holding in his vomit as he witnessed more and more of the 'survivors'. Nomads losing limbs or life to beings unaware of their own impact.

"Flyte..." Glow's whistle came out hoarse.

"Please," Flyte pleaded. "I just ask that you kill whatever fiends you can. I can handle myself, but the others? Not so."

The spirits nodded before leaving, an unspoken promise of annihilation between the four.

Flyte soon hovered by the man fighting alone and looked at the monsters as they slowed down their advances in primitive fear. They were large, tall as Nefti and twice as wide around. They were hairy, with large maws on their stomachs and long flexible arms. Flyte had seen one of these before, in Telin's cavern.

This time, however, their maws moved, human blood drenching their stomachs.

With a scream and nothing else, Flyte sent a brilliant light out from his hands, melting the monsters' flesh in a moment.

Watching the hungry grins slough off the monsters, the lone seeker stared up in wonder at his dull eyed savior who silently floated beside him.

"See about finding some safety," Flyte said. "Or at least some companions, for Aliran's sake."

The man nodded shakily before running off.

'Now who could use my help?'

Upon a quick surveyal of the area, he decided that everyone could, in at least one major way, use his help.

Only, Parendyne would be a big asset if he were freed up.

Flyte burst over to fight the horde barraging Parendyne, his legs aching as he bent the limits of his speed.

On his way, papers flew out of Flyte's cloak and spread all over the shades, rift monsters, and scourge fiends. These papers, Flyte set alight with magic, enchanting and destroying them rapidly to rain death upon his foes from above. Various forms of magic were disseminated, some involving magics Flyte understood, other not.

Flyte coolly shifted his body, gliding between obstacles mid-air. Blades, one physical and one made of light, struck out, tearing apart bats and other beasts. Flyte's steel sword helped the honorsoul steer his body as he pushed away, slicing.

"Niflhemrai?" Flyte heard the question from several seekers as he swung by, lacerating Will's front lines, a streak of light.

'Dragon-like? I'll take it, I guess.'

Flyte slammed into a huge lizard, the speed of the crash causing him to stumble on his way down.

"Wishlor," Flyte created a slope of ice to break his all as he spoke Aliran's ice coldly, numbly.

The half elf conjured spears of ice to end the lizard before running off, ignoring his slight limp.

Flyte's body was slowly repairing itself by the time he made it to Parendyne, still carving a bloody peace in the sands. He stomped out the dark, conjuring a widespread, warm light to quash the monsters, devastating the assault on Parendyne instantly.

Dull eyed and panting, Flyte stayed vigilant while waiting for Parendyne to find him.

The elf pulled the light from his swords as he approached Flyte. He took a knee. "So, you truly were the heir." Like a weight had been lifted, Parendyne continued. "I thought I'd lost you."

Parendyne got back up to his feet. "You may take command of the seekers, if that is your wish."

"It really isn't," Flyte said. "I'm not in a state where I'd be capable of doing a good job at it, and you are more than qualified."

Parendyne raised an eyebrow, then gestured outward.

"I know," Flyte chuckled mirthlessly. "You've been quite bogged down. It might sound cocky, but is there any way I can fix that?"

"If you're okay with being commanded?" Parendyne offered. "Yes."

Flyte nodded. "I'll do my best."